Page 82 of Bloom

It’s been a week since The Incident; The Kiss. An awful, wretched, awkward week. A week in which Hunter hasn’t ignored me, exactly. He’s not even avoiding me. But even whenhe’s talking to me—when he asked me to help Gaia get used to a scent other than his, when he grumbles a ‘mornin’,’ every time a gruff, gritted tone grunts ‘you okay?’—he’s not quite there. He’s like a different person.

I, on the other hand, am killing myself to be exactly the same person I was P.K.—Pre-Kiss.Sure thing, I’d grinned without hesitation, hiding my trembling hands behind my back as I followed him into the pen holding the enormous Shire.Good morning,I always reply, always freaking smile.Of course, I reassure every time, wondering if he sees how that question chips away at the organ in my chest.

Today was no different. Hunter was already at the house when I arrived, fixing himself a cup of coffee. He fixed me one too. Plenty of flavored creamer, no sugar, just the way I like it, but the nice gesture felt empty since he looked so apathetic doing it. I didn’t breathe until he went outside to the training pen where he’s been working all week with Gaia, and then I forced the coffee down like it was mud before throwing myself into my own work.

Luckily, around here, there’s always plenty of that. Lots of things to do to keep my mind off Hunter. Lots for the others to do too; Clyde, the enormous Clydesdale Luna pretends she isn’t in love with, is in desperate need of a wash-down, Eliza has stalls to muck, and there’s a mountain of paperwork weighing down the mountain of feed bags Lux perches atop of.

Yet still, there’s time to harangue me about something I seriously regret ever telling them about. Not that I told half of them—like I said, Eliza overheard, and Luna has the uncanny ability to look at someone and know they’ve been kissed, and an even uncannier ability to extract information you never planned on spilling.

“If you fire every ranch hand who doesn’t wanna kiss me,” I sigh as I deposit feed in Aster’s trough, earning a thankful headbutt, “you’re gonna be all out of options.”

“Guess my job is safe.”

The bucket in my hand clatters to the ground as I startle. Twisting to face the man strutting in the barn wearing a grin like the cat who got the cream, I roll my eyes despite the pink surely painting my skin. “Shut up, Simon.”

The ranch hand winks as he shucks the gloves protecting his hands from the scratchy hay bales he’s spent the past hour unloading. “Just saying. I think I deserve a promotion, actually.”

Bending to retrieve my bucket, I thwack Simon in the stomach on my way past to get more feed. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’mflirtingwith you, Caroline,” he corrects, wriggling his brows. “Can’t help it. Beautiful women bring it out in me.”

A chorus of groans ring out, accompanied by giggles from Eliza, who looks thoroughly entranced by the older guy’s charm. Poor girl. She’s in for a rude awakening when she learns that charm is fleeting—fuckboys are forever.

“Leave the girl alone.” Lux chucks the pen in her hand at Simon, pinging him square on the forehead. “She’s compliment-averse. Might burst into flames if you keep going.”

Simon slings an arm around my shoulders, but his grip is light enough to shuck him off if I really want to. “Exposure therapy, baby.”

“She can do better.”

My brewing smile abruptly dies. Not because of Jackson striding into the barn, nor because of the claim that’s definitely more of a dig at Simon than a compliment towards me—even if Jackson does shoot me a tentative grin when he says it. No, it’s the man trailing behind him, leading a huge black horse into her stall, that kills my mood.

Hunter doesn’t acknowledge any of us. He just picks up a curry comb and goes to town on Gaia’s dusty coat like none of us are there.

I’m not sure if anyone else notices the sudden chill descending over the barn’s interior, but I do know that Simon definitely doesn’t. Hissing, he presses a hand over his heart and scowls playfully at his boss. “I’m a goddamn catch, Oscar.”

“You know who’s a catch?” Lux quirks a brow, and if I had hackles, they would rise. “Aldo’s cousin…?”

“Roberto,” I finish for her, immediately regretting it when her face lights up with mischief. Luna’s, too.

“The Italian?” The faux-brunette whistles, winking at her boyfriend when he slaps her ass and murmurs a warning. “Maybe he’ll take you to Italy for your birthday.”

Lux’s clipboard whacks me gently on the arm. She teases, “So you’ve got a couple of weeks to make him fall in love with you.”

Simon’s smooth grin dips into my line of sight. “Easy work.”

I jerk an elbow into his ribs before shrugging him off, cupping my flaming cheeks. “Stop.”

They do—kind of. Lux starts whistling something that sounds suspiciously like the tone of ‘That’s Amore,’ while Luna daydreams aloud about a trip to the Amalfi Coast, and Simon playfully grumbles about beingwaybetter than some Italian, to which Eliza nods enthusiastically. Slowly, their attention turns away from me.

Mine?

Mine strays to the man focusing on brushing down Gaia with strokes as hard as the set of his jaw. Not listening. Not joining in.

Not caring even a little at the thought of me going on a date.

Why the hell was I expecting anything else?

I think I'm going to be sick.

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