Page 38 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Yeah. I haven’t attended a family dinner in a few weeks, and I know my mother will give me the third degree about it. I thought softening her up with flowers might help. But, now I think I have an entirely different reason to fear dinner tonight.”

We walk slowly down an aisle bursting with sunflowers, and I stop to squint up at him in the sunlight.

“Why is that?”

“Oh, um, well, you know how parents can be when they invite a girl to dinner and don’t tell their single son about it. This wouldn’t be their first time doing something like this.”

So, he is single.

“You think your parents are trying to set us up?” I blurt out, shocked that was his first assumption.

“Well, I mean, maybe. It’s just…” he fumbles with his words, and I notice a slight pinkening of his cheeks. It’s sweet. “They've done it once or twice before. It wouldn’t be my first dinner ambush with a pretty girl who thought she was on a date with me.”

He thinks I’m pretty? Or am I reading too much into that?

Keeping my eyes trained on him, I shake my head faintly, smiling up at him. “I promise I was not expecting this to be a date of any sort. I too have had my fill of parents setting me up.”

“Really? A beautiful girl like you needs help finding a date? I highly doubt that.”

I’m surprised by his open compliment, but he doesn’t cringe back at his words for once. Gazing down at me with clear curiosity and interest.

So, he is interested.

“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of fakes and phonies out there. Plus, I didn’t know my mom had set me up until we broke up.” Turning away from his now piercing gaze, I trace the outline of the tiny sunflower pedals, not wanting to talk about Asshat with Hunter any longer.

“So, you’re single then?”

My head whips around to find him blushing, his gaze flicking everywhere but in my direction. He’s flustered again.

“I mean, sorry for prying; that’s none of my business—”

“Yes,” I practically yell at him, wanting him to know I amverysingle.

His floundering stills to an astute alertness, his complete focus directed at me.

“I am single,” I clarify, just in case.

Hunter nods, and his embarrassment shifts to something heated and focused, intent. My internal temperature rises under his heated stare, causing my throat to go dry. I swallow, trying to lubricate it. Hunter’s eyes shift to my mouth, watching my tongue lick at my lips.

Clearing my throat, I try to bring the conversation back around to something less . . . personal.

“I was under the impression your father was just being nice and wanting to welcome me to town. Help me get to know a few people, so I don’t feel like such a stranger.”

I use the word Daisy did to describe me, trying to discern if he thinks me a stranger at this point.

Hunter begins walking again, guiding us without even having to look where he’s going. Knowing exactly where the path dips and turns.

“Oh, yeah, of course. You’re probably right. That’s likely more accurate than my theory.”

He lets out a forced laugh, and on a long, heavy breath, his shoulders pull tight and then go slack, not quite sure what they want to be. I like flustered Hunter; it makes my awkwardness less awkward. With a lighter but suggestive tone, I decide to mess with him just a little, hoping to break the thickening tension between us.

“However, you know your dad far better than I do. I could be completely wrong, and he could be secretly planning our wedding.”

“What?!” Hunter barks out, eyes widening and feet faltering, coming to a stuttering stop in the middle of the path.

“I’m just kidding, Hunter, relax.” I muffle my laughter and try to cover my smile with my hand. The look on his face has my heart lightening, and his brows drop dramatically when he realizes I’m fucking with him.

“Oh, ha ha, very funny. You’re just full of jokes, aren’t you?”

---