Page 44 of Baby, It's You
I look down at my outfit and laugh. “I guess you’re right!”
“You ready to go?” he asks.
“So ready.”
He reaches out and takes my bag from my hand. “I’ll carry this for you.”
I thank him and lock my front door before we head down to his truck. Hunter opens the passenger door for me again, and I murmur my thanks. I’m not used to chivalry, and I don’t know what to think of it. Is he always like this with women or is he trying to hit on me? I don’t want to give him the wrong impression or hurt his feelings.
I might get butterflies in my stomach when I’m around him, but I refuse to think of it as anything other than nerves. I can admit to myself that he’s gorgeous, but won’t allow myself any other possibilities.
When I slide into the seat, he jogs around to the driver’s side and sits down next to me. After he turns on the truck, he smiles at me. That vibrant twinkle is always in his deep brown eyes.
“I got you something,” he tells me.
“Oh god, is it another knife?” I tease him.
Hunter chuckles. “Hey! You told me you liked it, but no, it’s not a knife. Close your eyes.”
I shut my eyes and hear him reach into the back seat of the truck, then something heavy is plopped onto my lap.
“Open!” he exclaims.
I comply, and when I see what’s in my lap I can’t hold back my laughter. It’s a basket with the biggest bag of beef jerky I’ve ever seen, a liter of Dr. Pepper, and four tubs of cashews.
“I didn’t want you to starve while we are at the lake,” he jokes, shrugging his shoulders.
“You really aresomething. Always bearing gifts,” I tell him. At the comment his cheeks flush. “Thank you,” I continue, and place the basket between my legs on the truck floor.
He connects his phone and turns on the song “Baby It’s You” by Smith.
“Love this one,” I gush. “I think we like the same kind of music!”
His gaze lingers on me. “Yeah, I think so, too. That’s so important.”
I laugh. “Is it?”
Hunter clears his throat. “Yeah, for road trips, I mean. Imagine having to ride in the car with someone for a long time and you hated their music.”
“True,” I agree with him. “Imagine if I only wanted to listen to ‘Baby Shark’ on repeat.”
Hunter pretends to shiver and glances at me. “Nightmare fuel.”
I laugh. Before long, I’m singing along to the lyrics of the song and he surprisingly joins in. His voice is deep and rough, but we are having so much fun in this moment together. I belt out the chorus and he smacks his hands against his steering wheel to the beat. Once the song ends, we chuckle together and fall into comfortable silence.
After heading down a few roads, Hunter suddenly grabs at his pockets, searching for something. “Shit.”
“What?” I ask him.
“I think I forgot my wallet at home. Do you mind if we go grab it?”
“Of course not. Let's go. I want to see where the genius works on his videos…in his evil lair?” I joke.
“Get ready to be disappointed, then. It’s just in my bedroom.”
As if any woman would be disappointed going to his bedroom,I think to myself, and then shove the intrusive thought away like the horny mosquito it is.
“I live on the other side of Clairesville, so I apologize in advance. It’s going to take us even longer to get to Onilley now,” he tells me.
