Page 27 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
I adjust the sample tiles so they’re in a neat row. I point. “Dante suggested this one.”
Hunter grunts. “But you don’t like it.”
How does he, after so many years, still read me so well?
“I like it, it’s just …”
Hunter turns to look at me, and with the way he’s leaning in, our faces are much too close. Giving me allllll kinds of bad ideas. Waking up allllll kinds of sleeping feelings that need to go back into hibernation. Bringing allllll kinds of buried memories gasping up to the surface for air.
Like the way Hunter’s hands felt wrapped around my waist. The soft, sweet, hesitant press of his mouth on mine. The warmth and weight of his body hugging me. Even though our kisses were as awkward and feverishly excited as teenage kisses can be, they stayed with me.
What would those big hands feel like now, cupping my jaw? How might his lips feel, the scratch of his beard against my skin while he kissed me?
“This one.” I lean forward, putting a little more distance between Hunter and me, and tap the first tile.
I knew the minute Dante suggested a different tile that this was the right one, but it feels good to say it out loud, to own this. I hope Hunter doesn’t notice the gentle shake of my hand.
He moves around me to where Dante stood a few minutes before. A professional distance. But it might as well be a million miles away. I hate it as much as I hated his closeness a moment ago.
Maybe more.
“That’s the one I would have chosen too,” he says. “It’s perfect.”
I try to hide my smile, which stems from a mix of validation in my choice and from the fact that Hunter would have picked the same one.
“Let me pull up my measurements and I’ll see what Dante has in stock. Maybe I’ll insist he get the boxes from the hardest-to-reach shelf first.”
“Be nice. He was very helpful.”
Am I wrong, or is the flash in Hunter’s eyes jealousy?
“Sonice,” I add. “We had a really nice talk, bonding over how to get you back for messing with me.”
Hunter’s eyes narrow, sliding with a particular venom toward the front of the store where Dante is chatting with a customer.
Oh, yeah.Definitejealous vibes. Hunter suddenly has the look of a wolf about to close his jaws around another wolf’s neck to show dominance. Based on my extensive Discovery Channel viewings. Simon never understood my fascination with animals, but I feel like there’s a lot to learn about humans from studying animal behavior.
I reach over and touch Hunter’s forearm. Lightly. Quickly. But enough to jerk his attention away from Dante—who is an innocent bystander in all this.
“Do you like being a contractor?” I ask.
Surprise moves across his features at my subject change, but then Hunter’s expression turns more thoughtful.
“It pays the bills,” he eventually says, leaning against the counter.
“I think I expected you to wind up doing something more creative. Making furniture, or building things, I guess.”
“I do build things,” he says, his tone prickly.
“No, I know. I just thought—I don’t know. You were always so good with your hands.” That doesn’t sound good. “With wood,” I say quickly.
Which only makes it worse. The tiniest smile lifts the corner of his mouth as my cheeks flame.
“Furniture! You made that easel for me, and it was amazing—”
His smile vanishes. “That was a long time ago, Mer.”
There’s my nickname again, falling off his lips so easily. It makes my breath catch and my hands tremble, especially because he sounds so angry. Or maybe it’s hurt I hear. I curl my fingers into fists and tuck them under my arms, not wanting Hunter to see me react.
