Page 68 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
Hunter:Must be an amazing guy…
Merritt:He’s all right.
Hunter:Tell me about him.
Merritt:Hmmm. Nice eyes. Decent personality. Really great butt. Exceptional taste in art supplies.
Hunter:Sounds like a winner. You should hang onto that guy.
Merritt:Word on the street is he’s a pretty hot commodity. Think I stand a chance?
Hunter:Honestly, Mer, you’re the only one who ever really has.
I press the phone up against my chest. My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks.
What is happening right now? HOW is this happening?
Me and Hunter. Texting like this. Talking like we did last night.Kissinglike we did last night. Of all the things I anticipated when moving down here to take over for Eloise, I never imagined this.
I respond to Hunter’s last message with three red hearts, then flag down Harriett and ask her for a to-go container of the chicken noodle soup her menu claims is the best in all of Georgia and a pimento cheese sandwich after she assures me it’s Hunter’s favorite. That makes me want to laugh. Hunter may look like a lumberjack, but he drinks his coffee with fancy creamer and eats pimento cheese sandwiches. Why do I find this so adorable?
Once Harriett has disappeared back into the kitchen, I pull up Naomi’s number, which I got while she was helping me pick out my date outfit. We talked about the possibility of shopping this weekend in order to expand my wardrobe. I’m definitely down for shopping, but right now, I’m hoping she can help me with something else.
Merritt:Hi. Would you happen to know where Hunter lives? I’ve heard it’s almost off the grid. Can you tell me how to find it?
Right as Harriett returns with my food, Naomi texts back an address and a string of flame and eggplant emojis, which makes me laugh.
Naomi:The island vultures are still circling. Stake your claim, woman.
The mention of vultures has that jealous wave surging again. Clearly, I want this man for my own. But before I can do any kind of claiming, I need to meet Isabelle.
* * *
When it comesto Hunter’s house,off the gridfeels like an understatement. The man lives in the literal middle of nowhere. Or maybe more like the edge of nowhere? Apparently, the southernmost point of Oakley Island is a protected wetland. Marshland? A combination of both? I’m not sure I know the difference.
All I know is, no one lives there. Except Hunter, apparently. After driving down a narrow, gravel road for what felt like an eternity but was probably only three or four minutes, I stop my car in a sandy parking area just behind Hunter’s truck.
The main house is to my left—a rustic cabin I immediately wonder if Hunter built himself. It looks cozy and comfortable and like it belongs exactly where it is. Almost like it sprouted from the surrounding landscape. I can’t see the ocean from here, but I sense where it is, just beyond a thin line of scrubby plants, palmettos, and live oak trees draped with Spanish moss. Opposite the truck, there’s another building almost as big as the house, which seems like some sort of garage or workshop. The sides are corrugated metal—worn, but painted a light blue.
I climb out of my car, suddenly nervous to be here as I approach the house. Will Hunter be mad that I just showed up? Will he be happy to see me? Will Isabelle think it’s weird I’m here? Will Hunter even want me to meet her?
And maybe the most pressing question—are the dogs barreling toward me friendly?
Hunter talked to me about his rescue animals and didn’t mention that they’re aggressive, but multiple dogs barking and running right at me doesn’t inspire confidence. Recognizing the inevitability of my possible demise, I back up against my car and close my eyes, my arms lifted to shield my face.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air, and I open my eyes to see two dogs sitting at my feet, tails wagging. They’re much less intimidating now, even though one of them is the size of a small pony.
“Sorry if they scared you,” Hunter calls, quickly descending the porch steps. For once, he’s sans-flannel, wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt, his feet bare. I am suddenly entranced by how sexy I find this. He’s so casual. So comfortable. Sodelicious.
“That’s Sunbeam, and she’s Lilith,” he says, pointing to what looks like some kind of shepherd, and then a Great Dane. “They are both very enthusiastic about people.”
“I’ll say.” I offer my hand for sniffing as Hunter steps around the dogs and wraps an arm around my waist. When he presses a kiss to my temple, I nestle into him. It is the tenderest welcome, and I want to rewind and do it all over again. Minus the almost-dog mauling, maybe. Now that they’re wagging their tails and licking my hand, it’s all good. Any doubts about showing up uninvited vanish as Hunter squeezes me tighter.
“What are you doing here? And that is not a complaint. I’m very glad you are.”
“Um, I brought Isabelle some soup.” I bite my lip. “I hope that’s okay.”
Hunter pulls back, just enough for me to see his smile. “That was thoughtful.”
