Page 24 of Haunting the Hunter
I sit back in the seat, crossing my arms in protest, and decide to ignore him for the remainder of my meal. I focus on the intricate wooden carvings on the booth behind him. Images of cowboys riding horses, beautifully done. It reminds me of Cade, and when he made me the most beautiful vanity with intricate roses carved on the sides. I smile despite myself. It’s one of the few things I kept from our old house—how he combined his carving capabilities with my love of flowers was incredibly thoughtful.
It’s hard to picture him working on something so small and detailed. But it’s his thing. Isolating himself in his workshop and eventually coming out with the most beautiful things. It took me months to talk him out of building every piece of furniture in the house. I wanted an actual couch, with cushions. Not a damn bench that looks like it belongs in a museum.
My thoughts are interrupted when a loud bell rings behind me. I jump at the sound as four servers come to our table singing happy birthday. They drop a large sombrero on my head and slide two shots of clear liquid in front of me.
Not knowing how to respond, I sit there, smiling like an idiot while they sing. Jack, phone in hand, is smiling ear to ear, clearly recording the moment. I shoot him a death glare. It’s not even my birthday. As if he can read my mind, he shrugs.
“Free shots.”
He picks them up, handing me one. He drinks his and slams it on the table, and I follow his movements. The burn going down my throat makes me wince, and I exhale as if I’m breathing fire. The servers are cheering. I nod and thank them as they walk away, our server setting our check down on the table as I ask for our ice cream to go before she joins them.
“Was that completely necessary?” I ask.
“No, but watching your reaction was fucking worth it,” he says, smirking.
“What was in that shot?” I ask, taking a sip of the sweet tea I ordered.
“That, my dear, was tequila.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, this was fun,” I say, admiring the rim of the hat still on my head. “Do I get to keep this?”
The server walking past speaks before Jack can answer.
“No, you can leave it at the register on your way out.”
I look away, embarrassed, and Jack laughs.
“You’re a dick,” I say with venom before laughing with him.
“So.” He takes a breath. “You ready for our next stop?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No, I think you’re gonna like this one.”
I follow him to the front, reluctantly returning the beautiful sombrero to the hostess while he pays the bill.
The sky is just starting to get dark as we step out of the restaurant, the deep blue casting an eerie atmosphere over our parking spot. Chills creep down my spine. For a moment—just a moment—I had almost forgotten about everything. Even the thing I know is watching me. I pause, staring at the shadowy tree line.
“Calli,” Jack says with concern. “C’mon.”
I robotically move toward the truck as he leans over to open my door from the driver’s seat. I let myself sink into my seat, the leather squeaking under me.
“All right!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”
His words pull me out of whatever moment I was having.
“Uh…”
He pulls out a huge sack, and it jingles in his hand.
“We’re going to the fuckin’ arcade!” he says with an exaggerated, enthusiastic voice.
My shoulders perk up a bit. That actually sounds fun. I look at him with a faux-serious face.
“Just, please promise me it won’t involve any more singing.”
He laughs under his breath as he turns the key, shifts the truck into gear.
