Page 93 of Bleacher Report
And then he’s gone—climbing into the backseat, the car pulling away with a quiet hum. I stand there a moment longer, hand still on the doorknob, heart thudding in my chest like it’s not quite ready to be alone.
When I close the door, the house settles into a silence that feels bigger than it should. Too still. Too empty. Like maybe the space Hunter’s worried about losing…isn’t just on the couch.
I pad toward the bedroom, peeling off my sweatshirt, preparing for bed and trying to shake the weird flutter still lingering in my chest.
This is an arrangement, I remind myself. A temporary fix. No matter how easy it’s starting to feel—or how much I might wish it wasn’t pretend—I can’t let myself get caught up in the moments between.
I reach for the nightstand drawer to grab my lotion—and freeze.
My trusty vibrator is missing.
In its place, there’s a neon yellow sticky note folded over something. My fingers brush the paper, heart skipping like it already knows I’ve found clue number one.
Written in his sharp, confident scrawl:
Looking for something, Peyton?
You'll have to work for it this time. Follow the clues—if you dare.
I stare at it, half-smiling, half-scowling.
Damn him. The man really left me a sexy scavenger hunt.
And I’m already hooked.
I stare at the note, a mix of confusion and intrigue swirling inside me. Of course Hunter would pull some kind of prank, even when he's not here.
Tucking the note into my pocket, I start searching the room, looking for any other signs of his mischief. It doesn't take long before I spot a pink sticky note, this one taped to the lamp on my dresser.
Warm and cozy, where I like to rest my head. That's where your next clue will be found instead.
I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "Typical Hunter," I mutter, already heading for the bed.
Sure enough, there's another note nestled between the pillows, this one slightly crumpled.
Feeling thirsty, are we?
The kitchen is where you'll find the next piece.
Shaking my head, I make my way downstairs, my phone buzzing with an incoming call from Hunter. I debate ignoring it, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
"Where did you put it?" I ask, cutting right to the chase.
I can practically hear the grin in his voice. "Put what?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Reed. The sticky note in my nightstand? Where's my vibrator?"
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Oh, that. Couldn’t wait until my flight took off before needing a little help, huh sweetheart? You could have asked me to take care of you before I left.”
“You moved my vibrator. You’re a monster,” I tell him.
“We both know that deep down, you’re excited to find my little present.”
I roll my eyes, already heading for the kitchen. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Ah, ah, ah. No spoilers," he teases. "Follow the clues, Peyton. You're smart, I know you can figure it out."
I sigh, scanning the kitchen for any sign of another note. My eyes land on the fridge, where a bright yellow square is stuck to the door.
