“Hello, Hunter.” She frowns, not bothering to hide her dislike of me. Becoming a hockey star didn’t change her opinion of me—that I come from the wrong side of the tracks and was never good enough for her daughter.
They gave Winter the middle name “Princess” for a reason—they want her to go through life not wanting for anything, and they expect that her husband will be able to give her the world. Even though I could do that now, the Allens will never see me that way. And in truth, I don’t know that I see myself that way either. I never forgot where I came from.
“Ma’am.” I nod politely. “I’m here to help Winter move her things.”
“Come on inside.” She takes a second look at me, and I know she’s about to ask me for a favor. Winter’s parents have never been shy about taking what they want. “I seem to remember you being handy around the house. Must be that blue-collar upbringing.” She sniffs.
I barely resist a laugh. “Must be. What do you need help with, Mrs. Allen?”
She beckons me toward the stairs. “Come with me.”
* * *
Winter
The buzzing sound of a weed whacker wakes me early in the morning.
I didn’t miss that when I lived in Manhattan. For some reason, the sounds of traffic and sirens disturbed me less. And my parents always make sure their lawn is perfectly manicured, which means an excessive amount of lawn care.
I had a fitful night of sleep, and as I become fully awake, I expect to be greeted by that familiar foreboding feeling I’ve had for the past six months. Instead, Hunter pops into my head. The memory of him touching me yesterday is so strong that I actually miss him.
The thing is—I don’t just miss him. Icravehim. I want him so much suddenly that my hand is beneath my underwear in seconds. I stifle a moan as my fingers fly across my clit. All I’m thinking about is Hunter and an image of him looking at me with that unmistakable hunger in his eyes. We never had sex, but we did other things, and those things were always…hot.
My face is heated and my breaths coming in short gasps when I hear—
“Hunter, right this way.”
What is he doing here?
The footsteps are growing closer, and they stop just outside my bedroom door when Mama says, “I need you to change the faucets out in Winter’s bathroom. If she’s not awake yet, she should be. Let me just…”
I’m up out of the bed in a flash. Certain my cheeks are bright red and everything about me screams, “I’ve been touching myself,” I dive headfirst into my massive walk-in closet, closing the door behind me.
My mother’s knocks on the bedroom door are loud and firm. “Winter? Are you decent? Hunter’s going to fix those dreadful faucets out and fix the god-awful leak!”
Hoping I can sneak out once Hunter’s immersed himself in his task, I stay quiet.
Mama enters first. “Oh, she must have gotten up and I missed her downstairs somehow. Well, that’s easy enough to do in our spacious home. Okay, Hunter, come with me into the bathroom here.”
Shit. I left my bra hanging on the towel rack.
I listen at the closet door, but their voices are too low for me to make out any words. The majority of my clothing from New York is in suitcases downstairs, but I’m not going to risk seeing Hunter again in these see-through pajamas.
I reach into a box I shipped from New York a year ago and grab the first clothing options I can find—which ends up being tiny jean cut-offs I haven’t worn in years; a hot pink bikini top because my only available bra is currently in the bathroom with Hunter; and a gray NYU sweatshirt from a guy my castmate set me up with. I don’t even know why I shipped the sweatshirt. The guy and I went out one time, and I basically shut the door on him when all he wanted to do was kiss me good night.
I throw on the cut-offs, top, and sweatshirt, still so wet from my Hunter fantasy a few minutes ago that the jeans press against me uncomfortably when I move. Not to mention I’m fully sexually frustrated in this moment, and the object of my morning desire is about five feet away. But he’s with my mother, of course, just to ruin the fantasy.
I hear my mother leave the room, and I consider waiting it out until Hunter’s done, but that could be a while. And I need to pee.
I open the closet door quietly and slip out. I tiptoe across my floor.
Maybe Hunter will be too busy fixing the sink to notice me.
“Morning, Princess.”
No such luck.
I turn toward the open bathroom door and lock eyes with him.
