I jolt and whirl to glare at Hunter, who stands by the window. “Were youspyingon me?”
“He’s a complete tool. Anyone can see that.” Hunter’s gaze is dark, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, his powerful shoulders tight; he reminds me of a snake, coiled, ready to strike.
“He was funny and nice. And I don’t see how any of this is your business.” I move to brush past him to where I can hear Lou loudly doing dishes in the kitchen, probably trying to act like she’s not eavesdropping, but Hunter reaches out and snatches my arm, pulling me to a stop. I stare down at where his fingers wrap around my forearm, branding my skin with heat, then up to his face. My heart thuds. Our eyes meet and hold in the semidarkness. My breath catches in my lungs.
“I know guys like him,” Hunter says, low and urgent. “He’s not a good idea.”
“It takes one to know one, right?” I snap back, angry at him for watching us, angry at my body for reacting to his touch like this. “At least he didn’t tell me he has no interest in me—inanyway.”
Hunter flinches but doesn’t back down. “I’m trying to protect you.”
I scowl. “That’s somethingfriendsdo. And you’ve made itveryclear that we’re never going to be anything close to friends.” I yank my arm free. “So why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself and leave me alone.”
“If that’s what you want.” Hunter’s voice is cold. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I ignore the quiver that runs down my spine as I storm away from him, heading for the stairs instead of the kitchen. I just want to be alone—and as far away from him as possible in this suddenly far-too-small foyer.
Once I’m in the safety of my room, with the door slammed shut behind me, I rip off the possibly ruined dress as fast as I can, leaving it in a heap on the floor. I have to take my immunosuppressant meds, but as soon as I swallow them, I curl up under my covers, not even bothering to remove my makeup. The moment my head hits the pillow, the tears come, and I curl into a ball, trying to cry as quietly as possible because I’m not even surewhyI’m so upset.
All I know is that I felt more of a physical reaction when Hunter held my arm for ten seconds—in anger—than the entire encounter with Austin on the porch, including his kiss.
There’s no reason for Hunter to warn me about Austin.
The only person I need protection from being hurt by is him.
7.
My alarm goes off at four fifty the next morning—I wasn’t lying when I told Austin I had the early baking shift. I want to roll over and go back to sleep, but I have no choice except to get up. The three Karlsson women take turns getting to the bakery first, and if I don’t show up on my days, the bakery will suffer.
More than it already is.
When I throw off my blankets, my dress is still in a crumpled heap on the floor. The memories from last night rush back, along with a sudden headache. Ignoring the pain, I grab my robe out of the closet and pull it on. It’s made of the softest fleecy material with little pink hearts on it and hits me mid-thigh. Lou has teased me mercilessly about it in the past, saying it’s every eight-year-old girl’s dream robe, but I love it. It was a gift from Talia when I was living in the hospital. A bright spot in a sea of dismal gray and hospital blue. It’s a little worn and battered after all these years, but I’m never getting rid of it. Plus, it’s obscenely early, so there’s no way either Lou or Hunter is awake to see me.
I slowly make my way downstairs, the carpet soft beneath my toes. I grab a mug to quickly make some peppermint teato help wake me up—and hopefully mitigate my headache since I can’t take ibuprofen—but I can’t find the tea bags where I usually keep them. I’ve searched through every cabinet when I finally find them tucked behind boxes of unfamiliar, super-healthy, gross-looking cereal.
“Whose crap is this?” I grumble as I shove the cereal aside to get a tea bag.
“That crap would be mine.”
I scream and whirl, chucking the tea bag. My aim is spectacular—it bounces off Hunter’s chest as effectually as a gnat. “What iswrongwith you? Have you ever heard of making noise like a normal person instead of creeping around like a freaking murderer or something?”
“What areyoudoing awake, banging cupboards at five in the morning in the dark like a freaking psychopath?” he counters, flipping the switch and filling the kitchen with light.
I wince at the onslaught. “I have the extra-early shift at the bakery. Andsomeonemoved my tea bags.”
Hunter barely seems to hear me. His gaze is caught partway down my body, his eyebrows raised and lips parted. I glance down and shriek again, whirling to face the counter. Not only am I wearing my small, fluffy, covered-in-hearts, worse-for-wear robe, but it’s not high enough to cover my scarred sternum, which means Hunter can see half of my chest. “I, ah, what was the question?”
“I didn’t ask you a question.” I yank my robe to my collarbones, hiding the ruined skin and blushing furiously, but thankfully, he can’t tell from the back of my head.
He clears his throat. “Okay ... well ... I’m going to go for a run.”
“Great.”
“Yep.”
“Okay.”
There’s a pause of silence, but I can still sense him standing behind me.
