Thousand Yard Bride (15 page)

T
he next day
I met Lanie at ClimbTime. We both laughed as we realized we were wearing the gym's teal company brand shirts. We weren’t actual twins, but we almost looked the part at that moment.

“How did dress hunting go?” my sister asked. "Sorry I couldn't make it last minute."

“It's fine," I said, waving at the air. "It would have helped to have you there as backup, though."

“What happened?” She reached for a too-far-away hand grip.

“His ex ambushed me. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it was. I feel pretty shitty about the whole thing.”

Lanie chose a better hand hold and pulled herself up higher before answering me. “He probably does, too. Even if you’re not
doing
each other, he does have his little Hunter Jr. Jr. growing inside you.”

“Keep quiet,” I hissed, jerking her rope.

“Why?" she laughed, looking around. "No one can hear us up here." There was a devilish light in her eyes. "Oho. Wait.
Are
you two sleeping together?" I was sure my whole body was glowing red. "Gasp! Joanne Cooke!"

Groaning, I buried my face on the rock wall. "He made me dinner. Even if it was burned by the time we go to it."

Lanie cackled. "Naughty horn dogs!" She reached the summit and turned around to look back at me. “Speaking of a certain horny devil.”

Hunter sauntered towards us in his very own teal ClimbTime shirt. “Hey, Jo,” he shouted up at me. He then waved up to Lanie who waved back.

She winked at me, making a kissing face. “I’ll just chill up here for a while, no worries, it’s a cool view."

I pretended to be put out, but really, I was happy to see Hunter. As carefully as I could—I hadn't stopped rock climbing yet, but I did have a baby in me—I slid down the wall to the floor.

Hunter smiled at me, whistling. "Watching you scale this is super hot. I dig the sweaty look."

"Uh huh." On impulse, I hugged him, feeling his muscles beneath his new climbing shirt. "What's this all about? Do you rock climb?"

“Not at all. I could use a good teacher." Chuckling, he nuzzled my ear. "Someone with nice strong hands." Gripping my wrists, he forced my palms onto his ass, holding them there as I struggled.

Heat swam down to my knees. Swallowing, I stepped back when he let me go. “You think you’re ready for this? It’s pretty hard core.”

“That's my favorite kind of thing."

Always with the innuendo,
I thought, trying not to laugh. Lanie rappelled down and handed her harness to Hunter. I helped him into it, knowing he was playing extra dumb when he had me clipping the basic buckles.

His fingers traced mine, making me take extra long on adjusting the harness around his crotch. "Kinky," he chuckled, his smirk strong as ever. I wished he wasn't getting me flustered, but the harness was stretching so tight over his broad chest that I was distracted.

"Okay," I said, wiping at the back of my neck and pretending I was just sweating from my climb, "You're set. Go for it."

He flashed us his thumb, then he began climb so smoothly I realized he was either a natural . . . or he'd done this before and had been messing with me. Lanie said under her breath, "Can we clone him?"

When he came back down, I folded my arms. "That was impressive. I’d almost think you were an athlete or something."

"Nah, I just had a good teacher," he said sweetly.

After our climb, we all walked across the street to Big Mojos Brewhaus & Grille, our favorite spot to rejuvenate after a workout. Sure enough, my jerk of a sister ordered a delicious house microbrew, while I was forced to order a hot ginger tea to help with my morning sickness.

Hunter, in solidarity, ordered a seltzer.

I ordered a club with extra bacon, and when it arrived, I dug into it like it was my last meal. Lanie cautiously leaned away, as if I might bite her next. “Baby likes bacon,” I shrugged. “Who am I to deny it such vital sustenance?”

“He or she probably gets that from me,” Hunter said in between bites. “How’s your ankle lately?”

Wiggling my foot, I said, "Fine. Hasn't bothered me in a day or two."

“Still can't believe everything that's happened to you," Lanie laughed. "New job, busted ankle, pregnant, and now . . . engaged to this amazing specimen of a man."

Hunter grinned as wide as he could. “That's a nice way to say you approve.”

"I do approve." Taking a pull from her beer, she sighed. "I'm excited to be an aunt. It's almost as good as getting married, myself."

"You?" I teased. "Married?"

Lanie closed her eyes, tilting her head way back. "You're right. How awful of me to take myself away from the free men of the world."

Hunter laughed first, but it was contagious, and soon all of us were banging the table and trying not to choke. It felt
good
to just laugh like that. It felt even better to look across the table at Hunter and think,
This is normal.

I was eager to grab at every fragment of "normal" that I could find. I had a feeling there wouldn't be many more of them.

W
henever I’d thought
about Hunter before, it was Hunter the star wide receiver, or Hunter, the sexy guy in all those commercials. When I thought about Hunter now, it was Hunter the guy who kept his kitchen stocked with fizzy water. Hunter, the guy whose bathroom smelled like mint.

He’d given me the code for his alarm, which was something that seemed so unromantic in theory, but felt intimate as I entered his passcode.

Hunter had messaged me, asking me to meet him for dinner, and I told myself it was something I needed to do. Not just for me—no, not at all—but because it was still my job.

Seriously. I suck at lying to myself.

I changed into a drop waist red and white summer dress, something that would look cute in photographs in case the paparazzi wanted to snap photos but would also conceal my ever growing baby bump.

Hunter had chosen a chic but quiet French café for dinner. When I arrived he was already there, sitting at a sidewalk table reading a book. I wanted to watch him for a while, to see if this was all staged for the sake of the paparazzo.

When I got closer I saw that Hunter was reading
Me Talk Pretty One Day.
I loved everything by David Sedaris, and I was surprised at his choice. I’m not sure what I expected—a football book? A thriller?—but I realized once again that there was a lot more going on under the surface than most people gave Hunter credit for.

I watched him for a minute more until I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the photographer had turned his camera on me. I pasted a huge, fake smile on my face—even though I was happy to see Hunter, I never was one to smile like a beauty queen—and made my way toward him. The second he spotted me, I felt the temperature change in the air. My toe caught a crack in the sidewalk; I stumbled, recovering in time for him to get up and scoop me off my feet like we hadn't seen each other in weeks.

I could have stayed in those arms for at least an eternity more, but then he put me down and pulled out my chair for me. People were watching us, the news had spread that I was engaged to Hunter Daniels Junior, and now, people recognized me by my face.

Ignoring them all, I leaned towards Hunter. “Have you read
When You Are Engulfed in Flames
?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, giving me a weird look, like he was embarrassed to be caught reading something so introspective.

“I don’t know which of his books is my favorite,” I went on, hoping to put him at his ease.

“Mine is definitely this one,” he said, tapping the paperback. “I’ve read it at least three times. I love how he can make the littlest boring things sound so funny.”

“Right? It’s such a talent.”
This is surreal.
Then again, that was my life these days.

When the waiter approached with his notepad and pencil at the ready, Hunter said, “We'll start with the oysters.” I kicked him under the table. Wincing, he glanced at me and added, “Scratch that. A hummus dip is fine. What else looks good to you, Jo?”

I wanted to answer with, “You do.” And he really did. He was wearing a khaki colored suit over a crisp white shirt. It made his tan glow and his amber eyes pop. “Do you know what has a lot of bacon in it?”

He scanned the menu. “Wanna split the Tartiflette? Never had it, but it says bacon is the first ingredient.”

My stomach tensed and rumbled. “Sounds perfect to me!" The waiter jotted it all down, took our menus, and scampered off. Folding my hands, my ring caught the light and sparkled.

Hunter chuckled, reaching out to brush my wrist and leave tingles where he went. "That really suits you."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, smiling crookedly. "I look like a marriage kind of girl, huh?"

I was playing around. Hunter fixed me with a look born from steel and honey as he whispered, "You look like my kind of girl."

My heart ballooned upwards. It blocked my mouth, blinded me, but it didn't make me deaf enough to not hear the unmistakable, high-pitched squeal of Poppy Van Hausen’s voice. “Hunter! Is that you?”

I turned around to confirm my worst nightmare. There she was in a formfitting black shift, her blindingly glossy hair and six-inch designer heels coming right at us like she was ready to pounce.

I heard Hunter mutter, “Fuck” under his breath. “Poppy, what are you doing here?” he asked when she pulled up to our table.

She didn't even look at me—her plastic grin was for Hunter only. “Oh, I’m just out shopping. Crazy running into you two lovebirds, though.”

“Yeah,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Crazy.”

Poppy had the audacity to pull a chair over from another table so she could sit down with us. “Just look how cute you two are. This must be every girl’s dream!" she chirped. "Being a nobody one day and dating Prince Charming the next. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers, the long, sparkling pink nails grinding together.

"Did you call me a nobody?" I laughed in surprise.

Poppy pursed her lips, watching me closely. “Well, you’re hardly . . .”

“What?” I snapped.

“Well, not to be mean, but look at this café for example. You’d never get a table here without Hunter. It’s sweet.”

The waiter set our appetizer on the table between us. I was wondering how much she'd like some hummus in her hair when Hunter said, “You need to leave. Now.”

Poppy's eyes crinkled on the outer edges. Her voice went sharp and high—the photographer came close enough to record this whole ordeal, and Poppy clearly wanted to be the star of the show. “First you
cheat on me
, now you’re telling me what to do? Like you can control me? It didn't take you too long to get over me, did it?”

“You made it really easy, Poppy,” Hunter said. My jaw dropped as my eyes darted back and forth between them. I could already see the headlines.

“Did I,” Poppy said, turning the knife, “Or did she?” Poppy pointed her finger at me, holding it there with her face twisted up. I couldn’t believe it; she was actually posing for the photographer.

I closed my mouth and shifted back into the shade under the umbrella, hoping I’d be nothing more than a shadow in the photo. Hunter must have realized what was going on, because he also closed his mouth and turned his back on the paparazzo.

“You need to leave me and Jo alone now, Poppy," he whispered hotly. "You’re only making yourself look bad. Just go.”

“I’d love to!” Poppy exclaimed, tossing her hair. Then, to add to the drama, she stood up and lifted her nose as high as it would go. “But to be honest, Hunty, I think there is more to little Jo here than meets the eye. She said you started dating a few months ago, the whole thing seems like a sham to me. Maybe something you’re doing, Hunter, to make yourself look better. She
is
a P.R. stooge, isn’t she?”

Hunter slammed his palms onto the table, causing a water glass to jump off and shatter on the concrete. The other diners were beyond pretending not to watch; at this point they were openly staring. My cheeks burned with humiliation, I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole so this debacle could be over with.

He got up and stepped closer to Poppy, getting into her face, his voice dropping to a low and deadly level I’d never heard before. “You will not speak to my fiancée like that. Not now, not ever again. Go the fuck away you miserable, sad, lonely little harpy.”

Poppy kept on smiling. I wondered if anything ever got under her skin. “Oh, Hunter, I don't think I’m going to be the miserable one at the end of the day. I don't think shotgun weddings have honeymoons. Good luck with your happy ending."

Poppy turned away from the photographer as she started fake-crying. She stormed off, finally leaving Hunter and I in peace—relatively speaking.

The photographers had now gathered into a small group and seemed to be comparing notes. I knew that each news site, blog, or magazine would have a slightly different take on this story.

I started running them through my head, considering what each headline might look like: “Ex-Girlfriend Goes Psycho on Star Player and Bacon-Loving Lady,” “Poppy Van Hausen Van Hassles Daniels and New Love,” “Is Poppy Van Hausen Holding on to Daniels’ Secrets?”

Then Hunter sat down, taking my hand. “Sorry about all of that."

“No, it was fine,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

The photographers were still hovering there watching us.

“How about a picnic, Jo?” Hunter turned to the waiter. “Can we get this to go?"

* * *

T
here was
a park with a lake about a ten-minute walk away. We found a spot under a tree near the playground where a group of elementary school kids were tossing around a football. Hunter spread everything out on the grass, the picture so serene it was easy to forget that what had led up to this had been a horrendous experience.

“Earlier," he said suddenly, "You asked why I'd wanted to meet up. Hold out your hand.”

I had to put down my plastic forkful of cheesy bacon goodness in order to do so, but I obliged. He placed a plain white envelope in my palm. With a questioning look at him, I opened it to find an invitation to the Annual Players and Pros Gala.

I looked to Hunter for clarification and he said, “It’s Victoria’s biggest event of the year. I was going to skip it, and I’m sure you have no desire to go, but I’m trying to mend things with my mom.”

Understanding dawned on me. "Did you ask her why she didn't tell you about Benny?"

His head moved side to side. "No. I don't need to. I'll mend things in my own way."

Frowning, I fingered the invitation. I didn't want to be in the middle of this drama. I also loved the idea of Hunter getting closer with his mom. After talking to her alone, I had a better idea of what she'd gone through—how similar we were.

I let the P.R. rep in me loose. “It’s the perfect opportunity for me to make up for the engagement party."

"Are you sure you’re all right with this? I do feel bad forcing you to do the socialite thing.”

“You’re going to be there, right?” I said with a flirty smile.

“Naturally.”

“Well, you jump, I jump, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you just quote
Titanic
?”

“Did you just know that I quoted
Titanic
?”

“What can I say,” Hunter laughed. “You figured out my dark, secret love for Leonardo DiCaprio. I love that movie.”

“It’s my favorite,” I admitted.

He looked out at the kids playing football. I wanted to read his mind. What the hell was he thinking behind that lush hair and unblemished-dear-lord-tell-me-what-cleanser-you-use skin?

I scanned the heavy, expensive invitation for more clues as to what fresh new horrors were in store for me. Then I saw it. “What does white tie mean?”

“It means you get to see me in my tails,” Hunter said with a little eye roll.

“People still wear tuxedos with tails?” I couldn’t help myself; I giggled. “I’m sorry, did I just get transported back to Victorian England or something?”

Leaning on his elbow, he flashed a sharp smirk. Hunter watched me closely, studying me while not making a sound. I couldn't take it anymore, I reached out and poked him. "Hey!" he laughed.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I demanded.

"I'm thinking about how good you'll look in a ball gown."

Lifting my eyebrows high, I went to shove him—nothing violent, just out of shock. "Where the hell will I find a ball gown?" He caught my wrists, and instead of stopping me, he kept pulling until I toppled on top of him in the grass.

My shadow coated his grinning face. Even like this, in the shade, his eyes were bright yellow flame. Rich, prehistoric colors. Holding me so I couldn't shift my weight off of him, Hunter made a low sighing noise. "I'll find you something."

His hands swept down to my back, then my ass. I gasped, but focused on nailing my point home. "And where will I keep it? I don't have unlimited closet space."

“You don’t
have
to keep it. My mom runs a charity where you can donate gowns, and then people who can’t afford a prom dress or wedding dress or whatever can get them for free.”

I stopped wriggling in his grip. “That's really cool of your mom, really sweet.”

"What's
sweet
is this ass of yours," he whispered, kneading me, grinding his hips. Bolts of hot ice went into my belly then down to my pussy, stunning me. “I want to take you right here, in the grass, and—" A small football landed on the remains of the cheese plate, sending everything flying.

A kid no older than ten ran up and said, “Sorry, mister!”

Hunter grinned. “No worries, man. Go long!” The kid beamed and then ran a few feet away. Hunter threw the ball, and when the kid caught it, we both clapped. “Nice catch!”

The kid flashed a gap-toothed grin and ran back to his friends.

“That was monstrously adorable,” I said. This was the first time I’d seen Hunter interacting with children. He seemed pretty comfortable with it. My mind wandered to a strange future that was slowly becoming solid, one in which we took care of a squishy little newborn baby.

Was Hunter actually father material?

He leaned in and kissed me on my cheek. “Guess we can't fuck with the kids running around, huh?” he asked.