Part 8 (1/2)
His father's chuckle was largely unapologetic. ”Headed for ninety-six, according to the gal on the radio this mornin'. Looks like this season's gonna bring us all sorts of surprises.”
”I think I've had all the surprises I need this season,” Hunter said, pa.s.sing one of the water bottles over to his father before pouring the contents of the second into the bowl they'd brought from home for Lucy.
”Thanks,” his father said after draining half the bottle in one go. ”Guess I could've used that more than I thought.”
A thread of worry uncurled in Hunter's gut, but he knew better than to state it flat out. Time to rely on his laid-back smile. ”Yeah, well, take it easy, would you? You end up with heat exhaustion and you'll never hear the end of it from Owen.”
”Bah. It's gonna take a h.e.l.luva lot more than a little heat to do me in.” His father gave up a nothing-doing grin identical to Hunter's, just a slow flash of his teeth. ”Now what do you say we get a little work done, here?”
His father took another long draw from his water bottle, and although Hunter knew it was probably more for his benefit than to quench the old man's thirst, he'd take whatever he could to get this day back to normal.
”I say that sounds like a d.a.m.n good plan.”
CHAPTER NINE.
Emerson straightened the display of lilac body scrub six times in twenty minutes before Daisy flat out busted her.
”Girl. That is some righteous fidgeting you've got going on over there. If you're not careful, you're liable to rearrange a hole in the tablecloth.”
”What? I'm not . . .” Oh h.e.l.l. Insulting the intelligence of the only friend she had right now was an epically bad plan. ”Sorry,” Emerson said, dropping her hands to her sides. ”Guess I've got a little nervous energy to burn.”
Daisy's blond brows snapped together in obvious confusion. ”Over the body scrub?”
A laugh barged past Emerson's lips, scattering her nerves on exit. ”No. I told Hunter I'd meet him on my lunch break.”
”The lunch break you're taking in five minutes?” Daisy asked, mouthing the word ”whoa” a second later. ”Hunter and Eli headed back to their tent three hours ago. How come you didn't say anything?”
”I knew you had a lot on your mind with the festival. Plus, it's not a big deal.”
Her friend sent a pointed glance at the containers of body scrub, all of them lined up with mathematical precision. ”Pretty sure the tablecloth would say otherwise. So I take it you and the football guy are no longer a thing?” Daisy stopped short, her cheeks flus.h.i.+ng. ”I'm sorry. That was just about the nosiest question ever.”
”No, it's okay,” Emerson said. She might not want to fork over a complete tell-all of her personal life, but at least this she could freely admit. ”Lance and I broke up when I decided to leave Las Vegas, yes. But it was amicable.”
At least, as amicable as a breakup could be when one party was diagnosed with a debilitating disease and the other had a career that was taking off like the s.p.a.ce shuttle. The part of her that housed her pride had wanted to be furious when Lance had gently suggested they separate less than two weeks after her diagnosis. But, really, who was she kidding? Multiple sclerosis was forever, and even though she'd liked him well enough while they'd dated, she'd always known Lance wasn't forever.
”How about what's going on between you and Hunter?” Daisy asked, bringing Emerson back to the present with a small smile. ”Is that amicable, too?”
Emerson's chin snapped up. ”There's nothing going on between me and Hunter.”
”But there could be, right?”
”I don't think so.” First of all, she was his physical therapist-not that she could say that to Daisy, or would even if it didn't violate his privacy six ways to Sunday. Secondly, the last thing Emerson needed was a distraction, not even a blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, charming-as-h.e.l.l one.
She was here to work. To get on with her life. To forget.
And dammit, when Hunter had wrapped his fingers around hers, all she'd been able to do was remember.
”Y'all were once quite the thing. Are you sure?” Daisy asked gently. But Emerson's new normal couldn't include old pasts. Both her heart and her body would make d.a.m.n sure of that.
”Positive. I guess I'm just not used to being back in the town spotlight after twelve years. I'm sure it'll pa.s.s.”
”Hmm.” A flicker of doubt moved over Daisy's face, but thankfully, she didn't put it to words. ”Well, lucky for you, those twelve years are in the rearview, and the only thing in front of you is today. Go. Have a nice lunch break. And don't come back for at least an hour, you hear?”
Emerson hesitated, sending a look around the tent and the steady stream of festivalgoers on Town Street beyond. ”Promise you'll call me if things get busy?”
”Not on your life,” Daisy said with a laugh. ”Your cell phone's not too likely to do you much good around here, anyway. I'll give rain checks for your hand ma.s.sages, don't worry. Now scoot before I deliver you to the Cross Creek tent myself.”
”Okay. Okay, okay!” Emerson added with a grin as Daisy waved her hands to shoo her from the tent. ”I'll be back in an hour.”
Tamping down the nerves still jangling in her belly, she kicked her feet into motion, moving up the street. So her conversation with Hunter this morning had been a little flirty. They were both adults, and while not a little bit of time had pa.s.sed since they'd been a couple, they certainly weren't total strangers. He'd taken her virginity, for G.o.d's sake-not that she hadn't been offering it up at the time. How difficult could a quick spin around the Watermelon Festival really be?
And then Emerson caught sight of him from across Town Street, and sweet baby Jesus, Hunter Cross was gorgeous.
Her breath slapped to a stop at the same time her pulse sped way up. Hunter was standing about fifteen feet away beneath Cross Creek's triple-wide vibrant red canopy tent, which all things considered, was normal enough. Turned to the side so his profile was showing, he focused his gaze first on the clipboard in his hands, then on the produce on the table next to him. Although the task seemed run of the mill, even boring, maybe, something about his movements spoke of pure ease, from the reverence in his eyes as he leaned in to check the wooden crates full of ripe green watermelons to the look on his face when he threw his head back and laughed at whatever his brother Owen had just said. The tension that had claimed Hunter's muscles all week in the PT center was nowhere to be found, replaced by a fluidity and calm that Emerson couldn't cultivate through any treatment or exercise, and oh G.o.d, he simply looked . . .
Like he belonged.
Emerson forced her feet forward at the same moment Hunter turned and saw her, his eyes going round with recognition and surprise.
But before either of them could speak, a fat, dark blur darted from beneath the canopy, beelining directly for Emerson and parking its big, wiggling self smack at her feet.
”Oh my G.o.d.” Her brain raced, and her heart along with it, but no. It couldn't be. ”Is this . . . ?” She met Hunter's stare for a fleeting second, catching his nod before kneeling down to greet the exuberant dog with a laugh. ”Lucy, you pretty girl! The last time I saw you, you were only a puppy.”
”She never did lose the mentality. Obviously,” Hunter said, taking a few steps forward to lean one hip against a stack of st.u.r.dy wooden crates. A handful more seconds pa.s.sed while Emerson gave Lucy a healthy round of praise and scratches behind the ears-jeez, she was still the sweetest thing. Then a whistle sounded off from beneath the tent, sharp and quick, causing Lucy to stop mid-preen and hightail her way back under the shade.
”Oh.” Emerson straightened and smoothed a hand over her T-s.h.i.+rt, her eyes following Lucy to the bustling activity beneath Cross Creek's oversized canopies. ”I'm sorry,” she said, taking a step toward Hunter. ”You guys look really busy. If you need to stick around, I totally understand.”
He opened his mouth, but before he could free a single word, an all-too-familiar time-roughened voice came from behind him to stop her argument.
”Emerson Montgomery. Is that you, darlin'?”
She blinked, an involuntary smile bubbling up from the bottom of her chest. Hunter's father might look a bit more worn around the edges than the last time she'd seen him, but Lord, his smile was still as warm and smooth as b.u.t.terscotch. ”Yes, sir, it's me. How are you, Mr. Cross?”
He took the hand she extended and embraced it warmly in both of his. ”As good as an old man can be. Sorry about Lucy here.” He gestured down to the bona fide mutt sitting by his boots, still wagging her tail in a clear bid for attention. ”I'd teach her some manners, but you know what they say about old dogs.”
”Oh, no worries. I don't mind a bit,” Emerson said, reaching down to give Lucy one more pat on the head.
Mr. Cross gestured to Hunter, who was still leaning against the crates and listening just as easy as he pleased. ”Hunter mentioned you were back in town and workin' with the doc. Welcome home.”
The warmth blooming behind her breastbone took her by complete surprise, but still she said, ”Thank you. I'm happy to be working with Doc Sanders.”
Mr. Cross tipped his timeworn Stetson at her. ”We sure are grateful you're takin' good care of Hunter's shoulder.”
”Thanks, but he deserves some credit, too. He's been working really hard.”
Hunter's brows popped, outing his surprise. ”You're the expert. All I'm doing is following the plan so I can get back to work.”