Just Three Words (Soho Loft Romances) (12 page)

“Give her time. Being in a serious relationship is new for her. She’ll find the balance soon. In the meantime, I happen to care about you a lot, and I’m incredibly interested in your day. And I’m really sexy, so there’s that.”

Samantha laughed at Hunter’s playful bragging. It was a specialty of hers. “So you’re saying you want to put on comfy pajama pants and watch
Lucy
with me for hours and love it?”

Hunter winced. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the perfect Brooklyn standin. “I could try. I would do that for you.”

Sam shook her head and cracked the eggs. “You’re sweet, but it’s not necessary. You just be you, who I happen to like—most of the time anyway. And of course you’re sexy, who can argue with that? It’s not even fair to the rest of us. Want bacon and eggs? Or do you have a date?”

“I’d sell you my mother for bacon and eggs.”

“Done,” Sam said, pointing the spatula at Hunter. “I adore your mom. She calls me
Mino’aka
. I have no idea what it means, but I stand by it.”

“It means beautiful smile in Hawaiian.”

And God, was it true.

Sam was still wearing heels and a pencil skirt that showed off her legs. She’d lost her suit jacket, but her white button-up shirt was now rolled up at the sleeves. Her hair was in a professional-looking ponytail, and Hunter would have no problem freeing it from the rubber band and running her hands through—
whoa.

Major friend infraction.
Stop right there. Do not pass Go.

“It means beautiful, huh?” The smile was gone from Samantha’s face as she cracked the eggs, lost in thought.

Hunter forced herself to breathe. A deep, cleansing breath that would center her and get her back on track, keep her present in the conversation. “Yeah, definitely means beautiful.”

“You really hit the jackpot with your mom. Maybe it’s to compensate for your dad and all his issues.”

“I can’t argue with that. It’s a valid theory I’ve also subscribed to myself on many occasions.” Hunter slid into one of the stools at the counter and watched as Sam went about making them dinner. Her goal was to focus on the preparation, but she was wildly infatuated with the quick, methodical movements Sam used to prepare the meal. The little flicks of her wrist were so spot-on and sexy that Hunter’s stomach flip-flopped, her skin tingled, and she was right back to square one: lusting after the unavailable. She gave her head a little shake and focused on what Sam needed. “How about a trade-off? You tell me about your day and I do something for you? I’ll unload the dishwasher for the rest of the week.” Two birds with one stone, that deal.

“I like unloading the dishwasher. It’s—”

“Part of your routine. I know.” A crash and burn, which meant more of the sexy T-shirt. She thought for a moment, drawing upon her tried-and-true skill set. “How about this? I’ll make you your very own Samantha Ennis website all about old movies and TV shows and numbers and fluid sexuality and a great big heart around the state of Pennsylvania.” Okay, so she was being ridiculous, but Sam seemed to need a little levity. And while she humored Hunter with a smile, it was brief. Samantha stared at her, a new sincerity in her eyes.

“Play for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you about my day if you agree to play your guitar for me. One song.”

Okay, that wasn’t really something Hunter was prepared to do. She didn’t play for other people. It just…felt weird. Playing music was personal.

“I take it that’s a no,” Sam said to her lack of response. She shifted her energy to flipping the bacon. And there was that defeated look again.

“You know what?” Hunter couldn’t believe she was agreeing to this. “Okay.”

Sam whirled back around and raised a hopeful eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll play for you. But first, you change clothes while I finish dinner. Then, while we eat, you tell me about your day.”

“I think we have a deal.”

With platefuls of scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits from the can, Samantha, now clad in jeans and a blue hoodie, told Hunter about running into Tanya so unexpectedly and the events that followed. Sam shook her head and studied the table. “I walked out of there feeling about two feet tall. And I know I shouldn’t have let any of it get to me, but it did. Women like that have a way of making me feel like less of a person, and lately that sentiment seems to have hit an all-time high.”

Hunter pushed her plate away. “You mean since the breakup?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve always had some stupid insecurities, but Libby did a number on me.”

“It would have done a number on anyone to essentially be dumped on a live radio show. It was unfair and childish. But let me ask you this: If I were telling you this same story, that some woman who wore a glorified smock and worked at a spa told me that I need more restorative water in my life to increase my glow, what would your response be?”

Sam took a moment with that and flipped perspectives. The answer came to her easily. “That she was a crazy lunatic and that you’re awesome.”

“And if I continued on and told you that the Earth”—she consulted the brochure on the table and read from it—“was as a part of you, and aligning yourself with its gravitational pull was tantamount to your physical well-being?”

“I’d tell you that you were a new age freak and ask what you did with my best friend Hunter.”

Hunter raised a shoulder. “Yet you listened to them. And they’re fucking crazy.”

Samantha laughed at that last part. “Fucking crazy, huh? Well, when you put it that way.”

“There’s no other way to put it. Crazy spa bitches. That’s what we should call them from now on. CSBs.”

Samantha was laughing full on now. “I can totally get behind that.”

“We should swap all the water in their pitchers with Diet Coke and see what happens. Spa Armageddon. Attack of the CSBs. Blondes Who Kill for Water.”

With tears in her eyes from laughing, Sam held up a hand. “You have to stop now. My stomach hurts.”

“Fine. But can I say one last thing on the topic?”

Samantha took a fortifying breath to regain composure and blew it out. “You can.”

“I’ve never known anyone with more of a glow around them than you, Sam. You light up rooms when you walk into them. It’s kind of amazing to see it happen.”

Sam paused the clearing of the plates, because it was obvious Hunter wasn’t joking anymore. What she said came from a sincere place, and that meant a great deal to Sam. Who would have thought she could feel so much lighter with just that one comment from Hunter? “Thank you.” She glanced at the ground and then back up. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

Hunter met her eyes. “I’m just telling you what I see every day. You’re the real deal is all. And I can’t say that about a lot of people.”

“Well, I can say it about you,” Samantha said. “You’re probably the most genuine person I know.”

“Thanks.” Hunter smiled and in that moment, Samantha felt something important pass between them. It was a weighted exchange that Sam wasn’t so sure she wanted to move out of. It felt comfortable, and yet so very not, at the exact same time. Was that possible?

Hunter’s long, dark hair was down tonight. She seemed to wear it down around the house more, something Sam had noticed since they’d moved in together. The edgy hairstyles seemed to be more indicative of her outside persona. But there was a softness to the way the first strand fell just shy of her eye. They were staring at each other, and Sam realized neither one of them had said anything for a while.

“Time to play something,” she said finally, moving them past it.

Hunter took a deep breath. “This is terrifying for me. You should know that.”

Samantha couldn’t remember a time when Hunter had seemed afraid of anything—or at least admitted to it. “Terrifying is okay once in a while. Now give me my money’s worth or I’m calling my lawyer. We have a contract.”

“Aggressive, but okay.” Hunter shook her head, smiling, but dutifully retrieved her guitar. Without another word, she took a seat on the footstool across from the couch where Samantha sat with her legs tucked beneath her. After a brief moment to orient her fingers to the strings, Hunter began to play, quietly at first. Sam easily recognized the song, “House of the Rising Sun.” It was one of her favorites, but then Hunter knew that.

As Sam listened, she slipped easily into the melody and even closed her eyes to soak it in, let it wash over her.

And then something amazing happened.

Something that hadn’t been part of the deal.

Hunter began to sing.

Samantha was struck, her brain on pause and her face warm because the voice that came from Hunter, though not very big, was clear and pure and bluesy and awesome. She felt her lips part in utter shock at Hunter’s raw ability. How was this possible? As the song continued, Hunter gradually gave more of herself over to it. She didn’t just sing the song, she seemed to feel it. The emotion was raw and the music soulful. Samantha experienced each note right down to her core, and though she’d closed her eyes on the first few chords of the song, there was no way she could do that now, because the woman in front of her was stunning. More than that. And don’t get her wrong, she’d always thought Hunter stunning, but when she sang, there was a whole new layer to the stunning. Jaw-dropping stunning. She was looking at Sam now as she sang, and Sam held that gaze, transfixed. Had she ever been transfixed before? She wasn’t sure.

After three verses, Hunter brought the song to a close. The last strum of her guitar held on before the vibration of sound faded altogether. Hunter set her guitar next to her. Silence enveloped the room. She dipped her head and looked up at Sam, her eyes wide, as if she were suddenly exposed. But the trepidation shifted to concern once she took in the expression on Sam’s face. “Why are you crying?”

Samantha hadn’t realized she was. But an effective blink told her there were, in fact, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She blinked back against them. “I guess I didn’t know what else to do. Hunter…I had no idea.” She lifted her hand in explanation, but let it drop when the right descriptive words weren’t there. Instead, she said what was in her heart. “That was beautiful. And I’m honored that you played for me.” It was clear to Sam that Hunter wasn’t entirely comfortable with what she’d just shared. She looked nervous, vulnerable—two things Samantha hadn’t realized Hunter capable of until now. There was a lot to this woman that she was only just beginning to realize.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“You’re right. I don’t. It just so happens to be true. You’re so talented. I can’t believe you hide it away.”

“Technically,” she said, gesturing to Sam, “I don’t hide it away anymore. I’ve shared it with you.” A smile touched her lips as she looked earnestly at Samantha. “I’m glad I did.”

With that, a jolt of something powerful hit Samantha square in the chest. Something she couldn’t name. But it came from the depths of the deep brown eyes she stared into, and it rocked her. She stood only because she didn’t know what else to do. “I think I’m going to do some reading,” she told Hunter quietly. Hunter nodded, seemingly at a loss for words as well.

Once she’d closed the door to her room, Samantha stood there with her hand against it, wondering what the hell had just happened. Was she suddenly into
Hunter
now? That was an outrageous and stupid concept all at the same time, one she immediately brushed away. A total rebound reflex, she told herself. That was all this was. And since rebound feelings weren’t real, she thereby had nothing to feel ashamed of.

She caught sight of her own reflection in the wall mirror. The girl staring back at her didn’t look especially sure of herself. She wasn’t glamorous or tall. But Hunter’s words echoed back to her, and she smiled, because maybe Hunter was right. Sam looked again, just to be sure, and there it was.

Her glow.

*

“Wait. So the big knives can’t go in the regular silverware drawer is what you’re saying?” Hunter was trying to take it all in. “What does it matter?”

“Trust me. It matters,” Brooklyn said, accepting Elvis’s leash so Hunter could tie her shoe. It was their weekly morning walk through Central Park, something Hunter looked forward to exponentially. When she’d first adopted Elvis, Hunter made it a point to take him for some extra recreation once a week in Central Park in addition to his daily walks through the neighborhood. Somewhere along the way, Brooklyn took to tagging along, and now it was their standing date.

She and Brooklyn used the time to touch base with each other, offer advice, or just enjoy the serenity of the sights and sounds of the park waking up in the morning. Joggers, cyclists, bird watchers, and street vendors galore—they were all there. The city of New York stretched languidly from a good night’s sleep and went about its day all around them.

Elvis loved the park and whined his enthusiasm as they inched closer to the lawn, where he knew his dreams would come true and they’d play a game of fetch with his tennis ball—what the little guy lived for. To say he pranced his way there would be an understatement. Elvis the Clydesdale was an accurate description.

Brooklyn glanced at Hunter as they walked, dodging a school tour. “To you and me, knife placement sounds minor in the scheme of things. And it is. To Samantha, it’s her universe wrapped up in a nice little neat and orderly kitchen package.”

Hunter smiled. “It’s shockingly true. The little things matter to Sam in a huge way. I’ve always known that about her, but I think I’m now beginning to understand the true magnitude of that statement.”

Brooklyn deadpanned, “You have no idea. It’s endearing in some ways, but let me just say again:
you have no idea
.”

“I think I might have to move everything around just to mess with her a little.” She grinned at the thought. Samantha getting all worked up and sexy-angry, using her authoritative accountant voice.

Brooklyn placed a hand on Hunter’s forearm and regarded her with concern. “You’re a braver woman than me.”

Elvis stopped to greet a pretty lady walking by and Hunter nodded at him in approval. A dog after her own heart. Strangely, she didn’t check out the woman herself. Just not really in that mindset today. The weather was gorgeous, the birds chirped, and even the tourists seemed to move at an appropriate pace on the sidewalks.