Page 29 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
Kind of. Blech.
I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth with more wine. Hunter didn’t know my aversion to that phrase and I certainly wasn’t going to explain tonight, just like I didn’t expect him to explain his dating history. If he didn’t want to talk about past relationships, I wouldn’t pry. For all I knew, he could have just had a breakup or gotten a divorce.
Since that topic was a nonstarter, I decided to pick another. This dinner was the perfect opportunity to get to know Hunter before we set off to take pictures on Sunday. “So you said the other day you’re from Chicago?”
He nodded. “Born and raised.”
&n
bsp; “Why’d you choose Prescott? It’s about as different from Chicago as you could get. Did you not like the city?”
“No. I like Chicago. Moving to Prescott was . . . necessary.”
Necessary? What did that mean? I waited a few moments for him to elaborate but he didn’t. The silence at the table turned awkward so I went for a different topic.
“Have you been here before or did you move here blind?”
“I was here once.”
Again, I waited. And waited. And waited some more.
What was happening? Was Hunter shy? He sure hadn’t seemed like that during our other encounters. Why was he clamming up now?
When I didn’t get any further explanation, I decided to try another subject, one that was safe and sure to spark a natural conversation. “When did you take up photography?”
“A while back.”
A while back. Another vague answer that I hated just about as much as “kind of.” Ignoring the tension creeping up my spine, I kept talking, hoping he’d open up. “I’ve always wanted to have a cool hobby like photography. I love taking pictures but there isn’t really anywhere to learn around here. Did you learn from someone or are you self-taught?”
“I had a mentor.” Hunter smiled but it was distant, not full of the warmth it usually held. When his eyes broke away from mine, I sagged.
I give up.
Hunter was shutting me out. I knew that body language. That tone in his voice. It was entirely too familiar. Familiar and unwelcome.
Hunter Faraday was sending me Everett Carlson vibes and I really didn’t like the reminder.
When I’d first started dating Everett, we’d gotten along perfectly. Our conversations had always been light and impersonal, mostly centered around the hospital and our coworkers, but as time went on, I’d started asking the normal questions a girlfriend would ask. When is your birthday? Where are you from? Do you have family?
He’d never answered me. Never. Not even to tell me his middle name.
Everett had only wanted me to be the pretty face that warmed his bed. Nothing else. He’d shut me out whenever I’d tried to get close.
As much as I liked Hunter, I didn’t need to go through all that again.
So I gave up my questions and sat quietly, alternating sips of water and wine while Hunter studied the brands on the table. He opened his mouth once only to shut it again before speaking.
Dates suck. Of all the awkward dinners I’d had lately, this was by far the worst. I so badly wanted to know Hunter, to see if there was more between us than just a physical attraction. But it didn’t look like I was going to get the chance.
He just kept staring at the table, unspeaking.
I wasn’t shy. He could at least ask questions about me.
Thankfully, our meals arrived a few minutes later and I dove into my steak, chewing each juicy bite longer than I normally would just to keep my mouth occupied. Though the food was delicious, the knot in my stomach kept me from enjoying the meal.
By the time I’d finished my dinner, I’d decided to go for it again, to give Hunter one last chance to share just a little about himself. “Is your family going to come out and visit once you get moved into your new house?”
He looked up from his steak and met my eyes. “No.”
