Page 38 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
I fought a laugh at the same time Mom gasped, “Coby Lawrence Holt!”
Hunter chuckled and knelt down to Coby’s level. “It is kind of long, isn’t it? Do you think I should cut it?”
No! This time it was my turn to gasp.
Thankfully, Coby just shrugged. “No, it’s okay.”
I was sure Hunter wouldn’t style his hair according to my three-year-old’s opinion, but the thought of him cutting those light-brown locks was unnerving. Hunter’s man bun was a thing of beauty but I really wanted the chance to see his hair down one day. I never thought I’d be attracted to a man whose hair was longer than mine, but boy was I ever.
Pickle yapped and caught Coby’s attention and the pair ran over to the living room to pull out more toys.
“What are you two up to now?” Mom asked.
“Dinner. Guess what I learned today?” I shot Hunter a smug look as he stood back up. “Yesterday was Hunter’s
birthday.”
“Oh!” Mom straightened and abandoned her cleaning. “And you’re new in town. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a barbeque to celebrate your belated birthday and welcome you to the community?”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Hunter said. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Trouble? It would be my pleasure! I’ll invite my quilting club, of course, and probably Brock’s skeet club. A few folks from church. Hunter, are you religious?” She didn’t wait for his answer before rattling off more potential invitees.
“Really. I’m not one for big parties.” Hunter’s protest fell on deaf ears. Mom was now audibly brainstorming the menu.
I looked back to Hunter who was staring wide-eyed at Mom as she yammered. I nudged his arm and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry. It will take her months to plan it. By that point, the whole town will have been invited and the party won’t even be about you anymore.”
“You weren’t kidding about this as a punishment.”
“Remember that.” I tapped my temple. “This isn’t even the worst I can do.”
“So noted.”
“Make yourself at home and I’ll get started on dinner.” I wanted to pat his arm, to touch him in just some small way, but I resisted.
Walking to the kitchen, I dropped my purse on the counter, then took a quick inventory of my food supply. Peas—lots of peas—and the fixings for chicken bacon ranch wraps with sweet potato fries. It wasn’t fancy but it was something Coby would inhale without constant reminders to take a bite.
I pulled out supplies and got the bacon going in a frying pan. Back in the living room, Hunter had settled on the floor with Coby as Pickle bounced on them both. Coby had brought out his Hot Wheels collection and was going through each car, showing them to Hunter one by one.
“So? How’d it go?” Mom whispered, joining me in the kitchen.
“Good.” I smiled. “He asked me out.”
Her face broke into a huge smile and she shot her hands in the air. I laughed as she danced around the kitchen, her hair bobbing around her shoulders. When she settled down, she came right into my space for a hug. “I’m so happy for you. He’s a dreamboat.”
“A dreamboat?” I mocked. “Please don’t start calling him that, especially to his face.”
“I can’t make promises like that, sweetheart.”
I laughed. “Try. Please.”
She rolled her blue eyes and made a sour face. I giggled, knowing that was exactly how I looked when I did the same gesture. I was a younger version of my mom, our only difference being eye color. Hers were bluer than the gray-blue irises I’d inherited from Dad.
“I’ll get out of here so you can have some time alone.” She picked up her keys and phone from the kitchen counter. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how dinner went.”
“Definitely.”
She looked past me into the living room. “He seems to be great with Coby.”
