I wait for the moment to pass before asking Jarred the staple conversation starter. “So, what do you do?”

“I manage my dad’s car lot,” he tells me. “It’s not a giant cabin in Wyoming, but it pays the bills.”

“Hopefully it pays the bills to build our own giant cabin,” Cat mumbles.

Jarred laughs, shaking his head at her before he gives me his attention again. “My grandpa built the lot back in the seventies when this place was still dirt roads and wooden buildings. My dad took over when he retired, and I guess I just never thought of doing anything else. Went and got my business degree to try to bring the place into the twenty-first century, you know?”

“I hear that,” I say with a smile. “I actually did the same thing.”

“Really?” Cat asks. “I knew you’d been doing it for a long time, but…”

I nod back at her. “My dad had a stroke the summer before I went to college. It was clear pretty quickly he wouldn’t be able to return to work. He was so bummed out about the business. My brothers are great at what they do but never had any interest in running the place—well, maybe Kyle, but he’s never really been the boss type. His words, not mine.”

“That’s so badass though,” Cat says. She swivels her head. “Where are your brothers, anyway?”

“Probably talking to anything with tits and legs, if I had to guess,” I snort. “They’re kind of predictable that way.”

An older woman interrupts us at the table before I can add anything else, taking our drink orders and jotting them down on a little pad before making her way back to the bar.

“So,” Jarred asks after the waitress leaves. “How’s my buddy the hermit? Is he coming out of his cave?”

My brow furrows. “Hunter?”

“I tried to get him to come down from his mountain,” Jarred says. “Gave me some bullshit about being busy.”

I press my lips together briefly. “He told me the same thing.”

“At least he’s talking to you,” Cat laughs. “Pulling conversation out of him is like pulling teeth sometimes.”

I consider all the quiet teasing and the dry jokes over the last few days—not to mention everything else we’ve done—and I don’t know if I can fully agree with that. “I don’t know,” I say nonchalantly. “He talks occasionally.” I give a noncommittal shrug. “He’s been helping me a lot since I got here.”

In a lot of ways, I think.

Cat and Jarred share a look of incredulity, turning back to me with matching expressions of disbelief. “Hunter?” Jarred’s voice holds actual surprise. “Hunter Barrett? Mountain man–looking dude? Smiles, like, never?”

I’m laughing at Jarred’s description, finding it not much different from my own first impression of Hunter. “I mean, he can be kind of quiet sometimes, but once you get him talking, he’s really—”

“Are we talking about me?”

My words die on my tongue, my heart doing this Pavlovian thing where it picks up a few dozen beats all at once. Jarred’s face splits into a grin as he slides out of the booth to embrace the newcomer in a hug, and it takes me several more seconds to peek up and confirm what I already know.

That Hunter has taken me up on my invitation after all.

“Hunter? What are you doing here?”

Hunter pulls away from Jarred’s hug to look at me. “I was invited, remember?”

“I thought you said you were busy,” I accuse, still mostly just surprised to see him here.

He slides into the booth next to me, his big body now flush against my side in the small booth as he eyes me with that quiet expression that never tells me anything he’s thinking. His scent washes over me, calming me and yet lighting me up all at once, and I have to resist the urge to lean into it as he settles.

“Took less time than I thought it would,” he says easily. He flashes me a grin. “Found my oil lamp.”

Jarred looks ecstatic that he’s here, leaning in with his palms flat on the table to get our attention. “We already ordered. What are you drinking? I’ll go tell the bar.”

“Beer is fine,” Hunter tells him. “Whatever you’re having.”

Jarred snaps his fingers, then points at Hunter with enthusiasm, still looking gleeful. I laugh as he walks away, regarding Cat. “Someone’s excited.”

“Well,” Cat says pointedly with a sly grin. “Someone only sees us on holidays.” Her eyes find mine as she makes a face, hitching her thumb in Hunter’s direction. “This is basically like seeing a unicorn or Bigfoot or something.”

Hunter makes an indignant sound. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Oh, really?” Cat laughs. “I’ll buy your drinks for the entire night if you can tell me when we last hung out that wasn’t a holiday.”

I turn my head to watch Hunter’s lips purse in thought as he frowns at the table for a good number of moments before Cat begins to cackle.

“Yeah,” she says with amusement. “Like I said.”

“Whatever,” Hunter mumbles. “I’m here now.”

I don’t miss the way Cat eyes me with that same sly grin. “I wonder why that is.”

“Just decided a drink sounded good,” Hunter says casually.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cat quips. “Well. Whatever. I’m glad you’re here. Now you can suffer Jarred’s fantasy football updates and leave me to have an actual interesting conversation with Tess.”

Jarred approaches the table at that exact moment, sliding back into his spot. “What are we talking about?”

Cat’s smile is innocent now. “Oh, nothing.”

“Dude,” Jarred tells Hunter. “I’m so glad you decided to hang.”

“Yeah, well.” Hunter gives another shrug. “Tess told me how much you guys were crying about missing me, so…”

“I absolutely said no such thing,” I laugh.

Hunter’s eye catches mine, and he actually winks.

Is he trying to kill me?

“I just got bored,” Hunter tries again. “No big deal.”

Cat looks unconvinced. “Mm-hmm.”

I won’t pretend I’m not wondering myself what he’s doing here, but at the same time, I can’t ignore the fact that it almost feels like he…came for me? That’s probably so conceited of me, but, I mean, he did, right?

Listen to you. The guy had his tongue between your legs last night, and you’re giddy over him showing up to a bar.

Hunter and Jarred are talking when the waitress brings our drinks to the table, passing them around before leaving us to it. Jarred raises his beer bottle in a toast as he waits for us to do the same, and all the glasses and bottles clink together.

“Here’s to our very own mountain man coming down the mountain,” Jarred says all serious-like. “May it mean six more weeks of winter this year or something.”

Hunter laughs as he pulls his bottle to his lips. “Shut up.”

I don’t miss the way he looks at me as he takes a slow sip of his beer, and I definitely don’t miss the way my belly erupts in full-on fluttering in response.

This is going to be a long night.

The funny thing about alcohol is that it makes everything seem funnier, makes everything taste better (because yes, the cheese fries at Fred’s are as good as I remember), and—in this instance—makes one already very appealing contractor somehow more appealing. Only one drink in, and I’m noticing the way her mouth curves around the lip of her bottle, I’m appreciating how nice her laugh sounds when someone catches her off guard. And by my second—probably one more than I should be having in the span of two hours—I’m leaning close enough into her that I’m noticing, not for the first time, how good she smells.

The scent of her—warm apples and baked cinnamon and something that is just inherently her—is intoxicating. I think I’ve leaned into a laugh a little harder than I needed to on at least two occasions now, just to have the chance to press my face into her shoulder for another whiff.

Yeah, that’s creepy, I know, but sue me.

“Okay,” I say, cutting into our loud conversation. “I don’t think Tess wants to hear anything about that.”