Chapter Eight
Saylor
At some stage after I’d drifted off to sleep, Hunter had gone to his own room. I was kind of sad to wake and find him gone, but it was seriously a bit much to expect him to sleep the night in bed with me after what we’d done together. If he was anything like me, he’d be having a difficult time keeping his arousal in check.
In the shower I had a brief moment of embarrassment at what I’d done the night before, but I figured Hunter had enjoyed himself and, anyway, he’d be returning to the UK office soon enough. It would probably be another two years before we met up again. By then he’d be married to some European beauty and I’d be married, well, to myself.
As I soaped my body I struggled to understand why the idea of Hunter leaving made me feel a lot worse than Rex’s betrayal. How could rebound mutual masturbation with an old crush threaten to damage my heart more than breaking up with my fiancé right before my wedding?
When I came down to the kitchen, I found him there cooking breakfast.
“I’m cooking you a full English breakfast because we’re heading out into the wilderness to find our tree.”
“I can’t eat all of this,” I protested when minutes later he placed a plate of eggs, sausages, bacon, beans and toast before me.
“It’s the breakfast of lumberjacks. Eat it. You need your strength.”
I giggled and stabbed the perfectly cooked soft yolk of the egg.
I have to say that Hunter dressed like a lumberjack carrying a chainsaw was almost as hot as Hunter crouched over me jerking off. After much wandering around inspecting potential Christmas trees, we finally settled on the one we wanted, and Hunter cut it down like a pro.
“Have you done this before?” I asked.
“Why, yes ma’am, I do believe I have,” he said, tipping his hat.
“Goofball. Want a snow fight?”
“No thanks.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m running out of clothes. The airline lost one of my bags.”
“You mean you didn’t travel on one of your private jets?” I teased.
“They’re all fractional ownership, and in use, which means Flexecutive is going well. As soon as the roads are cleared, we’ll go back to town and I’ll shop. When I’ve got something clean and dry to change into, snow fights are on.”
Back at the house we set up the tree, and I trimmed it while Hunter caught up with work emails. The overall effect of the silver, lilac and white was stunning, but it also made me a little sad that this was the time I was supposed to be closing in on my wedding day. I went through to the kitchen to fix a snack. Right at the moment my pensive mood was threatening to progress into full-blown self-pity, Dani Facetimed me.
“Hey, Solo-Saylor. How’s it hanging? Have you got cabin fever yet, or have you found yourself a mountain man to—what was it—fuck Rex right out of your system?”
Unfortunately, I had her on speaker and that was the moment Hunter chose to walk into the kitchen. I spun around to keep him out of Dani’s view, using my hand to shoo him from the room.
“Hi, Dani. I’m good—”
“Hold up. Is somebody there with you?”
She couldn’t possibly have seen him. “No, gosh, just me and the, ah, the mountains and trees. And snow. Lots of snow.”
“Yeah, well I think you’d better go check the house because I definitely caught sight of a rather trim yet muscular torso right behind you a moment ago. And your face. You’ve got those wild, staring eyes you get when you try to tell a fib. ’Fess up, girlfriend, or I’m telling Rex where you’re at.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Dunno. Might let it slip if I was drunk. Come on, Saylor. Casey and I will be there in a couple of days anyway. Tell me now. Please?”
I shook my head. “Don’t make that sad-puppy face at me. It won’t work,” I said.
Dani stuck out her tongue and started to pant. Then she barked. I decided if I gave her the PG-rated version, she’d be satisfied enough to stop with the questions.