Unafraid (Beachwood Bay) Read Online Free PDF Page A

living room, which I’ve set up at my temporary studio. Fabric samples are piled on the table, my sewing machine sits under the window to catch the best light, and there’s a dress form in the corner wearing an unfinished negligee.
    I dump my bags on the table and turn, my hands on my hips.
    “What do you want?”
    The edge of Hunter’s mouth quirks in amusement. “What do you want?” he echoes. “That’s it? No, ‘How you been?’ ‘What are you up to?’ ‘Sorry for ditching you three years ago?’”
    Is he for real?
    “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Hunter continues, glancing around the room. He wanders over to the corner, looking closely at the nightgown I’m working on. “Finished college, the folks are doing great. What about you?”
    “Spectacular.” I bite out. “Will you—don’t touch that!” I leap across the room to stop him from pulling my work-in-progress apart. Hunter stands back, hands up in surrender.
    “Sorry. This is great, you do all this yourself?”
    “Had to do something to pass the time.” I drawl, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. “I don’t spend my life waitressing, you know.”
    “I didn’t think you did.” Hunter’s smile fades, and he looks at me for a moment with an unreadable expression. “It’s good to see you again, Brit.”
    The sound of my name, soft on his lips, does something to me. A shiver rolls right through my body, delicate and sweet. I remember the touch of those lips, kissing their way across my skin. Suddenly, this room is way too small, and Hunter is standing way too close.
    Close enough to kiss.
    “So now we’re all caught up, maybe you can answer my question,” I snap, retreating behind the safety of my sewing table. “Like I said before, what do you want?”
    “I’m just being neighborly. I took over my grandpa’s ranch,” he explains. “You remember, it’s a couple of miles that-a-way.” He nods in an eastward direction.
    My heart drops. “You moved here? You mean, you’re staying?”
    Hunter seems amused by the shock in my voice. “Looks like it. Wait, I brought you something.”
    While I’m left reeling from that bombshell, Hunter disappears back out to the porch, re-emerging a moment later with a familiar green-patterned bakery box.
    Krispy Kreme. A full dozen.
    “You bought me donuts,” I mutter, my head spinning.
    “I thought about flowers, but I remembered, you always had a sweet tooth.” Hunter grins at me, proud as a little kid as I dumbly take the box. The scent of sugar and fried dough drifts up, and despite myself, my mouth starts to water.
    He brought me donuts. I don’t think any guy’s ever given me a thing, save a warm six-pack of beer and a morning after filled with regret.
    Hunter watches me. “So, you want to have dinner with me to say thanks?”
    Wait, what?!
    “Dinner?” I repeat. “Like, a date ?”
    And I thought this encounter couldn’t get any stranger.
    “You say it like it’s a dirty word.” Hunter teases. “Yes, a date. We’ll go eat some food, make small talk, fight over who pays the check.” He strolls closer, just the narrow table between us now. “Just so you know, I’ll win that one,” he adds, reaching over to take a cruller from the bakery box, still open in my arms. He bites down and smiles at me, his lips dusted with powdered sugar. “I don’t care what you say about equality and women’s lib. My mother raised me to be a gentleman, and a gentleman always pays.”
    I blink at him, stunned.
    Hunter Covington. Here in my living room. Munching on a donut, and asking me out to dinner.
    There’s only one thing I can say to this.
    “No.”
    Hunter chews thoughtfully. “Why not?”
    “A girl doesn’t need a reason to turn you down.” I reply archly, struggling to cling on to my last shred of control. “I don’t want to, that’s enough.”
    “But you do want to.” Hunter reaches for the bakery box again. I snap the lid shut.
    “Oh yeah?” I’m getting