Page 59 of Cruel Expectations

As soon as they entered, a cry came from behind the bar. The pretty redhead who rushed toward Ivy wore a big smile on her face. Her thick hair was pulled up in a ponytail and a few wild tendrils floated around her face.

“Ivy! I’m so glad to see you!” The women embraced. When they drew apart, Livia focused on him. “You must be the new ranch hand on the Gracey.”

He wasn’t shocked that a bar owner heard things. “That’s right. Hunter.” He extended a hand, and she gripped it like a man, looking him straight in the eyes. A woman who bottled rum was probably used to dealing with a man’s world.

She looked between him and Ivy. “You’re here for a basket of my famous chicken wings, aren’t you?”

Ivy bobbed her head. “I need six baskets actually. Fries too. And some of your fried pickles. I’ve been craving them!”

“Absolutely. Let me stick my head in the kitchen and let the cook know.”

While they waited for the food, he watched Ivy interact with the owner. They talked about a few old friends and a scandal that went down in one of the local churches involving a parish member and the minister.

Ivy was warm and genuine, totally at ease in a way he hadn’t seen her even with her own sister. After all they’d endured as a family, it made sense that the sisters didn’t always communicate well.

It was obvious they loved each other, but the joy had gone out of their family unit. With Livia, Ivy was much more relaxed, giving Hunter a deeper view into her personality.

When Livia returned to the kitchen and came back with a large takeout bag with twine handles, Hunter took it before Ivy could.

Livia eyed him. “You should keep this one around. He’s helpful.” She cupped her hand around her mouth and loudly whispered, “And hot!”

Ivy groaned but hugged her friend. Once they were in the truck, Hunter snorted.

“What’s that for?”

“Your friend seems to approve of me.”

“Livia has terrible taste in men—you can’t trust her judgment.”

He cocked a brow. “So what’s your excuse?”

“Oh, you know.” She waved a hand but began driving without ever answering his question.

Spending time with Ivy wasn’t as difficult as he once would have believed. As a SEAL, he thought of himself as almost feral. After fighting in the worst conditions, they all were. But one afternoon with the beautiful woman had him ready for domestic life.

They pulled up to the bunkhouse and Ivy honked the truck horn, which brought the ranch hands from the barn and pastures to see what the boss’s daughter needed.

When they discovered she was passing out chicken wings and fries, they sat down on the thick lawn to enjoy the food. Ivy and Hunter sat too. While devouring her fried pickles, Ivy talked and joked with the guys.

Hunter observed how the men treated her with a respect that bordered on deference. Even though his opinion of Ivy had changed since they shared that flight, he still thought she acted like royalty.

Ranch royalty.

After their meal, he helped carry the groceries into the house and watched her buzz around, removing everything from insulated shopping bags and stashing the items in their rightful spots.

When she pushed the last bag toward him, he arched a brow. “What’s this?” He peeked inside and saw the steaks. “Oh. Hi, Petunia.”

She lightly punched him in the arm. “That’s not funny! She was my pet!”

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against his body. Staring down into her eyes, he zeroed in on how her breaths came in fast pants and she wiggled in his hold.

“I think it’s time I take care of my pet.” He leaned in and captured her mouth.

Chapter Thirteen

Hunter backed Ivy against the counter. At the hot feel of his chiseled body, she moaned into his mouth.

Ever since he wrapped his long fingers around her thigh in the truck, she’d been on fire for him. Need tingled through her lower belly and blazed between her legs.

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