Page 10 of Something Like Sunflowers

And that freaks me out.

Molly’s gaze bounces back and forth between us before she narrows her eyes.

“So, you two are already acquainted, it seems.”

“I’ve known this girl for a hundred years,” Hunter purrs, making me squirm. When did he learn how to purr, though?

I really shouldn’t like it.

“Woman,” I correct. “I’m not a girl, and you very well know it.” I stutter on my exhale, and Hunter studies me, winking and making my skin prickle.

“How interesting that you’re now competing for the same position,” Claudette says, her lips curving up on the edges.

And there it is. I stiffen.

I knew something was up, but this? Of all people to be competing with for the job, it’s Hunter Isaac.

The man couldn’t dress himself if you gave him one option and a picture diagram. I know. I’ve tried it. Heck, he’s wearing a fishing T-shirt to an interview for a multi-billion-dollar fashion empire. What does he even do these days? Works at the lumber company by day and probably spends his nights drinking at Cowboy’s Paradise and chasing after college tail looking for a ride on his—

Hunter throws his arm around my shoulder and tousles my hair like he’s my older brother. Like he used to do when we were in junior high, and I give him major side-eye, because he knows how much I hate it. I know what he’s doing, trying to lighten the mood for the interview. But I’m not the little girl he remembers. If he thinks he can flirt with me and get me all gaga for him while he takes the job I deserve out from under me, he’s got another think coming.

Brick by brick, I shift my wall back in place and commence operation Destroy Hunter Immediately.

“Competing?” I snort, and even though I intentionally sound like a bitch this time, Claudette shoots me approving glares from across the table. I think she hate-likes me, which might be a positive in Claudette standards, so I dig my nails in further. “The only thing we will be competing in is who will be first to get my brother to text them the Netflix password.” I turn to face Molly and James now too. “You can’t possibly be considering Hunter, of all people, as the face of your outreach. I mean, look at him.”

“I am looking.” Molly says, far too appreciatively. I whip around to face her, but she only raises an eyebrow at me in challenge, and Hunter starts to snicker.

“Ladies,” Claudette says, cutting through our weird standoff and giving me a fragment longer than I’d like to consider why I even care about Molly looking at Hunter.

I heave a sigh and turn my attention to Claudette and James, who is still shoveling pastries into his mouth. It’s clear he doesn’t care who gets hired, and it’s probably best to direct my efforts toward Claudette at this point since Molly is too busy eyeing my man…er, ex-man…to be of any help to me.

“Devyn.” Claudette nods. “Hunter. You have been selected as our final candidates for the Marketing and Outreach position. We at Classy Country feel you both demonstrate a level of social, personal, and career-based excellence that will help our company grow and thrive.”

“Both of us?” I ask, and James chokes on his pastry. How on earth is he still eating that thing? How long does one dessert take to consume?

Molly’s been far too quiet as she treats Hunter like her own personal copy of Gentleman’s Quarterly, and I really dislike how unprofessional that looks on her, so I roll my eyes when I think she isn’t looking, but Hunter catches it.

“Careful, sis. Your bitch is showing,” he whispers.

“Don’t call me sis.” I elbow him. “You aren’t my brother.”

“No,” he says, curving his mouth up and nearing my ear. He puts his lips so close that his breath feels warm against my neck, and damn if that doesn’t make my nipples respond. “Neither of us would want that, now, would we, babygirl?”

The way my body reacts to this man is absolutely illegal. Or it feels like it should be. I’ve never hated someone so much yet wanted them to push me against a wall and defile my mind, body, and soul all at the same time.

And it’s not fair how confusing that is.

Claudette clears her throat, but it seems she’s the only one who saw that freaking soft-core just now. I shove my body a considerable distance away from Magic Mike and turn to face Molly, whose twisted lips tell me I’m two seconds shy of being the gum on the bottom of her boots here soon. I cringe internally at the energy shift since we had our little girl-talk earlier.

“Maybe you’ve been banned from bubby’s rodeo pals too long, Devyn,” Molly says as she looks between Hunter and me. He raises an uncomfortable eyebrow to me as she continues to check him out like he’s a steak dinner while she goes on. “This man is a walking cowboy thirst trap. Exactly what our brand could use. Even if we do like you—”

“Hey!” That’s not okay. He may be an actual, living representation of Adonis, but she is not allowed to objectify him. “You can’t talk about him like that! He’s more than a sexy body shoved into a pair of stupidly tight, but frustratingly attractive jeans!”

“Thanks, Dev.” Hunter smirks.

Oh, God. What am I doing?

All I had to do was impress two people. One of whom would have been impressed if I’d just brought him some Little Debbies, it seems, and the other just wanted me not to spill my coffee on her. It hasn’t even been a full news segment’s length of time, and I’ve already made the one person in the room who did like me question it. And now Hunter Isaac, of all people, is sitting two feet away from me smiling like he’s the cat that’s got…not just the cream, but the whole sleeve of cookies too.

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