Page 45 of Something Like Sunflowers

That’s a strange thought. That I wouldn’t care what people think. Huh.

“Well, looky what we got here, y’all,” Robbie coos as he shoves his way into the bench seating across from us, followed by Lemon and Katie Simmons, who decides to scoot in on this side next to Hunter instead of beside Lemon. “Who here is at all surprised the one and only Devyn Lynn Campell, Mrs. American Rodeo Queen and Southern Belle of my TV and yours, wasn’t home a single day and she’s already up in Isaac’s lap?”

Robbie takes a swig of his beer and gulps loudly, belching and wiping his face on his sleeve. It’s gross, yeah, but it’s Robbie, I think, rolling my eyes and not caring what he says, like old times.

“I’m not surprised.” he continues, “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” He gives me an exaggerated wink and stands at his seat to gyrate into the air before he’s swatted back down by Lemon.

“He’s like…really drunk,” she says, almost apologetically. It crosses my mind that her apologizing for Robbie’s behavior is weird. She’s like the mother hen here. Everyone kind of follows Lemon’s orders. And I’m still not jealous of her. I smile, thinking about how she saved me from Garrison. Even before Hunter got there, she wouldn’t have let me leave with him. She seems to be keeping everyone in line tonight.

I’m starting to see what Shana sees in her. She’s good people.

“Shut up, you big ol’ goose!” And the way she draws out goose—no, the way Robbie’s eyes widen when she says it, like he’s terrified she’ll spill some tea on him, is bizarre. It’s enough to shut him up and sit him down, though, which is good. I really don’t want anyone making a big deal out of Hunter and me because I don’t want Hunter and me making a big deal out of Hunter and me.

I don’t even know if there is a Hunter and me.

See? I knew it would be complicated coming back home. Still, I feel happier than I have in a while.

And that means something. I’m not jealous here either.

That means something, too.

Well, I thought I wasn’t jealous, that is. But maybe that only extends to Lemon. My gaze darts down the table, and I feel my nails curling into the bench the closer Katie gets to Hunter. She and Robbie are explaining this smart phone bar game, which is basically just a fancy version of Truth or Dare. And the way she puts her hand on Hunter’s arm and laughs when he makes a joke about the background photo on her phone…Nope, still a jealous bitch.

“Excuse me, Katie, right?” I blink at her and smile so brightly, you’d think we were on camera.

She looks at me, wide-eyed and annoyed. She should be. I’ve known her since we were five.

“Yeah, obviously.” She rolls her eyes and waits for me to continue.

I point to Hunter and then back to myself. “He’s got plans tonight.”

She looks mortified. Good.

It feels less than great being a jealous bitch again. But it feels better making sure she knows his plans do not include her in any way, shape, or department store booties form.

Okay, that was harsh, even for my thoughts.

“I mean, your booties are cute,” I say quickly, grasping for anything at all to fill the silence and distract everyone from the fact that I think I just claimed Hunter in front of half the town.

But he’s not distracted, and the look in his eyes tells me he is more than pleased with my public display of…ownership over him. A thrill of excitement shoots down to my core with that thought, but I have to shake myself out of this orgasm-induced stupor.

What on earth is wrong with you, Devyn? What happened to taking it slow? Casually?

I scold myself internally. Now the whole table has all eyes on us.

“Holy shit!” Robbie says, his eyes as wide as everyone else at the table. Except Lemon. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh, shoving her straw in her mouth and sucking like her life depends on it.

“Ya’ll are still into each other.” He points back and forth between Hunter and me, and even though I should continue to deny it and lean away, I don’t.

No, I don’t lean away at all.

I taste him instead. He’s kissing me. Or I’m kissing him.

And all of a sudden, I’m in his lap for the second time in a ten-minute period.

He’s hard. Because of me.

I turn, straddling him and winding my arms around his neck as he sifts his fingers through my hair and fists the blonde strands, holding me in place, my head tugged back almost painfully while his tongue lashes out at my mouth, tasting my lips, teasing my tongue, my—

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