Page 27 of Hunter

“You’re making my argumentfor menow,” I tell him.

He stares at me for a long moment, his expression angry, then pained. When he speaks, I hear something new in his voice. If I’m not mistaken, it’s pity, and I don’t like it one bit.

“If that’s really how you feel…really who you are…I’m sorry for you, Isabella. I think it might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says gently, picking at the label on his empty beer bottle. “I mean, there isn’t much genuine magic left in the world when you get to our age. Sunsets and snowfalls canfeelmagical for the moment you witness them, but the rush you get is fleeting.” He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes lockedwith my brown. “But falling in love with someone? The magic of your heart choosing theirs and their heart choosing yours? The reflection of your feelings in their eyes? That’s…enchanting. Spellbinding. Miraculous, even. And it’s available to anyone—anyone whose heart is open enough to let it in, to let it happen.”

I can’t lie. His words are a little bit mesmerizing. I love the hope in them. The absolute belief in them. I find myself staring at his lips as he speaks and wishing I had the courage to give a long-distance relationship with him a try.

But then, suddenly and without warning, I have a brief and sudden memory of myself at sixteen, sun-kissed and salt-rubbed, running on the beach, hand in hand with Santos. My laughter echoes through the warm Mexican air as he pulls me behind him.I’d follow you anywhere. Everywhere. Forever.

“Isabella?”

I blink. “What?”

“Where’d you go?”

To Mexico.

“Nowhere,” I say, reaching for my wine. There’s still half a glass left, but I’m eager to finish it and get back to my cabin. I don’t like this conversation anymore. I don’t like the way it’s making me feel. I gulp down the rest of the glass and place it back on the cocktail napkin.

“I have to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.” I slide off the stool, feeling a little wobbly. When my feet are planted, I look up at Hunter. “I really would like to be friends.”

“I’m still attracted to you,” he says.

And I’m still attracted to you.

“I don’t think you can be friends with someone when you want them the way I want you,” he continues softly. “I’m pretty sure you can’t.”

I don’t want these words to turn me on so hard, but they do. My heart skips a beat. My stomach clenches with the memoriesof our weekend together. I want him as badly as he wants me. Honestly, I can’t imagine a day when I won’t. Our attraction is as hot and magnetic as ever.

“But I’ll get over it,” he promises me, his eyes filled with pity. “Take care of yourself, Isabella. I’ll guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Okay,” I say, watching him walk away. “Sure.”

But something weird is happening in my head and my heart as I watch him walk away. Although I shouldfeel relieved that it appears we’ve finally managed to put last summer behind us, I don’t.

I fell for you, too!I want to yell.And it scared the shit out of me.

But saying that will only confuse things further, which leaves me feeling sad, frustrated, and disappointed. With confusion filling my heart and tears burning my eyes, I place a tip on the bar and hurry back to the safety of my room.

Chapter 5

Hunter

With the teams out on crab boats competing for the largest catch, I have a three-hour break. But once the boats come back and the crabs are weighed, I’m back on the clock, assigned to helping arriving teams at the lumberjack detour challenge.

For this detour, our contestants have a choice between carving or chopping. They can either go to a local native village and learn how to carve a miniature totem pole, or they can go to the arena for the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show and take on three traditional lumberjack challenges, including log chopping.

The local village is fifteen minutes out of town each way, but if you are artistically inclined, carving can be a cinch, and you can finish quickly. On the other hand, the Lumberjack Show also serves as the location for the pit stop, but you’ll need raw strength to complete the series of three challenges; after fishing all morning, some of the teams will be on fumes.

I know which challenge I’d choose—lumberjack, for sure. But I’ve been throwing axes and chopping wood since I was born.

I decide to make the most of my break by doing some laundry at the local laundromat. As I’m switching the loads from the washer to the dryer, my phone rings.

Harper.

“Hey, Harp,” I say, exiting the building and sitting outside on a bench in the sunshine.

“Hey, big bro. How’s it going?”

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