Hunter
“Hey, hey! Settle down!” Dad shouted, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
With Fred’s arm around the front of my neck and his chin on my head, I fought my way out of
his hold, wiggling out from under and kicking my way back to my side of the car. “Sorry, Dad.”
“It’s not my fault he’s a menace,” Fred laughed. His foot kicked against mine, a silent
promise of further retribution later when Dad couldn’t tell him to stop. It felt like we were kids
again, mocking and fighting and playfully bullying one another. We’d always been combative,
always wanted to one-up each other, but it didn’t feel painful anymore. It wasn’t fueled by ill will
and anger.
He was just... my brother. “I’d appreciate it if you two could not make the car shake like it’s
about to break down,” Dad grumbled.
He pulled into the driveway of our family home. His insistence that I come for dinner had
been annoying at best, but Lottie’s firm support of the idea left me with no other option than to
acc ept.
A handful of cars littered the driveway. “What’s going on?” I asked, pushing my door open
before being pulled back onto the seat by my brother’s fist in my suit jacket. “Hey!”
“We’ve got a little surprise for you,” Fred grinned. “He’s not going to get his surprise if you
don’t let him go, Fredrick,” Dad said, turning in his seat. “Come on. We have guests.”
Fred’s wife and children, my mother, a handful of distant aunts and uncles, friends from the
company, and most importantly, my wife, front and center.
“You guys know my birthday isn’t for another six months, right?” I chuckled nervously,
kicking my shoes off at the front door as they stood around us in the great foyer.
“Wait, really?” Fred chimed, his grin shit-eating. “We thought since you didn’t get the chance
to properly celebrate your rise to CEO, we could celebrate together,” Dad said, his voice
entirely nonchalant as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and joined my mother.
“You deserve it.” Lottie st epped forward, her arms wrapping around my neck and pulling me
in. “You’ve done so much for me the past few months. You deserve a night that’s about you.”
I looked between the guests, confused but honored that people had gone out of their way.
Wrapping my arms around Lottie’s waist, I held her to me. “Thank you guys,” I said, pressing a
kiss against the side of her head.
“Dinner’s made and ready.” Mom took the lead of the group, ushering them into the dining
room. Lottie and I trailed in last, and as I looked at the spread that was laid out on the table,
every single item of food was one of my favorites. Biscuits, roasted chicken with lemon and
thyme, baked potatoes, brussels sprouts with balsamic glaze, homemade gravy, chargrilled
leeks. As much as I loved Mom’s mediocre cooking, I almost wished I’d been the one to
arrange it all.
Dad insisted I take the seat at the head of the table with Lottie by my side. Mom poured
glasses of wine as we all settled into our seats, idle chatter and an air of camaraderie filling the
space. I was grateful—it was easy and calm in comparison to the luncheon celebration Dad had
organized the day he’d announced my rise to CEO. But a part of me wanted to spend a
celebration with just Lottie, her skin on mine, her soft voice in my ear.
Dad clinked his glass with the side of his fork and stood, calling attention to himself.
“Thank you all so much for coming to celebrate my son,” he began, his face as stoic as ever.
“As you all know, it was a difficult decision not only to retire but to choose which of my sons
would be taking over the business. I
believe Hunter will continue to lead the Harris Agricultural Empire as I would, and I wish him
nothing but success in his endeavors.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, raising my glass toward him. But he k ept going. “I would also like to
take this moment to welcome our new partner in the breeding side of the business,” Dad said,
cracking the smallest grin as he extended his glass toward Lottie. Her cheeks turned red as she
glanced at me, her mouth popping open. “I’m positive you’ll make an excellent head of the
business.”
“To Hunter and Charlotte!” Mom chimed, clinking her glass against Dad’s before I could
bring myself to process it all. I’d had the conversation with Dad last week; hard as it was, he’d
eventually agreed that giving almost half of the business to Lottie was a good move. But I
hadn’t expected that from him, and from the look on Lottie’s surprised face, neither had she.
“To Hunter and Charlotte!”
Music played softly from the Bluetooth speakers as Lottie and I worked the living room,
chatting idly with the guests my parents had invited. Glasses of wine in hand and the lights
down low, it was intimate and relaxed, and although I’d rather be at home with her, the idea of
sticking around for a bit wasn’t so daunting.
“How long did you know about this?” I asked her, leaning on the counter that s eparated the
living room from the kitchen.
Lottie shrugged. “A couple of days at most. I don’t think your Dad trusted me to ke ep a
secret,” she laughed. “I can’t believe he threw in that bit about me getting part of the company.
You should have warned me.”
“I was going to tell you in private,” I chuckled, leaning toward her. “So we could celebrate
however we wanted.”
The little blush that spread across her olive cheeks was downright adorable. “And what kind
of celebration would that have been?”
“One where you end the night sweating and spent, and drunk on my cock.” I sipped at my
wine, flashing her a little smirk.
“You can’t say that here,” she whispered. “You asked.”
The music shifted, and within a second, I recognized the song that poured from the
speakers. When You’re Smiling and Astride Me by Father John Misty. Memories flooded me in
an instant, taking me back to that night in Oahu when all I’d wanted was to work my way inside
of her mind and between her legs. Even then, she’d had a pull on me. Even then, there was
something extraordinary about her, intoxicating, magnetic.
“Dance with me,” I said, placing my glass on the counter and taking her hand.
“Is this... ?” I nodded. Her hand gripped mine as I pulled her a couple of feet from the
counter, not giving two shits if the guests stared or watched in disdain. She was mine, and I
hers, and I wanted nothing more than that.
Our bodies swayed in time to the music, her bright blue eyes beaming up at me. It was such
a stark contrast to our first dance at the wedding—the one where she’d buried her face in my
chest so she wouldn’t have to look at me. Now, she held my gaze, the softest smile on her
cheeks, the utmost affection behind her eyes.
“I love you,” I whispered. “And I love you,” she breathed.