Sex, Not Love(15)

I exited the truck, still taking in the house. “Is this really yours? It’s amazing.”

“Designed and built it myself. Took me six years.”

“Wow. This is nothing like I expected.”

“What did you expect?” He walked to the back of the pickup, lowered the gate, and slipped out his new plant.

“I don’t know. Something more in-your-face, I guess—not so natural and beautiful.” The sound of water running caught my attention. “You have an actual babbling brook. And trees. Loads of trees.”

“Took me twice as long to build because I used small equipment to reduce the number of trees that had to be taken down. I want to look at nature when I have my windows open. Tried to build something that showcased the land, rather than overpowering it.”

“Well, you definitely succeeded. I feel like I’m in a cabin in the middle of a forest, not ten minutes off the highway.”

“I’m glad you approve. Come on, let me show you inside. This is just the beginning of the tour.” He unlocked the door and put his hand on the small of my back to guide me in. “I think you’ll like the room the tour ends with the best—my bedroom.”

I rolled my eyes, hiding my amusement.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. It was simple, understated, and surprisingly eco-friendly. A large stainless kitchen was separated from the living room by a granite-top island. Two sets of French doors led to an enormous deck off the back of the house, where a stone fireplace was being built.

Hunter pointed outside. “The fireplace might take me another six years at the rate I’m going.”

“I can’t believe you built all of this. It’s sort of ironic that you build commercial property and have taken out parks to build malls, yet live in an environmentally friendly home.”

“Building is my job. I love it, don’t get me wrong. But that doesn’t mean I want to live in one of the megamalls I build. Do you live in a big building in New York City?”

“Yes.”

“Does it mean you like pollution because you live in a tall building that contributes to a reduction of fresh air and sunlight?”

“No. I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“I liked you better when you were giving me a tour and letting your handiwork impress me instead of your mouth.”

Hunter chuckled. “Well, then let’s continue. I can think of plenty of ways my hands will impress you in the next room. Although I’m pretty sure you’d like my mouth in there even better.”

Of course, the next room on the tour was Hunter’s bedroom.

“Wow.”

My jaw dropped when he turned on the lights. Just like the other rooms in the house, the space was large and open. A king-size platform bed had been elevated to claim the best view of the forest-like yard from two walls. That view included a birdhouse with a blue jay currently perched on top. I stepped to the windows to peer outside. It wasn’t until I looked closer that I noticed more than one birdhouse. In fact, there were a lot of them.

“Are you a bird watcher?”

“No. My mother was. I always wanted a big Macaw parrot, though. Every year from the time I was able to swing a hammer, I made her a birdhouse for her birthday. She’d put seed in it and watch the birds outside, and I secretly hoped she’d take the hint and get us a bird for inside.” Hunter stood next to me at the window and pointed to a birdhouse hanging from a tree branch off to the right. “That was the first one I made. I was seven. If you look inside, my mother put some plastic birds in there. For the longest time, I thought she did it to attract real birds. But after a few years, she stopped doing it. One year I finally asked her why, and she told me it was because I’d finally learned how to make a good birdhouse. Apparently the plastic birds had nothing to do with attracting other birds. The way I’d built the first couple of houses, I had nails sticking up inside, and she was afraid they were going to impale the birds.”

I laughed. “That’s funny. It’s sweet that she didn’t want to tell you. How many are out there?”

“Ten. I made one each year from seven to seventeen. That’s the only thing she ever asked for.”

“Did you stop making them when you went to college?”

“No. She passed away when I was seventeen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He looked around outside. “She would have liked this place. If I put a little birdseed on a few of them, it turns into an aviary out there.”

I looked over at Hunter, who was still staring out the window. He looked younger in the natural light. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

He turned his attention back to me. “That’s what I tried to tell you the first night we met. There’s a lot more for you to see. And we happen to be in the perfect place for me to show you.”

His words were teasing, but when he reached out, grabbed my hip, and took a step closer, there was nothing funny about the things my body felt.

Over the last nine months, I’d dated a few different men. None of them had lit my fuse like Hunter could with one simple touch. In fact, the difference was so apparent that I’d talked myself into believing my memory had exaggerated what the man did to me. Apparently, the only thing exaggerated was my denial.