Sex, Not Love(21)

“Hmph. That’s not so bad, I guess.” I sipped my drink again and squinted at him. “Unless you slept with all of them. Sleeping with three different women a month would be thirty-six a year…after ten years of singlehood that would be upwards of three hundred and sixty different women. That’s kinda gross.”

Hunter frowned.

I smirked. “Slept with ’em all, huh?”

“I travel a lot for work. Sometimes I spend the better part of three months on a job site out of state, so I don’t always get to date that often.”

“So you don’t date when traveling? You’ve never met a woman at a bar while on the road and brought her back to your room?”

Another frown. “Did we or did we not meet when I overheard you deciding to bring some random—boring as shit, I might add—guy back to your room while you were traveling?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I have a good reason for not wanting anything more than sex from a man these days. Plus, I don’t do it very often.”

Hunter said nothing. He seemed to like to argue with me, so my guess was his sudden silence was because I’d hit upon something he didn’t want to talk about. Perhaps he had his own good reasons for not wanting anything but a sexual relationship with someone.

“So, tell me something about your love life, birthday boy who isn’t a whore. I gave you the thirty-second version of my heartache this afternoon. What’s your deal?”

“Not much to tell.”

“Ever married?”

“Nope.”

“Engaged?”

“Nope.”

“Serious girlfriend.”

“One.”

I took another sip. “Now we’re getting somewhere. How long was that relationship?”

“A few years.”

Although that surprised me, it did make sense. I wanted no part of a relationship because of my sour outlook after my marriage. “Why did you break up?”

He shifted in his seat. “Life.”

“Ah. That tells me a lot.”

“I prefer to live my life looking forward, not backward. You look in the rearview mirror too often, sometimes you miss what’s right in front of you.”

Huh. Not the answer I expected. But a damn good point.

The waitress came back to our table. Her timing was perfect for a change in the tone of our conversation. After she took our dinner order, and I finished off my large margarita, I shared something I’d been thinking about earlier as I was getting ready.

“My mom’s a big gardener. Growing up, she would plant a different flower on my birthday each year—one that would bloom around my spring birthday. Every year, we’d go outside to plant a new one, and all of my birthday plants would be in bloom. When I went away to college, she would snap pictures and send them in my card. It’s kind of goofy, but I loved it and looked forward to it each year. Yesterday, when you showed me your mom’s birthday birdhouses, it made me think maybe we could start some sort of a tradition for Caroline.”

Hunter sat back in his chair. “I’d like that. What did you have in mind?”

“You know the big oak tree that’s right outside Caroline’s bedroom window in the yard?”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking maybe we could send her plants every year to hang from that tree on her birthday. You could make Anna and Derek a flower box to keep all the flowers in individual containers with hangers. Then on her birthday each year, we could take turns going over the night before and hanging all the plants on the tree—sort of like a Christmas tree, but a birthday tree instead.”

Hunter stared at me funny for a minute. I thought it might’ve been a look of disappointment, which caused me to say, “If you think it’s silly, we can just forget it.”

“No, not at all. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Oh, okay. You made a weird face, so I thought maybe you thought it was a dumb idea.”

Hunter scratched his chin and did this squinty thing with his eyes that looked like he was trying to figure out a problem.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me. I saw on your face that you were thinking something.”

He stared for another minute before leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. “Alright, when I went to Anna to try to get your telephone number after you blew me off with the wrong one, she refused, and when I asked her why, she said, ‘I’m not giving it to you for your own good. She’s as beautiful inside as she is out, and she’ll break your heart when you realize she’s not ready to let anyone in.’” He paused. “Figured she was full of shit and was trying to pass on your rejection so it wouldn’t hurt my fragile ego. Now I’m not so sure anymore.”

***

Hunter didn’t joke around about us having sex when we left the restaurant. To my surprise, he didn’t even attempt to come up to my room after he walked me into the lobby.

“Thank you for dinner, even though I should’ve been the one who paid since it’s your birthday. And thank you for picking me up at the airport, letting me crash at your house, and shuttling me all over.”

“You’re welcome.”

I pressed the button to the elevator. “I guess I’ll be in touch next year for our first joint Caroline-birthday-tradition present?”