Pinkie Promise (Carter Ridge Book 1)
Pinkie Promise: Chapter 11

Once Hunter got his hands on me he simply couldn’t let go.

When the movie finished he waited for me to stuff the candy packets into my jeans and then he led us out the door, his hand never leaving mine. By the time that we reached the foyer he was walking right up behind me, his palms gripping into my hips, hard, heavy, and firm.

We reach his truck in the lot and he pulls open my door, his front warm and solid against the back of my jumper.

I glance at him over my shoulder and he tips his chin towards the truck’s interior. “Get in,” he says huskily.

I bend forward and slip inside and he waits by my door until I’ve strapped myself in. Then he quietly shuts it, rounds the truck, and heaves himself inside.

“You like the movie?” he asks as he gets the truck’s engine going.

“What movie?” I ask, and he flashes me a lazy grin.

“You’re a real funny chick,” he says, shaking his head. “I like that.”

Suddenly I’m thinking of all the first-date questions that I haven’t yet asked him so I curl up on the passenger seat, rummage around for a stray Jelly Baby, and ask, “Where are you from, originally?”

He rolls his shoulders and says, “Carter Ridge through and through, baby.”

My eyebrows rise. “Seriously? You’re from here?”

He grazes his teeth into his bottom lip like he isn’t sure if he should be telling me this, but I can’t imagine why it would be a secret that he’s local to the area.

“Yeah, Tanner and I were both born and raised around these parts.”

“You guys seem like brothers,” I tell him.

“He isn’t by blood, but he is in the way that counts. We got into hockey together, that kind of thing.” Then he laughs and says, “I have a fuck-tonne of siblings, but I don’t wanna scare you.”

I get comfy in my seat. “Tell me.”

He grins at the road. “You sure?”

“Why would I be scared?” I laugh.

He flashes me a smirk. “I’m one of six, Fallon.”

My hands instinctively move to my belly. That is a lot of babies.

Hunter glances down at my stomach before refocusing on the road.

“My mom has one girl and five boys. I’m the oldest. The youngest is Wren, then Archer, Ryder, Gunner, and Colton. Then me. The babies are real cute but Colt’s kind of my favourite. He’s in high school now and he’s getting all moody. He has, uh…” He laughs and shakes his head. “He’s a little obsessed with the chick who lives next door.”

“Sounds like a romance story,” I murmur with a smile.

He smiles back at me. “Maybe you could write it.”

I try to hide my dimpling cheeks as I turn to look out of the window, my neck getting warm and my belly feeling fuzzy. Maybe I will.

“You got siblings?” he asks, and my smile instantly drops. “Shit, wrong question,” he says quickly when he notices my expression. “I’m sorry, Fallon. I won’t mention your family again.”

I shake my head but my voice belies my emotions. “It’s fine, I’m sorry,” I say, trying to brush it off with a little laugh. “It’s honestly not even a big deal.”

He makes a low unsure grunt but he thinks better of fighting me on it. Instead he takes his right hand off the wheel and holds it out for me to hold. I place a Jelly Baby in his palm and when he looks down at it he laughs out loud.

He throws it back into his mouth and then he shoves his fingers straight through mine.

I have to stifle a small gasp as I say, “You have really big hands.”

“Hockey player,” he says by way of explanation.

“All those years of gripping the stick?”

He chokes on his swallow. “Among other things.”

When adjusts the stick-shift he makes us do it with our hands still entwined, and the action is so cute that it makes me giggle. In my defence, I try my best to suppress the sound.

“You got a driver’s license?” he asks.

“Nope. You?”

He sticks his tongue in his cheek, trying not to laugh again. “You are so fuckin’ weird,” he murmurs.

His tone is so fond that I preen and snuggle further into the seat.

“What do you study?” he asks as we approach the road that takes us toward the dark and sexy O’Malley condo block.

“Guess,” I say to him.

He smiles to himself. “Shoulda known,” he murmurs. “You’re an English Lit chick, right?”

“Congratulations Detective,” I say, and he rewards me with a hand-squeeze.

Then he surprises me by saying, “My major’s Engineering.”

I should have known that seeing as he already mentioned that he knew Connell from his classes, but for some unknown reason I hadn’t put two-and-two together. “It sounds intense,” I comment.

He shrugs. “Same as yours. Just a different flavour.”

“Why Engineering?”

“Right now the plan is to play for the NHL, but after I finish up my hockey career my brothers and I will be taking over our dad’s garage. Not that he’ll step down – we’ll just be handling more than we used to so that he can spend some time with our mom.” He contemplates something for a moment and then grins. “In my second year at Carter U I took a Physics module because at the time one of my brothers was all crazy about space. Thought I’d learn some shit that could blow his little mind.”

I scrunch up my nose and laugh. “That’s really cute.”

Hunter’s smile widens. “Yeah, I’m super fuckin’ cute,” he drawls dryly. “Honestly, I’m only at Carter U because of Tanner. He said I’d be kickin’ myself in four years if I didn’t, because at the time I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go pro with my sport.”

I’m in awe of Hunter’s down-to-earth honesty. I think that it’s a small town thing and I’m a little bit in love with it. “Hold up,” I laugh, leaning slightly closer to him. “Are you saying that you didn’t want to go to college?”

He smirks and says, “Hell no I didn’t wanna go to college, I wanted to do car shit with my dad. I don’t mind doing hockey though ’cause it’s still something physical. And the pay…” He swallows hard. “I’m not gonna lie, the pay is… good.”

“Did you get to pick the number on your jersey?” I ask, remembering the big number 9 on his back.

He flashes me a grin. “Yeah. Sometimes colleges can be weird about it but Carter U was fine with us picking them, as long as they weren’t already taken.”

“Is nine your favourite number?” I ask, smiling when he breathes out a laugh.

“I mean…” He looks away from me for a beat, his cheeks flushing a little. “Considering my number of siblings… and at the time I knew that my parents were, like… God, this is gonna sound weird as hell but, I knew that they were trying for a girl so…”

“So…?” I prompt, secretly loving the fact that he has something as cute as a favourite number.

He shakes his head as if he can’t believe that he’s telling me this and then his beautiful sparkling eyes meet mine.

Warmth spreads through my belly and I try not to spontaneously combust.

“So I guess nine and eight are my mom and dad, then seven to three represents my baby siblings.” He rakes a hand through his hair, flashing me the swollen curve of his bicep. “Guess that makes me two.”

We stay silent for a few seconds, breathing heavily as we watch each other.

“So,” I say finally, my voice a whisper, “if your family represents the numbers from nine to two… who’s the one?”

Hunter swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and rasps, “I guess we’ll see.”

After putting the car in park Hunter looks down at me as I unbuckle my seatbelt and, when our eyes meet, the cabin of the car gets instantly warmer. I watch him as he swipes his tongue over his lower lip, but then he clicks open his door and heavily dismounts to the road, the truck groaning loudly in protest as he comes around to open mine.

He doesn’t lock up the truck as he walks me to the entrance of the condo, showing me that he doesn’t expect an invite inside.

Small town guys, I think to myself, a golden sunshine feeling in my belly. It’s always the small town guys who act like gentlemen.

When I get to the front door of the building I can feel Hunter’s warm body right behind me. I fumble to get my key out of my pocket and, in the process, a bag of candy slips free from my jeans. Hunter catches it before it hits the sidewalk and then suddenly we’re both very still.

Hunter’s chest is right up against my shoulders and we’re in a kind of purgatory, well aware of what usually happens at the end of a good date, even if it doesn’t go so far as to the bedroom.

A deep rumble reverberates through Hunter’s chest and then, after a heavy inhale, he reaches around me and begins tucking the candy back inside the front of my jeans.

I stop breathing completely.

Hunter’s right hand moves up the sleeve of my jumper, rubbing me firmly until he reaches my clavicle.

“Thanks for spending your evenin’ with me,” he says quietly, his left hand still wedged in the front pocket of my pants. Warmth spills over in my belly as I feel the powerful press of his thick fingers. The hand that was stroking my collarbones slowly climbs the column of my throat, before gently tangling itself up in the back of my hair. Hunter’s breathing gets heavier as he murmurs, “Is this okay?”

It’s dark out here, outside of the building, and the glossy black exterior is swallowing every trace of light. I nod my head subtly and Hunter’s mouth moves slowly against the lobe of my ear.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks me quietly as he presses his pecs harder against my shoulders. His chest swells on the impact and then he moves his lower body against me too.

“I had a good time,” I whisper. “I don’t have a clue what happened in the movie.”

I feel him laugh against my cheek and then the hand in my hair carefully tugs, pulling me backwards. I turn my head slightly to face him and he’s flushed and breathing erratically.

“Gonna let me see you again?” he asks as he slides his hand out of my pocket and begins roaming it up towards the waistband of my jeans. His irises are dark and smouldering, darkening further when his fingers reach the bottom of my sweater. They pause there but hold firm while he awaits the answer to his question.

I answer him honestly. “I don’t usually have a lot of free time.”

Between writing essays, organising my grant documents, and now working the diner, I don’t give myself a whole lot of downtime. Now add on top of that the juicy information that Aisling told me regarding cheer, and I’m not so sure that I’ll have any free time at all.

“I’ll work my schedule around yours,” he says quietly, pressing harder against my behind and strangling down a groan when my body yields to his. “We can make it work if you want us to. I definitely fuckin’ do.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, looking up into his eyes.

He glances behind us over the swell of his shoulder before pushing us harder up against the side of my building.

“Fallon, I’m gonna make so much fuckin’ time for you.”

The warm hand that was teasing my waistband suddenly slides up beneath my shirt and a gasp catches in my throat as he pushes it hard against my belly.

“Is it too soon to kiss you?” he asks, dipping his forehead down so that it’s resting against mine.

His body is warm and hard and I can’t help but submit to his welcoming enveloping. When he feels me lean exhaustedly against him a rough sound rumbles in his chest.

“Christ,” he mutters. “This is way too fucking soon.”

I turn around so that we’re chest to chest and now he’s grimacing like he’s fully in pain. His hand is still up my shirt, only now it’s gripping tightly into my lower back. I tentatively wrap my arms around his shoulders and he lets his hand climb higher until he’s leashed his fingers into the back of my bra.

“We’ve known each other for a month,” I whisper. “By a lot of people’s standards, they’d think that we’ve been taking it pretty slow.”

He shakes his head, staring longingly at my lips. “Don’t care what other people think. I only care what you think. You hated me not two weeks ago – I don’t want to go ahead making out with you and then, two days down the line, you feel that way about me again.”

I bite back a small smile. His honesty makes my heart hurt.

“Hunter,” I whisper, and he presses his forehead imploringly against my temple.

“Yeah?” he groans, his fingers gripping desperately at the lace of my bra.

I tilt my head back so that he can meet my eyes and I give him a secretive smile. “I don’t think that I ever hated you, Hunter.”

His mouth crashes down on mine with so much force that we stumble against the building, his hand immediately protecting my head from the impact. I moan, cupping my hands around his strong jaw, and he releases a deep sated sound from somewhere in the depths of his chest. He pulls his palm from underneath my jumper so that he can grip his fingers around my chin and he tilts my head further backwards so that he can take me from a different angle.

His chest is moving in big unsteady pumps when he finally pulls back to look at his handiwork.

“I’m gonna text you, Fallon,” he rasps. “And you’re gonna start replying.”

I’m too weak to laugh properly so instead I breathe out a little wheeze.

“You wish,” I mumble tauntingly, and to my delight he kisses me again.

“You’re so difficult,” he murmurs against me, his tone almost adoring. Then he kisses at my cheeks, his mouth warm and soft.

“Fine, you can take me out again,” I say when he pulls back, saying it like it’s a treat for him.

He grins down at me with that cocky smirk of his and says, “Well, don’t sound too excited about it.”

“Fine, you can take me out again, Captain,” I rectify, and his eyes go from charcoal grey to not-a-single-star-in-the-sky black.

I win this round, I think to myself smugly.

“Are you gonna let me go to sleep now?” I ask him after twenty seconds pass and he’s still nuzzling into my neck, massaging his palms into my body.

I don’t want him to go but I may have read one or two relationship guidebooks, and I know that you’re supposed to keep a guy on his toes.

“Are you gonna post some more photos on your Instagram?” he asks hoarsely, watching his hand as he grips it around my hip.

“Why?” I tease. “You need some new material?”

His deafening silence makes my cheeks turn crimson. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he finally takes his hands off me.

“Okay,” I squeak, my chest pumping even faster than his. “M-maybe I’ll post some more photos on my Instagram.”