Free Too Much to Lose by Samantha Holt Page B

just grab a change of clothes.”
    I blink as I step into the
living room. The dated furniture and dog ornaments are not what I was
expecting. My surprise must show as Hunter laughs.
    “Not exactly a man cave,
right?”
    “Well, I—” God, I’ve probably
insulted him but I never expected a guy with scruff and a leather jacket to own
miniature cottages.
    “It was my mam’s house.”
    “Ah.”
    “Haven’t got around to
redecorating.”
    I shove my hands in my coat
pockets and gaze around. “Is she—”
    “Dead?”
    “Well, I wasn’t going to—”
    “Cancer. Three years ago.”
Sorrow flits across his face before being carefully buried under a wry grin.
    “I’m sorry.”
    He lifts a shoulder. “It was a
blessing in the end that she went. She was pretty sick.”
    Several photos sit on the
mantelpiece. I take the time to study them, unsure what I should do now. I’ve
spent so long avoiding people, I think I’ve forgotten how to interact with
them. I guess it makes sense that I’ve fallen under Hunter’s spell. He’s the
first man to show me any attention that is more than just perving on me or
wanting to feel me up. My lips curl upwards as I spot a photo of what must be
Hunter and his mother. He still looks like a bad boy even though he couldn’t
have been more than fifteen. I bet he broke hearts at that age.
    “She’s beautiful.”
    “She was.”
    I want to cry. He sounds like a
little lost boy all of a sudden and not like the confident man I think I know.
    “I’ll be two seconds.”
    I don’t turn around. I’m a bit
scared as to what might happen if I look at him. Maybe I will cry or he’ll
finally figure out who I am beneath my disguise. He could, I suspect, if he
looked hard enough. Part of me longs for that. I’m so tired of lying and
hiding. But that part of me secretly hopes whoever finds out will also accept
me and that won’t happen.
    Footsteps sound upstairs and I
hear a floorboard creak. To distract myself from the thought that he’s
stripping off at this very moment, I eye all the miniature dogs and trinkets.
Hunter’s mum died a while ago. Why didn’t he get rid of this stuff? There
really is more to the man than meets the eye.
    I sense him behind me before I
hear him—a pricking sensation on the back of my neck. I don’t turn, my breath
stays trapped in my chest. I’m frightened of seeing him. Frightened of what he
does to me. Everything has me feeling so vulnerable.
    Continuing my study of the
house, another photo catches my attention. This time Hunter is probably twenty
and sitting on a massive black motorbike. “You ride?”
    “Yeah.”
    I move along to the final photo.
Hunter is even younger and there’s a man in it. They’re sitting on the beach,
eating ice creams, just the three of them. My heart pangs. That was how things
were with my parents before they were killed in the car crash. I only have
fuzzy memories but I remember happiness and laughter.
    “That your dad?” I ask to
distract myself from the ache in my throat.
    “Yeah. He might be dead too.”
    I turn to face him.
    “He left years ago. Haven’t
seen him since we moved from Ireland.”
    Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
I don’t know why but I hunger to find out more about Hunter. “I’m so sorry, I
didn’t mean to—my parents are dead too,” I spill out as if that will somehow
comfort him.
    “You want to see it?”
    I snap my head up. “What?”
    “The bike.”
    Relieved he’s given us a way
out of this awkwardness, I nod eagerly. “Definitely.”
    He leads me through the kitchen
and out the back of the house to the garage. “Do you ride?” he asks as he opens
the garage to reveal a gleaming black Harley.
    “Wow.” I shake my head. “No,
but I had a few, uh, boyfriends who did.”
    There’s a slight smile on his
face and I see how much he loves the bike. Stepping into the garage, I skim my
hand over the leather seat. The bike looks a little old but well cared for.
    “Used to be my