My Favorite Mistake (My Favorite Mistake #1)(20)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“So they aren’t your legal guardians?”

“I’m over eighteen. I don’t have a guardian.” Ugh, he wouldn’t stop shutting me down as I fished for information. So frustrating.

“But when you did need a guardian, were they your guardians?” I glanced over to find him watching me intently.

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask way too many questions?”

“Nearly every teacher I’ve ever had. They used to call my mom in for parent-teacher conferences and they’d always write that in my evaluation.” True story.

“It’s a long story, and one we don’t have time for.”

“When will you have time? I’m really not trying to be nosy. I’m just curious.” He was my roommate, and I guessed maybe he was a friend… sort of. I wanted to know about his life. I wanted to know how he became the gorgeous douche who wrote a song about doing the dishes one minute and grabbed my ass the next.

He shifted in his seat, clearly uptight with the direction our conversation had taken.

“Do you mind if I change it?” he said.

“Sure, CDs are on the visor.” If he was going to answer my questions, he could play whatever he wanted.

He flipped through my eclectic selection and finally settled on Parachute. Huh. Not what I would have picked for him.

“I can hear you judging me,” he said as I merged onto I-395.

“I just didn’t think you were a Parachute kind of guy.”

“Why not?”

“No reason. So, you were talking about your aunt and uncle.”

“Right,” he said, but I knew he remembered. He let out a deep breath that seemed to go on forever. “They took me in when I was eleven. My parents died, and there was nowhere else for me to go.” He stopped, and I waited a few seconds before asking my next question.

“So Hope is your mother’s sister?” I had no idea, so thought I’d take a stab at it.

“Right. My mother’s younger sister, but they were only two years apart. My mother’s brother lives in Texas. He’s an ass.”

“So it runs in the family?”

“It’s genetic, what can I say?” Well, he was okay enough to joke, so that was good.

“That explains why you and Mase are like brothers.”

“We are, more or less. We grew up together, we beat the shit out of each other to solve our issues, and we’d take a bullet for the other one.”

It was like me and Tawny. If I had to stand in front of a moving truck to prevent it from hitting her, I would. She’d saved my life once, and I could never pay her back.

“I know what that’s like,” I said.

“So do I get to ask you about your family situation now?”

I shrugged. There wasn’t much to tell.

“My parents split up when I was thirteen. Dad’s an ass who just pretends like he cares. My mom’s amazing and then there’s my sister. I have a few aunts and cousins and such, but they all live in different states.”

“So that’s why you have anger issues with men.”

It took a second for the comment to penetrate my brain. He was getting very close to pushing a button he most certainly did not want to push. If he’d thought I was nuts before, it was nothing to how I could be. He hadn’t seen the worst. Not by a long shot.

“Walk away, Hunter. You have stuff you don’t want to talk about and I respect that. So I’m asking you to walk away.”

“Okay,” he said, turning the volume of the CD up and staring out the window. “Pie.”

“What?” Not that it wasn’t great, but I didn’t see what that had to do with anything relevant.

“Hope loves making pie. She’ll probably send you home with one. There’s a tiny apple orchard in the back of the house, and she always goes nuts in the fall, making as many pies as she can. She made so many one year, she walked around downtown handing them out to the local businesses. They started calling her ‘the pie lady.’ So, I hope you like pie.”

“What kind of a question is that? Who doesn’t like pie?”

“A very f**ked-up person.”

“I guess I’m not that f**ked-up, then.”

“Not even close,” he said, pushing his seat back.

I kept driving until we got to Bar Harbor. I rolled the window down to catch the salty air. There was nothing like the smell of the ocean. We’d switched the CD to Coldplay by mutual consent.

“Turn here,” he said, pointing to a road on the left. I put my turn signal on and made the turn.

“Turn here,” he said a minute later, and we made another turn and then another.

We were off the main road, and all I could see were quaint houses with little porches and cute lighthouse mailboxes and wind chimes. It looked like a really nice place. I kept going until he pointed out one last turn onto Mason Drive. I should have seen that coming.

“Here we are,” he said as I stopped the car. Oh, Jesus.

The house was effing huge. The little cottages along the rest of the road had not prepared me for this. It was at least twice, if not three times the size of my house. My eyes traveled up to count three floors. It was white, sort of Victorian looking with a huge wrap-around porch that had a handicap ramp leading up to it on one side. There was a huge red barn as well. Somehow I didn’t think there was a tractor in it. I recognized Darah’s Camry nestled between a BMW and a brand new Impala, with an Escalade on the other side.

“Shit, Hunter. You never said your family was loaded.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You never asked.”

Fourteen

The house was even more gi-huge-ic when I got out of the car and stood in front of it.

“Well, I assumed, since you drive a crappy car and couldn’t find housing that you were poor,” I said.

“Never assume, Missy. Never assume,” he said, walking toward the house, swinging the guitar case. My feet seemed to be glued to the ground. I was overtaken with a hard-to-breathe-can’t-think feeling. I was panicking.

“I love how you can punch me in the face and not bat an eyelash, but a large house makes you want to run away. It can’t hurt you, you know?” He nodded toward the front door. “Come on.”

Somehow, my feet unstuck themselves from the driveway, and I moved forward.

“Jesus, you’d think we were leading you to the guillotine.”

“Bite me,” I snapped as we stood at the front door. It had fancy swirling glass in it, and I could definitely see a chandelier. A f**king chandelier. Where there was a chandelier, there was a foyer, and a den, and spiral staircases, and taking your shoes off, and other fancy things. Not that I didn’t like fancy things, I just didn’t really belong in a house full of them.

Hunter just opened the door, calling out as he walked through.

“Anyone home?”

“Hunter? Is that you?” called out a female voice that I assumed belonged to Hope. It had a thick southern twang to it.

“Yeah, I’m here. I brought a guest.”

“Is it Taylor?”

What?

I stared at Hunter.

“I may have mentioned your name. Once or twice.”

As I tried to keep myself from craning my neck to check out the chandelier in more detail, a tall blond woman came around the corner, wiping her hands on a dish towel and beaming perfect white teeth. So that was where he got them from. She gave Hunter a hug, kissing him on the cheek before turning her attention to me.

“Oh my goodness, you’re as pretty as a picture.”

Her southern accent only added to the intimidation factor. Not to mention she was wearing heels as if she was born with them, and her hair and makeup looked like they’d been done by a team of professionals. She was the after picture of the before and after.

“I’m Hope. I’ve heard so much about you.”

She came at me with a hug that I had no choice but to return. Hunter must not have told her I wasn’t a hugger. Or maybe she didn’t care.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Mason.”

“Come now, didn’t Hunter tell you to call me Hope?”

“He did. I just… I don’t know,” I stuttered. Grace was not my middle name. Also, I felt the overwhelming urge to call her ma’am.

“Taylor was a little intimidated by the house,” Hunter said as I tried to give him a pinch, but he ducked out of the way and blocked me with his guitar case. Thanks a lot, dude.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You come right in,” Hope said.

I guessed I didn’t have to take off my shoes, since she was wearing hers, but the floors were so shiny, I was scared to place my unworthy feet on them.

“Hunter?” a little girl’s voice called.

“Hey, Seven!” Hunter’s face lit up as a little red-haired girl in a motorized wheelchair came down the hall. The chair was pink and had glittery stickers all over it. Nice.

“Seven, this is my friend, Taylor.” Her eyes got huge as she heard my name.

“Your name is Taylor? That’s my favorite name in the whole world.”

“Thank you,” I said, startled by both her sincerity and her wide gold-green eyes. She reminded me of Anne from Anne of Green Gables. I’d always wanted red hair.

“Harper’s favorite musician is Taylor Swift.” A girl after my own heart.

“I’m going to her concert soon,” she said.

“You are? I’m so jealous,” I said. Hunter gave me a look.

Seriously, I was. I’d just never found anyone who would go with me.

“Maybe if you’re really nice, Taylor will sing with us,” Hunter said, giving Harper a wink. She giggled and he put his guitar down to give her a hug and a kiss on her forehead, crouching down so he was at her level.

“Would you?” Her little voice was so cute, how could I say no to her? God, she’d make Hitler melt.

“Of course. I’m not a very good singer, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t listen to her. She has a beautiful voice.” How the hell would he know?

“Joe’s waiting for you in the study,” Hope said to Hunter.

“Right.”

I wondered where the study was. Maybe I could somehow excuse myself to go to the bathroom and somehow find myself there.

“Why don’t we go sit down?” Hope said, leading us into what must be the den. It had leather couches, flowers in painted vases and had a bright cheerful feel.

“I’ve heard you in the shower,” Hunter whispered in my ear as he walked beside me. His hand brushed my back, and I experienced a bad case of the goose bumps. “If you ever want to duet, you know where to find me.”

I wanted to sputter with outrage, but the thought of Hunter, in the shower… Get your mind out of the gutter, Taylor. You’re meeting his family, for Christ’s sake.

“I’ll be back,” Hunter said, winking at me before he left the room.

“Can I get you anything? How about some iced tea?” Hope said as we seated ourselves, and Harper parked her wheelchair. Hope sat down on a floral-patterned chair. No, she didn’t sit. She floated down until she was sitting. Was that something they taught in the south? If so, could I get lessons?