He grins. “I’m the barbeque king, Gray. I enjoy the fruits of my kingdom. John—and the health inspector—never have to know about it, is all.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh.
“But really,” he says, returning to his paperwork. “I like the work here. Mrs. Alberts will still tell anyone who will listen that I was a terrible student, but I’ve actually kind of grown to like running the numbers and figuring out logistics. And the joke is on her, because I have calculators in my desk, on my computer, and in my phone apps.”
“Well, you’ve done an incredible job. That line outside was something else.”
Hunter turns back to me, the papers he needs now in hand. He shrugs, smiling. “I’m building something, you know? I know that Little Haven is small, but we’re not just limited to the clientele in town. I want Dirty John’s to be the place people visit from across Georgia. I want that spiky-haired chef from Food Network to swing by and say my ribs are straight outta Flavortown.”
I laugh, but there’s a twinge in my chest.
I think I always thought… well, I feel kind of silly putting it into words, even just for my own sake.
Hunter was the mess-around in high school, the instigator. I was the one who was focused on basketball, on making it out of Little Haven, on being the big fish. He’s built something here, a whole empire that might have Dirty John’s name, but it’s stillhis. There’s an ache inside of me, and I know exactly what it is. It strikes me now that this is the first time I’ve felt jealous since I left the city. It’s the first time I’ve compared myself to someone else and concluded that I’ve come up short.
Maybe that’s good for me. Maybe I need a dose of that.
“Jeez,” I say. “You and your sister are buying out this town. They’re going to have to rename the place Little Moore.”
Hunterhumphs as he pushes open the office door and leads me back through the kitchen. “Yeah, so are you going to ask Molly out now or should I expect another will-they won’t-they saga to begin?”
“Excuse me?”
He glances over his shoulder at me, winking devilishly as we push through the double doors and head behind the front counter. He steps up to the kitchen window and holds up two fingers to the boy slicing meats.
“Two pounds pork ribs,” he orders. “Cole slaws. Corn bread.” He turns to me then, pointing a finger in my direction. “You want pecan pie?”
“Um, during the season, Coach Gunderson likes all of us to eat like the players to create a sense of solidarity—”
“You want pecan pie. Four mini pecan pies,” Hunter orders. “Two for each of us.”
He turns back to me then, leaning up against the counter and crossing his arms.
“You ain’t got my permission to get physical with her,” Hunter announces. “That girl is a saint and I will go to my grave believin’ she’s untouched. But you can be a gentleman. I’ll permit that. You can ask her out, but you have to bring her flowersandget my daddy’s blessing.”
I just blink, not sure how to respond from here.
“Look, Molly’s not sixteen anymore. You’re allowed to like her.” He jerks his head, thinking. “I mean, as long as you know that if you ever got her pregnant, I’d march you down the aisle with a shotgun and then murder you the second you signed the will over to her.”
He grins, positively rakish.
Hunter is far too good at reading me. Always was, and still is now.
“Fuck.Fine.” I blow air out between my tight lips. “I think she’s cute.”
“You want to have her babies. You want to take our last name. You want to give up basketball and become a house husband.” Hunter grins again. “You think I don’t know all about your flirtations back in high school? I’m not stupid.”
“I know you know about them,” I say with a sigh. “I’m just very good at playing make-believe.”
I lay my hands flat on the table in front of me, studying the lines on the backs of my fingers. “Molly is… exactly the way she always was, and somehow even better at the same time. Same face, more matured body.”
“Going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me,” Hunter says. “But continue.”
“Sorry.” I laugh and half-smile. Hunter just rolls his eyes.
“Same humor, more life-experience behind it,” I go on. “Same fucking smile I remember obsessing over in high school, and now its being worn on lips that have probably kissed enough men in her day to know exactly what she wants.”
“Again, just going to ignore your allusions to my sister having a dating life or in any way being a sexual being.”