Hunter

Chapter 1-2

Groaning as he got off his bike, Hunter had finally finished up his latest case. Being a bounty hunter had its perks, but after riding six hundred miles to chase the last asswipe, he needed a break. He’d run the con all the way to the east coast. f**k, his old bones were getting tired. Turning twenty-eight wasn’t exactly considered old and washed up, but long hauls of two hundred plus miles were hard to do.

It didn’t help that it was hot as f**k here in South Caro, as the locals called it. It wasn’t a bad town. Nice weather, small enough not to be overrun like Cali, beautiful in its southern charm sort of way, almost quaint. It reminded him of Clutterfarms, Georgia, where he grew up.

His parents were farmers, loved the outdoors, and it’d rubbed off on him. He just didn’t have the staying power his brother, Ethan, had. Ethan was the foreman on the ranch, among other things, content with staying close to their homestead.

Hunter was more of a traveler, never finding the need to stay too long in one place. Being on the road with no one to answer to, no one to nag at him, had always been good. Now that he wasn’t far from thirty, he wanted someone to be there when he got home, maybe even care that he was away. f**k, where had those thoughts come from? Hunter laughed to himself.

What the hell was he thinking? He was a loner and loved having no attachments, or at least that was what he told himself.

When he heard a horn blow, his attention jerked towards the man crossing the street. He was mesmerized. The man was built, not in an I-can-lift-a-car sort of way, more subtly built. Just the way Hunter liked them. When the brown-haired dude the guy walked with grabbed his shoulder, Hunter had to keep from growling and claiming ownership. He felt connected to this stranger.

Rowdy Kingston, a local guy he was meeting, rode up next to Hunter’s bike. It was time for business. Pleasure would have to wait until later. Taking a final look at the bar, he got down to business.

“Dude, I’m f*****g thirsty. Let’s go in and get a beer. Then we’ll hash it out.” Rowdy winked and nodded towards the door.

Some of the “dive bars,” as the locals called them, were just that, but this one was a little more. They had everything: a TV on every available surface, a kick-ass pool room visible from the front door, tables lined up against the walls, and a wrap-around bar area with five bartenders. No one had to wait too long to get a drink. It had a homey feel, not overly crowded like some sports bars.

“Hey, Rowdy! Over here.” A burley bartender waved them over as two stools came open.

Reaching out, Rowdy bumped knuckles with the guy and introduced him. “Abel, this is Hunter from…shit, Hunt, where the f**k you livin’ these days?”

Hunter bumped knuckles with Abel and grunted. “Wherever the road takes me…”

Rowdy tapped his shoulder. “Gotta hit the head, man. Be right back. Put two on my tab.” Rowdy made his way to the back of the bar, joking and jabbering on his way.

The scent of cinnamon and sunshine assaulted Hunter’s nose. He glanced over his shoulder. Sitting on the next stool over was the hottie from the street. Hunter’s temperature rose, and his d**k twitched with interest at the close proximity. The guy’s scent permeated the air. Hunter really needed to adjust his d**k to make room in his jeans. He sat there in a daze, entranced.

The hottie had all of Hunter’s favorite characteristics: shaggy blond hair, tight ass, ripped blue jeans that seemed to cling to that muscled body but hung low enough to tease, and he got a glimpse of the happy trail under a belt. This guy was smoking hot, and it took all Hunter had not to lick his lips. f**k. That was exactly it. This guy would be a good, hot f**k. Hunter drank deeply from the beer Abel left in front of him.