Hidden Roots (Citrus Cove, #3)

by Clio Evans

“Family meeting. Half an hour. If you’re not on my doorstep, I’m going to slash the tires of the vine-trimmer.”

“What the fuck, Hunter? Why would you keep that a secret? Emma is already part of our family.”

“I love her.”

“We’ve been friends for almost a decade,” she started. “And I hear from my husband that you’re engaged to his brother? Do you know how shitty that feels? I didn’t even know the two of you were dating.”

“Yes,” I lied. “I love him.” “You, Emma Madden, love a grouchy, muddy farmer. Hunter Harlow. The man

you’ve supposedly hated from day one.”

“Also, this is Hunter we’re talking about. He’s like Superman around here. Everyone knows and loves him, except for you. For almost three years, you two have fought, argued, and hated each other.”

He went down the steps to his car. His body looked so stiff, I wondered if there was a stick up his ass. Then again, he’d always been too lame to let me peg him. “Bye,” he called. I bit my tongue before I shouted ‘farewell motherfucker’

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. And she saw the looks you gave each other at my wedding.”

“I’m wearing steel toed boots,” he said. “Did you seriously just stomp on my foot?” “I did because you manhandled me,”

“Fine. Also how did you know those things about me?” He raised a brow. “What things?”

“My shampoo? My perfume? My favorite drinks and ice cream?”

“I’ve known you for almost three years now and we see each other at every fucking family event and holiday. It’s not ...

The way Haley and Sarah looked at me was a knife to the heart. Mostly because after some talking, they believed it. And because I wanted to believe it, too. There was a very real part of me that wished all of this was real—that I had an amazing ring for Emma, that she didn't hate me as much as she claimed she did.

“Technically, I could call my stepmom. We aren’t close.” “I’m sorry. It seems like they all missed out on knowing you, and that’s their loss.”

Like I didn’t want to worship every part of her body and make her scream my fucking name.

“Great, now you can watch me all the time,” she snorted. “Oh, so you like being watched?” I teased. “Yes, I do.”

I hated being manhandled, unless it was consensual. But once it was agreed upon, I wanted to be manhandled all the way. Pick me up, pin me down, toss me over your shoulder or on the bed.

“Hunter.” His name felt too damn good on my lips.

I looked back up at the camera. Hunter was too good, he wouldn’t be watching me...

The silence was heavy. I’d become so used to being alone, but Emma was starting to ruin that. Suddenly, I wanted to actually have a smart, sassy fiancé. One who painted everything pink and had a rat for a dog.

Most of the time, I was dominant. I especially liked rope and breath play. The idea of tying her down to my bed, my hand around her throat as her lips formed my name, her rich brown eyes full of lust and need… She’d be a brat in the bedroom. Or maybe she’d be completely submissive. Hell, if she were dominant, I’d even be willing to submit to her. That’s how far gone I was.

Her words came back to me. I’d teased her about being watched, and she’d

said yes, she liked it. Was she doing this on purpose?

A few minutes with her wasn’t enough. I wanted hours, days, forever.

What the fuck was I going to do? Nothing could pry her out of my mind or heart, no matter what I did. I didn’t want to touch another, kiss another, fuck another, breathe around another. I just wanted her.

If my golden years weren’t full of the best sex of my life, I didn’t want them.

“I can be. And Emma, whatever this is with Hunter, I’m happy for you. But my instincts are telling me that something ain’t right here. Hidden roots always get dug up, darlin’. When you’re ready to tell me the whole truth, I’ll be here.”

“I’ll tell you eventually. That’s all I can say for now.”

Oh my god, I was kissing him. I couldn’t tell you what day it was. I couldn’t tell you where I was. All I knew was Hunter Harlow was kissing me, I was kissing him back—and I needed more.

The fact that I maybe sort of wanted Hunter Harlow was starting to eat away at me.

Before I knew about Hunter, I planned to ask you to marry me again. I mean, we’re perfect for each other and⁠—” “Drop that nonsense right now,” Hunter quipped. “Emma is mine.”

If she ever knew that I’d ruined her dates

and watched her masturbate, she’d kill me.

“But, I am proud of you Hunter. I just don’t understand why you need to hear it.” “Because it’s nice to hear sometimes!”

“That girl deserves someone better.”

“He's as easy to hate as he is to love,” I said.

“You are the only person who would get a pap smear to make me feel better,”

“Love of my life, creature spawned from hell to torture me, woman who literally tased me the first time we

met—either come inside and sit on the couch like a good girl, or leave.”

“Dimples.” His lips tugged as he tried to maintain his manly demeanor. “You cannot call me dimples.” “I sure can.” “I am a tough man who farms and fixes things. You cannot call me dimples.”

“Please?” He let out a deliberate sigh. “Fine. Come on.”

“It’s fake,” he reminded us. “Yes. So fake. Nothing we do means anything.” “So… might as well kiss a lot.”

While I’d done my fair share of convincing, it seemed like everyone was tougher on him about the situation. It was starting to piss me off.

“I’ve never seen you back down from a confrontation.”

“Then you’ve never seen how I act when I love someone,” I said, my voice shaking. “I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want to hurt her. I…”

“Emma, sometimes we hurt the people we love. Sometimes we fuck up. Sometimes we say shit we don’t mean and we do thin...

it? Avoiding it? I promise that it doesn’t ...

“If I vomit on you, will you still love me?”

“Yeah, sparks. I’d still love you if you vomited on me.”