Hunter's Vow

At a complete loss for what to say, Abby took the only route available to her. She couldn’t afford to refuse a paying customer and his staying at the bed-and-breakfast was better than having him file for custody. So she checked him in, gave him a key, and left the room. Tyler hadn’t come down to meet with his dad yet, but he would eventually and Abby decided that since Hunter was so good at figuring things out, he would figure out what to do with Tyler when he arrived.

Hunter was baffled, too. Since he only said what was so very obvious, he couldn’t believe he’d made her mad. Her leaving angry didn’t make sense.

His mind a jumble of confusion, he sat down on the sofa to wait for Tyler but almost before his backside hit the seat he heard, “My mom likes flowers.”

Startled, he looked behind him and there sat Tyler, scrunched between the back of the couch and thick velour drapes that enveloped him in darkness.

“Get out of there,” Hunter said gruffly, grabbing Tyler’s hand and pulling him a little farther out in the open so he could see more of him than the light of his pale eyes. “What the heck are you doing anyway?”

The little boy crawled out from behind the couch. On all fours in front of Hunter, he raised his gaze and said, “I been hiding.”

“All this time?” Hunter asked curiously.

Tyler nodded.

The absurdity of it made Hunter laugh. While he and Abby looked for Tyler, he was right under their noses. “Hiding, huh?”

Tyler said, “Yeah. You know,” he added, shifting his legs until he was sitting instead of kneeling, though Hunter sensed he’d done it more as a way to avert his attention, than to make himself more comfortable.

“Other girls get flowers,” he said, his focus skewered on a ball he gripped like a lifeline. “Lily got flowers the one time she stayed at the bed-and-breakfast. Chas brought them.” He looked at Hunter. “But my mother never gets flowers. She told Lily she would like some flowers, too.”

In a peculiar sort of way, Hunter knew exactly what Tyler was saying. He had walked into Abby’s life unannounced and turned her whole world upside down. It was no wonder she behaved irrationally.

“You know, Tyler,” he said, rising from the sofa, “I think you’re right.” Not only would taking Tyler’s advice start to form a bond between himself and his son, but it also wouldn’t hurt to get on Abby’s good side. Because he’d been trying to manage a bunch of uncontrollable instincts by presenting a logical, rational case, he’d just asked a woman to marry him, but he’d done it as if he were proposing a business deal, instead of marriage.

The kid had a point.

Abby deserved flowers.

“Let’s go,” he said and began to lead Tyler to the door. But remembering Abby’s frame of mind when she left the foyer, Hunter thought the better of it, and said, “Go tell your mom you’re leaving with me.”

Believing Tyler would walk into the kitchen, Hunter’s brows rose when the little boy only ran to the door and shouted, “Mom, me and Hunter’s going out.”

Hunter didn’t for one minute consider that appropriate notice, but when Abby called, “All right,” as if she were glad to be rid of them, he frowned. Nothing in this household went the way he thought it should.

On the front porch, he turned to Tyler. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, you made her mad. She’s probably in the kitchen trying to bake something.”

“Bake something?”

Tyler shrugged and added mournfully, “Yeah, probably coffee cake, and we’re going to have to eat it for breakfast or she’ll get mad again.”

Hunter laughed out loud at the observation until it struck him that he and his son were having a normal, honest conversation. About Abby. Their common bond. Though he might have thought his marriage proposal abrupt, and Abby might have downright hated it, Hunter truly believed he was on the right track.

And Abby would come around.

Given that Brewster hadn’t changed much in seven years, Hunter wasn’t surprised to find that the Petersons still owned the florist shop. He was even less surprised to find them resting on their back porch in the fading rays of the sun.

“Evening,” he said to the old couple who rocked back and forth on a swing that hung from hooks in their porch ceiling. “Lovely night.”

“Great night,” old man Peterson agreed. “You new around here?”

Hunter shook his head. “No, I’m Hunter Wyman. My dad and I owned the old place on Church Road. I’m Grant Brewster’s business partner now.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Matilda Peterson said, her crochet needle stopping mid-stitch. “Hunter Wyman. Will miracles never cease.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter said, though he wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that. Was it a miracle he’d done so well for himself, or a miracle he was home? “I’m sure you know my son, Tyler,” he added, first, to include the boy and, second, to head off any speculation. Brewster was a small enough town that everyone surely knew about Abby’s child. But more than that, Hunter didn’t want any question about his plans. Not only was it important that his intentions were clear to everyone, but it was more important for Tyler’s sake that the boy understood he had not been abandoned—and neither had Abby.

“I’m here because I need some flowers. You wouldn’t happen to be able to open your shop to take my order to have flowers delivered to Abby tomorrow at the diner?”

“Don’t need to open the shop,” old man Peterson said. “Still got a mind like a steel trap,” he said, pointing at his temple. “I’ll remember. What do you want to send?”

He looked down at Tyler. “Any idea what your mom likes?”

Pleased to have been consulted, Tyler grinned. “Chas bought Lily roses.”

Mrs. Peterson gasped. “Filled the room,” she said with an appreciative sigh. “Those Brewsters know how to treat a woman.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Hunter agreed, realizing his friends had a penchant for the extravagant, flashy gestures that typically swept a woman off her feet. Unfortunately, since Hunter knew he had already tossed enough surprises Abby’s way by his proposal, he also knew it wouldn’t be wise to go overboard with this.

“I think I’ll just stick with a dozen.”

“Red?” Mrs. Peterson asked speculatively.

Hunter considered that. He knew that the color of a rose you sent to a woman meant something. He could also see from the look of anticipation on Mrs. Peterson’s face that red meant something really good.

“Make them red,” Hunter decided. “You can bill me or I can stop by tomorrow afternoon and pay for them, but I want to make sure she gets them first thing in the morning.”

“You got it,” Mr. Peterson said.

Hunter grabbed Tyler’s hand and turned to go, but Tyler tugged twice to stop him. “My mom’s gonna like the flowers,” he said with authority, and Hunter felt pride swell up in him like nothing he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that he’d pleased his son or the knowledge that he was about to please Abby, but something filled him with warmth and rightness…maybe a combination of both.

“I think you’re right,” Hunter told Tyler, then a thought struck him and he stooped down and caught his son’s gaze. For the first time since he’d met Tyler, Hunter noticed that the little boy’s eyes were exactly the same color as his eyes. His nose was the same. His lips had the odd little upward curl at the corners that was the mark of all Wyman men.

Hunter was hit by a strong, almost uncontrollable urge to hug Tyler. To hold him. To feel the little boy that he’d created. To give him love. All kinds of love. To let him know that he was loved. So loved that Hunter could barely breathe for the strength of it.

But that wasn’t appropriate. He didn’t really know this little boy and Tyler certainly didn’t know him. He didn’t want to scare him.

Instead, he steadied his hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “One of the most important things about flowers,” he said, studying his son’s eyes, feeling things that threatened to overpower him, “is that they need to be a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“Yeah, women love surprises.”

Tyler’s eyes widened comically. “My mom will love a surprise!”

“Okay,” Hunter said, again overcome with love for this child who so adored his mother. “Then that makes this our secret.”

“Our secret!” Tyler agreed, obviously tickled to be in on something covert.

Quiet, studying each other, they simply stayed on the sidewalk. Hunter waited patiently while the little boy appraised him, but when Tyler blinked rapidly as if becoming uncomfortable, Hunter rose and, with his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, began leading him home.

Tyler, however, reached up and took Hunter’s hand off his shoulder. Just when Hunter expected him to drop it, he rearranged his small hand inside Hunter’s much larger one so that they were holding hands as they walked toward the bed-and-breakfast.

Emotion swamped Hunter again, but he didn’t say anything—he barely breathed. He had the sudden, intense feeling that the way to win this little boy’s heart was to win his mother’s. And though Hunter was absolutely positive he had had Abby Conway’s heart at one time, all the rules had changed. Even the playing field was different.

Before they took the first step up the stairs to the front porch of the bed-and-breakfast, Hunter stopped Tyler again. “Now remember,” he whispered, “the flowers are our little secret.”

Tyler grinned naughtily. “I remember.”

In that second, Hunter prayed, really prayed, that the flowers would work. Because he suspected that the same gesture that could win his son’s heart, could also lose it if Abby thought the flowers too personal or out of line, considering that this time tomorrow the whole town would know Hunter had returned to Brewster and had sent Abby flowers….

Red ones.

One dozen long-stemmed red—for passion, he suddenly remembered—roses.

God, she was going to kill him.

If a private marriage proposal could make her mad enough to leave the room, long-stemmed red roses seen by the entire town would probably turn her into a nuclear warhead.

He had a feeling he was going to be eating coffee cake for days.

Chapter Three

Just as Tyler had predicted, an off-center, slightly burned coffee cake awaited them the next morning.

“I usually get breakfast pastries from the diner for paying guests,” Abby said apologetically as she served Hunter a slice. “But I thought it over last night and came to the conclusion that it would be better for Tyler if we didn’t treat you as a paying guest.” She caught his gaze. “But more like family.”

Stranded in the regret of her beautiful green eyes, Hunter didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For Tyler’s sake, he agreed with her. It was better to treat him like family rather than a guest.

But something else, something like a need to cheer her on also made him feel accepting her decision was the right thing to do. After all, how hard could it be to eat a piece of slightly burned breakfast cake?

“I think it’s a great idea,” Hunter said enthusiastically. “This looks…wonderful.”

He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, hoping to get a burst of cinnamon or sugar—or just plain flavor that would give him an honest reason to compliment her. Unfortunately, the burst of flavor never came and neither did the sense that he had chewed enough that he could swallow. Finally, in desperation, he took a drink of coffee.

“That dry, huh?”

“It’s coffee cake, Abby,” Hunter said brightly. “You’re supposed to sip coffee while you eat it.”

“Oh, right,” Abby said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Okay, then,” Hunter said. He had never seen the shy, insecure side of Abby before and though it was unusual, it was also endearing. All their time together she had been the one with the confidence who spurred him on. Now it seemed fate was giving him the chance to return the favor. Without hesitation or grimace, he took another bite from his cake.

“Morning, Mom,” Tyler said as he ran into the room. “Hey, Hunter,” he added, jumping onto the chair beside Hunter. Then he saw the coffee cake. “Aw, Mom!”

“Now, Tyler, it can’t be that bad,” Abby returned, slicing off a piece for her son. “See, Hunter’s eating it.”

Hunter would have passed Tyler an apologetic smile, but for Abby’s sake and since he had a plan to rescue his son, he kept his eyes forward and said, “I’ll walk Tyler to school this morning.”

“That’s all right,” Abby said, turning around to face the counter behind her. “It’s on my way to the diner.”

“But he wants to go in early today,” Hunter said, while he gave Tyler a quick look he hoped would convey to his son that he should just go along. “And I told him I would walk him in. In fact,” he added, inspiration striking, “he may not have time to finish that cake.”

Abby sighed. “All right. I’ll wrap it up for him. He can take it with him.”

“Good idea,” Hunter said, and when Abby turned away again he caught Tyler’s gaze and winked at him. “What time do you go in to work?” he asked Abby casually.

“Nine or so,” she replied, her back to Tyler and Hunter. “I don’t have to go in until the second wave of the breakfast crowd.”

“That’s good,” Hunter said, then mouthed to Tyler that they would grab a takeout order of toast on the way to school. Grinning foolishly, Tyler nodded.

When Abby turned to hand Tyler his cake, both the men in her life were as quiet and unassuming as church mice, but Abby couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. First, Tyler was never this quiet. Second, he now nearly adored the man he had absolutely hated yesterday.

Yeah, she was sure of it. Something had happened.

She considered the possibilities the entire time she straightened the kitchen and dressed in her waitress uniform. She thought about it walking to the diner. She was still thinking about it as the Brewster women entered with the triplets.

“He ate my coffee cake,” she said without preamble as the women took seats at the counter and Abby poured them coffee.

“I told you he still loved you,” Claire said, holding Cody back from the hot cup.

“No, I think it had something more to do with Tyler.”

“Tyler?” Kristen echoed curiously. “What the heck would eating your ungodly dry coffee cake have to do with Tyler?”

“I’m not sure,” Abby said, honest enough about her own cooking that she didn’t take offense. “But this morning, when Tyler came into the kitchen he said, ‘Morning, Mom…Hey, Hunter.”’

Kristen, Claire and Lily only stared at her.

“He didn’t just say hello. He used that friendly, buddy kind of hello men say to each other. ‘Hey, Hunter,”’ she explained, looking at the three women as if they were slow and dull for not keeping up.

“And this is bad because…” Lily prodded.

“Because yesterday Tyler hated Hunter. Almost despised him. I didn’t think I would ever get him to speak civilly with the man, then Hunter took him out for a walk last night and now he’s acting like Hunter’s his best friend.”

“Abby, all this is good stuff,” Claire reminded her, patting her hand.

“I know that,” Abby said, frustrated. “But I just can’t help but think there’s a reason.”

In that precise second, Thadd Peterson, grandson of the Petersons who owned the florist shop, strode into the diner with a long, white box haphazardly strewn across his arm. As if he were a third grader instead of a sophomore in college, he stared at the instruction card, trying to decipher it.

“I think this says Abby Witness,” he said to Abby, handing her the card to get her assistance. “I don’t know an Abby Witness.”

Lily yanked the card from his hands before Abby could take it. “It says ‘Abby Waitress…’ then the next line is, ‘At the diner.”’

“Oh,” Thadd said, passing the box to Abby. “Here you go, then.”

Abby stared at the box. Claire fished into her purse and pulled out a dollar. “For your trouble,” she told Thadd, dismissing him. He looked at the money, grinned and walked away. Claire turned to Abby. “Open it!”

“I’m afraid to.”

“Well, I’m not,” Kristen said, grabbing the box and tugging open the wide red ribbon. Lily lifted the lid and Claire pushed back the white tissue paper.

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