But when it came to Jo, Amy had planted a seed of hate deep in his son. He hadn’t realized just how deep until Jo got here, until he saw the look in his son’s eyes and knew how much he blamed Jo for his and Amy’s divorce.
Was he a bad father for leaving Eli angry and taking Jo on a date? Was he selfish for wanting time with her? Eli sure as hell thought so. Tonight was something Hunter had to do. If he didn’t try, if he let Jo slip away, the regret would cripple him.
He pushed the truck door open, a blast of frosty wind forcing it wide. Pulling his jacket tight around him, he hurried up onto the porch, out of the wind. But then he froze, staring at the door, nervous and uncertain all over again.
He was about to knock when he heard a strange thumping followed by a highly frustrated shriek.
“Sprinkles!” He knew that sound. Jo was fit to be tied. And Hunter couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “Stop, dammit, I need that.”
Clicking, probably Sprinkles nails on the wood floor, followed by more thumps. He knocked, but there was no answer. He waited, then eased the door open. “Hello?”
“Come on, Sprinkles, give it to me.” Jo’s voice was muffled. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a treat.” Sprinkles barked in answer.
He closed the door, sealing the cold out. “Jo?”
“I swear, dog.” Each word was getting louder, less coaxing. “I will buy more face cream and leave it out just for you.”
He chuckled, following the sound of her voice into the back of the house. “Jo?”
“That’s it, Sprinkles,” she cooed. “Just a little closer.”
He found her then. Halfway under her bed, her fuzzy robe revealing two long, toned legs and barely covering her mighty fine rump. “Jo?” He cleared his throat.
Jo squeaked, rearing up. A distinct thud made him wince. “Damn, Jo, you okay?”
Her groan was muffled. “I see stars.” She pushed herself out from under the bed, one hand coming up to hold her head.
He knelt beside her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked, I promise.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you.”
He nodded.
Her face was screwed up tight from pain. “I’m not exactly ready.”
“I got that.”
She opened her eyes, scowling at him. “Damn dog ran off with my stockings. Once she’d decided she was done with them, she took off with my brush.”
“How’d the stockings hold up?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They’ll be good for tying up Dad’s tomato plants in the spring.” She rubbed her temple. “Ouch. Goose egg.”
He leaned forward, noting the red welt rising along her hairline. “You always did have a knack for scrapes.” He tilted her head back, trying not to appreciate her bared creamy shoulder or the long curve of her graceful neck. “Let’s get some ice on that.”
She sighed, pointing under the bed. “She still
has my brush. And unless this—” she pointed at herself “—is acceptable for a night out, I need it.”
“Let’s get some ice.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “Then we’ll get the brush.” He pulled her up, catching a whiff of citrus and soap. She smelled like heaven.
“I meant to be ready. I did.” She reached up to cradle her head. “That dog hates me.”
Hunter chuckled. “She’s probably a little jealous of you.”
Jo paused, disbelief plain on her face. “Jealous?”
“Sure. You’re an interloper.” He led her into the kitchen, putting ice into a clean kitchen towel. “It’s natural for her to assert her dominance. Or try.”