I say.
“Thanks. It’s tiny but I love the neighborhood.”
“It looks like you.”
She gives me a skeptical look.
“Organized. Tidy. Modern.”
She gives me a long, impassive look. “That’s me, huh? Tidy?”
Shit. There I go again. I called her tough that night and I think she was insulted. Now I’ve done it again.
“Well, not right now,” I admit, eyeing her sweaty hair and face.
That probably didn’t make it better.
“You’re not wrong.” She sighs and sets the bear head on the small island. “Okay, help me get this off. I really need to pee now.”
We wrestle her out of the costume, and I try not to notice that I’m touching her. Under the getup, she’s wearing a thin tank top and a pair of tiny, tight black shorts. I swallow hard.
One hand grazes her bare arm. Then her thigh. I hear her sharp intake of breath and my gaze lands on her nipples, now hard and poking against her bra and tank top. Christ.
I kneel to help her step out of the costume. She sets a hand on my shoulder for balance and lifts one long, sleek leg. I want to run my hands up and down her leg so badly my palms tingle. My dick is pushing aggressively against the fly of my jeans.
I look up at her. She’s watching me, her lips parted, her eyes pupils dilated. A flush stains her cheeks and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth.
Daringly, I set my hands on her calf and she pulls the other foot free of the fur garment. I slide my hands around the back of her firmly muscled calves, and then up to the backs of her knees. She shivers. “Hunter…”
She’s not stopping me. I glide my hands up the backs of her thighs, then over the little shorts to cup her ass. I straighten my legs and stand, pulling her closer. Bending my head, we’re nearly nose to nose. Her eyelashes flutter. Our mouths are so close… “Kate.”
She pulls back, her eyes full of regret. “Hunter. We can’t do this.”
I close my eyes at the stab of disappointment. “Right. Right. Sorry.”
“Also, I still have to go to the bathroom.” She darts away from me and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
I lean against her kitchen island, sweating, breathing hard. My heart is galloping. Jesus. I fucked up. Why did I touch her like that? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I cover my eyes with one hand.
I hear water running. Then the door opens. Kate appears. She stands in front of the door, still damp-haired and rosy-cheeked.
Our eyes meet.
I open my mouth to apologize again, but she says, “I need a shower. I feel gross from that damn bear costume.”
“Go ahead.”
“Help yourself to a drink from the fridge. I think I have a few beers. I’ll be quick.”
“No rush.”
The first thing I do is turn the bear head around so I can’t see the face. Then I mosey around, peering out the windows through leafy branches onto the street below. The sidewalks are busy, with little shops and cafes nearby. Turning, I check out her place. It’s definitely neat and organized, unlike my and Hakim’s place some days. Her work desk is carefully arranged, the kitchen is spotless. I open her fridge and study the contents. Lots of healthy things, including a number of orderly containers stacked on shelves. And yes, there’s beer. Just what I need.
I pull one out, pop the top and take a long pull. Jesus.
I almost kissed Kate.
I collapse onto her gray couch and fall back into the many cushions that line the back. Part of the couch extends into a lounge chair, and I lift my legs onto the couch too, stretching them out.
I admit that since I left Cancun, and Bayard, my life has been full of hockey. I had something to prove and I was determined to do it. I thought about Kate, sure. But she was in Chicago going to law school and living her own life. I missed her, but it was just the way things were.
Seeing her again, though, brought back all those memories. She was kind of a bossy know it all when it came to hockey, but then I got to know her better and I saw that she really did know it all. That makes me smile. Also, she cared a lot about people. Her bossiness was actually leadership on the team and her teammates respected her for that. And so did I. I remember