ladder. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiles, eyes crinkling up and walks in. “I brought wine.”
“Oh good. Wine is good.” I take the bottle from him and can’t stop smiling as I carry the wine to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass? I have some open.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I pour and hand him a glass and we sit on my couch. I keep a safe distance between us so I don’t accidentally end up in his lap.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Busy. Hey, guess what?”
“What?”
I hesitate. “Okay, I’m telling you this as a friend. It’s not public.”
“Got it.”
“Van Halston wants to meet with me again.”
“That’s great! Does that mean…?”
“I hope so!” I sip my wine. “He’s in Chicago and wants to meet up there, which is perfect because I can see my dad and meet his girlfriend.” I wrinkle my nose.
“What was that look for? You shouldn’t judge her before you’ve met her.”
“I’m not judging her. I mean, I sort of am. I just want her to be good enough for my dad.” Then I remember Calgary. “When are you going home?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He shrugs. “Hakim’s still here, so we’re working out together and hanging out and…” He meets my eyes. “You’re here.”
I bite my lip. This makes my heart swell up in my chest, because I like him being here too. I nod. “I am.” I told him he could go back to Calgary and we’d stay in touch. “Don’t let that stop you from seeing your family.”
“Lots of time.”
“True. The playoffs aren’t even over. That’s when I expect things will heat up on the free agency market.”
He nods. “Yeah.” He drinks his wine. “I hate being in limbo like this.”
“I know. Believe me, if I could ink a deal tomorrow, I would.”
“I know.” He holds my gaze. “I trust you, Kate.”
“Thank you.” My heart bumps.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Dinner? Um…steak.”
“I’ll help you cook.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
We take our wine to my tiny kitchen and start cooking. Hunter seems to know his way around a kitchen, getting the potatoes in the oven to roast, peeling and mincing garlic. We chat as we cook and move around each other in the kitchen. It’s easy and fun, but also every time he brushes an arm against me reaching for something or bumps into me as I move to the stove, heat and sparks flash through me. Must keep my hands to myself and not feel up all his muscles.
I heat up the skillet to sear the steaks before popping them into the oven to finish them. As I cook the spinach, Hunter makes the red wine sauce for the steak.
“You seem to enjoy cooking,” I comment.
“I do. I also like eating.”
“Me too.”
Soon we’re sitting on the two stools at my little island with our dinners and more wine. Hunter cuts a piece of steak and pops it into his mouth. “Fantastic.”
“Oh good.”
“I hated spinach when I was a kid.” He picks up some on his fork. “But now I actually like it.”
“I always liked it. And it’s so healthy.”
“Yeah. I still try to eat like our nutritionist taught us in college.”
“She was wise. I have to admit, I’m not as dedicated as I was, now I’m not playing. I do enjoy a big bowl of popcorn or potato chips once in a while.”
“Once in a while is fine. I’m not saying I never eat junk.”
“How about dessert? I got these amazing caramel chocolate squares.”
“My weakness. Caramel anything.”
I smile. “I do recall that.”
There are things I don’t know about Hunter…all the things he’s done since college, his new friends, the women he’s been with. But the things I do know about him make this so much easier than being with a stranger. We’re comfortable with each other…but also a little on edge, with unintended heated looks and sizzling touches.
How is this happening?
There’s a hockey game tonight. Conference finals. I turn on the TV to see what’s happening and we both get comfortable on opposite ends of my couch to watch. Except I keep glancing at him, taking in his profile as he watches TV, the drape of his shirt over his hard-packed abs, his long legs. A couple of times, I catch him looking at me and my skin heats.
We drink wine, talk about the game using shorthand, and finishing each other’s sentences. I like being friends with Hunter. I really do. But damn, it’s hard not to think about being naked with him.
13
Hunter
“Thanks for dinner.” I’m about to leave even though I’d rather stay and