Page 18 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
I really needed to get out of here. Why Hunter had asked me to sit was a mystery, one I didn’t really care to solve. All I wanted was to scurry back home and hide. This was worse than the time in eighth grade when I’d accidentally touched Joey Marcus’s crotch in the lunch line.
“Self-defense, huh?”
Hunter’s question caught me off guard and I jerked, making the bed bounce. “Um, yes. Beau, that’s my brother, he’s been into karate since college. He’s been teaching me some basics for a few years now.” I clamped my lips together before I could blurt my life’s story and the reason why I’d asked Beau to teach me self-defense in the first place.
“Well,” Hunter said, “the next time you see him, tell him he’s one hell of a teacher.”
I winced, my shoulders lifting to my ears. “Sorry.”
“You’ve apologized enough.” He removed the corn from between his legs. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“It’s fine. I just didn’t expect to see anyone out this late. What were you doing out there anyway?”
“I was going for a run and thought I’d go out back to stretch in the grass.”
Now his clothing made sense. He wore a tight green T-shirt that fit his chiseled arms like a second skin. The charcoal compression pants did the same to his muscled calves. The black shorts he wore over the pants covered his bulky thighs. He wore it all well, too well, and I bet it looked even better when he was sticky with sweat.
I swallowed hard, ignoring another onslaught of sexy-Hunter thoughts and went for simple conversation. “It’s pretty late for running.”
He nodded. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I thought a run might wipe me out so I could get some rest.”
“Is it the bed? Is it uncomfortable?” My voice was laced
with panic.
I had spent a fortune on new beds for each room. I’d slept in one, just to try it out, but when it came to mattresses, I wasn’t all that picky. I was usually so tired I could sleep standing up. But an uncomfortable bed was not feedback I wanted from one of my guests.
“It’s not the bed,” Hunter said.
My shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank god. I was point five seconds from a full-on freak-out.”
He grinned, sending a shiver down my spine, and stood from his chair.
I took it as my cue to leave and stood too. “I’ll get out of your room. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to make this up to you? Added cleaning? Extra towels? I know my way around an iron if you need a shirt starched.”
His eyes softened as he shook his head. “I’m good. I feel better already.”
I really hoped that was true and he’d still be here tomorrow. More than I wanted his reservation, I wanted the chance to show him I wasn’t a crazy person. Maybe my third impression would be the winner. I hadn’t really cared what a man thought of me since Coby’s father. But Hunter? I really wanted him to like me. My desire for his affection was slightly unsettling.
“One last time,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
He walked to the open door and leaned against its frame. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you.” I crossed the room and stepped past him through the door. We were so close to touching, but I didn’t dare brush against him. With the way I was feeling—drunk on wine, adrenaline and Hunter’s presence—I wouldn’t put it past myself to do something foolish. What I needed was to get home and pretend the last thirty minutes hadn’t happened.
“Maisy?” he called before I could walk too far into the parking lot.
I stopped and turned. “Yeah?”
He stepped into the middle of the doorway, his large body filling its open space. “Actually, I do have one request.”
“Okay.”
“The next time you make peas for your son, maybe you could bring me some. I’m not much of a cook and they’re my favorite too.” He tossed me the frozen bag of corn.
“Peas. You want peas?”
He nodded. “I want peas.”
