Page 34 of Hot Shot
“What?” With a chuckle he throws his arms up. “Would your opinion change if we were dating?”
“No. Plus a younger guy would be able to keep up with me.” As soon as the words come out it dawns on me what I said, and I slam a hand over my mouth.I can’t believe I said that.
I stare at Hunter, waiting for him to answer. After a couple of seconds he lets out a deep laugh, the sound hitting me between my legs.
“Fuck, Madison.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m also a hockey player. We’re known for our stamina on and off the ice.” He smirks and wags his eyebrows at me.
“That escalated quickly,” I mumble, my face heating up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I like a woman who’s up-front.”
I shake my head as I stand up, desperate to change the subject. “Are you still hungry? If not, I’ll clean up.”
“I can help. It was delicious by the way.” He gets to his feet, taking the bowls from my hands before sauntering into the kitchen.
“I can do them. I don’t have a dishwasher.” I try to step around him and up to the sink.
“Nonsense. You cooked. I can do the dishes.” He insists not budging from his spot in front of the sink.
“I hardly call serving dinner from the Crock-Pot that I put on this morning cooking.”
“Go sit,” Hunter commands, pointing at the couch as he turns the faucet on and grabs the sponge.
“Fine. Fine,” I concede, going to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine. “Do you want a glass?”
Hunter runs a hand through his hair and glances down at the floor for a few seconds before looking back at me. “Maybe a small one. I don’t usually drink during the season.”
“You don’t have to.” Shit.Way to fuck up, Madison.
It didn’t even dawn on me that he might not drink during the season. Probably because it never stopped EJ. If anything, he drank more during the season. “I shouldn’t have offered.”
“It’s fine. I drink during the season when the occasion calls for me. I’ll have a small glass.”
I nod before stepping up next to him and grabbing two wineglasses from the cabinet. My boob grazes his arm as we both move in the small space.
His breath hitches, but when I glance over at him, he’s vigorously scrubbing at one of the bowls.
“You alright?” I ask.
“Trying to be a gentleman here and respect you wanting tojustbe friends.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. I know I should step away from him, put distance between us but my feet refuse to move.
“Madison.” Hunter turns the water off and faces me. “Did you need something? You’vegotmy attention now.”
“I-I,” I stutter. “The boob graze was an accident.” I step back.
What the fuck is going on with me?Friends, I remind myself for what feels like the millionth time tonight.
But staring up at him I wonder what it would be like if he caged me in, my back pressed against the countertop, our wine and the dishes forgotten as he kissed me.
But we can’t go there.
My father is his coach.
Us being together would complicate things.
People would talk.
