Page 87 of Hot Shot
Rachel studies me for a couple of beats. “It’s possible, but you’re in love with Hunter so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I’m not in love with Hunter,” I protest.
Rachel laughs once again. Since when did I become so funny?
“Seriously? You are so in love with him. He’s equally in love with you.”
“It’s too soon,” I whisper, staring down at the counter.
The idea that I’m in love with him has been rolling around in my head for a little while now, but I’ve been too chicken to think too much about it.
“Who says there’s a timeline for falling in love?”
“But—I, we, can’t.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and you look at him the same way.”
I tilt my head curious as to what she means. “How’s that?”
“You look at him like he hung the stars and the moon. He looks at you like you’re the sun that he orbits around. Like you’re the center of his galaxy.”
I tilt my head, studying my friend. “Since when did you become such a romantic, Rach?”
She shrugs and mumbles something that sounds like, “You learn a thing or two about love when you’ve had your heart broken.”
“Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I think you should go to dinner with EJ. Clear things up. Tell him you’re dating someone better than him—a hockey player.”
“EJ plays hockey too.”
“No shit,” Rachel says, her eyes wide. “You do have a type.”
I laugh as the timer for the oven goes off. I grab oven mitts and pull the cake out.
“What else is going on?”
Setting the cake on the counter to cool, I take a deep breath. “My father.”
“Oh?” Rachel tilts her head. “I thought that was going well.”
“It is. But I haven’t told Hunter who he is.”
“That’s a problem because?”
I glance over to the kitchen door checking to make sure that it’s still shut and Brandon hasn’t suddenly appeared. The last thing I need is him hearing. He’s become quite the lover of Storm gossip. Always asking me the latest on any drama about the team. I had to warn Hunter to watch what he says around him.
Not that it’s a secret who my father is, not really, but until I tell Hunter and tell my father that I’m dating one of his players, I’d rather keep the information to a select few people.
“Because he’s his head coach,” I say.
Rachel gasps. “Wait, come again?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Jake Weaver, head coach of the Storm, is my father.”
“Well, shit. That makes things interesting.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why haven’t you told Hunter?”
