Page 20 of Hot Shot
“I’m good,” I mumble, taking a deep breath and willing my lady parts to settle down.
“What about you? What do you like to do for fun?” Hunter asks.
“I read a lot like I said. I occasionally enjoy doing puzzles.” I shrug. “Honestly I live a pretty boring life.”
“Boring?”
“Yeah. I get up early, work, go home, nap, hang out with my aunt, and repeat the next day. Nothing super exciting.”
Hunter gazes at me like he wants to say something, but before he can I change the subject.
“If you could have any job in the world, what would you want to do?” I ask before taking a sip of my coffee, studying him as he stares down at the table for a couple of seconds before answering.
“Play professional hockey.”
Well fuck me.
Chapter nine
Hunter
Shit.Shit.Shit.Well, that’s one way to have this conversation.
“That’s interesting. Have you ever played hockey? I’ve seen a few games. Seems like a grueling sport.” Madison tilts her head, studying me.
“Yeah, I’ve played before. Actually I have something to tell you since we’re on the topic of jobs.”
She studies the coffee cup in her hands. “Okay.”
I take a deep breath and glance around to make sure there’s no one else nearby who’ll hear what I have to say. “IplayprofessionalhockeyfortheOrlandoStorm.” The words come out in a rush and are likely incoherent, but at least they’re out there.
She visibly swallows and the alarm bells start going off in my head, but I wait for her to say something. Anything.
She blows out a breath. “You what?”
I take a sip of my espresso before setting it back on the table. With a deep breath I will myself to slow down and annunciate. “I. Play. Professional. Hockey. For the Orlando Storm.”
“Oh,” she mumbles and a look crosses her face that I can’t quite distinguish.
“Madison.” I hesitate. “I wanted to tell you before, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing I could tell you in a text.”
She’s studying her hands like she’s going to find the answer to curing cancer or ending world hunger in them. “Madison?” I lean forward trying to catch her gaze. I want to know what she’s thinking. What’s going through her head.
She pulls back from me and grabs her purse. “I-I can’t do this.” She scrambles to her feet and hurries out of the coffee shop.
Well, shit.
I expected her to ask me a million questions about what it was like to be a professional athlete or even be a little mad that I didn’t tell her sooner or have her not believe me. I definitely didn’t expect her to run out on our date.
Taking a deep breath, I stare at the forgotten bouquet of flowers on the table for a beat.Fuck.I jump to my feet, grab the flowers, toss our empty coffee cups in the garbage, and hurry after her.
As I step out onto the sidewalk, I’m shocked to see her sitting on a bench on the other side of the street.
I exhale. At least now I can ask her what she meant.
I cross the street hoping she’ll talk to me. Does she need time to process what I told her or does she not want anything to do with me? Why did she have such a big reaction to my revelation of what I do for a living?
“Madison,” I say when I’m standing directly in front of her. She inhales deeply before meeting my gaze “What’s going on?” I drop to the seat next to her.
