Page 19 of Hot Shot
“Yeah, it is. If the coffee is as good as it smells, I’ll be back,” Hunter says, taking a sip of his espresso.
I take a drink of my iced coffee, noting the dark chocolate and nutty flavors in the blend I chose.
“Mine’s good. How’s yours?”
“Amazing.” He takes another sip of his espresso, letting out a small sigh as he swallows his drink. I can’t help but stare at him, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.What has gotten into you, Madison?
“So . . .” Why has it suddenly become awkward to talk to him when we spent two weeks texting back and forth? “How are you?” I ask, settling for an easy question.
He sets his drink down, staring into it for a beat before answering. “Good. Tired. Busy. How are you?”
“Tired too. The bakery keeps me busy. What do you like to do for fun? You can’t say work out.” I pause, realizing how random that question was. I take a deep breath and swallow.
“I’m sorry. I swear I can carry on a normal conversation that doesn’t revolve around asking twenty questions.” I glance down at the table. “I’m nervous.”
Hunter chuckles. “It’s fine, Madison. I get it. I’m nervous too.” I look up to see him staring at me, a smile on his face. “To answer your question,” he continues, “I love to read. Not sure if that’s a hobby, but my job takes up a lot of time and it doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”
I want to ask him what he does that keeps him so busy but also lets him have time for coffee on a random Tuesday morning, but I don’t. If he wants to tell me more about his job, he will. Instead, I settle for saying, “I love to read too.”
“Oh really.” He grins and leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. “What do you like to read?”
I take a deep breath, getting a whiff of his cologne, a heady mix of pine and cedar. Of course he smells good.Focus on the question, Madison.
“Romance. I like reading romance books.” I hold my breath waiting for a comment about how he only reads nonfiction books that make him a better person. But he doesn’t say that. Which really shouldn’t surprise me considering our interactions, brief as they have been, point to him being polite and thoughtful.
“Cool.” He picks up his coffee cup. “I’m more of a science fiction guy myself, but occasionally I’ll pick up a romance book.”
Well color me shocked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Romance is the best-selling genre for a reason. Gotta know what the ladies are into. Although I don’t understand the appeal of . . . What do they call it?” He pauses for a second, running a hand through his hair. “Morally gray men. But to each their own, I guess.”
I throw my head back, laughing. I’m not sure what to say to that. Part of me wants to ask if he’s learned anything new from the romance books he’s read, and part of me wants to suggest books for his TBR list.
I glance over at him to see him studying me, his lips quivering like he’s holding in a laugh.
“Oh, come on,” I tease. “You can laugh.”
“I’m being serious. I don’t understand why women love morally gray men. Would it make me more appealing if I was one?” He gestures at himself, his head tilted, waiting for my answer.
“Are you fishing for compliments?” I ask with a smirk.
He chuckles, a deliciously deep low sound that makes me shiver. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine. Probably the iced coffee that’s making me cold.” I shake my half-empty cup, the ice rattling around.
He smirks and extends his arms out in front of him as he leans back against his chair. “Should have gotten a hot drink like I did.”
I take a sip of my coffee to hide that I’m ogling his forearms. He’s got cords of muscle that are sharpened and toned from what must be hours of work in the gym.
In the romance novels I read the heroes always have sexy forearms that make the heroines’ thighs clench together. I never understood how it was possible for forearms to turn a woman on, until now.
Because hot damn, Hunter has nice arms. I wonder what the rest of his body looks like.
“You like what you see?” Hunter flexes his arms even more.
“I-I,” I sputter, choking on air.
Hunter runs a hand through his hair, his face turning red. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you choke.”
