Page 31 of Hot Shot
A short while later I’m pulling up in front of the bakery. I fire off a text message letting her know I’m outside.
“Hey,” I say when she opens the door to my truck.
“Hi. What happened to you?” She leans closer to me, pointing at my face where I’m sure I have a bruise coming in to accent the cut on my cheek.
“You should see the other guy.”
“Hunter, that’s not funny. Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes raking over my body.
I know she’s looking for signs of other injuries, but I can’t help noticing how her gaze heats as she checks me out.
“I’m fine, Madison. Really. Wrong place at the wrong time with a stick. The other player got a double minor for this. We scored the game-winning goal during that power play.” I point at my face. “But otherwise I’m fine. I still have all my teeth so I’d say that’s a win.” I smile, showing her my teeth.
“Not funny, Hunter.”
“Come here.” I open my arms and she leans over to let me hug her.
I take a deep breath, inhaling her scent—a mix of sugar cookies and cake batter. Of course she would smell sweet.
She relaxes into my arms, and I realize that I, too, feel more relaxed. I probably shouldn’t be hugging her. But friends hug all the time so it’s okay, right?
“Better?” I ask when she pulls away. I miss her warmth and scent immediately. I am so screwed when it comes to this woman.
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong with your car?” I ask as I put my truck in gear and follow the directions she gives me.
“No idea. Wouldn’t start. I’ll have to get it towed in the morning.”
“I didn’t think you worked this late.”
“I usually don’t. I had a couple of cakes to finish up for tomorrow that I didn’t get to earlier. I was exhausted so I opted to go home, take a nap, and then came back to finish them. Which in hindsight probably wasn’t a great idea since it left me stranded. But I’m off tomorrow. Hopefully whatever’s wrong with my car can be fixed in a day. Otherwise, I’ll have to see if I can borrow my aunt’s car for work.”
I perk up when I hear that she’s off tomorrow. “I’m off tomorrow too.” I glance over at her before focusing back on the road.
“You are?”
“Yeah.” I hesitate before saying, “Do you want to hang out? Unless you have plans.”
“I’d love to hang out with you, Hunter. As friends.” I’m not sure if she adds that last bit in for her benefit or mine.
I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d take a relationship with her any way I could get it—as friends or as more—but if I had my choice, I’d pick being more than friends.
“Good.” I pull into the driveway. “Nice place.” I put my truck in park and peer through the windshield at a cute older-style house that fits in with the neighborhood.
“It’s my aunt’s. I’m staying in the apartment in the back. Do you want to come in? I know it’s late for dinner, but I’ve got a roast in the Crock-Pot if you’re hungry.”
“I could eat. Are you sure there’s enough for me?” I turn the truck off and unbuckle my seat belt. “Am I okay to leave my truck here? Should I move it to the street?”
“Here’s fine. There’s plenty of food. I made extra so I could have it for lunch this week.” She reaches for the door handle.
“Don’t move. I’ll get it.” I hop out of the truck.
“I could have done it myself,” she protests when I open her door.
“Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I’m not going to open your door for you.”
She doesn’t say anything, simply smiles at me and leads the way to her apartment.
