Chapter 3 #2
The kitchen is my safe space. Or at least it was.
Then I left for college, and Kyler took over the house, which is why he’s hunkered over a sandwich at the table with Hunter Reyes, his muscly sidekick who barely acknowledges my presence.
All the better since I’m nestled in gray sweats, hair in a pony, glasses on my nose so I can read a blueberry coffee cake recipe from one of my mom’s cookbooks.
He may not notice me, but I’m very aware of him.
I feel like a lecherous older woman, ogling a teenager when I’m twenty-one.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been holding a mixing spoon and staring at Hunter’s strong shoulders and biceps until he picks his head up, gray eyes pinning me in place.
His lips twist into a smirk, and I realize he knows I’ve been looking this whole time.
“What’cha baking?” he asks.
“Um, cake.”
“I like cake.” He grins like I’ve asked him to have sex.
“Blueberry. It’s a blueberry cake. The eggs are too cold, which will make the batter stiff.”
“Stiff?”
My cheeks heat, but I can’t stop my scientific blather.
“Yes. Cold eggs are more viscous. They don’t mix as well with fats, and that makes the cake dense and potentially lumpy.
I need it light and fluffy, and I can’t heat the eggs, and I don’t have time to let them warm on their own. It’s…a quandary.”
“I’ll bet.” Hunter’s nod makes me feel even more like a dork.
Kyler looks up from his plate and rolls his eyes, accustomed to how my brain works. But Hunter can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face, which somehow makes me insecure and turned on at the same time. I dash from the kitchen and abandon the cake.
Nope, nothing has changed.
He gestures to a large piece of luggage and a black gym bag emblazoned with the Devils logo. “Where should I dump this stuff?”
Kyler trots over and grabs the two bags. “I’ll put ’em in the guest room. Well, the other guest room, since Gracie is set up in my spare bedroom. You okay with the fold-out couch in the den?”
Hunter puts his hands together, gratefully. “Are you kidding? I appreciate the assist.” He gestures to the heavier bag. “Didn’t even unpack from a game on the road and I’ve had enough of hotels, so you’re really doing me a solid.”
“Stop. You’re like family.” Kyler’s voice trails off as he goes down the hall toward the den.
Hunter rakes a lock of hair away with his long fingers, reminding me of how I ogled his hands at the airport a month ago. I shiver with mortification.
“So that was you at the airport.” His voice is low and gruff but teasing. His eyes dance, and the corner of his mouth pulls back, revealing that damn dimple.
I look in the direction where Kyler went, but he’s not on his way back yet. “Sorry I didn’t say something when I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” Kyler pipes in, suddenly back.
“Your sister was telling me about how a guy was flirting with her at the airport last month, and I was saying she probably gets that all the time.” He grins.
“Um, yeah. Happens all the time,” I mutter, hopping off the stool and going for more coffee. I feel like there’s an obvious implication that no smoking-hot athlete would be flirting with me. Kyler seems oblivious to the tension.
“So what happened, man?” Ky asks, pulling out the stool next to mine for Hunter to take a seat. I scoot mine over to create some distance while my brother pours more of the purple smoothie into a glass. “It’s all fruit and some protein powder.”
Hunter reaches for the glass but stops short of touching it. “Milk?”
“Coconut.”
“Awesome.” Hunter takes the smoothie and slugs down half of it in one gulp. “Smells like a bakery in here.”
“I baked cookies.”
“Breakfast cookies?”
“Nope, regular old cookies.”
I swipe my knife through the block of butter in front of me and slather it on my cold sourdough toast, on top of the healthy layer of butter that’s already there.
When I look up, I catch Hunter smirking at me. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
I point at Hunter’s smoothie. “What happened to regular milk from a cow?” I ask.
“Cholesterol,” they say in unison. I decide to drop the subject before I pull out some Wikipedia fact I’ve filed away in my brain, lest I reveal how much time I spend researching random things.
“Wow. It’s like I’ve moved to a foreign land. Where’s a refrigerator full of Yoo-hoo when you need one?”
“Yoo-hoo?” Hunter asks, raking a hand through his dark wavy hair. He causes more disorder, and now his locks look like they’ve survived a windstorm and are better for it.
“Chocolate milk. Never mind,” I say.
His brow creases in long lines, and I can see the heaviness in his eyes, which look dark in the overhead kitchen light.
“I can’t fucking believe this happened. They think the sunlight hit that stained glass mandala at some weird angle and burned a hole in my sofa, which flamed up and torched the house from the inside out.
You know how much wood furniture I had in there.
Plus the logs. That house was basically kindling.
” He shakes his head, seemingly blaming himself.
“Sounds like a freak accident,” I say. “I can’t imagine you had that much wood.” I’ve never seen his house, so I have no idea how much timber we’re actually talking about.
“Wood’s never been a problem for this guy,” Kyler says, smirking. My face flushes again.
“It was styled like a log cabin built into a hillside. Wood, top to bottom.” Hunter sighs with such sadness that I turn to see if he’s okay.
He rubs his eyes with his knuckles and shakes his head.
“It’s been a hell of a twenty-four hours, that’s for sure.
Devils CEO calls me in for a meeting to discuss my contract—probably means they’re trading me to god knows where.
And I find this out five minutes before hearing my house is on fire. I mean, what the actual fuck?”
Hunter nods back at me, but he looks bleary, and I’m not sure if he’s really processing the information.
I shuffle across the kitchen in my slippers, ignoring the feeling that Hunter is watching me.
My back and legs feel hot like his gaze is setting me on fire, but it must be in my head.
He lost his house, and I’m barely on his radar.
I refill my cup and go to the refrigerator for the half-and-half tucked away on the top shelf.
When I walk back to my stool, I hazard a glance in Hunter’s direction to find him staring. Not just looking my way, but staring.
For a second, I worry my shorts have fallen to my ankles because his eyes are glued to my legs.
My hand goes to my thigh, where I can feel the fabric of my shorts covering at least the top couple of inches of flesh. He’s probably marveling at the fashion faux pas that is my sleepwear. Well, I’m comfortable. He can shove it.
“I have some time today between meetings. I can help you get into it with your insurance company,” Kyler says. It snaps me out of my silly self-consciousness. This isn’t about me.
“Me too,” I say. “I can lend a hand.”
“Thanks.” Hunter’s eyes look glassy, emotional.
He’s probably been up all night. I decide right then and there that I need to woman up and stuff my old insecurities away.
I will make this work. Living under the same roof as the guy I once crushed on won’t send me back to prepubescent levels of insecurity and mortification.
I’m a professional. This will be okay. I mean, probably not, but a girl can hope.