Chapter 24
Gracie
This should feel more awkward than it does.
That’s my first thought when my eyes pop open to Saturday morning sunlight streaming in through the window, because we forgot to cover it with the velvet curtains, which hang uselessly on either side. The second thought is that I feel awfully good for someone who only slept about two hours.
Waking up naked in Hunter Reyes’s arms should feel weird, wrong, or awkward at the very least. Instead, when I focus enough to take in his beautiful face sleeping peacefully on the pillow next to mine, I feel good. Happy. Satisfied.
So this is what it feels like to have great sex with a hot guy and not let my inhibitions get in the way.
Huh. Good to know.
I only have a minute or so to gaze at Hunter’s relaxed face before he begins to wake up.
I see the crease deepen between his eyes, the set of his jaw harden, the haze in his eyes return to sharp focus.
It’s comforting because this is the guy I’ve come to know over the past month.
It’s also a little sad because it means our fantasy evening is quickly being replaced by reality.
And the reality is that we need to keep last night under lock and key.
There’s too much at stake for both of us to risk word getting out.
I’m preparing a speech to that effect in my mind when Hunter rolls toward me until his hips connect with mine.
He has a wicked smile, some morning wood, and when his hands cup my face, I decide that my speech can wait.
An hour later, once we’ve made use of the steam shower and some very plush towels, there’s a knock on the hotel room door. I panic, wrapping the white towel tighter around myself and backing against the wall like a caught animal.
“Concierge,” a voice calls from the other side of the door.
Hunter laughs. “Relax.” I back into the bedroom, which is out of view of the smaller sitting room of the suite.
Hunter joins me a second later, holding out a shopping bag. “For you.”
I don’t make any move to take it. “That’s not mine.”
Hunter puts it on the bed beside me. “It is now. I wasn’t sure of your size, so I asked for a couple. We can return the ones that don’t fit later.”
“You…bought me clothes?” I venture a finger into the bag, moving the tissue paper aside like it might bite. I see folded jeans, a few shirts, a baseball cap, and flip-flops.
“I figured if I wanted you to have breakfast with me, it was the least I could do. So you don’t have to wear your clothes from last night.”
“You’re saving me from the walk of shame?” I’m so dumbfounded that any man would do this, let alone do it for me, that I need him to say it again. So he does, emphasizing that there’s no shame as far as he’s concerned.
I blink in disbelief. “You are…you’re very surprising, soccer star. I like it.”
He smiles. “Good. Because I like you.”
It takes another hour for me to get dressed because Hunter pulls the towel off my body, and we get highly distracted, but eventually, we make it to a small greasy spoon pancake place that is dark enough inside that there’s little chance of Hunter being noticed, especially at our table in the back.
He has on the baseball cap he was wearing when he walked into R&D Grill last night, and each time I look up at him, my mind goes straight back to the night we just spent.
There’s a permanent flush on my cheeks and a trail of sweat between my boobs just thinking about Hunter’s naked body and all the things he did to mine.
House music plays through surround-sound speakers, but it’s not so loud that it drowns out conversation. On a late Saturday morning in Hollywood, the place is packed: tables for two jammed with foursomes, stacks of pancakes coming off the grill at a breakneck pace, and plates under a warmer.
The servers move quickly between tables, refilling coffee and taking orders, all of which involve pancakes.
The only question is what to eat with the pancakes, and most of the options involve meat.
It seems like the polar opposite of the kind of place an athlete would find sustenance, but the pancakes smelled so good from the sidewalk that I wasn’t about to argue.
I run a hand over Hunter’s forearm, examining his tattoos in more detail. “How did you choose these?”
He looks down at the assortment of inked images—a yin and yang symbol, a lion and a dove. “A lot of them are reminders to seek balance. Find the Zen moments. I’m not always successful, as you can see.”
“You should give yourself more credit.”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
A fifty-something couple in all black workout clothes sits across the aisle with a big golden retriever wearing a service dog vest. I want to pet the dog so badly, but I know better.
Noticing me smiling at their dog, the woman offers me a tiny piece of her bacon. “You want to give Lacy a treat? Go on.”
“Oh yes. Please.” I gratefully accept the bacon, and Lacy already knows the drill. She pads over and sits in front of me, assuming her best obedient-dog posture.
“Good girl,” I tell her, rubbing her neck and patting her flank. I give her the bacon and the dog goes back beneath the table like she’s done this a hundred times.
I catch Hunter smiling at me. “What?”
“Look at you, a dog lover. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh, come on. You know I love Bogie. He and I are buds. He’s responsible for me being able to sort of throw a tennis ball now.”
“I know you love him. I’m just saying you’ve come a long way from the wary girl who thought Bogie was plotting to kill you in your sleep.”
I take a sip of coffee from a large yellow mug with a daisy painted on the side. “Wow, that’s good.” I’ve said the same thing the past three times I’ve taken a sip, and Hunter seems more amused every time. “Fine. I’ll admit I had my doubts about Bogie, but he’s pretty easy to love.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Yeah? Is that true for you and your dad too?”
The temperature in the room shifts as soon as I ask the question and realize I may have overstepped. Hunter goes pale, and I sit up straight, immediately backpedaling. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy.”
He holds up a hand. “It’s okay. My dad died a handful of years ago, and he was…tough. Turned me into a force on the field, though. I gotta give him credit for that.”
“I’m sorry you lost him.” She presses her lips together, as though debating whether to say more. Curiosity wins. “Was he your coach?”
“Unofficially. He encouraged me to play into my strengths, acting like a brute asshole, starting fights, pushing people away, using my muscles instead of my brain. He was right, I guess. I made a career of it.”
I hate hearing him describe himself this way, and without thinking, I reach for his hand. He starts to pull away, as though to protect himself from emotion, but then he seems to give in. I like that he trusts me enough to do it.
The stiffness in his fingers gives way to my grip. “You do see that the player on the field is only a small part of who you are, right? I certainly don’t see you that way.”
Swallowing hard, he chokes out his words. “Sure you do. It’s why you told Coach to keep me on the team.”
I shake my head. “Because it’s how you play. Not because it’s who you are.” I lock eyes with him, willing him to believe me. After a silent moment, he nods, letting go of my hand. Then he changes the subject, and I leave it alone.
It’s a reminder that I have no business treating him like he’s my new boyfriend and trying to learn about his family. He came to my rescue on a bad blind date, and I had an unforgettable night, but I don’t want to pretend it’s more than it is.
I tell myself to keep things light and superficial, but the idea of that makes me lose my appetite.
I should be starving since I skipped dinner last night, but I can’t make a dent in the pancakes. Hunter has declared today his cheat day, so he’s already chewed through half of his stack.
“Something tells me you’re back to overthinking.
” He gestures to the uneaten pancakes. I make a meager effort to move the top pancake off the stack and cut it into bites, but I only put a tiny piece in my mouth.
Looking down as I chew, I try to convince myself that I’m good with our hookup.
Trying to talk about it will only make things feel weird.
“I’m okay,” I say.
He points an accusing finger. “Liar.”
“Fine. I’m thinking a little. I want you to know we’re good. I mean, last night was something I’ll probably remember until the end of days, but I’m not delusional. I can’t put my job at risk, and I know we were a ‘right time and place’ situation. I’m not expecting anything.”
Hunter puts down his fork and finishes chewing the bite in his mouth. The creases deepen on his forehead. “I wouldn’t exactly refer to us as a ‘situation.’ That sounds like one step away from a problem.”
I take a moment to assess the man sitting across the tiny stained wood table from me.
“I didn’t mean to sound dismissive. I mean, I’m so grateful to you for rescuing me from my awful date and for showing me such a good time last night. I don’t want to sound unappreciative for you doing me that favor, and like I said, I had an amazing time—”
Hunter reaches for my hand, which is flailing wildly holding a fork. It surprises me enough that I stop my monologue. The creases don’t disappear from his forehead, but Hunter puffs out a breath. “Okay.” It sounds like he’s agreeing, but I’m not sure what he’s agreeing to do.
“O-kay…?”
“Yes. If you think that last night was just me doing you a favor to keep you out of the mitts of Captain Blake, then go ahead and delude yourself.”
“Well…wasn’t it?”
Hunter drops my hand, and my skin goes cold. His tone stings.
He picks up his fork and stabs at his pancakes. Then, he puts a large bite into his mouth and chews slowly. I wait, hoping he’ll say more after he swallows, but instead, he reaches for his water glass and drinks it down.