Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Dear Followers,
I love the emphasis on staying hydrated—it’s so good for you—but if you can’t pay an arm and a leg for a name-brand water bottle or cup, check out these knockoffs I found at Target! They come in so many cute colors, you can afford one to match every outfit!
Sincerely,
The Frugal Fashionista
After meeting with Tyler, I get my latest assignment and catch the Griffins’ evening practice. I get some perfect pictures for the week’s posts, and then wait outside the locker room to corner Hunter for a special project.
The guys smile and wave at me as they file out, all freshly showered, smelling masculine and clean. Honestly, I thought a group of collegiate athletes might intimidate me, but they are like sweet, playful puppies. I get lots of high-fives and fist bumps, plus some offers for silly TikTok video spots. I promise to follow up on that, because it’s marketing gold.
Finally, after everyone else has exited the locker room, Cooper and Hunter walk out.
I tell myself not to stare at Hunter, not to drink him in, but I can’t resist. Because honestly—in his jeans, Nikes, and a blue Henley that matches his eyes—he’s so hot it’s practically indecent.
“Evening, ma’am.” Cooper tips his cowboy hat to me. “How y’all doing?”
He’d be too corny if he wasn’t from Texas, but he’s legit, and genuinely sweet. I smile at him.
“I’m good, Cooper, but I have some news your captain won’t like.”
Hunter’s mouth twists into a frown. “Uh-oh. What now?”
I hold up my phone. “You’re too likable. Your top ten list was so cute, people want to know more. We need to do some interview questions for an upcoming feature.”
“Damn.” He shakes his head, and a lock of his damp dark hair falls across his forehead. My fingers itch to brush it aside. “I knew I should have been grumpier.”
“You? Grumpier? Is that even possible?”
Cooper chuckles, then pats Hunter on the shoulder. “I’m watching Labyrinth with Jasmine tonight at her place. I’ll catch you at home later.”
Hunter raises a brow in my direction as Cooper walks away. “Interview questions? What are we talking about?”
“Nothing too hard. Funny, ‘get to know the player,’ stuff.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Can we do it over dinner?”
“Dinner?” I repeat. Even after his voluntary help the other day, I expected more push-back.
He narrows his eyes. “If you want to do this, you have to join me for dinner. I just finished practice, and I’m starving.”
“You mean now?” Why am I parroting everything back to him like a robot?
“Yeah. Might as well get it over with.” Then he blinks. “Unless it’s a bad time for you.”
My stomach chimes in with a growl.
“Dinner now sounds great.”
Hunter offers to drive because I took the bus tonight. Of course he drives a BMW. I hate to admit it, but it’s the most comfortable car I’ve ever been in, and it smells amazing. A combination of leather and Hunter’s cologne, and I want to huff this until I’m woozy. He takes us to Blue Forty-Two, a restaurant I’ve never considered eating at in my life. Downtown and swanky, it’s not a typical college hangout. It’s also way outside my price range.
The interior oddly combines industrial and luxury in a way I don’t understand. Exposed ceiling ducts and heavy brocade curtains. Starched white tablecloths and fixtures that look like metal piping. I don’t get it, but I usually eat at places with laminated menus, so what do I know?
My skin prickles with anxiety as the hostess shows us to a table. In my tall boots, black skirt, and tan sweater, I’m dressed nicely enough to fit in here. But I feel like a mermaid on dry land.
My eyes bug out as I open the menu and see the prices. Oh my god, who can afford to eat here?
“The steak is my favorite,” Hunter says, interrupting my panic. My throat goes dry.
“Have you been here before?” I’m proud of how steady my voice stays while my pulse spikes.
“I bring dat—friends here all the time.”
I stare him down, and it’s hard to tell in the dim light, but I think he blushes. It sounded a lot like he was going to say he brings “dates” here. Does he think this is a date?
What kind of girls does he go out with? My mind flashes to Tricia. Expensive clothes, shoes, jewelry. Even her hair looked like it cost more than I make in a month. She’d feel at home here.
When our waiter interrupts my spiraling thoughts, I order water and a salad—the cheapest thing on the menu.
Hunter frowns. “I didn’t peg you for a salad girl.”
I inspect my nails “It sounds good.”
As I hand my menu back to the waiter, I whisper, “Separate checks.” Just so there’s no confusion later.
But Hunter must hear me, because his eyes widen. “Hey, you don’t have to get your own meal. I wanted to treat you.”
I give him a haughty look. “This is not a date. I’m working. So of course I’ll pay for myself.”
Is it me or does that take some of the wind out of his sails? Interesting. Before he can say anything more, I launch into my spiel. Maybe focusing on what I’m good at will help me feel more comfortable.
“Okay, you are one of our biggest human-interest stories this year. Senior, captain, your dad, all that stuff.” His eyes darken like storm clouds when I mention his dad, but I keep going. “We want to capitalize on that and let people get to know you. More than just your hockey stuff. Social media is about people feeling like celebrities or sports stars are accessible, just like them.”
He frowns. “I work out two hours every day for this gig, plus practice time.”
“I know. You’re extraordinarily talented.” I’m laying it on a little thick, but it might help my cause. “But also, you’re a normal college student. So we’re going to focus on that tonight. We’ll do some pictures later, and I’ll make some graphics. I think it will get lots of engagement.”
Instead of protesting like I expect, Hunter looks me up and down. “You’re great at this, you know?”
Why does his praise make my insides feel warm and squirmy? “It’s no big deal.”
He raises a brow but doesn’t press it. Shifting, his knee bumps mine under the table. I should move mine away. Yeah, definitely. But I don’t. And he doesn’t, either.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he says.
I pull up the notes app on my phone so I can jot down his answers and skim the questions I found online. Hobbies, nope. Only hockey. Questions about family—too fraught.
“Um, how about this one. Do you collect anything?”
Hunter shakes his head. “Nah. I’m more minimalist.”
“Okay, now, can you tell me—”
“Nuh-uh.” His crystal blue eyes have a mischievous twinkle that worries me. “For every question I answer, you have to do the same.”
“What? Why?” That doesn’t make sense. “That’s a waste of our time.”
“No, it’s not. Not when I want to learn about you.”
My cheeks heat, and I stare at my phone screen for a beat. I guess if he doesn’t mind, and it gets him to answer the questions, it’s not a big deal.
I clear my throat. “No, I don’t collect anything either.”
“Was that so hard?”
I want to smack the smug grin off his face. I settle for bumping his knee again with my own. This close, he smells amazing. Whatever his body wash is, I want to drown in it. Would he think it’s weird if I ask him to wear his sweatshirt again to refresh it with his scent?
Yeah, probably. That screams crazy.
Our waiter brings our food, and I sip my water and then take a bite of my salad. It’s good—but not thirty dollars good.
“What is your favorite holiday?” I ask as he cuts his steak.
He puts his chin in his hand, and his thinking face is adorable. A wrinkle appears between his brows, and my finger itches to smooth it down.
“Fourth of July, probably? Once Hadley and I were old enough, we’d go watch the fireworks together.”
“That’s awesome. And—”
“Ah, ah, ah.” He shakes his finger at me, lucky I don’t nibble on it. “Your turn.”
Of course, I couldn’t sneak that by him. I don’t mind answering the questions, but playing hard to get is more fun.
“Thanksgiving,” I answer, glancing up as our waiter refills my water. “It’s low-key and relaxing. Not expensive. Just simple and fun.”
“It’s coming up soon. What are your plans for it this year?”
That’s not one of our questions, but I let it slide. He stares at me, his gaze intent, like he really wants to know.
I shrug. “Not much. My sister, Sarah, will cook for us. It’s her thing. We usually do a puzzle and watch football for my dad, then maybe some classic movies for my mom. It’s pretty chill.”
“It sounds amazing.”
There’s something wistful in his voice that has me asking, “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
“Dunno.” He swallows around a bite, then continues. “We usually have a game that weekend, so I don’t go home. My dad won’t be there, anyway. He’ll be traveling for work. So I hang out here.”
I can’t help it—I gasp. “That’s awful. You should come to my house.”
Hunter blinks, probably gauging if that was a genuine offer. I’m not sure myself—the words popped out before I thought about them.
But then he nods. “Yeah, maybe. Could be cool.”
With impeccable timing, our waiter interrupts this awkward moment to ask if everything is okay.
No, it is not okay. I’m at a fancy place that makes me uncomfortable, and my interview is running off the rails.
But I smile at him and assure him it’s great. Best thirty-dollar salad I’ve ever had.
As the waiter walks away, I focus on my list to get things back on track. It feels… not unprofessional, exactly. Not even too casual. Just… too much like friends and not enough like work acquaintances. My heart should not be racing.
I lick my lips. “So. Maybe we should do this rapid-fire.” He raises his brows at my suggestion but doesn’t protest. “What is one thing that instantly improves your day?”
“Is it lame if I say hockey?”
“Yes, but I’ll allow it.”
“And for you?”
“Cuddles with Jace. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Transformers Two.” My mouth drops open, and he laughs in my face. “I had you going, didn’t I? No, it’s Terminator Two. You?”
“Notting Hill.”
“The one with Hugh Grant?” Hunter chews and makes his cute thinking face again, and the little wrinkle is back. Ohmigod, that wrinkle. Why does it make butterflies swarm in my belly?
“Yeah, and Julia Roberts. Have you seen it?”
“Maybe. I’d watch it again sometime, if you’re interested.”
His tone is casual, but he maintains eye contact as I sip my water. A genuine offer, then. I swallow and hope the cold liquid helps cool my burning cheeks. I’m probably red as a tomato.
“That’d be nice. Where is one place you’d like to visit?”
“You know, it’s weird. I’ve been to lots of hockey arenas in lots of cities, but I haven’t seen much beyond that. So I dunno.” He shrugs. “All of them, I guess.”
I assumed, with his famous sports-star father, that he’d traveled extensively. Trying to keep my face blank at his answer and not show my surprise, I nod.
“That’s what I’d say, too. I’ve never really been on vacation anywhere. So I’d visit any destination on the table.”
“May I interest you in dessert?” Our waiter cuts in our conversation, handing out menus, and I stifle a sigh as I look it over. There’s no way the fifteen-dollar tiramisu is as good as the scoops of ice cream I dish out regularly.
Hunter looks up at the waiter, but I’m not sure I can take anymore of this. It’s too overpriced and pretentious for me. I hate feeling out of my element.
He runs a hand through his hair. “How about we split—”
“Actually, could you give us a minute?” I ask. Hunter turns a wide-eyed glance my way but nods, and the waiter scurries off.
I square my shoulders. I fit in at this restaurant—I’m dressed better than many people in here. I shouldn’t feel lesser or out of place. But it’s not how I want to spend my money. If Hunter and I are becoming friends or whatever, I need to speak up.
“Can I be honest with you?”
Hunter nods sips his drink, staring at me over the rim. “Of course.”
“This restaurant is great, but not really my scene. I’d love dessert, but can I pick?”
He blinks, but says, “Sure, whatever you want.”
His quick agreement helps me breathe easy. We both leave cash on the table—Hunter is a great tipper—and hustle out. I take a deep breath of the night air as we walk back to his car.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye while he opens the passenger door for me.
“What did you mean, it’s not your scene?”
I wince and bite my lip, trying to figure out what to say as he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car.
“Turn here.” I point left and give him directions to The Silver Spoon.
To his credit, he doesn’t bring it up again. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. He orders a banana split and slides into a red vinyl booth. I sit across from him with my mint chocolate chip, and the weight of his gaze makes me squirm.
“Um, so.” I tap my fingernails on the Formica tabletop. “I’m a little more of a blue-collar girl. That restaurant was lovely, but I like burger joints and dive bars. And quaint little ice cream parlors.”
Hunter glances around. “I like this place, too. I come here with the team a lot.”
“I know.” I stare at the table with its shiny flecks of silver. “I’ve seen you.”
He pauses, and his voice holds a note of caution. “Because you’re stalking me for real? If that’s what you’re confessing—”
“No!” I cut him off, laughing. “I work here!”
His mouth drops open. “You work here, too?”
“Have since high school.” I shrug. “So yeah, I’ve been behind the counter when the team’s been here before.”
His features soften. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice you.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Does he think he’s giving me a compliment? I narrow my eyes.
“How often do you notice your waitstaff?” He blanches at my question. “What did our waiter tonight look like? Did you remember his name?”
“Um.” Hunter stares at the table. “I have no idea.”
“It’s okay. You weren’t a jerk to him or anything. And you left a great tip.” I smile to take the sting out of my words. “But that’s probably why you didn’t remember me.”
“I’m glad I know you now.” His words are soft, so quiet I’m not sure if I was supposed to hear that. I don’t know what to say, so I clear my throat and change the subject.
“Thanks for letting me pick the place for dessert.”
“Best ice cream in Lafayette.” He takes a bite and moans. The sound reverberates through my body. My thighs clench, and my skin gets hot. I have to get a hold of myself.
“I have one more interview question, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure, go ahead.” He gestures with his spoon.
I consult my phone. “Okay. What is the best Halloween costume you ever wore? What is your costume this year?”
The mischievous twinkle I’ve come to expect lights his eyes. “There’s only one way for you to find out.”
“And what’s that?”
“Come to the hockey Halloween party this Thursday.” He looks so smug and pleased.
“Are you serious?” I frown. “Also, do you own a calendar? Halloween is in two weeks.”
“Oh, yeah, the team is out of town so we’re having it early. It’s at Adam’s place. He lives in Hockey Hall with us. It’s his favorite holiday, he throws a big bash every year. People go out all with their costumes.”
“Is this like in Legally Blonde where they tell Elle it’s a costume party and she comes dressed like a Playboy Bunny, but—”
“Yes.” He nods like a bobblehead. “It’s exactly like that. You should definitely come dressed as a Playboy Bunny.”
“You jerk.” Laughing, I smack his shoulder. “Have you not seen Legally Blonde? She shows up, and it was a trick, she’s the only one wearing a costume.”
“But she’s dressed as a Playboy Bunny? I’m still not seeing the downside.”
I shake my head at his antics. “I will never. But you promise, it’s really a costume party?”
“Yep. And you have to show up if you want to see my costume.”
Hunter waggles his eyebrows at me, and god help me, I want to see it. Desperately.