Chapter 15
Catherine Celia
After the shower, we dried off and I got dressed, but I didn’t put my panties back on. Instead, I shoved them in my purse. Hunter noticed.
“They’re wet. You got me a little too hot and bothered.”
He grinned. “Good.”
I smiled.
“I’d offer you a pair of my boxers, but they’ll be swimming on you, and I don’t exactly want them to end up in Holland’s laundry basket.”
I laughed. “I do my own laundry, so no worries there. But commando is fine for me.”
He groaned. “If you talk about being commando, we’re never going to leave my room.”
“That isn’t a terrible idea, other than I need lunch and water,” I said.
Hunter slipped on a white T-shirt and boxers. Then he went out to the main room of his apartment.
“Are you walking around like that on purpose because it makes me want to jump your bones?” I admitted.
“Ditto, beautiful. What are you in the mood to eat?” he asked.
Just as he asked the question, mom sent a text.
Mom: Where r u? We want to get a late lunch
My heart dipped. Shit. I didn’t want to lie to my parents, but I couldn’t tell them where I was without raising every red flag in the state of Texas.
“Is everything okay?” Hunter asked.
I looked up from my phone. “Yeah,” I said, which was a lie. “My mom wants to go out for lunch.”
“Now?”
I nodded. “Apparently.”
His phone beeped before I could say more. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and went completely still. That wasn’t a good sign.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
“Hunter.”
He dragged a hand over his mouth. “Holland just texted me.”
My stomach dropped. “Why?”
“She asked if I was eating real food with Isla away.” His eyes flicked to mine, and for the first time since I’d walked into his apartment, he looked genuinely nervous. “She invited me to lunch.”
I stared at him. He stared back. Then we both looked at the bed. The very messy bed. The bed where I had just been naked with him.
“OMG,” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
My phone buzzed again.
Mom: ??
I swallowed and typed fast.
Me: Sorry. I went to Taylor’s after brunch with the girls.
I sent it, then immediately felt like a terrible daughter, terrible person, and terrible liar. Hunter was still staring at his phone.
“What should we do?” I asked.
He looked up. He was worried. “You should go with your parents.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’ll tell Holland I can’t make it.”
His phone beeped again. He looked down, and his shoulders tensed.
“What?” I asked, my nerves skyrocketing.
He turned the screen toward me.
Holland: Don’t argue. Isla is away, and you need to eat something that isn’t protein powder or chicken. We’re going to The Orchard Table. Meet us there in twenty.
I stared at the message. This was bad. I stared at Hunter. He was quiet for too long.
“Say no,” I said.
His laugh was short and humorless. “To Holland?”
“Yes.”
“Catherine.”
“What?”
“She’s your mother.”
“I’m aware.”
“She’s also married to Cole.”
“I’m also aware.”
“And Cole is my coach.”
The room went quiet. There it was. My father was not just my father. He was Hunter’s coach, his friend, his boss, and a man who trusted him. Hunter’s eyes dropped to the floor for a second, like the weight of that landed on him all at once.
“I can’t walk into lunch with them like this,” he said.
The panic in my chest sharpened. “Like what?”
He looked at me. “Like I touched you.” His voice was low. Rough. “Like I liked it. Like I want to do it again.”
My heart twisted.
“Hunter.”
“I’m serious.” He moved away from me and picked up his jeans from the floor. “This isn’t just awkward, Catherine. If Cole finds out. . .”
“He won’t,” I assured him without having a way of really promising such a thing.
“You don’t know that,” he countered. He was responsible. He thought of repercussions.
“No, but. . .”
“He trusts me.” Hunter’s voice cut through mine, not loud, but firm enough to make me stop. “He trusts me with the team. With his family. With you.”
I swallowed. The air between us changed again.
“I know,” I said quietly.
Hunter stepped into his jeans and pulled them up, but he didn’t button them right away. He just stood there, staring at me like he was trying to figure out how to protect me from something we had both chosen.
“I don’t regret what happened,” he said. The words came fast, like he needed me to know that before fear ruined everything. My chest softened.
“I don’t either.”
“But I need you to understand something.” He came closer, still shirtless, still damp, still devastating, but now all I saw was the worry in his face. “If this blows up, it doesn’t hit me the same way it hits you.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I’m established. I’m the captain. I’ll survive people being pissed at me.” His gaze searched mine. “You’re still building your career. If this gets out the wrong way, people will talk about you first.”
My throat tightened. He was worried about me more than he was worried for himself.
“And I hate that,” he said. Dammit. Was he trying to make me fall in love with him?
My phone buzzed again.
Mom: Come meet us new place The Orchard Table. Farm to table. Right up your alley. Fun!
I read the message once. My mother had no idea she had just invited emotional destruction to a farm-to-table lunch.
Hunter’s phone buzzed.
Holland: I included you in on the reservation. You need a good meal.
He showed me his phone. My chest tightened.
He turned away and reached for a T-shirt. “We need to look normal.”
“That ship has sailed.” I blew out a breath.
“Catherine.”
“What? My hair’s damp. Your hair’s damp. My lips are swollen. I’m not wearing underwear. You look like you just committed a felony.”
“Right, you’re not wearing underwear,” he said with contemplation.
“Hunter, I need you to focus.”
He blinked. “Right.” He dragged the shirt over his head.
I started pacing. “This is bad.”
“It’s manageable,” he countered.
“You just said it was basically career-ending,” I reminded him.
“I just wanted you to know the stakes, I didn’t meant to scare you away,” he stated.
“You’re doing a terrible job.”
His mouth twitched for half a second, but the smile didn’t hold.
That was what scared me most. Hunter Russell wasn’t relaxed or amused.
He looked like a man walking into a room where the wrong glance could cost him something important, and I think that something was me. He picked up his phone again.
“Your dad texted me.”
My entire body froze. “What did he say?”
Hunter looked like he would rather be checked into the boards by three defensemen at once.
“Holland says you’re coming to lunch. Good. I want to ask you about the prospects camp schedule.”
I closed my eyes. “My father wants to discuss prospects camp with you after you saw my prospects.”
Hunter made a strangled sound. “Catherine.”
“What? I’m spiraling,” I warned.
“I know, but please don’t say prospects while I’m trying to survive this.”
A laugh escaped me that sounded half hysterical. Then I looked at him again, and the laugh faded. He was pale under his tan.
“Hey,” I said softly.
He looked at me.
“We’re going to be okay,” I said. Something happened between us here today, and it felt so right that it couldn’t be wrong. “We can go to lunch and act like adults.”
His eyebrows rose. I stepped closer and fixed the collar of his shirt because my hands needed something to do. Also because touching him still felt like something I was allowed to want, even if we had to pretend otherwise in twenty minutes. He went still under my fingers.
“I don’t regret today. I want to keep seeing you,” he said quietly.
Something softened inside me. “I want that too.”
“Right. Your dad is perceptive. We have to play it safe,” Hunter said, looking toward the door like Cole Davis might already be on the other side of it.
“My mom notices more,” I brought to his attention.
“Great,” he sighed.
“They’re both terrifying,” I laughed nervously.
My phone buzzed again.
Dad: You with Taylor? Meet us at the restaurant.
I typed back with shaky fingers.
Me: Leaving Taylor’s in a minute. She isn’t coming to lunch.
Hunter watched me send it.
“You were at Taylor’s?” he asked.
“Cover story,” I said. “And I trust her.”
“Smart, except that her dad is the GM,” he noted.
“I trust Taylor. She would never say anything,” I assured him.
“We don’t sit beside each other if we can help it,” he said.
“Yup, obviously.”
“We don’t look at each other too long.”
“Define too long,” I replied.
“Catherine this isn’t funny.”
“Sorry I’m just so nervous.”
“Come here.” I walked into his arms and felt his strength as he held me.
I felt the beat of his heart and knew I wanted more time with him.
Then, I went to the mirror by the hallway and tried to fix my hair.
It was useless. I looked freshly showered because I was freshly showered.
I looked flushed because I was flushed. I looked like a woman who had spent the afternoon learning things about herself that no mother should be able to detect at lunch.
“I look obvious,” I said.
“You look beautiful,” he countered.
“That isn’t helpful.”
“It’s true.”
“Hunter.”
He stepped back immediately, like he had to physically stop himself from reaching for me. “I hate that I’ve put you in this position.”
I turned around. “You didn’t.”
“I texted you to come here. I was fighting the attraction. I should’ve continued fighting.”
“I came here because I wanted to be here. I want you,” I said.
His gaze darkened, and then he dipped his head and kissed my lips softly.
I knew he wanted to see where this would lead, but I needed to hear him say it.
He didn’t. If it had only been heat, maybe this would have been easier.
But it wasn’t. It was the way he looked at me now like I mattered.
Like he was already calculating damage and consequences and how to shield me from both.
My mother thought she was inviting a lonely single dad to lunch.
She had no idea she was inviting the man who was slowly becoming a problem for my entire heart.
I grabbed my purse, then remembered my panties were inside it and immediately clutched it tighter.
Hunter noticed. His eyes flicked to the purse, then back to my face.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” He shrugged impishly.
“You were thinking something,” I noted.
“I’m always thinking something when I look at you.”
Damn, he was sweet and kind and clearly amazing in bed. He checked the peephole like we were committing espionage instead of going to lunch.
“Clear,” he said.
“This is insane.”
“Yup.”
That single word was so serious it made my throat tighten. He opened the door but didn’t step out. Instead, he looked at me one more time.
“Nerves aside,” he said, voice low, “I don’t regret you.”
“I don’t regret you either.”