Page 55 of Something Borrowed, Something You

I smiled from ear to ear like an idiot. It was so sweet that he’d sent Izzy the shooting strap he’d told her about. In fact, overall, since the day I’d met him, Hunter had been nothing short of sweet. Sure, he was forward and crude, but even that had an odd sweetness to it.

It was nearly impossible to get any work done for the rest of the afternoon. I picked up and put down my phone—deliberating over calling him—ten different times.

I should call him to say thank you.

No, I should have Izzy call.

But it would be rude of me not to call. After all, he sent the package to me.

Although the contents were for Izzy.

I’m going to call.

Picked up phone. Put it down thirty seconds later.

This is ridiculous. Where are my manners? I have to call.

Eventually, after debating with myself for upward of a half hour, I settled on a simple text:

Natalia: Just received the package. Izzy is going to be so excited. That was very sweet of you to send. I might even get a smile from a fifteen-year-old this evening.

The dots started bouncing almost immediately. My heart rode along in anticipation.

Hunter: Excellent. And is her stepmother smiling these days?

I had no idea how to answer that. The truth was, I really missed being around him. As I sat at my desk, contemplating my response and chewing on my bottom lip, another text came in.

Hunter: Stop thinking of how to respond and go with honesty.

Natalia: Busy. I’ve been busy.

Hunter: That doesn’t answer my question, Natalia.

I don’t know why I decided to text what came next.

Natalia: I ended things with Marcus.

His response was immediate.

Hunter: Have dinner with me.

Natalia: Just dinner?

Hunter: Well, I’d rather eat you. But if that’s not an option, I’ll take sharing a meal.

The familiar flutter swarmed in my belly. He was so straightforward and unlike any man I’d ever dated.

Natalia: When?

Hunter: Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.

Natalia: Okay. But it’s not a date, right? We’re just two friends having dinner.

Hunter: Put whatever label on it that makes you happy, sweet pea. But wear something sexy.

“You smell so fucking good.” I nearly whimpered at the sound of his throaty voice in my ear. True to form, Hunter pulled me against him the minute I opened the front door. He wrapped me in a hug that bordered on crushing me, and his hot breath tickled my neck as he spoke.

Jesus Christ. Have the four cigarettes in a row, Minnie, if it gives you this type of relief.

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