Page 42 of Something Borrowed, Something You

“You’re out of your mind.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

A few minutes of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “Did you go back to his place?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“You wanna know what I think?”

“Not really, no.”

“I think you kissed him good night but compared it to our kiss and realized as much as you want to want this guy, you don’t.”

My gaze narrowed. “We had sex, and I didn’t think of you once.”

“Really?” He glanced over at me.

“Really,” I said. I turned my head toward the window to keep my heated face from his view.

Hunter leaned over and breached my personal space while driving. “What’s that you’re doing with your left hand right now?”

I froze. I was picking imaginary damn lint off of my jeans. Having no response to being caught lying, I simply scowled at him.

He gloated and smiled in my direction.

After a few minutes, he sighed. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

I ignored him. “Did you take the garter I caught from Anna and Derek’s wedding? I couldn’t find it when I left my hotel room.”

“Nope. Didn’t see it.”

“Damn. I really wanted to keep it.”

Hunter changed the subject back. He really had a one-track mind. “So… what do you say? Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

“No.”

“You’ll let the poor bastard you don’t even like kissing take you to dinner, but you won’t let me take you out?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. I don’t get it.”

I decided to be honest and not filter my response. “When I was twelve years old, I came home from school early. We had a half day for parent-teacher conferences. My mom kept a calendar on the refrigerator with all our schedules and activities. With four girls, there was scribble on most days. But that particular day, Mom had forgotten to write that we had a shortened day. Both my parents worked, and I was a latchkey kid, so I walked home from school and let myself in. There was noise coming from my mom’s room, so I figured she’d left the TV on like she sometimes did. I went to turn it off and walked in on my father having sex with one of my mom’s good friends.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“My father begged me not to tell my mother, swearing it was the one and only time. He said if I told her she’d be heartbroken, and I’d break up the family.”

“That’s shitty. He should have manned up and told her himself, not put that on you.”

“Yeah. I know that now.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Not for a few weeks. One night the woman was over, and I saw the way my dad was looking at her. I couldn’t let my mom be humiliated like that. I knew it wasn’t a one-time mistake he’d made, even though I was twelve. When I finally told her, he admitted it and said he was in love with her friend. Dad moved out, and Mom went into a state of depression that lasted a really long time.”

“Sometimes doing the right thing sucks.”

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