Page 49 of Something Borrowed, Something You

“Well, that was the asshole on the phone. Damon owns my building. I dread anytime anything goes wrong in my apartment, because instead of the super coming to fix it, Damon insists on showing up. He doesn’t go as far as pushing himself on me or anything, but he’s tried to kiss me before, and he constantly asks me out, and it just makes me really uncomfortable.”

The way Hunter’s jaw ticked was endearing. “I’m going home with you later. He can fix the sink while I’m there.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“No, it is. And while I’m at it, I need to apologize for being such a pushy asshole. I didn’t see it until you just told me about that guy.”

“You aren’t an asshole.” I smiled. “Pushy, maybe. But it’s not the same thing. I’ve never felt like if I told you no, and sounded like I meant it, you wouldn’t back off. Damon, on the other hand, I don’t trust. I don’t even like to be in the same room as him.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll back off anyway. You change your mind on wanting to be anything but friends, I’m here. Otherwise, I’ll cool it.”

As much as I’d said that was what I wanted, and knew it was for the best, it made me sad. I forced a smile. “Okay.”

The rest of our lunch was nice, but the mood definitely shifted. There was almost an awkwardness to our conversation. Hunter would relax and start to say something flirty, and then he’d catch himself and dial it back. It was as if he didn’t know how to be friends with me. At one particular point, when he was running his finger along the top of his glass and looking exceptionally tongue-tied, I called him on it.

“You have no women friends, do you?”

He looked up from the glass. “Sure I do. I’m friends with lots of women.”

“Who?”

“Anna, for one.”

“She’s not your friend. She’s your buddy’s wife.”

“So it’s either one or the other?”

“Do you have any single women you’re friends with?”

“Sure. At work.”

“Okay. Who?”

“I go to lunch with Renee from the office sometimes. She’s a project manager.”

“Is she dating anyone?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How old is she?”

He shrugged. “Mid-sixties, maybe.”

I shook my head. “She doesn’t count. She’s safe. How about any single friends in their twenties or thirties?”

“No. But there’s a good reason for that.”

“What’s the reason?”

“Men and women who are mating age and attracted to each other can’t be friends. It’s primal.”

My eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

Hunter leaned back in his chair. “What would I do with a woman I’m attracted to?”

“What do you mean? What do you and your male friends do?”

“Outdoors stuff. I like to rock climb, scuba dive, play golf.”

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