Page 7 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

“That would be good,” I murmured, thinking about how Hunter had a Bachelor’s degree in finance and marketing, as well as an Associate’s degree in management. My brother was definitely the man for the job.

Hunter continued rattling on about the vision that Van had shared with him, and my thoughts got lost in Van from earlier that morning, and how seeing him took my breath away. His bulging biceps when he was lifting hand weights to when he was doing lunges, how his muscular legs caught my attention.

The perspiration that trickled down his upper back, down to the waistband of his nylon shorts was more than I could handle.

“Taylor?” Hunter calling out to me brought me out of my reverie.

“Huh?”

“You were spaced out again,” He frowned when I glanced at him. “You okay? Did this Travis thing hit you that bad? I thought you were getting over it.”

“I am,” I sighed. “Or I thought I was…”

“Has that jerk called you?”

“I blocked his number, and I don’t answer any unknown numbers,” I turned my attention to the window.

“Good,” Hunter nodded as he turned into the small grocery store parking lot. “If he contacts you, let me know.”

“Why?” I asked. “What will you do?”

“Be the big protective brother that I am,” he smirked and parked his truck. “Let’s go get you some food.”

“Yeah, let’s get this done so I can get back home,” I said, opening the passenger side door and slipping out of the truck.

“Home? You’re staying?” Hunter asked as I circled the front of the truck and we walked side by side.

“For now,” I nodded.

“What would make it a more permanent stay?”

“Too many variables to mention,” I skirted the topic.

“Hmm, vague reply,” Hunter grabbed a grocery cart as we walked down the store aisles.

I placed food in the cart as Hunter strolled beside me, and I changed the topic. There was no way I was going to have a conversation with my brother about wanting to rush back to Gram’s place so I could run next door to talk to Van. I’m not sure how he’d react to that information.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Chapter Four

Van

Iknew Hunter was heading to the house when we left the tavern a few hours ago, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of the sibling drama about why Taylor hadn’t mentioned she was returning home.

Hunter and I spent a couple of hours eating, having a few beers, and talking about my vision for the non-profit foundation for local kids. He had schooling and had been a chief marketing officer and marketing guru for a variety of charitable companies and firms over the years, so he was my first choice to discuss my thoughts.

After we finished our meal, and I signed a half dozen autographs and took some pictures with the tavern staff andsome customers, Hunter and I got down to business. I gave him what I had in mind, and he began scribbling on paper napkins.

By the time we were done, Hunter had at least ten napkins in his hands. He folded them, slipped them into his pocket, and we made our way out of the tavern. We chatted for a few minutes more in the parking lot.

He climbed into his truck and began the trek back to his Gram’s house, as I straddled my motorcycle and slipped my riding gloves on my hands. I sat on my bike for a few minutes and conjured up the images of Taylor from this morning.

Her blonde hair piled up on her head, and I assumed it was long and lush. Her long, curled tendrils flowed down her neck, stopping just above her chest.

Sighing, I reached for my aviator sunglasses, slipped them on my face, and turned the key to start the motorcycle. Revving up the throttle, I pulled away from the bar. I decided to take a longer way back home, to give Hunter and Taylor a few extra minutes, and turned in the opposite direction that Hunter had gone.

Driving down the road, I saw Hunter’s truck sitting in the driveway. As I approached the house, I saw no sign of either Hunter or Taylor. I assumed they were still inside talking, so I pulled into my driveway.

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