Page 25 of Pinkie Promise

My eyes stray briefly to the bulging vein in his large bicep.

“Yes,” I say, a little raspy.

He smiles at my tone and gives me a savouring once-over.

“I love this outfit,” he murmurs gruffly. “When you come to watch the game please do not wear it.”

I blink in surprise and a small laugh bubbles out of me. “Why not?” I ask, smiling even though I’m confused.

“Because I have to keep my eyes on the puck if I want to win, Fallon.”

My lips part open and Hunter shoves his body backwards off the wall, tucking one hand in the front pocket of his shorts and jostling it slightly as he gives me a final once-over.

I take my bag off my shoulder and clutch it against my chest.

“Bye Hunter,” I say.

He tips his chin at me before heading down the hallway after Connell.

“Bye Fallon.”

Chapter 8

Hunter

I tap my thumbs against the steering wheel of my truck and stare ahead at the diner in front of me.

I know it in my bones that I have completely overstepped the mark but as I watch Fallon retie the bow on her apron and give my mom a nervous smile, I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it.

Fallon needed a job, and I had two.

The second that Connell approached us in the gym and said that he was Fallon’s ride home, I knew exactly how to fix her job dilemma. Fallon had said that she didn’t want me to get involved, that she wanted to sort out her situation herself, but she seemed so stressed that Iwantedto fix it for her. Never mind the fact that I was responsible for getting her fired in the first place, she’d been in a state of panic since the first time I laid my eyes on her and I couldn’t see that go on any longer. So I briefly mentioned to Connell that I’d seen a job advertised for the diner in town, carefully avoiding the fact that it’s mymom’sdiner and that it’smyjob.

Connell’s eyes had shot to mine and he’d asked, “You didn’t tell anyone else about this job, did you?”

I remained impassive. Told him no.

Then he said, “Do me a favour and don’t mention it to anyone else? I know a girl who could really do with getting it.”

So now Fallon is wiping down the small booths that I spent my high school years doing homework at.

I’ve been working at my mom Willa’s diner every Sunday since I can remember but, as soon as I turned eighteen and got into Carter U’s hockey team, I wouldn’t let my mom pay me for the hours that I worked anymore. I still get a cheque for working my dad’s garage on Saturdays but when it comes to working with my mom I don’t feel comfortable accepting cash from her pocket. Especially now that I’m ninety-nine percent sure that I’m gonna go pro with my sport – a sport that has an embarrassingly high signing figure. So when I told my mom that I needed to stop my shift at the diner because I knew someone else who really needed a job, I was confident that there would be enough cash to give Fallon a good salary, seeing as I’ve been free-labouring for the past three years. Plus I said that I’d do an extra day at the workshop with my dad, no strings attached, so I’ve successfully covered all of my bases. My mom and dad have me working the same amount of shifts, and Fallon’s about to start getting a nice steady income.

I’m fucking exhausted but I don’t care. I couldn’t watch Fallon stress out about money troubles thatIcould solve for one more minute without doing something about it.

As long as she doesn’t realise that I’ve set this whole thing up behind her back, everything is going to be fine.

Tanner clears his throat next to me and jerks his chin towards the windshield.

“Are we just gonna sit here and watch her or…?”

I run a hand through my hair, still wet from the shower.

“Give me another minute,” I grumble, rubbing my knuckles against my jaw.

My stubble makes a harsh scraping sound and I suddenly wonder if Fallon likes stubble on the guys that she dates. I mean, she’s a girlie type of chick – she reads romance books, she doescheer. It’s safe to take a punt that she probably doesn’t like rough-around-the-edges types of guys.

I try to picture her going on a date with one of those pastel-wearing yuppies from Frat Row and suddenly I’m throwing myself out of the truck and slamming the driver’s door after myself.

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