Page 50 of Pinkie Promise

“Hunter.”

I cup his stubble-coated jaw and he grunts involuntarily.

“I’m being serious, Hunter. Believe me when I say that I wouldn’t lie to you about this. When you next come over to the condo I…” I shake my head and sigh. “I’ll show you my Baby Yoda coffee mug collection.”

Hunter laughs and shoves a hand through his hair, his heated eyes raking over me wildly.

“A cheerleader nerd?” he rasps, like I’ve just enunciated his deepest fantasy. “Tell me that you’re not kidding,” he says as he meets my eyes again.

“I don’t lie when it comes to Baby Yoda,” I whisper to him honestly.

He grins in relief and kisses me hard, a low sound vibrating through his chest as if his whole body is aching.

“Sometimes I wear glasses,” I admit when he pulls away, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder, groaning like I’m torturing him.

“I really like you, Fallon,” he says quietly, when we finally stand from his bed, holding me steady as I slide my feet back into my high heels.

Then I rise up onto my tip-toes and Hunter instantly leans down, meeting me in the middle for a small chaste kiss.

I’m too shy to say the words but it doesn’t matter because he feels them anyway as he touches my lips with his.

I really like you too, Hunter.

Chapter 14

Hunter

“You coming to my away game at the end of the month?” I ask my brother Colton as he slides out from under the body of the car. He wipes the sweat from under his fringe with the back of his forearm, leaving a big black grease stain there in its wake.

I smirk and throw a hand cloth down at him.

He tosses it back as I shut the hood of the truck that we’re working on.

“Got my own,” he says, heaving himself into a sitting position before pulling a cloth out of the back pocket of his jeans. He swipes it roughly over his sullen face, then he picks up his phone, resting horizontally on the stool, and he selects a different song from his playlist.

I tap a finger against the spacebar on my dad’s work computer, making it whir back to life, and then I open a spreadsheet to mark down which fixtures we just used.

“Mom and Dad ain’t letting me,” Colt finally grumbles, sitting in a hunched position while straddling the crawler board. He picks up his water bottle and drains the last few drops.

“Why ain’t they letting you? Is it a money thing?” I ask as I finish my type-up.

“It’s a me-being-in-high-school thing, and they’re too busy to chaperone,” he replies, reddening a little before tossing the bottle across the room into the trash.

“Good throw,” I grunt.

He drops his head to hide his smile. “Thanks.”

This is another reason why I’ve decided to go pro. If I’m playing NHL games that are aired on the regular then maybe my family will be able to finally watch one of them.

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes on his beat-up sneakers.

“It’s fine. When I get the date for our next home game, I’ll save you a ticket.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? Hey, I could get you a plus one,” I add with a grin, and his eyes fly up to mine.

He chokes before he can get the words out. “Why would you do that?” he croaks.

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