Page 87 of The Chase

A moment later, his huge body disappears into the driver’s seat, the engine sputters to life, and he peels out of the lot without even waiting five seconds to defrost his windshield.

Tears sting my eyes. I blink hard and fast, but they still manage to break free. The adrenaline from the bar fight (both my fight and Fitz’s) is suddenly sucked out of my body as if someone stuck a vacuum hose on me. It leaves me feeling weary.

Hunter draws me toward him, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “Hey, don’t cry, Blondie.”

I bite my lip, blinking faster to ward off the tears. “Sorry. Adrenaline crash, I think.”

“I get it.” There’s humor in his tone. “I mean, you did kick someone’s ass tonight.”

“Barely.”

His free hand reaches for one of mine. He lightly caresses the inside of my palm with his thumb. “That was so badass of you, by the way. Defending Brenna like that.”

At least someone thinks so. “Thanks.”

He chuckles softly. “Though I’m pretty sure that catfight gave Mike enough spank-bank material for at least a year.”

I make a face. “Oh God, I hope not.”

Hunter’s callused fingers graze my palm before linking through mine. Holding his hand is both comforting and unsettling, but I don’t have the strength to pull away. I’m currently using most of my energy to try to make sense of everything Fitz said before his abrupt departure.

I drive him crazy.

He finds me exhausting.

He wants me, but he doesn’t want to want me.

“Blondie,” Hunter says roughly.

“Hmmm?” My mind continues to race, making it hard to concentrate. Or rather, making it harderto concentrate. My ADHD already gives me a handicap.

“Next Saturday,” he starts.

“What about it?”

“We don’t have a game.” He hesitates. “Do you want to go out that night? Grab some dinner?”

It’s my turn to hesitate. There’s no mistaking his intentions. He’s asking me on a date. And maybe if Fitz wasn’t in the picture, I’d—

Are you fucking kidding me right now!my inner Selena Gomez shrieks.

Wow. A rare F-bomb from her. Inner Selena is usually far more proper and composed. She doesn’t let the exasperating behavior of men affect her pure, elegant way of living her life.

But she’s absolutely right. I have one guy who doesn’t want to want me, and another one who’s proud to declare that he does—and I’m leaning toward thefirstone?

Why? Really. Why. Why is this even a choice? Hunter is gorgeous. He’s a great kisser. And he’s actually making an effort to be with me instead of running away every chance he gets.

I like Fitz, but he’s too confusing. He thinksI’mplaying mind games? He’s gone from telling Garrett he’d never date me, to comforting me about my midterm and offering to help me, to confessing he’s attracted to me and then saying I’m too exhausting to be with.

Uh-huh.I’mexhausting.

I want a man with clear intentions. A man who makes an effort and is excited to spend time with me. A man who actuallywantsto want me.

If he has to fight himself to be with me, then chances are he’d never fight formeif it came down to it.

What woman would ever choose somebody like that?

I rest my head on Hunter’s shoulder and allow the warmth of his body to seep into my tired bones. I squeeze his hand and say, “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

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