Page 74 of Bargain with the Bachelor
After the second chukker, or period of play, we walked over to warm ourselves by the fire pit. Hunter bought two hot chocolates from the cash bar and handed one to me. I gripped it gratefully, lifting the cup to my chin to warm my face.
“Maybe we should watch the rest of the match from up there,” he suggested, pointing at the rocky cliff overlooking the beach.
Atop it, just on the other side of the famous Bluff Walk, sat the gracious Astor Hotel. Housed in a twenty-room Gilded Age mansion, the Forbes Four Star hotel offered a birds-eye view of First Beach and luxury accommodations fit for royalty.
I’d never stayed there, but I’d eaten at its elegant signature restaurant, Madeleine, several times. I could see people watching the match from its outdoor terrace café, which glowed with the flickering light of towering patio heaters.
They looked... warm.
“That would be great.”
“Great,” Hunter said. Together we strolled up the hill on the beachside sidewalk. I shuddered from the cold, and he slipped an arm around my shoulders.
“For the cameras,” he whispered when I stiffened in response.
I allowed the contact but remained quiet for most of the walk. It took some self-talk to remind myself the warmth and solid feel of his tall frame were simply part of the show and not something to be enjoyed.
Or craved, as I’d been doing since our date night on the yacht.
Memories of the more pleasant parts of that evening continued to plague me, stubbornly intruding on my thoughts despite my best efforts to control them.
It just didn’t make sense.
Why had Hunter so carefully planned out the perfect evening—the sunset photography opportunity, my favorite foods, the sweltering kisses on the deck—the hot tub—then shut me out?
I’d probably never know, which was tragic considering the happy times I’d spent with him were among the very best moments of my life.
My plan was to make a beeline for those heaters I’d spotted in the Astor’s open-air café and bar area, but when Hunter and I reached the hotel, my plans changed abruptly.
A large, fragrant bonfire roared in the firepit at the center of the beautifully manicured lawn.
It drew me like the proverbial moth, especially since a hotel employee was handing out s’mores kits. I was starving, and s’mores happened to be a particular favorite of mine.
“Oh, this is good,” the cameraman said as he followed us to the blazing firepit. “Make sure you toast some marshmallows.”
“Way ahead of you,” I assured him.
Five minutes later, I was warm and had a mouthful of chocolate, graham cracker, and marshmallow—the combination of which was proof that God loved humanity and wanted His children to be happy.
And Iwashappy. For the first time since the ridiculous faux-dating idea had been proposed, I actually felt relaxed.
Hunter had enjoyed a couple of s’mores as well, though perhaps not as much as I had enjoyed them. My gaze flickered to his face.
His very, very handsome face—the eyes that threatened to drown me in their blue depths every time they met mine and lips so sensuous, I could barely stand to watch him eat, much less keep from imagining kissing him again.
Which I’d been doing far too often. Relaxation—gone.
Licking those lips to remove a remnant of marshmallow, Hunter looked over at me and chuckled.
“You’ve got a little chocolate…”
He pointed at the left corner of my mouth, and I probed it with the tip of my tongue, understanding that I’d made a mess in my hurry to consume my own tasty treats.
Biting his lower lip and squinting in amusement, he reached for me. “Come here.”
He used his thumb to swipe at the offending splotch.
As he did so, his knuckles grazed my chin, eliciting full body shivers that had nothing to do with the cold.
