Page 19 of Unraveling Rain
He’s tall, wearing jeans, a faded gray T-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly. A black baseball hat turned backward on his head. With every movement, the fabric of his shirt shifts—and oh lord, what a sight. This guy has muscles on top of muscles.
He doesn’t look familiar—it must be a tourist who didn’t bother checking our hours online. I stop a foot away from him and clear my throat.
He straightens to his full height and turns around slowly, like he’s worried he was caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Oh, hey,” I say, recognizing him. It’s Hotshot.
He flashes a wicked grin, and my knees nearly give out.
Calm down, Rain. It’s just a guy.
“Hi, you. Just the person I was looking for,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets, shoulders inching up toward his ears. He looks boyish—but in a hot way. I’m not even sure how that’s possible.
I frown, and he chuckles.
“Yeah, I wanted to apologize for behaving like a total loser today. ”
I nod, smiling. “Cool. Is there anything else you need to say, or…?” I let the question dangle.
He takes off his hat, rustling his hair. I swear to everything holy, I’m hit by his scent—a mix of pinewood and leather—and I feel like I was slapped by his manliness.
“Well, I was hoping to grab a bite to eat, but I guess I’ll have to find dinner somewhere else,” he says with a shrug.
“It’s your lucky day. I was about to prepare something to eat.”
His face lights up, and we head toward the delivery door in the alley. I quickly unlock it and wave him in.
The kitchen isn’t small by any means, but this man’s presence makes the space feel tight.
“Anything I can help with?” he asks, his hands going back to his pockets.
Is he nervous?
“Would you be okay with breakfast for dinner?”
He gives me a grateful smile. But instead of sitting or moving out of my way, he extends his hand, and I take it. His grip is firm, and his hand covers mine completely, and for some reason, I don’t feel overwhelmed—I feel safe. I can’t say that about all the men I’ve met.
“I’m Alexander González. But everyone calls me Xander. I’m a forward for the Carolina Red Wolves, and I came to Azalea Creek to recover from an injury.”
He introduces himself while still holding my hand, giving it a gentle shake. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
He grins back.
I bite my lip.
What the hell is going on?
I need to cool this interaction down. I’m all hot and bothered from a simple handshake. That’s never happened to me before.
Then again, it’s not like I’ve had many chances to meet guys. But still—even I know this shit isn’t normal.
“Xander,” I say, looking him in the eye. “Good to know the hotshot player has a name.”
He chuckles, then glances at our still-connected hands. Clearing his throat, he mumbles something I can’t quite understand.
“It’s okay, Hotshot. You can ogle all you want. Nothing is going to happen between us,” I say, turning toward the fridge for eggs and veggies for our dinner. “I can guarantee you that.”
“How are you so sure?” he shoots back. “You might fall madly in love with me and follow me to Raleigh.”
