Page 58 of The Mating Game
“And you know your mom will fold,” I laugh.
“Of course she will,” Ada sighs. “She’s weak.”
“You’re no better.”
“That’s fair. He’s just so cute.”
And he really is—Perry is a little carbon copy of his mom, with his auburn hair and freckles, and simply thinking about him makes me miss the pair of them.
Through the speaker I hear a loud rapping of knuckles against wood on her end of the line, then a shuffling of movement beforeshe takes me off speaker, her voice clearer now that it’s being spoken directly into the receiver. “Hey, the takeout guy is here at the gallery. Call you later?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “I’ll be here.”
“In Nowheresville,” she laughs.
“Yeah,” I answer with a soft chuckle. “In Nowheresville.”
She says her goodbyes just before the line disconnects, and I stay where I am for several moments after, chin perched on my folded arms as I stare at the opposite wall. I can’t help but blush as I recall all the things she said about Hunter, unable to pretend I haven’t been thinking about a lot of the same things. It’s hard not to when I do, in fact, know what he looks like naked.
Which is to say good, I think idly.Very good.
I heave out a sigh as I roll on the mattress, pulling myself up to sit at the edge before I turn my face toward the window. It’s been an extremely long day between staining the floors and helping Thomas, Chase, and Kyle bring in the rest of the stone to finish the fireplace, and for the first time since I got here, I feel like maybe I should take the night off and relax. I feel like I’ve earned it, with everything going on. The afternoon sun has already started to sink, casting a pinkish glow against the snow outside, looking serene and inviting. I groan as I drop down from the bed, telling myself to stop agonizing about the hot innkeeper.
And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I know ahot bath would probably do me a world of good, but given that my room only has a tiny walk-in shower, and the idea of even attempting to stand under the spray sounds like somethingI’d rather die before attempting, I foresee a grumbly night right here on my bed.
At least until the knock at my door has me sitting upright.
“Yes?”
“It’s Jeannie,” she calls through the door. “You decent?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I push up to sit cross-legged on the mattress as she pushes open the door, carrying a little tray with a cup of some steaming liquid.
“I thought you might want some hot chocolate. I make the good stuff. None of that packaged garbage.”
“You have my full attention,” I say with a smile. She hands me the cup gingerly as she takes a seat on the edge of my bed, watching with anticipation as I take a slow, careful sip. “Oh my God.”
“Told you,” she says smugly. “The secret is a dash of cinnamon.”
“It’s like Christmas in a cup,” I tell her, taking another sip. “I needed this.”
“It’s nice to have someone to make it for,” she says. “Hunter isn’t so big on sweet things.”
“I would have never guessed,” I say, words dripping with sarcasm.
“He really has that old-man-trapped-in-a-young-man’s-body thing down pat.”
“Was he always like that?”
Jeannie considers. “He’s always had a bit of seriousness to him that made him just a little different from other kids his age, but I’d definitely say it’s gotten worse in the last decade.”
“I guess running a business will do that to you,” I muse.
Jeannie nods thoughtfully. “He’s had a lot on his shoulders for a long time. Too much for someone his age, I think.”
“When did he officially take over the place?”
