Oh, yeah? What’s my jersey number? —Hunter
Whoops, caught me there. I went on social media to stalk Josh’s profile. I distinctly remembered him posting pictures of the football team in their uniforms two weeks ago. I could grab his jersey number from there.
But before I could do that, I got sidetracked by the series of pictures Josh posted Thursday afternoon that I must have missed. The first shot was a few boys from the football team running down a hallway. The second shot was him passing the ball to another player. The third shot was a candid moment in the locker room, the boys conversing and laughing.
My mouth fell open when I zoomed in on Hunter, leaning against one of the lockers.
Mid-chuckle. Hair mussed. His bare chest glistening with sweat.
I finally got a good look at that snake tattoo, spanning from his left wrist to his shoulder, the reptile wrapped around his swollen muscles.
But the star of the show was the silver barbell glinting in his right nipple.
I was going to pass out.
Hunter Saint Warren had no reason to be this filthy hot.
How had this man flown under my radar for this long?
Another text popped up from him.
That’s what I thought, you little liar. —Hunter
Never thought I’d like being referred to as alittle liar, but I could just imagine him saying two words in his deep voice. It only heightened his sexual appeal to me.
Once I got his jersey number, I typed a quick reply.
Nine!! —Gabby
Too late. I know you had to look it up. —Hunter
So much for being my biggest fan. My heart is broken. —Hunter
How do I mend it? —Gabby
Come to my next game and wear my jersey. —Hunter
I blinked. Okay, so he had a bossy and demanding side.
I was totally here for it.
That’s it? —Gabby
For starters. It’ll take more than that to get back on my good side. —Hunter
Tell me what else I need to do. I’m willing to put in the work. —Gabby
Don’t worry. I’ll make you work hard for it. —Hunter
Oh my God.
He was flirting with me and I was enjoying every second of it.
Can’t wait—Gabby
Who knew you had such a polite side? A complete one-eighty from the heathen who was planning a man’s funeral last night. —Hunter
Hey! I’ll have you know I’m actually a very good girl. —Gabby
