“Why are your parents strange?” I push him to keep sharing.
“Well, they aren’t in the same place a lot. My dad travels six months out of the year for work, and my mom gets lonely. I’m pretty sure she struggles with depression, though she’s never come out and talked to me about it. I should probably ask, but I don’t really know how. And part of me doesn’t want to know forsure because I feel guilty for leaving her alone, too.” He draws in a sharp breath and widens his eyes before blowing out. “Wow, that was a bit of a breakthrough for me.”
My gaze narrows with a touch of skepticism, but I quickly see he’s being genuine.
“I get how your mom feels. I felt that way too, when my mom would take off for months or years at a time. It’s why my dad and I are so close.”
Hunter nods, shifting the weight of his travel bag on his shoulder as he drops his gaze to his feet.
“It’s probably why I’m so close with my mom. When Dad was gone, it was just us.” He brings his attention back to my face, his smile urged on by something distant. And maybe precious. “She was there for every practice, every game, every tryout and college visit. And when I went to college, she dropped by unexpectedly sometimes. Oftentimes. Basically, every other weekend,” he laughs out.
I snicker, picturing a woman who looks a lot like him barging into a single college guy’s dorm room. That thought quickly morphs to Sloane.
“You have a habit of women just dropping by unexpectedly, it seems.”
I press my molars together and stretch my lips into a tight smile, not exactly proud of my passive aggressive segue, but not exactly backing off from it, either.
Thankfully, Hunter breaths out a soft laugh through his nose and quickly nods in agreement.
“It seems I do. But I swear, there’s an explanation for Sloan showing up to the hotel today.”
“To your room, you mean,” I correct.
Hunter’s spine straightens and his head jerks back a few inches, as if I hit him with a blast of air. He didn’t know that part. Or he’s a great actor.
“Oh, yes. She was in your room, Hunter. I walked out of the shower in nothing but a towel, and there she was.”
I leave out my commentary on her being drop-dead gorgeous. Besides, he seems in shock, and I don’t think he’s blinked since I broke the news to him. Either that or he’s dwelling on the part about me being naked. We’re approaching the end of the moving sidewalk, so I gesture behind him to pay attention. I don’t catch him quite in time, however, and he back pedals several feet with his arms swinging to keep from falling and cracking his head on the terrazzo floor.
“Renleigh, I swear to God. I swear on my arm, on my future, on everything that’s important to me, Sloane showing up today was just the culmination of a lot of poor communication on my part. I did tell her she was welcome to come see me play . . . anytime. We dated my senior year, briefly, and I may have chickened out when it came to hard and fast closure to the relationship.”
“You mean you wanted to keep the booty-call line open,” I challenge him.
Hunter winces at first, but his expression morphs into one of resolve, his mouth heavy at the corners and his eyes not able to fully reach mine.
“I probably did, yeah. No . . . I know I did. But that was just stupid plans hatched in the brain of a single guy hyped up about his future, fantasizing about a glitzy lifestyle, and parties, and fast cars, and?—”
“And women,” I cut in.
His lips twist and he lifts a shoulder.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
He blinks slowly, bringing his gaze fully to mine, and it’s heavy with guilt. He’s being honest; it’s written all over his face. But also, I don’t think he’d have said everything he just did if he were trying to pull one over on me.
“So, what changed?” I ask.
His eyes dim and his brow lowers, his expression puzzled.
“Huh?”
“Eight months ago, you wanted all those things—the fast cars, the glitz.Thebooty call.What changed? And when you say you aren’t that man, that you’re a good guy, why should I believe you?”
My body is buzzing suddenly at uttering those words. I’m scared he’s going to tell me nothing’s changed, that he made a mistake—thatwewere a mistake.
Hunter takes measured steps closer to me, though, and at first, I back up, keeping pace with him. Eventually, I hold my ground, and his hand moves to the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“I met you, Renleigh,” he says. “That’s what changed. And you believe me if you want to. What kind of guy would I be if I treated this thing between us like a negotiation?”
