But my other dream—the one that involved Winter—apparently wasn’t meant to be.
It’s not like she and I ever even dated. We were…undefined. We weren’t quite friends, and we weren’t quite lovers—we were everything and nothing to each other, all at once.
So, I supported her Broadway dreams, and she supported my hockey ones. She’d leave town frequently to study in Manhattan, and I’d be gone in the summers for weeks at a time, practicing hockey. Somehow, our dual obsessive natures matched up. Our chemistry was nuclear, and no one could get my attention like she could.
But we were too singularly focused on our goals to have room for a real relationship. And when Winter moved to New York right after high school graduation as planned, to attend college and major in performing arts with her eye on Broadway, I stuck with my plan to attend college locally and throw all my energy into getting drafted.
She and I drifted apart like people do when they don’t see each other for years. To get through it, I put up a wall and firmly shut the door on keeping in touch.
But I was young and stubborn then. Now I’m twenty-eight and slightly less obstinate.
“I’ve kept tabs on you, you know.”
Winter’s lips part. “You have?”
I can’t believe I just revealed my hand, but no sense in holding back now. “I have.” I look her right in the eyes when I say, “I’m fucking proud of you, Princess. You’ve done good.”
The polite expression on her face eases, and she says, “Thank you, Hunt. That means a lot. And just so you know—I watch as many of your games as I can on TV. No matter whether you’ve been in Denver or New Orleans, I cheer for your team.”
This surprises me. Winter always supported me unconditionally, but we ended in a fight…probably the only way we could say goodbye without it killing either of us.
“You cheered for the Denver Alphas?” I tease her. “I cheered foryou, Hunt. Wherever you were playing. I’m so proud of you, too.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat, desperate to get rid of the emotion suddenly clogging it. “So you applied for this pet sitting job to avoid living at the Allen Jail?”
She breaks form at my joke, and a beautiful smile fills her face. That one dimple on her left cheek was always my undoing.
“Pretty much. But the rest of my time in New Orleans?” She holds up her hands. “Still figuring it out.”
Something doesn’t add up.
“What about your lead role in Seasonal Bliss? That must have opened a lot of doors, huh?”
She shifts from one foot to the other and looks past me out the window.
“Um…I’ve had issues auditioning. I’ve screwed up my last few.”
I’m stumped. How could Winter be blowing her big break? She always relished the pressure; the bigger the spotlight, the brighter she shined.
But she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Well, pet sitting is a fun gig too. Could teach you a few things in case you ever have to act alongside a cat.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Right.”
I inhale.
I could stand here and talk to Winter forever. She’s mesmerizing and fascinating and as complex and beautiful as she always was. But I can’t look for something in a woman who’s only here for six months max.
I open the door wide. “Come on. I’ll show you around the house. No one knows better than I do the torture you’re gonna be in for if you live with your parents while you’re here.”
Her mouth opens and then closes. I can practically see the wheels churning in her mind.
“The city’s crowded, Winter. And not everyone who advertises for a pet sitter should be trusted.”
She inhales so sharply I hear it catch in her throat.
“You okay?” I ask her.
