“Of course,” I say, still pretending I haven’t noticed that Hunter hasn’t spoken a single word to me.
To be honest, I’m not even sure I’d recognize his voice if I heard it.
We haven’t talked since high school. I don’t watch much football.
I turn to walk away, and swear I can feel his eyes following me.
Just to check, I glance over my shoulder.
Yep.
Still watching.
Still smirking.
Heat pulses low in my belly. Uninvited.
Totally inappropriate.
Everything with Keith is still swirling inside me like a fresh wound, and now this?
Turned on by alook?
Even if I were fully single, Hunter Holloway is basically a walking scandal.
He’s a Holloway.
My dad would disown me. My Aunt Miranda might light me on fire.
And besides,he knows I’m taken.
Nobody—not even his cocky self—knows we might be “on a break.”
My stomach twists as Keith’s Rumspringa speech replays in my head.
I don’t want to think about it anymore.
Now I have a whole new dilemma.
Do I have a crush on Hunter Holloway?
Or more accurately…does mybodyhave a crush on him?
Guilt snakes through me.
Shame, too.
This isn’t who I am.
Hunter’s the kind of guy who knows exactly what he looks like.
Exactly what he can get.
Not. My. Type.
I punch their drink order into the POS like it’s done something to offend me and try to focus.
But I can still feel him.
