Page 135 of Hard to Handle

“You do?”

“I do.” He laughs. “I’m getting confused where my toothbrush is and whether I’m coming or going from your house or mine. It’s so much easier if I know I get to come home to you at the end of the day. That’s all that seems to matter anymore.”

“Says the league MVP.”

“Exactly.” He squeezes my hand. “We never made a bet on what I’d get if I won MVP and I did . . . and so”—he shrugs—“cohabitation.”

“Cohabitation?” I laugh.

He nods. “I know I’ll screw up. I know I’m stubborn and frustrating and will sometimes shut you out when all you want is to be held close . . . but I can promise you I want to do right by you. For you. For me. For us. I want to make this work because Christ, I’m miserable without you.”

“But you haven’t been without me for a while now.”

“Exactly,” he repeats, his voice softening, “because you’re where I want to be.”

I’m having trouble swallowing over the love that his words create, wrapping around my soul and taking root.

“Hunter.”

“Don’t cry.” He wipes my tear that slips over. “No more tears.”

“Just tomorrows.”

His smile returns. “Just tomorrows.”

I’m not sure how long I stay wrapped in his arms, settling into this idea of getting to wake up every morning next to him and getting to kiss him every night—but it’s not a hardship to accept.

Not by a long shot.

There’s a knock on the door and we jolt apart like kids getting caught.

“Dekk?” My dad peeks his head into the conference room.

“Yeah?” I pull the door open all the way.

“Can I have my client back now? You’re messing up my schedule.”

“What do you mean your client?” I look from my dad to Hunter and his stupid, wide grin and laugh that vibrates, then back to my dad.

“What you drop, another one of us will pick up,” my dad says.

“Hunter?” I ask, confused but hopeful.

“He means his client. You once told me I could only have one or the other with you, and, Dekker, you sure as hell know which one I’m going to pick.”

“Me?” I ask, an incredulity in my voice as my world comes full circle.

“Did you not just hear anything I said?” He laughs. “Of course, you.” He gives me a chaste kiss on the lips. “And then him.”

He squeezes my hand as he stares at me, and I don’t care that my father’s there watching—I wouldn’t care if the whole world was—because when Hunter looks at me, everything else is just background noise.

“I’ll be in my office,” my father says, leaving us alone.

“’Kay,” Hunter says, but his eyes never leave mine.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Do what?” he asks.