“Sure,” I say with all the enthusiasm of a guy about to get his balls waxed. “Let’s go.”
* * *
KATE
* * *
What a day.
Looks like everyone’s leaving, including Hunter. Damn.
I argue with the guys over the leftover pizza and convince them to take it. I have my meals planned and prepared for the next week, so I don’t need it.
As they leave, Hunter catches my eye and holds it. I give a half-smile, which he returns, a thread of connection drawing out between us.
“We’ll talk next week,” he says.
I nod.
When they’re gone, I load the dishwasher and wipe the counters. And think.
I have a lot to think about.
We almost kissed. He had his hands on my ass. And I liked it.
He apologized, but the truth was, if he’d kissed me, I probably would have kissed him back. Yikes. That attraction is still there, and still strong. But he’s my client.
Then he told me about his phobia.
My heart aches for the little boy who was laughed at because of it. He’s such a contradiction—big, tough hockey player on the ice, but off the ice a guy with hidden wounds and layers of sensitivity that he feels he has to hide. I understand why he feels that way. The world’s view of masculinity is toxic. I wish it weren’t so. And oh my God…my heart…I love it that he feels comfortable enough with me to be honest.
I close my eyes briefly, my hands gripping the edge of my counter.
I can’t have feelings for this man.
Shaking my head, I turn.
I hoped I’d have a chance to talk to him about Josh Heller and Easton Millar. After he opened up about the mascot phobia, I thought maybe he was in a mood to share. But then Hakim and Kevin crashed our party.
I sigh and sit on my couch.
I’ll see him again, obviously. It’ll have to wait until then.
It’s Sunday night. I took a day off to cavort in the park in a bear costume, then eat pizza and drink beer with hockey players, something I’ve missed so much. I’m not going to work now. I’m going to watch more episodes of The Office, which I’m addicted to, have another beer, and go to bed early.
When I check my phone in the morning, there’s a text from Hunter, sent last night around eleven, when I was already sleeping.
We were friends in college. We’re still friends. Right?
I smile, then push out my bottom lip. What are we doing? I rest my elbows on my island and lean on them, my phone in both hands.
I’m filled with longing. I’m not even sure what for. For Hunter? For Hunter’s wondrous wang? For his friendship? Or…something else?
I message him back. Of course.
His reply comes quickly. Dinner tonight?
I don’t know what we’re doing, but I do know I want to see him again. Sure.
I add, I can make dinner here.
That would be great. What time?
Seven?
A thumbs-up emoji arrives.
Now I have to go shopping. I made my meals ahead for this week—it keeps me from eating junk because I’m too lazy to cook—but I’d rather serve Hunter something that will wow him. Hmm.
Hunter likes beef. I ate with him enough times to know that. And I have a great bistro steak recipe. I fling open my fridge door to do inventory. I have nothing I need except beef stock, so I make a short shopping list and soon I’m hiking down Sixth Avenue to the little gourmet grocery store. I select steaks, little potatoes, fresh thyme, a bunch of spinach, and a bottle of red wine. I pause at the bakery counter, eyeing pastries. Dessert? I should have something to offer.
Overwhelmed with delicious choices, I finally request two squares of chocolate caramel slice, then head back home. Okay, I have work to do.
Van Halston has emailed me to let me know he’s back in Chicago and wants to meet in early June. He suggests a couple of dates. I pull up my calendar. That would be perfect! I could visit Dad and meet Jenelle. I don’t know if Ryan will be there that weekend, but his schedule is ridiculous, and I have to meet with Van. He’s going to be an NHL superstar one day, and I want to be his agent. I want to guide his career. That would be such a fucking rush.
I let him know I’ll be there. Then I book a flight. And email Dad and Ryan.
I have to convince Van I’m the best one to represent him. Having a client like Hunter definitely helps.
I check in on a bunch of things I’m working on, including Hunter’s contract. I track the news of trades and signings, analyzing how this affects my clients and their various teams.
Then it’s time to clean up and start dinner.
I get the steaks out of the fridge and season them with salt and pepper. I clean the potatoes and toss them with a mixture of olive oil and fresh thyme. I chop shallots and wash the spinach, which I’ll lightly sauté with a bit of garlic and olive oil. That only takes minutes.
Then I jump in the shower. My hair’s still a disaster from yesterday, so I shampoo and blow dry it with my round brush to smooth and flip up the layers. A little eyeshadow and mascara, a bit of highlighter on my cheekbones and I’m good. I pull on a pair of ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that says YES I DO PLAY LIKE A GIRL, TRY TO KEEP UP. I’m not going to make it weird by dressing up.
I pour myself a glass of the red wine. I need some of it for the sauce for the steak, so I have to open it. I’m scrolling through social media on my phone when Hunter arrives.
My heart bumps as I open the door and see him. Goddamn, I could climb him like a ladder. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiles, eyes crinkling up and walks in. “I brought wine.”
“Oh good. Wine is good.” I take the bottle from him and can’t stop smiling as I carry the wine to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass? I have some open.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I pour and hand him a glass and we sit on my couch. I keep a safe distance between us so I don’t accidentally end up in his lap.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Busy. Hey, guess what?”
“What?”
I hesitate. “Okay, I’m telling you this as a friend. It’s not public.”
“Got it.”
“Van Halston wants to meet with me again.”
“That’s great! Does that mean…?”
“I hope so!” I sip my wine. “He’s in Chicago and wants to meet up there, which is perfect because I can see my dad and meet his girlfriend.” I wrinkle my nose.
“What was that look for? You shouldn’t judge her before you’ve met her.”
“I’m not judging her. I mean, I sort of am. I just want her to be good enough for my dad.” Then I remember Calgary. “When are you going home?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He shrugs. “Hakim’s still here, so we’re working out together and hanging out and…” He meets my eyes. “You’re here.”
I bite my lip. This makes my heart swell up in my chest, because I like him being here too. I nod. “I am.” I told him he could go back to Calgary and we’d stay in touch. “Don’t let that stop you from seeing your family.”
“Lots of time.”
“True. The playoffs aren’t even over. That’s when I expect things will heat up on the free agency market.”