Half an hour later, I strolled out of the shooting range to my car, surprised to find Hunter leaning against my trunk in his pristine navy suit, his arms and legs crossed.
He waited outside all this time?
“So this is how living in the doghouse feels.” He spread his arms, gesturing to an imaginary kennel, his words seasoned with buoyancy.
“If you’re about to make a bitch joke, please spare the world, and while you’re at it, get off my trunk,” I shot back.
Hunter surprised me by obliging, muttering something about things he would like to do with my trunk that had nothing to do with my vehicle.
I popped the trunk open, dumping my gear inside. I slammed it shut, feeling the sweet, curling pressure of excitement escalating in my chest despite my best efforts. When I turned around, Hunter was there, in my face. Closer than the time we’d danced together. He planted his hands on either side of me, on my car, his lips inches from mine.
“You’re avoiding me,” he hissed.
“So are you.”
My roommate hadn’t exactly sought me out since the fundraiser, other than the unanswered text messages. Truth was, I had no right to be hurt because he was checking out other women, and he had no right to interrupt me while I was training. The lines were beginning to blur, and I didn’t like it.
Hunter’s thumbs touched the edge of my butt from either side, and I wondered if it was on purpose. “Just gave you time to calm your tits. Obviously, they still need some chilling.”
“Obviously,” I said flatly, pushing at his chest. He didn’t budge. I looked up, frowning.
“Out of my way, Prince Syphilis.”
“Have dinner with me, Princess Psychotic.”
“Go away. I’ll see you at home.”
“Not at home. Somewhere else. Somewhere public. Somewhere fun.”
He said the word fun like it was an awful profanity. Like fun was my archenemy. He sounded like my parents. Sure, I had fun. I just didn’t have it with boys.
Or outside of my room.
Fine, maybe I could use some help in the fun department.
“There’s perfectly edible food at home. Nora, the cook—”
“Fuck Nora in the ass with a spatula. You don’t eat outside because you’re hungry. You do it for the goddamn experience. It’s an indulgence.”
“Something you’d know all about,” I huffed, hating that he smelled like laundry detergent and male, and another thing that made my stomach dip pleasurably.
“Yup.” He flicked my ear, taking a step back when he realized I was going to relent.
And I was. Because deep down, I knew I had no right to give him grief. He was making good progress on all fronts, and I was his babysitter. I should be more involved.
I tugged my car keys out of my pocket and winced as my shoulder burned with pain. How on Earth was I going to drive?
Hunter read my mind and snatched the keys from my hand, rounding my car, a bounce in his step.
“Allow me. You’ll probably get us there sometime next Thursday. My delinquent ass can donut our way and still get there faster.”
I was going to protest, but he was actually doing me a favor. The best thing I could do right now was give my shoulder some rest and ice it when we got home. I slid into the passenger seat, careful to close the door with my healthy left arm.
“Where to?” I buckled, peering at him when I was sure he was busy trying to arrange his long limbs into my space. He looked comically big, his knees touching the steering wheel on both sides. He adjusted my seat, starting the car.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Shocker. Close your eyes until we get there.” He backed out of the parking spot at thirty miles per hour, gunning out of the lot like a demon. In the rearview mirror, I saw Junsu standing on the stairs to the club, brows furrowed, hands on his hips.
Not happy.
“I can’t,” I heard my voice through the pounding panic in my head. Technically, Junsu couldn’t tell me what to do. He couldn’t tell me who to date. Lana Alder dated all the time. She’d even had a high-profile affair with that actor who played the new Spiderman. “I’ll get nauseous.”
“Damn, Sailor. Way to crap on carpe diem.” Hunter reached over to pat my thigh, and I inwardly winced.
I was wearing yoga pants and a bland DriFit shirt and looked like Ed Sheeran in tights. He, on the other hand, looked like he was attending the Oscars. Hunter headed toward the highway at a speed more fitting for a plane taking off.
“So how come the daughter of the infamous Troy Brennan is such a dork?” he asked conversationally.
“First of all, my father is a reputable businessman unless proven otherwise.” I repeated the words Dad had told me to say ever since I was old enough to talk. People felt the urge to poke and prod about the patriarch of my family like it was a national sport.
Hunter snorted, keeping his eyes on the road. “And second of all?”
“We’re not our parents. Case in point, your father runs one of the largest corporations in America, and you, in contrast, are an amateur porn star.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve seen me in action?” A grin curved over his face.
“Nope. You asked me not to Google you, remember?”
“Before I realized you could handle me. Shame. New customers get the first ride free.”
“I’ll pass. I hear the movie is better.”
He howled with laughter, his voice sexy and gruff. Determined to ignore the butterflies swarming in my chest, I stared out the window, munching on the skin around my thumbnail.
“For your information, Alice, the chick you caught me checking out on Saturday, is just a friend.”
“Does that mean you haven’t slept with her?” My eyes were still trained on the darkness outside, but hope flared in my stomach. We were driving outside of Boston, up north.
“Nah, I’ve slept with her plenty, but she’s a total herb. Plus, she doesn’t use my balls as Baoding balls like you do. With you, I’m outmatched, outwitted, and outrageously irritated.”
“So what are you saying? That I’m too smart and mouthy to be your friend?”
“You’re too everything. I’m happy to pop your cherry, but let me give you a piece of advice—you need to tone the intensity down. I think the only thing I can beat you at is polo.”
“And a fistfight,” I mused, not correcting his assumption that I was a virgin.
You shouldn’t care, and he should never find out.
“Debatable.” He side-eyed me.
“Anyway, I know how to horseback ride.” I pressed my furnace-hot cheek against the cool window. Whenever I was around Hunter, I felt like my IQ dropped forty points. Nature was a jackass like that. My brain told me to stay the hell away, but my body begged to reproduce with this beautifully destructive male specimen.
“Polo takes more than being an accomplished equestrian.”
“I can take down a galloping horse blindfolded with one arrow,” I reminded him. “So technically, I can still beat you at polo.”
He laughed again, shaking his head.
“Never met a girl who can be so ice cold and fire hot at the same time. One second I think you’re for sure gonna faint if I touch your hand, the other I’m certain you’re about to kill me in my sleep. You’re a trip, CT.”