I watch Hunter drive off, his broad back straining the jacket and his strong legs wrapped around the bike. My stomach flutters. He looks so strong and dangerous when he’s like this. But at the same time, I’ve seen his other sides, both when we modeled for Tamara, and now again here.
At the sound of Lola’s feet downstairs, I come from my spot at the window and get back into bed quickly. I’ve just made myself comfortable when she opens the door to my room.
She smiles as she sits next to me on the bed. “So, Hunter is the guy.” I can’t read her voice—she seems glad, but also worried, and something else.
“Yeah.” My cheeks heat up. Damn, no. I can’t blush over this, not now. Hunter can’t be mine.
Now she smiles as she looks at me. “He’s a good guy, even if he doesn’t act like it.”
That stop
