by Lauren Runow
“There’s a gala at the Rainbow Room. I’m going.”
He nods slowly. “The same party Branson was asking you about on our way home from Connecticut?”
“Yes. He invited me as his plus-one.”
Hunter’s jaw drops. “His plus-one? As in his date?”
I hold up a finger to correct him. “Not his date. His colleague.”
“You made New Year’s Eve plans with him?”
I glance to the side and back, wondering what the appropriate answer is for this. “I’m attending a gala with my boss as a promotional opportunity. After tomorrow’s presentation, he thinks it will be a great event for me to get out there and mingle with broadcasting’s finest.”
“How does he know your presentation is going to be any good? You could suck.”
“Hunter!” I scold. “How dare you! You have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under to get this right in time. Time, which you are using up right now.”
He rises from my desk and runs a hand through his hair. “Now, I’m wasting your time?” He spins around and looks over at the garment bag. “Where did that come from?”
“Saks. Isn’t it obvious?”
He sags with a no-shit expression. “I meant, why is it here and not at your apartment?”
I stand, feeling uncomfortable sitting here. “I had to have it altered so they delivered it here.”
His eyes widen as he steps away. His expression hardens. His hands are on his hips, and I feel there’s a need for me to speak and see why he’s giving me the caramel-eyed death stare, but I’m not sure what to say.
Hunter slowly paces the room. “Don’t you think this is a little too convenient? A week ago, the guy wouldn’t give you the time of day. Now, he’s asking you to Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, and who knows what other eve he has in mind?”
I step back, feeling virtually slapped by his words. “Did it ever cross your mind that I’m damn good at my job and my boss is rewarding me?”
“Rewarding you,” he says sarcastically.
“Yes. Don’t you remember how I said he’s been introducing me to people who will help further my career? He says some pretty important people will be there, so he had me go pick out a dress, so I’d fit the attire.”
“Are you saying he paid for your dress as well?” His voice gets angrier with every word.
“What do you mean by that? And I think you need to take a moment before you say something you’re going to regret.” I cross my arms in a huff. “You can’t be mad because I’m going to a work event.”
“Of course I’m not mad about that. You know I’m a reasonable man. I’ve watched you work for him for two years. Going to that party is a big deal. I get it. I’m upset because you purposefully didn’t tell me, which only leads me to believe that, deep down, you still want him.”
“You have no idea what I want.”
He puts his palms up in retreat. “I started fake dating you just so he’d finally notice you. You don’t go from pining for someone for so long to just flipping the switch. I guess you got exactly what you wanted this whole time. Have a happy New Year with him.”
I inhale, shocked at everything he just said. Before I can even process his statement, he flings the door open.
I head over and push it closed, trapping him in. “Don’t walk away.” I hold my chin up to him in defiance. “What’s the matter, Hunter? Is the clock running out on our fake relationship? Two weeks is just a few days away.”
“You’re just angry because I don’t need a relationship to be fulfilled,” he bites back. “You’re happy to be some guy’s ball and chain just so you’re not alone in your fairyland.”
That’s the problem with fighting with a Sagittarius. His words hurt more than he can imagine.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset, Hunter. You want nothing more than the freedom to explore and experience everything life has to offer. What happens when the day comes where I can’t just run off to a castle or your parents’ or go sledding in the park? What happens when you’re no longer intrigued by me?”
“If that’s what you think, then you know nothing about me. I bet you thought this was just a bullshit relationship. It was fake to you this whole time, wasn’t it?”
I shake my head, tears streaming down my eyes. “It is real. And it’s been beautiful, and we didn’t even get a chance to get started before you came in here with your plans without asking me first. I’ll go with you the next day. Book a six in the morning flight and start the New Year with me,” I say with arms open.
His eyes narrow on the carpet, and he doesn’t say a word.
I lower my arms. “That’s not what you want. You want an adventure and the romance. You believe in a strong drink, clever conversation, an excellent first kiss, and a good fuck. You said those words to me at the bar after the holiday party when I asked you to teach me how to seduce Branson. Turns out, I was the one being seduced.”
I step back, shake my head in disappointment, and continue, “That’s what you do. You seduce because you love to fall in love, but you don’t like the relationship. That’s why your relationships only last two weeks. I bet you never make it past the first fight.”
“Don’t make me feel bad about being angry when you’re the one turning down a weekend with me”—he swallows with disgust—“to be with him.”
I move closer to the door and open it. “I’m sorry that’s how you feel. If you think I’d rather be with him on New Year’s, then you don’t know me at all.”
Hunter takes two steps closer, his body just inches from mine. “Cancel on him, Katie. Come with me. Choose me over him. Just like you did on Christmas Eve.”
I see the garment bag out of the corner of my eye. The computer screen with my PowerPoint is still lit up with the words I’ve worked so hard on over this past month.
When I look up into Hunter’s eyes, I can tell he’s searching for the answer he wants. What he wants though is not what I need.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to the event. And it’s not because I’m choosing him or you. I’m choosing myself.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath. I want to lean up and kiss him to show him how I feel about him, but I halt when Branson comes back from his meeting.
“I had to reschedule for tomorrow because there’s no way—” Branson pauses when he sees the look on Hunter’s face. “Oh, hello. You look like you have a migraine. Can I get you something for that?”
Hunter shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“Very well then.” Branson goes to hang up his coat and sees the garment bag. “Katie, love, I see you’ve gotten your dress. Jasmine said you went with the burgundy one. Thank you for picking that one because it’s my favorite.”
Hunter looks at me like a boy who just had his puppy run over by a car. “Good night, Katie.”
He’s out the door, and I don’t run after him.
I’m hurt by his accusations, and I’m saddened by his actions. And I’m being summoned by a Brit who has way too many tasks for me on a day when I need to focus.
Chapter Seventeen
Hunter
There are a few things I am a master in.
Football, producing, cooking, and whiskey.
And then there’s women.
In thirty-three years, I’ve had many women. I’ve never used one, nor have I been disrespectful. In fact, my intentions are always to make the woman feel incredible.
Tell a woman she looks beautiful in her dress, and her bad day turns right around. Offer to cook her dinner, and it surpasses any expensive meal. Give her a foot rub, and she’s putty in your hands whether that was your intention or not.
While I aim to please women, I know that many have their sights set on something long-term. That is why I let them know from the beginning that I’m not looking for anything serious.
Cassidy taught me that.
I never talk about her because I feel awful for breaking her heart. She was the girl I
had my first wet dream about, my sister’s best friend who was always at our place for sleepovers and on family vacations with us at the beach. She was two years older than me and developed at a time when I started noticing girls. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Cassidy. She, however, only saw me as the younger brother.
Then, I grew. The boy came home from college a man, and Cassidy noticed. I remember the day. We were home for the night before Thanksgiving. She was at the bar when I offered to buy her a drink with my fake ID. She took one double take and eyed me up and down, and I knew she no longer saw me as a kid.
We didn’t hook up then. I was still the younger guy, her best friend’s baby brother. That didn’t stop me from putting on the charm. Our relationship evolved. She was telling me stories and asking for my opinion whenever we saw each other. I told her she could do better than whatever guy she was dating and made sure she knew just how beautiful she was, even when she was hungover and looking like death.
Then, one day, right after college, I saw her at a family party. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and something changed. I saw it in the flick of her eyes and the parting of her lips. I’d filled out over the years, so I knew from her dilated pupils that my physical appearance was stirring something inside of her. I was also a college graduate, being scouted by NFL football teams, and embarking on a career. I was a man. The two years between us evaporated.
We started fooling around on the side without my sister knowing. The girl I used to think about when I was sixteen and alone in my room was now beneath me, naked and telling me she loved me. That felt so fucking good.
As an exclusive couple, we couldn’t hide our relationship. We told Melissa, who didn’t try to cover her disgust and disapproval. She supported us though because she saw how happy we were. She made Cassidy promise never to break my heart. Problem was, she never made me do the same.
As the months went by, we were happy, and yet something felt off. I’d wanted her for so long, but here I was, with her as mine, and I wasn’t feeling that spark.
I knew it existed. My father had told me about it one day when we were sitting by the fire. He’d said it was what gave him strength when my mother was sick.
I knew the spark was strong because his love for her shone the brightest in those weeks. I’d watched him cry in the dark when he thought everyone was asleep. He’d bag some of her favorite things to keep her occupied while she had her chemotherapy treatments. When he’d signed us up for a cancer walk, he’d even made our family matching T-shirts that said, Fancy Nancy’s Fighting Crew. They were her favorite color. Lavender. He always wore that shirt with pride to every appointment she went on.
My parents don’t just love each other. They support one another, live for the other. They protect and honor, and they will move mountains to ease the other’s pain.
I loved Cassidy, but I wasn’t sure if I felt that deep love. The kind that was going to get us through the dark times. We hadn’t had any yet. Life was too easy. So, I kept going.
We were together for so long that it was expected that I would propose. My sister helped me pick out the ring Cassidy wanted. I proposed to her at her favorite restaurant on the waterfront. She said yes before I was even off the ground. Bursting with excitement, she talked about kids and the home we’d live in … the future.
That was when I couldn’t fight it anymore.
I couldn’t picture growing old with her.
The children she envisioned didn’t seem possible.
When I was on my deathbed, I wouldn’t look up at her and know I’d lived a good life because I spent it with my best friend.
I wasn’t in love with her.
She wasn’t my spark.
Breaking her heart ruined me.
I know my strengths, and I know my faults. I still pine after women. Spotting a gorgeous woman on the other side of the bar and sending over a drink to her, watching her appraise me from afar and getting that look of approval, is part of the fun. The flirting, the attraction—that’s the best thing about being single in New York. It’s exciting. It’s easy. It’s also superficial.
That’s why I have the two-week rule. If a glimmer of a spark isn’t there, then I move on. It’s short enough to be fun yet not long enough to break hearts.
Then, I met Katie.
That was two years ago, and I swear, at the mention of her name, my chest swells, and my pulse throbs.
I remember the day I walked into Branson’s office and saw his new assistant sitting there. Blonde hair, always pulled back, showing off her sweetheart face, and pouty pink lips. She has these incredible eyes that are innocent and bright.
She looked at me with a happy greeting of a young woman who hadn’t been jaded by life, someone who still found the excitement in the mundane. I love that about her.
One day, I was having a particularly shitty morning when I walked in, and she was arranging a bouquet of roses at her desk. I asked if a boyfriend had sent them, and she replied no.
She’d bought them because, as she said, “Sometimes, it’s good to do sweet things for yourself to remember that you’re pretty damn awesome.”
She turned my morning right around with that one.
Since then, I show up fifteen minutes early for my daily meeting with Branson just so I can soak up her sunshine.
Katie wasn’t someone I had my sights on. She was young, fresh out of college, and my boss’s assistant. Those things were a no-go from the beginning.
Then, I started to fall for her.
I can’t tell you when I realized I loved Katie McGee. Maybe it built slowly with her corny puns or the silly sweaters she wore. It could have been her talks about work, making me realize how smart she was.
She’s so fucking smart.
She analyzes ratings data like no one I’ve ever seen and has incredible input. She works hard and always pays attention when you’re speaking.
Our conversations were short, but they were fun. She wanted to hear about my dating life, which I told her about in the most gentlemanly way because it seemed to make her happy, and it felt like a good way to keep that budding attraction I was building for her at a distance.
It also wasn’t a secret that she longed for Branson. I saw it in the way she watched him walk into the room. How she batted her lashes for him and sought his approval in a way that went beyond an assistant wanting to impress her boss. She longed for him to desire her as a woman.
He didn’t, but I did.
I never thought about acting on my feelings toward her. She was the cute-as-fuck assistant who I imagined naked on more than one occasion. Sure, she’s brilliant and funny, but she was untouchable. That certainly had to do with the attraction. I made a vow to myself to never act on that emotion. That was, until a few weeks ago, when she asked me to show her how to get Branson’s attention.
I knew it was a bad idea, but she was so damn persistent. There she was, looking gorgeous as fuck in that green dress, chugging champagne with all the sunshine dimmed from her. I offered her a reprieve. What I got was a solicitation.
I didn’t mean to kiss her, but when she looked at me with those green eyes and brushed her body against mine, her breath on my lips, I couldn’t help myself. She leaned in, and I took that kiss with everything I had.
Her lips were as sweet as honey, and her tongue tasted like cherries. My body tingled, my balls tightened, and I felt this surge race through me, down to my toes. I had to shift to hide my growing erection, but it wasn’t just lust. Something awoke inside me. It was in my head and my chest, and damn if I didn’t feel it in my gut.
At that moment, I knew the attraction I had for her was greater than what I had been telling myself. I’m not a territorial man, but seeing her bent over Branson’s desk the next morning did me in. I couldn’t let Branson have her. I needed her for myself. At least, I needed to see if what I had been feeling was real.
Over dinner, we connected. At the soup kitchen, I felt another tug. I was being selfish for whisking her
away from Branson on Christmas Eve. I wasn’t ready to hand her over yet. I still needed to know.
When she was with me in my family’s home, sitting beside me, it felt right. I could picture her there fifty years from then. When she played with Ella, I had this vision of her playing with our own child. I’d known her for years, and yet in those twenty-four hours, this void that had been between us was filled. We dived deeper and deeper and then …
When she was beneath me, I felt it.
I felt the spark.
And then I panicked.
On the car ride back from Connecticut, her phone rang, and it was Branson. I found myself worried that her feelings for Branson were still greater than her feelings for me. That’s because, at the heart of it, I’m a selfish fuck.
And then other thoughts crossed my mind. Do I only want Katie because I shouldn’t have her? Is the chase as good as the get? Am I doing to her what I did to Cassidy?
I was trying to get my head on straight. I thought some distance might help, and then she showed up at the racquetball court and took care of me when I hurt my ankle. She’s so damn kind, and I don’t deserve her.
I imagined her in the same position and wondering what I would do to make her day better. I imagined getting a book of jokes and reading every one. I’d read her a historical romance that took place in a faraway land, where the hero’s nipples were on display on the cover. I’d make her my grandmother’s recipe of gnocchi because my grandmother had told me that dish was only for the ones I loved.
I felt the spark again that night.
I was in after that. All in until we found out where this relationship was going.
And then she had to go and make plans with him.
Of all people, on all nights of the year, she’s going to be with Branson Ford.
“I hate that British fuck,” I grit out.