From Friend to Fake Fiancé
Page 17
He didn’t know. Even his mom with all her faith couldn’t help him figure this one out.
“Can I try?” Hunter asked at last.
“Yes,” Ferrin said.
He finished his lemonade, but noticed she didn’t touch hers and that she kept staring at him.
Hell.
Did she recognize him?
“I don’t know all of Coach’s players. When did you play for him?”
“Ten years ago,” he said. He really didn’t want to mention Stacia until he had a chance to talk to Coach.
“Were you one of his famous players?” she asked.
“Sort of?”
“NFL, right? Quarterback?” she asked.
“No, that was my friend Kingsley. I was a wide receiver,” he said. Apparently she didn’t recognize him from the Frat House Murder scandal.
“Dad will be happy to see you. Let me take you to him,” Ferrin said, leading the way out of the kitchen. He tried to keep his eyes on the framed team portraits that lined the wall next to the curving stairs but his gaze kept skipping back to her hips. Her clothing wasn’t at all come-hither, but the way she moved drew him.
She paused at the top of the stairs. “This is your team, right?”
He leaped up the last two steps and stood next to her. Yeah, that was them. Before everything had happened. He was standing next to Clive and Kingsley. God, he looked young.
And sappy. Who smiled that big for a group photo?
A guy who thought he was going to be a big-time NFL star and thought the world was his oyster, that’s who.
“That was a long time ago.”
She didn’t respond but continued walking down the hall to the last door on the left. She opened it and gestured for him to stay in the doorway.
“Coach?” she called. “You have a visitor.”
“Who is it, sunshine?” The words were slurred and as Ferrin pushed the door open further, Hunter noticed that the strong coach he remembered was now a shell of that man.
Sunshine? Coach had never seemed the type of man to give anyone a nickname. But he was seeing a different side of him.
“Hunter. He used to play football for you,” Ferrin said.
“Hunter Caruthers?”
“Yes, sir, he wants to talk to you,” Ferrin said. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll see him.”
* * *
Ferrin went downstairs to her father’s den to work while Hunter visited with the coach. She was working on an article for a small magazine that she wrote for, but the ocean just outside the French doors distracted her. So did the man upstairs. She knew few details about Hunter but his piercing green eyes and disheveled dark hair lingered in her mind as she tried to work. Instead of typing in the Word document she had opened she was tempted to launch her internet search engine and see what she could find out about him.
But she knew what she’d find. Athlete, NFL superstar. Probably had more confidence than Hercules after he’d done all of his labors. It didn’t matter that she’d come here to forget her last breakup and figure out her messed-up relationship with her dad. Her mom had made an offhand comment that perhaps by not resolving the past she was repeating it by dating men who were emotionally unavailable.
Ugh.
Her mom was right but still.
Hunter...he intrigued her.
Why?
Because being attracted to a former player was easier to deal with than her dad. She knew that. Her daddy issues weren’t all that exotic or hard to figure out.
It was boring here at her father’s house. Especially since he wouldn’t really see her except at mealtimes.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she quickly saved the article she’d been writing and jumped up to see who was coming.
Hunter.
He looked...well, almost angry.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“You seem upset,” she said.
“Upset? You don’t spend a lot of time with men, do you?” he asked.
“I do,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business. Why would you say that?”
“Sorry, Ferrin, I’m pissed, not upset. I guess maybe you hang out with a classier group of men than I do.”
She doubted it. Stuffier maybe, but classier? She wouldn’t call the psych department classy. “Pissed, eh? Why? I told you he’s not really recovered yet.”
“I know,” Hunter said, then gave her a look that was, well, calculating. “Coach said that the college had sent everything from his office over here. I was wondering—could I take a look at it?”
“Why?”
“Well, the truth is, I needed some information I thought Coach had. He can’t remember the details but I know that they used to keep track of some of that stuff.”
“What stuff?” she asked.
“Videotapes from workouts at the gym and stuff from the practice field,” he said. “Would you consider letting me look through the boxes?”
“What did Coach say?”
“Nothing. He didn’t answer me when I asked. In fact, he didn’t say much while I was in there,” Hunter said.
That was strange, she thought. “I wonder why. He loves to relive the glory days.”
“I’m searching for some answers about things that happened in old college football days. I was really hoping Coach could help.”
The sincerity in his voice and that tightness in his stance communicated his determination. She thought it over. She had nothing else to do during the day while her father ignored her, and she’d always fancied herself a Nancy Drew type.
“Let me see what I can find out from him,” Ferrin said. She wanted to double-check with Coach and make sure he was okay with her letting Hunter go through his papers. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”
He came closer to her then and she noticed how green his eyes were. Like the fields on the first days of spring. He was handsome—there was no denying that—with his thick dark hair, classic features and lightly trimmed beard. His jaw was strong, his nose straight as a blade, his brows thick but not too thick. She wondered if he had the golden triangle proportions. He must. He was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen.
“Couldn’t you ask now?” he asked, arching one eyebrow at her. “That way we could look and then I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Um...dinner?”
“Yes. I’d like to get know you better, Ferrin. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything fun. Plus I sort of owe you after being a bit of a jerk.”
Fun. He thought dinner with her would be fun. She sighed. “I’ll ask Coach tonight about the papers. He has physical therapy now and then he’ll be napping.”
“Fair enough. I shouldn’t have been so pushy,” Hunter said. He rubbed his hand over his chest, drawing her gaze to the way his shirt fit the muscles of his shoulders.
“So dinner. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said.
“You will? Shouldn’t you ask me?” She wasn’t sure what he was up to. It was clear that he’d changed gears when he realized she wouldn’t be budged. Even knowing he was probably trying to get something from her wasn’t enough to make her say no.
She hadn’t been out on a date in a long time. She’d broken up with Roger before Christmas, and really that relationship had been dying for at least three months before then. If nothing else, going out with Hunter would provide her some distraction from all the gloom that seemed to cling to this house, and to her while she was living in it.
“Apologies,” he said. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
She tipped her head to the side, pretending to think it over.
“I guess so.”
“You guess so?”
“You said
it yourself. I’m used to classy,” she said. Even though she wasn’t. But she didn’t want to make this too easy for him. With that pretty face and muscled body, she doubted he ever had to work hard to get a date.
“Oh, I’ll give you classy, Ferrin,” he said. “You just wait and see. I’ll be back at six.”
“I’ll be ready at six thirty,” she said.
He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a minx.”
Doubtful. But she was tired of the same-old, same-old, and Hunter promised something different.
“Six thirty then. Dress classy.”
“As if I’d do anything else,” she said, leading him down the hall. She opened the front door and leaned back against it as he brushed past her. He stopped and leaned down, putting his hand on the bottom of her chin.
Dinner suddenly seemed like more than just a break in the routine. She suspected he might want something from her but that was okay. She wanted something from him, too. A chance to remember she was young and single. Maybe make a memory in California that wasn’t laced with guilt and disappointment.
Copyright © 2016 by Katherine Garbera
ISBN-13: 9781488001727
From Friend to Fake Fiancé
Copyright © 2016 by Jules Bennett
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