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“He’s trashed,” said Hunter. His voice wasn’t low at all. His presence at her side gave her courage. “Want me to give him your rocks?”
“Definitely not.”
“Dude, are you talking about me?” said Drew. He came a few steps closer. “Who the hell are you?”
One of the guys on the court swore. “Christ, Drew. Let’s just play ball.”
Hunter didn’t move. “I moved down here last weekend. This your house?”
Drew’s eyes narrowed, as if he sensed a trap in the question. “Yeah.” But then he snorted. “Lemme guess, Bex. You rolling out the, uh, welcome mat?”
Some of the other guys snickered and catcalled, but two stepped off the driveway to flank Drew. Greg Connolly and Mark Durant, both boasting more testosterone than brains. Wind blew in off the water again, carrying some sand with it to sting her ankles.
She watched Hunter size up the competition. He did it slowly, deliberately, as if memorizing each guy on the court. “Chill out.” His voice was careful. “We were just looking for someone.”
Oh. Right. They had a purpose here.
“Have you seen Chris Merrick?” she said quickly. “Or his brothers?”
“I forgot you were into that.” Drew smiled wolfishly, then glanced at Hunter. “Well, send her back here when you all are done.”
High fives all around.
“Hey.” Hunter took a step forward. “Lay off.”
“Hunter.” A gust of wind caught her hair and kissed her neck, making her shiver. “Forget him. He’s not worth it.”
She turned on her heel and started toward the house, not even waiting to see if he’d follow. She didn’t want to see them fight; she didn’t want to hear any more comments. She’d rather face Tyler than Drew.
But she felt Hunter behind her, and her shoulders tightened. It was one thing to shrug off some girl’s bitchy comments—entirely another to hear a guy’s trash talk.
Especially when Drew called after them, “Wear a rubber, dude.”
She was practically running when she made it to the side door.
“Becca,” said Hunter. “Becca. Wait.”
She stopped in front of the door and didn’t turn. Something cold thrust under her hand.
Casper’s nose. He was licking her fingers.
She couldn’t resist a dog. She half turned and rubbed him behind the ears. Hunter’s gaze felt like a lead weight on her back, but she couldn’t look at him yet.
“Fuck ’em, right?” she said flatly. She buried her fingers in Casper’s fur.
“The hell with that,” Hunter said, heat in his voice. “I wanted to punch him in the face.”
She glanced up, then. His jaw was set, and a bit of color heated his cheeks.
“Thanks,” she said. He was still staring at the court, as if considering going back to lay into Drew.
She held out her wrist. “Here. You want the calming one back?”
He faltered for a second. Then his eyes warmed as he smiled back at her. “You hold on to it.”
Behind him, one of the basketball guys stepped to the edge of the court, staring out at the patio. She recognized him after a moment—Drew’s older brother. “Tyler! Hey, man. Come play.”
Becca felt the blood drain from her face.
