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He shrugged. “Simon asked me to help him out, so—”
“Come on. Don’t do that.”
This was what he’d liked about her originally. Becca didn’t pull any punches—but she was gentle about it. “They don’t want me up there, Becca. Not really.”
“Nick said he invited Kate for you, and now you’re hiding in the basement.”
Hunter dropped onto the old sofa that sat against the cinderblock back wall. The basement wasn’t finished, but a bunch of old furniture sat down here, and he kicked his feet up on an ottoman with torn upholstery. “I also told Nick she’s a player, and I’m not interested.”
Becca smiled a little ruefully. “I believe that.”
Hunter frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve listened to her hit on every guy on the porch. I’m surprised she’s not mounting Casper.”
Oh, good. Just what he wanted to hear.
Becca flopped down next to him.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “I’m fine, really. I’m just not in the mood for a party.”
“I know you have a lot on your mind,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She shifted on the sofa until she was looking at him. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He kept his eyes on the ceiling and tried not to imagine what was going on upstairs. “Shoot.”
“Have you ever been with a girl when you weren’t using her for something?”
She didn’t mean it as an attack, but his shoulders tightened anyway. He turned his head to look at her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Becca. I had—it was a lot—”
“I’m not looking for an apology, Hunter.” Her eyes were kinder than he deserved—and maybe a little mischievous. “I’m just saying that you were full of confidence with me, and now you’re hiding in the basement.”
“I’m not hiding.” But her comment was a little too close to what Michael had said last night, about running away.
“You know why I think you’re down here?” said Becca. “Because you like this girl. I think you stand to lose something you might care about, and that scares the crap out of you.”
Hunter refused to look away, but he didn’t have much of a retort.
He had to clear his throat to speak. “How do you know that?”
“Please. I saw the look on your face when I said Kate was hitting on everyone. Don’t worry, I think Quinn is about to yank her fingernails out by the roots.”
Another rattle and creak, and more footfalls were coming down the wooden steps.
Honestly, was everyone going to check on him?
Kate.
And Nick, followed by Quinn.
But seriously, it was a miracle he was able to look past Kate. She was wearing this tight sky-blue top with inch-thin straps and a ruffle at the bottom—and the bottom ended right at the base of her rib cage. Tight black jeans sat just below her belly button, exposing a solid few inches of very toned midsection.
He couldn’t have said what Nick and Quinn were wearing if someone held a gun to his head.
Kate snapped her fingers in his face. “My eyes aren’t that far south, slugger.”
