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Hunter was wearing jeans, and I noticed how low they sat on his defined hips. I was guessing it must be a hot guy thing and my heart fluttered because I didn’t have those kinds of thoughts about Hunter.
Repeat.
I.
Did.
Not.
Have.
Those.
Thoughts.
Okay, but I absolutely couldn’t do anything about them. Ruin half my lifetime by crossing the line, nope, not doing it. Besides, we had a house to finish flipping and probably a lot of Kristen and Damien babysitting to do in between.
“That’s what friends do, Taylor Jane.”
Friends. I was glad Hunter was keen on reminding me because for a hot minute I almost forgot and lost my head there.
Phew.
Right?
“Right, friends.” It was more of a whisper and I swallowed the raw dryness down my throat that felt like sawdust and sandpaper lodged in there.
“You, uh, gonna sleep in that?” Hunter nodded to my attire.
Glancing down, I saw I was barefoot in my skinny jeans and a tank top. I didn’t have a clue where my shoes had disappeared to. “I thought I was.”
Confused, Hunter stalked over to his large wooden dresser. I remembered him and Damien dragging it home years ago. It was technically an antique, but the two sanded it down and re-stained it, giving it an updated dark cherry color while keeping all the original woodworking intact. It was beautiful and one of the first pieces Hunter did in his garage workshop.
“Those jeans can’t be comfortable. Come put this on.” He tossed a navy blue shirt that buttoned up the front and likely covered me to my thighs.
“No T-shirt?”
Hunter laughed. “No time to hit the laundry this week. It would seem I’m flipping a house with this girl I happen to know.”
“And you only have one T-shirt? She must be a real shitty person not paying you enough.”
“Eh, it’s not always about the money. Let’s just say she keeps me really busy, and I forgot to turn the dryer on before I left this morning.”
“Mmm. Yeah, about that. I really owe you a huge thank you.”
“Taylor Jane, put the shirt on and get in bed. Please.” So much for having conversation with his mercurial mood swings. His please sounded weirdly forced, so I went about changing my clothes, pulling things off and stalling when I realized I was changing in the room with Hunter.
“Right.” Hunter walked around the room to fluff the pillows on the bed and straighten the blankets out.
Nervous energy filled the space we occupied as he moved around, avoiding me. My own heart was pumping enough blood to make me dizzy. I must really be a hot mess. Shaking it off because Hunter couldn’t possibly be thinking what I was thinking, I turned around and pulled my jeans off so I didn’t have to see myself in the mirror on his dresser. I folded them and placed them back on the top of the dresser. The shirt felt soft, well-worn cotton jean material, but more like flannel.
“Take off the tank. You’ve got puke on your right side.” He pointed to my chest, and I looked down, observing the mess I’d made of myself. “Uh, right down there.” He pointed again.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Delightful, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Hunter grunted, and I knew he was undoubtedly grumpy I got puke all over myself or embarrassed myself or any number of foolish things I’d done this evening. I pulled the top off, leaving me in my bra and panties. I looked over my shoulder and sure enough Hunter was facing with his back the other way, not giving me a second look. It was too bad because this set had lace paneling that exposed my butt in a huge lace butterfly. Too pretty to be ignored but he missed out as I changed quickly. I shrugged the shirt on and buttoned it up, dumping my puke shirt on the floor. I’d end up wearing Hunter’s shirt and my skinny jeans home tomorrow and pay him back by doing his laundry. Seemed fair, right?
I walked over to the bed a little nervous. Hunter and I hadn’t passed out like this since high school and even then no touching had happened. Ever. Friends. That was all we ever were and would be besides remembering prom fondly and the outings with our respective group of friends.
