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Anger fired her blood on Hunter’s behalf. What was wrong with this Ashley woman? “What’s her deal? Why hasn’t she written the letter?”
“Hell, I don’t know. That whole conversation went sideways on me. Something ’bout how I don’t have ‘emotional maturity’”—he lifted his hand off her leg and made air quotes—“for the job.”
None of that told her much, but he sounded so exhausted, and uncharacteristically bleak, she realized now wasn’t the best time to try and make sense of it. Apparently Beau agreed, because he turned and started loading supplies into his backpack.
Hunter had his wrist propped on the arm of the sofa, right next to her hip. His palm faced up, his long fingers lax. Her heart clutched a little at the sight, which looked too much like a gesture of surrender to her newly aroused protective instincts. She ran her fingertips into the cup of his palm and then down his wrist and along his inner arm.
He shivered.
She stopped. “Sorry.”
“Feels good.”
She worked her way back up and repeated the motion in slow, smooth strokes. Her mind filled with all the plans she’d had for tonight before Hunter had texted and told her they were going to be out late. As usual, her timing sucked.
Beau got up, holding his phone. “Savannah called. I’m going to wash up and then step outside and call her back. And I’m going to blame your sorry ass for why I’m so late. Madison’s in charge while I’m gone.”
Hunter flipped his partner the bird, which earned him the same from Beau. Madison couldn’t help being curious about Savannah. She knew some basics thanks to Hunter. Beau and Savannah had been neighbors when they were small but had lost touch when Beau’s family moved away. Decades later, a couple of years after Beau lost his wife and child in a car crash, they ended up neighbors again. According to Hunter, Beau very nearly let Savannah slip through his fingers. Now they were getting married and expecting a baby in the summer.
Hunter tipped his head and looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “Sorry.”
She shook her head and resumed trailing her nails along his arm. “You don’t owe me any apologies. You went out and had fun with your friends. You’re entitled.”
He turned his face to his shoulder and yawned. Afterwards, he settled his head against the pillow, but his eyelids never made it quite to all the way open. “I don’t want you thinkin’ I do this all the time. I don’t.”
“I know.” She traced the bend in his arm and the smooth, paler skin along the underside of his biceps.
He lowered his arm, ran his hand down his flat stomach, and adjusted the front of his shorts, where a thick ridge formed. How had she missed that?
“Told you it felt good,” he mumbled and lost the battle to keep his eyes open.
“Oh, Hunter…” She fiddled with his hair, because she couldn’t not touch him.
“Don’t worry.” He stretched his sinful mouth into the lopsided smile. “I couldn’t do anything with it right now, even if you could.”
“What I can do with it is a whole ’nother topic of conversation,” she said but pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and arranged it over him. He automatically pushed it down to his waist and kicked his legs free. Hunter radiated heat no matter what the temperature. She contemplated telling him the other important outcome of her doctor’s visit, but decided to wait. He’d stilled, and his breath came slow and even. Another minute and he’d be asleep.
Beau returned, glanced at Hunter, and checked the drip. “Savannah says you’re a saint, and if we’d showed up on her doorstep, she would have left us there.”
Madison smiled. “Well, in actual fact, it’s his doorstep, so I’d be a pretty lousy houseguest to lock him out.”
“She disagrees, for the record, but told me to reassure you we don’t pull this shit very often.”
“It’s okay. Honestly. I don’t need any assurances.” She looked down at Hunter. “He needs to blow off some steam. He rarely lets it show, but I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress right now.”
Beau looked at his friend, too, and absently rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“Because of me and Joy…right?”
He froze, flicked cautious brown eyes up to her, and generally looked like a deer in headlights. “Uh…”
She waved her hand. “Erase the question. You don’t have to betray any confidences.” But clearly he had the confidences, and the fact alone told her plenty, without the need for words. Hunter might put on a calm front for her, but to Beau he’d admitted worries about when the heck he’d get his normal life back.
“I think a good portion of his stress revolves around his applications and, beyond that, the specter of failing again,” Beau offered, obviously looking to downplay her role as a source of anxiety.
A nice effort on his part, but she couldn’t help wonder how much of Hunter’s worries about failing centered around the fact that he was currently living in a frighteningly similar environment as he had been when he’d failed the first time?
I’ll need to minimize distractions.
