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The sharp-dressed man stops in his tracks and comes over to say hello. “How the hell are you, Nate? I miss working with you,” he says. “But I trust Vance is taking good care of you?”
He’s so diplomatic. I fucking love him. And I bet Maddox wouldn’t have asked me to keep up this marriage charade. He was good at maneuvering, but he didn’t believe in manipulating. Though, honestly, I don’t mind the charade right now, especially after last night, and this morning.
“I’m good. Miss working with you too,” I say, then I gesture to Hunter. “This is Hunter Colburn. AKA my husband,” I say, feeling a little sheepish over the lie.
Maddox grins, a wide genuine kind as he shakes Hunter’s hand. “Congrats to the two of you.” Then he turns to me, professional fondness in his eyes. “This is great, Nate. I’m seriously happy for you.”
He knows about Oliver. Knows how hard I tried to work on my relationship with my ex. Knows probably too how Oliver played things off online. “Thanks, man,” I say, but I don’t want to stay in this weird place where I’m lying to a guy I respect. I shift gears to his dude. “Zane’s had a great season. And the Dragons look good in the playoffs.”
“They sure do,” he says, with pride in his eyes. “I’ve got some clients here in London for the game, but I should be able to catch one of his games when I return home soon.”
“Wish him luck from me.”
“And me,” Hunter chimes in.
I squeeze my temporary husband’s shoulder. “I landed a guy who likes sports. Lucky me,” I say.
“Lucky indeed.” Maddox smiles, then heads off.
At least I didn’t end the convo on a lie. Hunter does like sports, and I do feel kind of lucky with him. We leave and Hunter takes me to a shop around the corner. A white and green awning greets visitors, with My Cup Of Tea inscribed in a curlicue font across the window. “Tea and toast,” he says, grabbing the white door and opening it. “Doesn’t get more English than that.”
“Let’s do it.”
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting down at a tiny white table with a cup of English Breakfast and a couple of slices of avocado toast. Hunter has the same.
After I take a drink, I set down the delicate cup and look around. The shop teems with Monday morning crowds, the street bustles with let’s-get-to-work energy. A clock above the counter says it’s eight-forty-five.
“What time do you have to go to the office?” I ask.
“I should be there by nine-thirty,” he says, then crunches into his toast.
“Where do you work?”
“It’s about a five-minute tube ride. Twenty minutes by foot.”
I don’t have practice till eleven then a late lunch with my sneaker sponsor, and I won’t see him again till late tonight. Screw playing it cool. “Can I walk you to work?”
Hunter takes a sip of his tea, eyeing me over the top of the steaming mug. “Why am I the cute one? I’d say that’s you.”
My cheeks heat.
But what am I going to do? Downplay how I want to steal as much time with him as possible? It’s obvious I do. No point hiding it. “Look, Hunter,” I begin and he tenses. I reach for his hand. “I want to see you while I’m here,” I say in a low voice. “I want to spend time with you. Like I said last night.”
He links his fingers tighter through mine. “Same.”
“And originally, I thought I was going to be busy every second. And I know you’re busy too. But I just want to find a way to—”
“Make time,” he cuts in, letting me know he’s on the same page. “We can make time. We can enjoy the week.”
But we’re definitely going to need some ground rules.
A crowded tea shop isn’t the place to lay those down.
We finish breakfast and start for the Webflix offices, passing a high-end department store with Union Jack flags waving above elaborate window displays of teddy bears in tartan jackets.
Time for total honesty. “Here’s my deal,” I say and I’m going to tell him about my marriage. But when I look at Hunter, his gaze earnest, his expression vulnerable, I swallow the words. My ex played mind games about sex, he claimed headaches, and I don’t think he ever wanted me. No man wants to hear about another guy in bed. All that matters is that sex with Hunter is everything I’ve craved for years. “Sex with you is just out of this world,” I admit, tingles rushing down my spine.
He bites the corner of his lips. “Are you serious?”
Stopping, I grab his shirt and drag him against me here on the streets of London. “I have the hardest time keeping my hands off you.”
He glances down, his lips curving up. “I’ve noticed and I like it.”
