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The next hour is a whirlwind. I have to make small talk with VIPs, and I try to make eye contact with Hunter, but it’s like he’s deliberately avoiding my gaze. I have to chase him from interview to interview to try to grab a minute, but he’s fast, whipping out the mic, breaking out questions, and fending me off like a defensive lineman.
This is becoming ridiculous. My agitation and fears spiral. I need to know why he didn’t text me, didn’t call me, didn’t say a fucking word.
As the clock winds down, I spot him chatting with Tanner by the pretzel stand. There’s my chance.
I march over to him, hellbent on an answer. When he finishes with Tanner, I seize my chance. “Hunter, do you have a second?”
Maybe it’s more of a demand than a request, but he smiles amiably.
“Of course, but first, can I get a quick interview with you about the auction and you being in it?”
Why the hell is he talking like I’m participating in the auction? Is that why he is acting so weird?
Tanner looks, wide-eyed, from me to Hunter, then he mouths good luck and walks away.
“Sure.” If an interview is the only way I get to talk to him, then bring it on. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can clear the air.
“Great,” Hunter says. “Just stand there, to the left of the camera…”
Dude, I know. I’ve done interviews before.
Hunter adopts a composed smile that I recognize instantly. I know his real smiles. I know his professional ones. And I know the ones he wields when he’s struggling, but won’t let on.
Like this one.
He seems too cool—like we’re not even exes. Like we’re barely acquaintances. He wears the distant, all-business mask as armor.
He clears his throat and asks his first question. “Are you looking forward to finding a date at the auction? This must be a great way for you to return to the dating pool.”
Yes…that’s fucking it!
I had a stinking suspicion that was what was getting to him. The absurdity combined with my fading anxiety turns into laughter, and I crack up, mostly in relief.
Hunter stares at me like I’ve gone mad. When I catch my breath, I answer him. “I’m not in the auction. I’m emceeing it,” I say, still laughing.
His expression is blank at first, then a chagrined smile spreads slowly, like a sunrise, over his gorgeous face.
“That makes more sense,” he says, then nibbles on the corner of his lips, something he does when he’s nervous.
“You really thought I was up for auction?” I ask, incredulous he thought I was putting myself out there in a man parade. “Is that why you didn’t text to say you were coming?”
Hunter turns to the lanky cameraman. “You can stop rolling, Jett. I think we have enough. Feel free to circulate.”
“I think I’ll bounce for the night,” the guy says. “It was real. See you tomorrow.”
Jett offers a fist bump and then leaves. It’s just Hunter and me, now, and I study his brown eyes for the clues to his thoughts. “Did you honestly think I was going on dates?”
He draws a deep breath and admits it with an “I did.” Then, he gives an embarrassed smile. “The way the players are listed on the website, it seemed like you were in the auction, not emceeing the event.”
“I’m off the market,” I say with a smirk, then shake my head. “Besides, there’s no way—”
But then Vance arrives beside me, interrupting us with that don’t fuck up smile. “Look at you two. My two favorite husbands,” he says proudly. “Let’s go get some pics for the final hurrah. After this, it’s time to lay the groundwork for the ‘the distance was too great’ card.”
If he only knew how tough the distance truly is.
But I’m not in the mood to tell him my heart now, or to parade around selling a story. “Actually, Vance, I’m going to pass. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
Vance blanches. “Wha…?”
“I’ve got plans,” I say, staying firm.
“But I have an idea I wanted to share too.”
I smile. I hope he can read into my grin, but just in case, I say, “It’ll wait for tomorrow. See you.”
Because I’m not waiting for anyone anymore.
I grab Hunter’s arm and steal him away. “Come with me.” I tug him past the artisanal pretzels and around to the side of the booth where no one can see us or hear my heart pounding wickedly. So hard it hurts.
“That was hot,” Hunter says in that sensual rasp I adore.
I don’t acknowledge his compliment. That will wait too. “Can you get out of here tonight? Now? With me?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. When I found out a few hours ago that I was coming here, the first thing I wanted to do was text you. But when I saw you listed I thought Oh god, he won’t want to hear from me.”
