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I grunt. “You’ve been on my runs.”
He nods, going back to his food. “Truth.”
Over the past two weeks, I’ve come to like the kid. Hunter’s only twenty-two, and he spent four years as a winger at Chesterboro. He wasn’t one of their flashier players, but he works hard, he’s fast, and he plays scrappy if he needs to. He came into camp as a long shot to make the opening day roster, but I’m thinking he just might stick instead of being sent down to the minors. His personality meshes with what we’re trying to do here in Philadelphia. Do your job, no drama.
The song continues, and June crones along with it. The notes are off-key. Sometimes, she hits the wrong note or lingers too long on another. Violet carries them across the finish line.
At the end, I clap, but I think I’m the only one. With a pacifying smile, Violet whispers something to June before taking the microphone from her and handing it to a pair of middle school girls. An upbeat pop melody spills from the speakers as Violet and June head toward us. The preteens break out into the lyrics, and even they’re better than June and Violet managed.
“We should do another one,” June says, her eyes shining when she reaches the table.
“Oh, absolutely,” Violet responds. “But I wanted to, um, get Hunter to sing with me first.” She tugs on Hunter’s arm, and his eyes get as big as saucers behind his glasses. “Come on, Hunt. Let’s go pick out a song.”
“Vi…” Hunter’s face is a mask of horror.
“Maybe later?” June calls after them, all hopeful anticipation.
“Definitely.” Violet says, dragging Hunter behind her. “Later.” She pulls him toward the karaoke book, Hunter clearly trying to stall.
June chuckles, and we meet each other’s gaze. “You have no intention of singing again, do you?” I ask her, barely containing my amusement.
“No way. You heard me. I’m awful.” Next to me, Huck busts up laughing, and she grins at him. “I’m June Harlow, by the way.”
“I know,” Huck says. “You’re Tabby’s nanny. I’m Huck Sokolov.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She glances in front of him. “Did you get something to eat?”
“I had some snacks. I’m going to get a sandwich soon.”
“Dessert?”
“Not yet, but I’m stuffed.”
She nods in approval, glances around. “Good. I’m going to check on everyone else and make sure Tabby put on sunscreen.” She meets my gaze, and I’m caught again by the connection between us. “Do you need anything?”
The words are innocent, but they send desire coursing through me. The past week has been a lesson in unrequited need. I’m always aware of where she is in my home. I listen for her laughs, eager for them. My time at the rink should give me some relief, but it doesn’t. I catch myself thinking about her constantly, the way she ruffles Tabby’s hair, the way she listens intently to the answers to our questions. I’ve become addicted to her—her smile, the way she moves, the way she sees me.
I shake my head. “I’m good. Thank you.”
She nods. “Nice to meet you, Huck.” She waves, leaving us alone at the table. I watch her walk away, admiring the way the sundress hangs on her lithe frame.
There’s a long pause, and Huck finally exhales a heavy breath. “You’re fucked, aren’t you?”
I sigh, glancing again at June, who’s at the food tables, checking everything. “It seems so.”
The punch he gives me stings. “You’re a goddamned moron.”
“Agreed.”
“You’re never home, dumbass. How hard is it to stay away from someone you hardly ever see?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I am staying away from her.” All I’ve done is stay away from her for the past two weeks. It’s maddening.
Huck leans closer. “That’s not what staying away from someone looks like.”
Across the tent, June’s chatting with Travis Lancaster and Colt Carmichael. I see the looks on their faces. That’s what interest looks like. Every instinct in me screams to get up, to intercede. But why? It’s not inappropriate for her to get to know them, even to date one of them if she wanted. She’s not living under their roof, and they aren’t paying her salary.
I grit my teeth, and my hold on my beer bottle tightens.
