On the Rocks (Last Call #1)(11)
“I won’t be home until late tonight,” she says. “After work, I’m going to go help Alyssa out at The Haven for a bit, and then I’m doing some wedding portraits tonight.”
Savannah is one of the busiest people I’ve ever met. She never slows down and spends most of her time trying to pick up extra odd jobs in order to help pay her bills. I grimace in distaste at her mention of doing wedding portraits tonight. She started working part-time as an assistant for this sleazy photographer who keeps trying to cop a feel on her. Luckily, she’s been able to rebuff him, but I don’t like her being in that position.
“Just be careful around that douche,” I warn her. “Don’t get stuck there with him alone. I don’t trust him.”
Giving a small laugh, Savannah slings her camera bag over her shoulder. “I don’t trust him either. I’ll be careful. See you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure,” I tell her with an encouraging smile as I watch her walk to the door. Glancing over at the wall clock, I note it’s getting close to eight AM and I need to get moving. I’m working on some custom bathroom cabinets for one of my mom’s poker buddies. Yes, my mom plays poker, and she’s quite good at it too.
I turn toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms when I hear Savannah open the front door and exclaim in surprise, “Uh… hello.”
Turning around, I see Hunter standing there with his fist raised to knock on the door. He’s surprised to see Savannah, and then his eyes move past her and on to me. His gaze slowly slides down my body, and it’s at this point that I realize I’m in my pajamas… which means I’m wearing a tight tank top that doesn’t even cover my stomach fully and a pair of bikini underwear. Definitely not clothing I’m embarrassed to wear in my own home and in front of Savannah, but totally a different matter when Hunter is standing in my doorway.
He eyes me appreciatively, and a smile curves those lips upward. Dragging his gaze back up to mine, he says, “Nice outfit.”
I could be embarrassed, flub out some type of apology, and then scamper to my room. But that would give him power over me, so instead, I push my shoulders back, tilt my head proudly, and walk up to him. His smile just gets wider as I approach.
“What do you want, Hunter?”
He does a quick rake of his eyes down me one more time now that I’m standing close, and then turns to look at Savannah. Sticking his hand out, he says, “I’m Hunter Markham.”
Savannah looks at me in question briefly, and then turns back to Hunter to shake his hand. She’s never met Hunter in the times that he’s been back home to visit, but she’s heard Casey and me talk about him, of course. “Savannah Shepherd. And I’m running late, so I’ll catch you guys later.”
With that, Savannah shoots out the door and leaves me standing there alone with six-foot-three of golden surfer dude, who is looking incredibly gorgeous in a pair of board shorts and a Ron Jon t-shirt. His hair is sticking up in a hundred different directions, and it’s clear he just rolled out of bed.
“Again,” I ask with not even the slightest bit of patience. “What are you doing here?”
Hunter crosses his arms over his broad chest and leans up against the doorjamb. Giving me an easy smile, he says, “I was just on my way to the beach to catch some waves, and thought I’d stop by.”
“You thought you’d stop by?” I ask, confused, because there is no reason he should be here.
“Yup. And I can’t say I’m sorry to have you greet me this way. Maybe I’ll come by in the morning more often.” He punctuates the statement by letting his eyes fall to the top swells of my breasts, which are plumping up over the edge of my tank top. It’s the same exact move that I cursed Kevin Zulekis for making last night, but for some reason, it doesn’t gross me out when Hunter looks at me this way. In fact, it makes me a bit tingly, and my freakin’ nipples tighten in response.
Just great.
Mentally kicking myself in the ass for even allowing those feelings to creep up, I put on my most ferocious glare. “Don’t bother. You’re not welcome here.”
To make sure he clearly understands that sentiment, I grab the edge of the door and start to close it in his face. He sticks out a flip-flopped foot and stops it from shutting though.
“Not so fast,” he says. “I have business to discuss with you.”
My eyebrows rise up in skepticism. “Business?”
“Yes,” he says, like he’s talking to a five year old. “Your bid? The one you handed me less than twenty-four hours ago?”
I can’t stop myself. I know I should just shut my mouth, but there’s something about his smug confidence that just rubs me the wrong way.
“And I believe I told you what you could do with that bid,” I point out.
Hunter just stares at me for a few moments, his face impassive, and I have no clue what he’s thinking. His voice is soft when he says, “Come on, Gabs. Don’t let your anger at me ruin the chance for you to get this project. I know it’s important to you.”
The chastening nature of his statement gets my hackles up, but I do heed what he’s saying. I assumed any chance of me getting that bid was ruined the minute I told him to “Fuck off,” but here he is implying that it might still be open for consideration.