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Sex, Not Love(30)

By:Vi Keeland


“Second.”

Again he went quiet. Eventually, he said, “Poor bastard.”

My brows drew down. “What? Who?”

“Marcus. Probably had a nice first date. Won’t understand why you’re so distant on the second one and never accept a third. Will think he did something wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hunter shrugged. “You’ll be busy thinking of me on your date Tuesday night. Poor bastard won’t even know what hit him.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

Even though Izzy was sleeping with headphones on, he leaned in close to whisper, “Maybe. But soon you’ll be full of me, too.”





Chapter 12



Natalia





I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready so I looked good for my date after the game tonight. It had nothing to do with the man who was going to be at the game. I repeat, nothing to do with Hunter Delucia.

Marcus was a great guy. Good job—a web developer for a prominent local utility company. Polite—opened my car door and pulled my seat out at dinner on our first date. Nice looking—medium height, medium build, maybe twenty pounds to lose. But who didn’t have an extra twenty to lose when they hit their thirties?

I hated that the answer to that question came as a visual way too readily available in my mind. Hunter didn’t have an extra twenty to lose, that’s who.

I took one last look in the mirror. My red skirt was the brightest of reds. It wasn’t short, yet it managed to pull off sexy because of the way it hugged my curves without being slutty tight. I’d coupled it with a simple, black button-up blouse that had feminine, capped sleeves and a pair of sandals that had heels, but weren’t too inappropriate for attending a high school basketball game before my date.

When I arrived at the gym in Izzy’s school, the game hadn’t started yet, but Hunter was already seated in the stands. He stood when I went to join him and pulled me in for an innocent kiss on the cheek. Although there wasn’t anything innocent about what I felt when near this man.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

Hunter grumbled. “Poor bastard.”

I laughed it off, and we sat just as the girls jogged out from the locker room. Izzy was the third one in line.

“She’s the only sophomore on the varsity team, and she’s one of the tallest already.”

“Are both her parents tall?”

“Her father’s six foot two, and her mother was probably about five foot ten.”

“Was?”

“She died a few years ago.”

“Wow. Tough. Dad’s in prison and Mom died young. She’s lucky she has you.”

“Most days she doesn’t see it that way.”

“She’s fifteen. She sees what she wants to see in order to justify brooding. I’m not saying what happened to her is easy, but teenage girls will find a reason to brood even when there isn’t one.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“After my mom died, I moved in with my Uncle Joe and his wife, Elizabeth. He was much younger than my mother, so he felt more like an older cousin than an uncle growing up. We got along great, but him and his daughter—that was a whole different story. When Cara was about Izzy’s age, she was one big pain in the ass. Her life was perfect. Parents were happily married. Father’s a doctor. Mother stayed home to raise her. She was smart and beautiful—got the best genes from both parents. Yet she found a reason to growl at them daily. Never understood what the hell she was so angry about. I would have given anything to be in her predicament. She’s twenty-four now. Grew out of it, and now we laugh about it all the time.”

“I’m not sure we’ll ever get to the place where we look back and laugh at these years. But I get what you’re saying.”

“How long is her dad away for?”

“A few more months. He made some ridiculous deal by testifying against a federal regulator he’d bribed and got thirty months instead of the thirty years he deserved.”

“What happens when he gets out? Izzy goes to live with him?”

“I don’t know. I’m guessing so, but we haven’t started talking about it. Taking it one day at a time right now.”

The announcer came on to call the starting lineup. Hunter and I stood and cheered when they called Izzy’s name. She looked up at the stands and half smiled at us before her eyes shifted a couple of rows up, and suddenly the lame smile she graced us with turned beaming while she waved to someone else. Both Hunter and I followed her line of sight to a tall boy of Indian descent sitting alone on the top row.