I managed to stifle a groan. “Fine.”
After I hung up, I couldn’t hide my frustration.
Hunter looked concerned. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Do you remember when I told you my husband’s best friend was nice enough to help me find a place to live? But in exchange for that, he thought I should sleep with him?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that was the asshole on the phone. Damon owns my building. I dread anytime anything goes wrong in my apartment, because instead of the super coming to fix it, Damon insists on showing up. He doesn’t go as far as pushing himself on me or anything, but he’s tried to kiss me before, and he constantly asks me out, and it just makes me really uncomfortable.”
The way Hunter’s jaw ticked was endearing. “I’m going home with you later. He can fix the sink while I’m there.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“No, it is. And while I’m at it, I need to apologize for being such a pushy asshole. I didn’t see it until you just told me about that guy.”
“You aren’t an asshole.” I smiled. “Pushy, maybe. But it’s not the same thing. I’ve never felt like if I told you no, and sounded like I meant it, you wouldn’t back off. Damon, on the other hand, I don’t trust. I don’t even like to be in the same room as him.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll back off anyway. You change your mind on wanting to be anything but friends, I’m here. Otherwise, I’ll cool it.”
As much as I’d said that was what I wanted, and knew it was for the best, it made me sad. I forced a smile. “Okay.”
The rest of our lunch was nice, but the mood definitely shifted. There was almost an awkwardness to our conversation. Hunter would relax and start to say something flirty, and then he’d catch himself and dial it back. It was as if he didn’t know how to be friends with me. At one particular point, when he was running his finger along the top of his glass and looking exceptionally tongue-tied, I called him on it.
“You have no women friends, do you?”
He looked up from the glass. “Sure I do. I’m friends with lots of women.”
“Who?”
“Anna, for one.”
“She’s not your friend. She’s your buddy’s wife.”
“So it’s either one or the other?”
“Do you have any single women you’re friends with?”
“Sure. At work.”
“Okay. Who?”
“I go to lunch with Renee from the office sometimes. She’s a project manager.”
“Is she dating anyone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How old is she?”
He shrugged. “Mid-sixties, maybe.”
I shook my head. “She doesn’t count. She’s safe. How about any single friends in their twenties or thirties?”
“No. But there’s a good reason for that.”
“What’s the reason?”
“Men and women who are mating age and attracted to each other can’t be friends. It’s primal.”
My eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
Hunter leaned back in his chair. “What would I do with a woman I’m attracted to?”
“What do you mean? What do you and your male friends do?”
“Outdoors stuff. I like to rock climb, scuba dive, play golf.”
“So why couldn’t you and I do those things together?”
“For starters, when the guys and I play golf and one of us has to take a leak, we walk over to the brush and take a leak. When we rock climb, there’s no better way to celebrate getting to the top than peeing off the side of the mountain.”
“So men and women can’t be friends because of your need to publicly urinate?”
“Last time we were diving, Derek sliced his hand on a coral reef. We tossed him electrical tape to wrap around his hand to keep the cut shut and went back for another dive. He probably needed a stitch or two, but if he’d gone to the hospital, we would’ve called him a pussy for a month.”
“And if I was diving with you, you wouldn’t toss me electrical tape?”
“Nope. Would take you to the hospital for stitches.”
“What if I didn’t want to go for stitches?”
“Wouldn’t give you a choice. You get hurt, I’m gonna take care of you.”
“But you won’t take care of your best friend, Derek?”
Hunter smirked. “Nope.”
“You’re really a chauvinist, you know?”
“Taking care of a woman is being a gentleman.”
“Not when you do it because you think your sex is superior and the woman can’t take care of herself.”