Page 39 of Hacking His Code

“I’ve never woken up in a stranger’s bed before.”

“Never had a one-night-stand and stayed the night?”

“Never had any night stand—period. Never even had a boyfriend.”

He looks at me in disbelief.

“Are you really surprised? After getting in trouble, I was on lockdown until I moved into my dorm room for college. Then, my mother got sick, my father left, and I had to move back home.”

Hunter’s mouth hangs ajar. “So, you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

Of course, he completely ignores the part where I suffered a real hardship, opting instead to focus on my experiences with men…which, at this point, have been almost nonexistent.

“Never,” I finally reply, not granting him an explanation.

Hunter says nothing, choosing to look at me thoughtfully, which I appreciate more than any words.

“Your aunt was really good with computers. It’s sad that with all the documentaries out there on her, none of them really portray her as the genius that she was.”

“She lived and breathed her job. All she wanted to do was sit behind a monitor all day. My mother tried to get her to go out more, but she never wanted to. She was fine in her little apartment, with her computer, and her best friend.”

I arc a brow. “Who was her best friend?”

“My father. I know that sounds weird because most people assume it was my mother, but she and Rand got each other.”

I go back to the journal I was reading, trying to fully immerse myself in the woman that was Lucy Whitmore.

I swear I can relate to almost everything she says, from her love of coding to her unrequited crush.

And yes, by that I am totally acknowledging that I now have a crush on Hunter Davies. As arrogant and dislikable as he is, there’s something about him that makes me feel light, giddy, and sinfully lustful.

And it takes every ounce of my energy to suppress my constant desire to interact with him.

“Your aunt really spoke my language,” I say after an extended silence.

“Did she?”

“There’s such a strong passion for what she does. She barely talks about your mother or your father. It’s all work and a small schoolgirl crush. It’d be easier to read if she wasn’t left-handed.”

“Left-handed?”

“See how the ink smears? Classic left-handed tell. They smear their ink as they go across the page.”

“God, you’re smart.”

“What’s weird is I see no indication in these journals that Lucy and her physical trainers were lovers, and I can hardly believe she was in a sex club.”

“The trainers were pretty upfront about it when questioned, and there’s the picture you mentioned in the email. I guess the sex clubs were for pent up energy.”

“I just don’t get it. She seems so innocent. She has ten years’ worth of journaling, and the only person she references romantically is someone she calls,‘him.’God, I hope I don’t turn into her…”

Hunter’s hand grazes my wrist, and I look up to see his concerned face. “May I ask you a question?”

“Ummm, sure.”

“Why don’t you date?”

My eyes grow round, and I grab my arm away, offended he would ask something so personal.