Page 20 of Hotshot

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh, crap. I’m so?—”

“Cool it. You’ve already apologized. It’s fine.”

“Not really. I’m naked under this towel. How’d that happen?”

Hank snort-laughed. “You sure you want to know?”

“No, I don’t want to know, but yes…tell me.”

“You stripped, then passed out on my bed.” He paused at my loud groan of dismay and added, “I couldn’t wake you up, and I didn’t know who to call. I considered going downstairs to the bar, but I didn’t know how to explain this, and I wasn’t sure who you trusted, so…here we are.”

“That’s pretty awful. Thank you for letting me stay. You have no idea how big a scene that would have caused. People talk in this town, and I’ve never been drunk in public.” I eyed him over the rim of my cup. “I’d appreciate it if we could forget last night. Forget we met and erase every weird and unfortunate thing that popped out of my mouth from your brain. Please.”

“No problem.”

My shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you. You’re very cool. I don’t know how to make this right, but I can get you game tickets if you want. Are you a hockey fan?”

“I am, but…I have season tickets. I’m covered. Thanks.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll take care of the hotel room for sure, and I can leave you some money for?—”

“The room is paid for and I don’t want your money, Denny.” The look in his eyes indicated that he wanted something, though.

“What do you want?” I swallowed hard. “Oh, uh, did you change your mind? Do you want…sex?”

Hank barked a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, no. I don’t want sex. Like I told you last night, I don’t use sex as a bartering tool, and I’m too old for you anyway. What are you…twenty-two?”

I frowned. “Yeah, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“You’re notthatold. But if you’re not interested, that’s fine. Just say so. No…” I pinched my nose and tried again. “I didn’t mean that. I’m not interested either.”

“You were last night,” he teased.

“I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“Understood.”

I sipped my coffee, feeling smaller by the second. “Since I came on to you and made a total fool of myself, I guess you know that I’m…”

“Bi?”

“I’m not out, though.”

Hank inclined his chin. “I know.”

“Did I tell you that last night?” I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

“No, it was a guess. Don’t worry…I won’t say a word.”

We shared a smile, but his didn’t have the “Thank God that’s over, let’s move on” spark I was hoping for.

“What’s the catch?”

Hank set his cup on the desk. “There’s no catch.”

“But…” I prompted.