Page 32 of Hotshot

“True,” he conceded, sipping his beer. “But you don’t really have a choice. I can’t prove that I won’t sell you out. It’s a trust thing. Let’s talk about the sexy angle, ’cause I need an Elmwood buddy like yesterday.”

“I can’t believe I’m asking this, but…what does an Elmwood buddy do?”

“He shows the new guy the ropes.” Hank leaned in. “Introduce me, give me tips on who’s who and what to avoid. I suck in Elmwood and I need a champion, a liaison…a friend. That can be you.”

I huffed in amusement, feeling strangely at ease. He was charming as fuck and I was not immune. “How can you suck in Elmwood? Everyone is cool there.”

He slumped on his stool. “I don’t know, but I’m even worse in Wood Hollow. I don’t get it. People in Denver like me just fine. Even you like me.”

“No, I like your hat.” I reached for his water and winked.

I fucking winked.

Me.

That was me flirting.Ugh. Bad, Denny. Bad.

I felt surprisingly relaxed with him. Like I had last weekend when I’d spilled my guts and…other things. The point was, I could talk to him without feeling immediately depleted, and that alone was a minor miracle.

Hank kicked my shin playfully. “Nah, you like me. You did last weekend, anyway.”

“I was drunk, and I’m still mortified. Go easy on me.” I took a swig of water as if I were knocking back whisky.

“I’ll try, but…you shook your dick at me, then fell buck-ass naked in my bed, so c’mon.”

My eyes had to be saucer-sized. “I shook my dick at you?”

He inclined his chin and winked in atouchémove that made my cock swell against my zipper.

“A week later, I’m still thinking about it,” Hank drawled.

Whoa. Was he serious?

“I didn’t think I was your type.”

Hank snorted. “A dark, broody jock with big muscles…you’re everyone’s type.”

“I don’t think of myself that way. At all.”

“Well, you are. You’re single, easy on the eyes, and successful. You must have puck bunnies following your tail everywhere.”

“I don’t see any.” I glanced over my shoulder as if to double-check. “I don’t pay attention, anyway.”

“Why not?”

I skewered him with an annoyed look. “I’m not interested in hooking up with random women.”

“Or men?”

“I’ve never done that.” I leaned across the table and whisper-hissed, “And I thought we agreed not to discuss this.”

He made a button-lip gesture and shrugged. “My bad. I’m just curious. But you were drunk and maybe there were other factors at play, like bad breakup blues or?—”

“No, that wasn’t it,” I snapped. “I don’t want to talk about my ex. You’re supposed to be asking about Elmwood…as a friend.”

“I know, but I’m working out my pitch for that titillating angle, and I can’t help wondering if…” He stared at my mouth as if in a trance, raking his teeth along the side of his lip. “Never mind.”

Never mind? Fuck that.