Page 93 of Hard to Judge

“Does Hailey like hockey?” Hota asks the question I’m already wondering.

“We can ask her over dinner.”

His fingers still over the cutting board. “She’s coming?”

“If you let her.” There’s no hiding my dirty smile.

Those thick lips I want to be wrapped around my cock purse. “Be serious. She’s coming to eat?” He thinks better of it and adds, “Dinner with us?”

“Yes.”

He sets the knife aside and braces his hands on the counter. His head hangs between his shoulder blades, accentuating the narrowness of his waist, but I can’t appreciate it.

Anxiety is too busy climbing its way up my spine.

Have I read the situation wrong?

I thought he liked Hailey…a lot. More than a lot. I thought they were close and getting closer. I thought?—

“I didn’t mean what I said.” When his gaze meets mine, it’s wet. He gnaws on his cheek.

Relief floods me, washing away the doubt.

He faces me. “I was hurt and scared, and I don’t think she’s a?—”

“Don’t say it.” I lift my hand. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I’ve placed that mistrust in you.”

His jaw flexes, and his head shakes. “You didn’t.”

“I did. I have. For a long time.” I wrap my hand around his nape and pull him to me. Forehead to forehead. “Give me a little bit longer, and I’ll show you exactly how I feel over and over and over again until you believe it.”

That shrug I know so well bobs. “I’ll give you forever.”

“That’s all I want.” Even though forever hardly seems long enough. I’ve wasted so much time.

Hota cups my nape, and we hold each other for a long time, just sharing breath and so many unsaid things. Then he blinks. “My water is boiling.”

I wink. “Mine is too.”

He laughs and shoos me back to my tasks.

The lightness in him fills me with helium. By the time dinner is plated, I’m bobbing along the rafters. Then the doorbell rings, and I go higher still.

Hota pauses, setting the last of the silverware on the island. “You want to get that?”

“It’s your home.” I motion him toward the door and turn to grab our drinks.

“It’s your woman,” he counters.

I square him in my gaze, drinks forgotten. “No, Hota. She’s our woman.”

My side screams as I lift my arm and knock on the door. It’s my fault. I rushed Hard. Now, I’m rushing my guys to open the door. Ringing the bell didn’t gain me entry.

What’s my next move? Screaming through the small gap at the bottom of the door? Calling their phones? Taking a stab at the code on the lock’s pad?

I almost canceled on Hard. Hearing about what my plan did to Hota and seeing the reaction on Arlo’s face killed me. Not for a second did I think a happy surprise could go so horribly wrong.

The lock flicks and the door swings wide.

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