Page 31 of Faking Ties

“What do you mean?”

“What version of Hunter is the real you? You’re fun one minute, protective and caring the next, and now this? What happened? Did I do something to make you mad?”

“No.”

“Then what’s going on?

“Nothing.”

I sigh and look to the ceiling for help. For the first time, I understand what Rachel might feel like when she talks to me. “Listen, I refuse to be ignored all day. Something’s clearly going on, and if you don’t want to tell me, no problem. You don’t owe me an explanation, but even if you’re acting like an ass, I’m still going to uphold my part of this agreement and help your image by talking you up to your teammates. After that, I’ll call Brian to take me home.”

I grab the lock and begin to turn it when he says, “Wait.” I pause and he says, “My team doesn’t like me. I hate doing events like these since I’m always the outcast.”

I spin around to face him. “But you’re doing it to yourself. You’re ignoring everyone. You’re not even trying to talk to them.”

“You don’t understand,” he grumbles.

“It seems pretty simple to me.”

“They’re ignoring me, too. I tried, during training camp, to get to know them. But they rejected my attempts. There’s no point in getting to know them.”

“How much did you try?”

He remains silent, and I huff out a laugh. “Whether you like it or not, we’re stuck together for the next few months, and I have a job to do here.”

I storm out of the bathroom, and Hunter follows behind me. Silent, looming. There’s a group of wiveschatting near the bouncy castle, and I head over to them.

“Go talk to someone else,” I say to Hunter, shooing him away. “Don’t cramp my style.”

Hunter throws me a withering glare before coming to a halt in the no-man's-land between the wives and the boisterous players trash-talking each other.

I ignore him and head over to a woman with beautiful box braids, glowing skin, and a bright orange crop top and multicolor, flowy skirt.

“Hi,” I say, “I’m Stella.”

“Hey, girl,” the woman says with a laugh. “I think we all know who you are. I’m Nora, Quincy’s wife.”

The other women smile kindly and introduce themselves.

“We all had a bet going that Hunter would never settle down,” Nora says. “But I’m glad you were the one to break his no-relationship stance.”

“Thanks. Hunter’s been the best boyfriend.” I glance over at Hunter who’s still at the weird middle ground, alone. I raise my eyebrows and lift my chin toward the group of his teammates. He shakes his head, and I glare at him. He frowns before heaving a sigh and slowly making his way over to his teammates, posture stiff and uncomfortable.

“Damn, girl.” Nora whistles. “What magic do you have to makethathappen?”

“Stubbornness?” I joke, still staring at Hunter. He’s actually going to talk to his teammates and listen tome? Why is he trying now? I get pulled into a conversation about the upcoming travel schedule and their kids before I can dissect it further. I make sure to ask the group questions nonstop so that I don’t have to answer anything about myself. Or about Stella. They’re all so sweet and welcoming that it’s easy to be included.

When I finish my drink, Hunter appears at my side. I glance at him, and he runs his hand up and down my arm before kissing me on my cheek. My breath hitches and my heart races like wildfire. It doesn’t mean anything, I know that. He’s playing his part to sell this lie to his team. But my body is reacting too dramatically for my liking.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, holding out a plate piled high with cookies on it. My cookies. When did he leave his teammates to get these? “These little gems are the best thing I’ve tasted here. But they’re even more delicious because Stella brought them.”

The women all grab one, and I’m freaking out. I don’t like watching people eat my food and waiting for their reactions. If it wouldn’t be so ridiculous, I’d sprint away from this spot. Or at the least, I’d close my eyes so I don’t have to watch. Sure, baking is a hobby, but somehow, I take it personally if someone doesn’t like my food. And I really don’t want to start holding a grudge against these amazing women I’ve just met if they start trash-talking it and?—

“These are amazing,” Nora says. “You’ve got to share where you bought these from.”

“It’s a secret,” I say. “But I’m glad you like them.”

“Like? No, I love,” Nora says. “I’ll pry that bakery’s name out of you if it’s the last thing I do.”

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