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  He scowls. “Unfortunately not.”

  After Mom and Dad died, Mason got it in his head that Skye was nothing more than a distraction. I was focusing too much energy on her instead of channeling it into football. He was ecstatic when she left town after graduation.

  Me, not so much.

  “You haven’t talked to her, have you?” Suspicion laces his words.

  “Nah.” I came here tonight with the intention of telling Mason everything, but his reaction has me reconsidering that decision. Already concern is brimming in his blue eyes. And I don’t need my brother any further up my ass.

  “Good.” He nods. “Make sure you keep it that way. You’ve got enough going on without getting wrapped up in her again.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  He gives me a skeptical look before stabbing a finger in my direction. “I mean it, Hunter. You stay away from her. She’s bad news.”

  Skye?

  Bad news?

  Give me a break.

  I roll my eyes. “No, she wasn’t.” Mason didn’t like that Skye was my number one priority. Even more than football. In his mind, nothing came before football.

  “The best thing she ever did for you was leave. Don’t screw things up when you’re so close to making all your dreams a reality.”

  “I’m not going to screw anything up,” I snap. “You need to chill out.”

  Mason rolls his shoulders in an attempt to wrangle his temper back under control. “Skye fucking Sinclair.” He shakes his head as his lips twist with bitterness. “She should have done us all a favor and stayed away.”

  Anger bubbles up inside me like a geyser and the words are shooting out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I loved her, Mase. She’s the only girl I’ve ever felt that way about.”

  “Fuck that.” He waves a hand in disgust. “There’ll be other women. Plenty of them.” He plows a hand through his mussed hair. “You already get all the pussy you want. What the hell are you complaining about?”

  “I’m not complaining,” I mutter, glancing away, embarrassed by my outburst. The truth is that Skye was never just a piece of ass. Mason wouldn’t have had such a problem with her if that’s all she’d been. “I wanted to give you a heads up. It’s not a big deal.”

  The guy is getting bent around the axel and there’s no damn reason for it.

  Before he can say anything else, I jump off the counter and land on my feet in one smooth movement. “I gotta get back to school. I wanted to stop over and—”

  “Give me the good news in person?”

  My shoulders slump. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Clearly that was a mistake.

  If my feelings haven’t changed for Skye in three years, neither have my brother’s.

  Chapter Eight

  Skye

  I t takes two weeks before I’m able to navigate my way around campus without getting lost or turned around. It feels like a major accomplishment when I make it to statistics with a few minutes to spare. I’m tempted to pat myself on the back. Instead, I pull out my stats book. It slips from my fingers before landing on the floor with a loud thud that reverberates throughout the lecture hall. A few people swivel on their chairs and stare.

  I reach down to pick it up and realize that someone has beat me to it. Our heads bump and we both groan.

  “Sorry,” we say in unison before chuckling.

  “Here, allow me.” When the guy sitting next to me bends over for a second time to retrieve the book, I take a moment to check him out.

  From what I can tell, he has long blond hair that grazes the nape of his neck and strong shoulders. His T-shirt molds to his muscular back. When he sits up to face me, mocha-colored eyes meet mine. His lips curve and a set of dimples pop. He’s definitely handsome.

  With an outstretched hand, he passes off the textbook. As soon as he releases it, I grunt under the heavy weight. This has to be the heaviest book known to man.

  “Not exactly light bedtime reading material, is it?” he asks with a grin.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. It puts me to sleep every time.”

  “Let me guess,” he laughs, “you’re looking to explore your career options as a statistician?”

  Good lord, no. The very idea leaves me shuddering.

  “That’s not going to happen. I’m only taking this class because it’s a requirement. Otherwise I would be steering clear.”

  “Oh come on,” he scoffs, “it’s not that bad.”

  “Trust me, it is.”

  “You know, this book can be put to other uses. It just takes a little creativity.” He picks up his own heavy tomb. “For instance, this makes an excellent weapon. You could always carry it around for self-defense.”

  “So what you’re saying is that if someone tries to attack me, I should pull it out and bore them to death with equations?”

  He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Precisely.” When he grins, his eyes crinkle at the corners. I get the feeling he’s someone who is quick to laughter. “I’m Josh, by the way.”

  I grab my notebook and pencil from my backpack. “Skye.”

  He tilts his head and studies me more carefully. “Are you a freshman?”

  “Nope, a senior.” I hesitate before tacking on, “I just transferred to CU this fall.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I thought you might be new. I would have definitely remembered seeing you around campus before.”

  “I’ve been studying at the University of Wisconsin, but I grew up in Claremont.”

  “That’s cool.” He angles his body toward me. “So this place is home.”

  “Yup.” Even though that’s technically true, it hasn’t felt like home in a long time.

  Dr. Clarke, our stats professor, takes his position behind the podium and gets the lecture underway. From the few classes we’ve had so far, he seems like a good teacher. He’s slow and methodical when working out problems. He also has a dry sense of humor which I like. Occasionally, he’ll crack a really bad math joke. Everyone will groan and he’ll light up like a Christmas tree. It’s kind of an endearing quality.

  While I appreciate his attempt to bring levity to the fifty minutes I spent here three times a week, there’s only so much he can do to make it enjoyable. If there’s one subject that I’ve always struggled with, it’s math. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have to study my ass off just to eke out a solid B. I’d been hoping that health would be an easy A and would help balance out this class, but I have my doubts that will end up being the case.

  After enough formulas and solutions to make my head explode, Dr. Clarke dismisses us for the day. I gather up my book and notepad before taking off. My next class meets in ten minutes and it’s clear across campus, so I have to hustle to make it on time.

  “Skye, wait up!”

  I turn as Josh jogs to catch up with me. Together we navigate the crowded hallway.

  “I wanted to mention that there’s a party at the beach on Saturday after the game. Feel free to stop by.”

  “Thanks for the invite.” My lips curve into a smile. “Maybe I will.”

  “Awesome. It’s kind of a tradition around here to party at the beach after a football game. There’ll be a ton of people hanging out, playing volleyball, and stuff like that. It’s a chill time.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  We push through the doors and into the balmy afternoon air. Even though campus is a few miles from the ocean, you can still smell the salt wafting on the breeze. It’s one of the things I missed most when I was living in Wisconsin.

  The first winter I spent there was a shock to the system. In the South, you can get away with wearing a light jacket in January. There’s no need for a parka and insulated boots. Or snow pants, depending on how much accumulation has fallen. And if you’re not looking to get frost bite, you’d better not forget about hats, mittens, and scarves. Basically, you’re wrapped up tight from head to toe. Wisconsin winters are no joke and don’t let anyone
tell you differently.

  Sure, the Carolinas may have to deal with tropical storms, hurricanes, humidity, and high summer temperatures. But I’ll take my chances with all of that rather than survive another blustery Midwestern winter.

  “No problem.” He flashes me another flirty grin. “Hope you can make it.”

  Now that he’s walking beside me, I realize how tall Josh is. With his shaggy blond hair and laid-back personality, he has that whole surfer boy vibe going for him.

  A spark of attraction hums between us. It’s not a full-on inferno ready to burn the house down, but that’s okay. It’s probably better that way. With everything that’s going on, the last thing I’m looking to do is dive headfirst into a relationship. But there’s an easiness about Josh I find attractive. After putting up with Hunter’s intensity for the last couple of weeks, it’s a refreshing change of pace.

  We come to a fork in the cement pathway that winds its way through campus, and I point to the route that will take me to Brighton Hall. “I’m going this way.”

  Josh jerks his head in the opposite direction. “I guess this is where we say goodbye.” He gives me a wink. “For now.”

  An easy smile springs to my lips. “I guess it is.”

  He walks backward so our gazes can stay connected. “It was nice meeting you, Skye from statistics.”

  “You, too.”

  When he flashes another grin, his dimples wink. His voice carries over the distance that now separates us. “So…have you decided if I’m going to see you again on Saturday?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “Not yet, but I’ll give it some thought.”

  His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

  For the first time in a while, I laugh. It’s a light and happy sound. I’m almost bewildered by it. But you know what? It feels good.

  Josh flexes his biceps and the muscles in his arms bunch and pop. “Does this sway you at all? Do you really want to miss all this at the beach? FYI—I’ll probably go shirtless.”

  Another chuckle falls from my lips. He really is silly, but I’m enjoying our lighthearted banter. “I don’t think so.”

  “Wow, your tough to impress. How about if I do this?” With a smirk, he turns his head until his lips can brush against one bulging bicep. Then he does the same to the other side.

  “Now it’s definitely a hard pass.”

  “Aw, come on,” he shouts over the crowd. “Aren’t you the least bit tempted?”

  The further away he gets, the louder his voice becomes. People turn and stare. First at him, then at me. A few girls whistle and yell his name to get his attention, but his gaze doesn’t stray from mine.

  I shake my head and raise my hand to wave. “Bye, Josh!”

  “See you soon,” he hollers in return.

  With a smile curving my lips, I hustle to my next class. Josh is the first guy I’ve met in a while that has piqued my interest. I might not have mentioned it, but I know all about the bonfires that follow the football games. Even when I was in high school, Hunter and I would hang out at them. Especially when the head coach at Claremont was trying to recruit him to play for the team.

  I haven’t been to one since senior year.

  There’s little doubt in my mind that Hunter will be there.

  That thought is enough to give me pause. Part of me wants to avoid my ex as much as possible. But I don’t want to shy away from getting to know more people. And Josh is definitely someone I’m interested in getting to know.

  Chapter Nine

  Skye

  W ith my phone in hand, I glance at the text message to double check the address. It wouldn’t surprise me if I ended up at 622 E. Prospect Avenue instead of 622 W. Prospect. Being directionally challenged is an ongoing struggle.

  But, nope…this is it.

  I’m not going to lie, I kind of wish that I were standing in front of the wrong house. From the loud music and boisterous voices pouring out from the windows, it sounds like there’s a party going on inside.

  Nerves eat me alive as I walk up the front porch steps. Rotted wood siding and peeling paint mar the facade. At one point in time, this house must have been gorgeous but that’s no longer the case. There’s a neglected air that surrounds the property. It’s sad to see such a beautiful house in run-down condition. Most of the student housing near campus is in similar states of disrepair. Landlords do the bear minimum to keep rent flowing in.

  As much as I would like to prolong this moment with a thorough assessment of the house, I don’t bother delaying the inevitable. Hunter and I need to get moving on this project. We’re already in the third week of school and time is ticking. What I don’t understand is why he insisted we meet at his house. What’s wrong with the library?

  As soon as I questioned his choice, he cut me off and said it would be easier to work here. Easier for who, is what I’d like to know. Certainly not me. The thought of being alone with Hunter makes me uncomfortable. Up until this point, I’ve been able to avoid it.

  Although, if the noise coming from inside is any indication, we won’t be alone.

  So…I guess that’s something.

  I straighten my shoulders and force myself up the last few steps to the front door. I refuse to let Hunter intimidate me. He wants me to drop this class and I’m not going to do it.

  All right. Here it goes.

  I rap my knuckles against the door before shuffling my feet. My gaze bounces anxiously around the porch. After what feels like a lifetime, the front door swings open and a wall of muscle stares at me from the other side of the threshold.

  When I remain silent, a slow grin spreads across his face. “Hello there, beautiful.” Instead of inviting me inside, he rearranges himself against the door as his eyes take a leisurely stroll of my body.

  Heat fills my cheeks at his unapologetic perusal.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He smacks his lips together. “I love when new talent shows up.”

  New talent? What does that mean?

  I’m about to ask when the guy is elbowed out of the way and a grim looking Hunter fills the space. His sudden appearance has me taking a hasty step in retreat.

  Umm, can someone bring back the wall of muscle? I’d much rather deal with him than my ex-boyfriend.

  By way of greeting, Hunter snaps, “It’s about damn time you showed up.”

  I slide the phone from my pocket and peek at the screen.

  I’m four minutes late.

  Is he seriously going to bite my head off over two hundred and forty seconds?

  Stupid question.

  “You said to be here at eight.” I straighten my shoulders and hitch my bag higher. “According to my phone, it’s eight. If time is of the essence, then maybe we shouldn’t stand around and waste more of it by arguing about how late I am.”

  The mountain of muscle hoots with laughter as Hunter’s glare intensifies. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

  He turns away, muttering something under his breath that I can’t quite decipher before stomping up the staircase. Unsure if I should follow or stay put, I hesitate. My gaze meanders to the living room where a dozen or so people are sitting around, drinking, and watching the video game that’s playing out across the big screen television.

  “Skye!”

  My head snaps at the sound of Hunter’s voice. He glowers at me from mid-way up the staircase. After two and a half weeks of having that expression aimed in my direction, I should be numb to it. But I’m not, because a prick of hurt blooms in my chest.

  “What are you waiting for? A personal invitation?” Before I can respond, he barks, “Come on!”

  I huff out an exasperated breath and trail after him.

  What does he think I am?

  A mind reader?

  Instead of snapping back, I keep my lips firmly pressed together and scramble up the carpeted stairs. Maybe I should reconsider begging Dr. Bennet for a new partner. There’s no way it could make the situation any worse.

 
We haven’t even started working on this project and already I can tell this is going to be a nightmare. Mostly because Hunter is dead set on making it hell for me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  He doesn’t glance at me again to make sure that I’m following him. As I arrive at the top of the staircase, Hunter turns into a room a few doors down the hall. Once I step over the threshold, I realize I’m exactly where I didn’t want to end up.

  And that’s alone with Hunter.

  My mind tumbles back to the past. Believe it or not, there was a time when Hunter and I couldn’t be alone enough. We were always devising ways to sneak away from my parents or his brother. The moment we did, his hands would be all over my body. It wouldn’t take long before clothing was shed, and he was sinking deep inside—

  Nope.

  Can’t go there.

  Preoccupied with those bittersweet memories, I pause. Hunter snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I blink away the past only to find him glaring at me.

  What else is new?

  “I need to jump in the shower and then we can get this over with,” he says.

  Wait…what?

  Why was he so insistent that I get here promptly at eight if he’s not even ready to work?

  When I shake my head, he waves off my concerns. “It’ll take five minutes. Start looking over the project options and get an idea of what we should do.”

  If he would listen to me, I could explain that I’ve already done that.

  Instead, he steps around me before closing the bedroom door behind him. Once Hunter disappears, it’s as if all the oxygen floods back into the room again. My rigidly held muscles loosen. Only now do I realize how tense I’d become in his presence. Even though I want to get this over with, it’s a relief that he’s gone. Maybe a little time to regroup isn’t a bad thing.

  I glance around the space, looking for a place where we can work comfortably. There’s a queen-sized bed that dominates the sparsely furnished room along with a tall dresser I recognize from his childhood home. A nightstand is situated next to the bed with a lamp on it.