Page 59 of Hunter

“I don’t want to lose a million dollars,” I tell him. “Beto would never forgive me.”

His face darkens. “You want to keep our distance for the next eight days?”

Fuck no.

“No,” I say, my fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

“Sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” I say. “It’s probably nothing.” I slip my hands under his T-shirt, sliding them up, over the taut muscles of his abdomen and chest. “And I don’t want any distance from you, Hunter. Not even a little.”

And that’s a damn good thing, since we spend the next ten hours under his covers, as close as humanly possible.

Chapter 10

Hunter

“Hot Docs just bit it.”

Kit and I are working at a table in the lobby of the Fairbanks River Lodge, putting the finishing touches on tomorrow’s dog mushing challenge in Nome, when Rick arrives to tell us the news.

“Are you serious? Fuck!” Kit looks pissed as hell. Since she had Team Hot Docs pegged as the winners, she just lost out on the two-thousand-dollar pot. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say they suck at ice carving,” he says. “Should’ve chosen the hot springs detour instead.”

Isabella and Beto did the Chena Hot Springs challenge and finished hours ago. They’re currently in second place, after Team Brady. That means Team Brady, Team Primos, and Team Newlyweds will round out the final three. I’m happy for my girl. Super proud, too. We’ll have to celebrate tonight.

“Where are the rest of the teams?” I ask.

“Special reward for the final three,” says Rick. “They’re getting the full treatment at the Chena Hot Springs Resort tonight: massages, gourmet dinner at the restaurant, and they each get their own rooms tonight. Deluxe, huh?”

I work to hide my frown.Deluxe, sure. And a massage will be nice for Isabella after the rigors of the past few weeks. But it also means that the room I got for us here in Fairbanks will be wasted tonight. The Chena Hot Springs is an hour away from where I’m staying in downtown Fairbanks, and I don’t have my own car.

It might sound needy (so I’d never say it aloud), but I hate spending a night away from her. The truth is that even though Iknow we’re going to spend July and August together, I’m still a little insecure about our future. There are so many variables, so many things that could go wrong. I want a chance with her, and now that I’ve got it, I resent anything that could threaten it.

“So,” asks Rick, darting his eyes between me and Kit, “what’re you two up to tonight?”

“Crew dinner?” asks Kit. “Hotel bar for a nightcap, maybe. And some sleep. Nome is gonna be cold and intense.”

“What about you?” Rick asks me. “Be my wingman. Let’s go out.”

Rick and I haven’t spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks. Kit and I have continued to do all of the groundwork mostly on our own, and since I’ve been paying for my own hotel rooms since we left the boat in Whittier, I don’t share with him anymore.

Plus, I really don’t like him. That’s all there is to it.

“No, thanks,” I say. “I think Kit’s got the right idea.”

“Lame. There’s a place called the Spur that’s supposed to be good times,” he says. “Come on.”

I give him a look. What’s going on with him? He’s never—not once—asked to spend time with me socially while we’ve been coworkers on the race. It’s feeling pushy. And weird.

“Fine,” says Kit. “We’llallswing by the Spur after dinner…but drinks are on you, cowboy. Happy now?”

“Euphoric,” says Rick. “I’ll meet you two back here at ten.”

As he heads to his room, I turn to Kit.

“What the hell was that?”