“Are you okay?”

It was impossible to play it cool sprawled out on my ass in the airport with a pink face heated from a mixture of embarrassment, excitement, and anger. Plus, Hunter was even more good looking than I remembered—ruggedly handsome, kissed by the California sun, and packaged in a casual and confident wrapper that made my knees glad I was on the floor. But as much as I liked the full package before me, I hated that he made me feel off kilter. I rolled with the hate part.

“What are you doing here?”

Hunter had hopped the barrier gate that separated us and was kneeling at my side almost before I came to a halt from my fall. “I came to pick you up. Didn’t you see my sign with your name on it?”

“Natalia Sbagliato-Numero? Cute. Very cute. How did you even know I spoke Italian?”

Hunter offered his hand to help me up. “You were mumbling curses at me under your breath the night of Derek and Anna’s wedding.”

I didn’t remember that. Then again, a lot of the evening was fuzzy. I took his hand and stood. “What happened to Samantha? She was going to pick me up so we can run the errands for the shower tomorrow.”

Hunter flashed a boyish smile. “I offered to help with her errands.”

I knew Samantha. She might’ve looked just like her older sister, but she didn’t have her sister’s energy. In fact, lazy might be the right way to describe Sam.

“I’m sure you didn’t have to ask twice.”

“Nope. And I would’ve done them all just to get to pick you up from the airport.” Hunter grabbed the handle to my suitcase. “Do you have any other luggage to wait for?”

“No. This is it. I hate to check luggage.”

“I’m parked in short-term parking, so it’s not too far.”

We walked through the busy airport and parking area together. Hunter’s strides were longer than mine, so when we stopped at the crosswalk for the light and then started again, I might’ve had the opportunity to ogle how good his ass looked in his shorts. I bet he does a shitload of squats.

When we arrived at his vehicle, I wasn’t surprised to find a sparkling clean, late-model, black pickup truck. He pressed the button to start it and walked around to the passenger side with me. An electric step lowered as he opened the door, which I was glad for because the truck was really high off the ground. Hunter put my bag into the backseat of the cab and shut my door before jogging around to the driver’s side.

The inside was more spacious than I would’ve thought.

Hunter caught me inspecting his ride. “What?”

“This thing is so big.”

A dirty smirk crossed his face. “I’ve heard that before. Often.”

I rolled my eyes. “I meant the truck. I’ve never actually been inside a pickup.”

“Well, what’s the verdict?”

Hunter’s car was not a typical work-type pickup truck. It was more like a fancy SUV—lined in top-stitched leather, with an enormous amount of electronics and dark wood grain.

I nodded my approval. “It’s nice. Suits you.”

He put one hand on the steering wheel. “Oh yeah? Suits me? What do you drive?”

“What do you think I drive?”

He squinted as if he was going to give it some legitimate thought, then quickly put the car into reverse. “Easy. Prius. You drive a Prius.”

“How did you know? Anna told you.”

“Nope. Your friend Anna wouldn’t tell me shit about you. Couldn’t even get your last name or phone number out of her.”

“So how did you know?”

“Fits. Same as you said about me and my truck.”

Hunter pulled up to the parking exit gate, inserted a ticket into the machine and paid forty-dollars to park.

“God. That’s worse than parking at JFK.”

“Traffic’s worse, too. And home prices.”

“So why do people love it so much?”

Hunter held his hand up to the window. “Year-round sunshine. Can’t beat it.”

“I like having four seasons.”

He chuckled. It was deep and rumbly. “Anna wasn’t kidding.”

“What?”

“When we first met—she said we were opposites and might kill each other.”

Most days, I could barely remember what I’d eaten for breakfast. Yet I recalled the comment Hunter had made after Anna said that more than nine months ago. “We might kill each other, but fucking to death is the way I want to go.”

After maneuvering through the maze of LAX, Hunter pulled onto the highway. “So, Natalia Sbagliato-Numero, why did you give me the wrong number and refuse to let Anna give me the right one?”

I looked out the window. “Figured it was best that way.”

“Best for whom?”

“Both of us.”

“Both of us? So you know what’s best for me, do you?”

“Just trying to save you the trouble of a broken heart.”

Hunter glanced over at me. The side of his mouth twitched. “A broken heart, huh? You think I’d spend one night in your bed and pine over you for years?”

I turned to face him. “It’s been nine months, and here you are still chasing me after one night in my bed. And I didn’t even put out. Imagine the condition you’d be in if I did.”

Hunter shook his head. “Anna was wrong about one thing. She said we were complete opposites, but you’re as full of yourself and as big of a wiseass as I am.”

We merged onto the 405, only we were heading north instead of south where Anna’s sister Samantha lived. I was crashing at her place tonight so Anna wouldn’t see me before the shower tomorrow.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“No, I’m not. Sam said you were running errands with her today.”

“I am. Sam lives south, not north.”

“Ah. I see your confusion. You think you’re spending the day running errands with Samantha.”

“That was the plan…”

“I agreed to do most of Sam’s errands, not just pick you up. So you’re spending the day running her errands with me.”

“Why would you agree to that?”

“Because you can’t run away from me when I have you captive in my truck.”

***

“God, these smell so incredible.” We were at our second stop on Sam’s errand list—Bold Blossoms, a flower store where we were to pick up eighteen lilac-filled centerpieces. The woman behind the counter went to box them up while I roamed the store, sniffing various arrangements and plants.

“What is it?”

“It’s a sweet pea.” I cupped my hand around the delicate purple flower. “Here, smell.”

Hunter leaned in and took a deep inhale. “That does smell good.”

“Doesn’t it? They remind me of my grandmother. When I was about ten, my mother took us to Italy to visit her. Nonna had them growing wild all over her property. She had a fence around her little house, and they were wrapped around it so heavily that you could barely see the white pickets. Sauce on Sundays and the smell of sweet peas—that’ll always be my Nonna Valentina. She died when I was a teenager. My mom kept up the sauce on Sunday tradition, but it’s too cold to grow sweet peas outdoors in Howard Beach where she lives.”

“You have a big Italian family?”

“Four girls. We get together every Sunday night for dinner at my mom’s. Two of my sisters have kids, two girls each. There’s not a lot of testosterone.”

The florist came out from the back. “We’re just finishing packing them all. I’ll ring you up, and you can drive around to the back. We’ll load them into your car.”

“Sounds good,” Hunter said. He motioned to the sweet pea plant. “We’ll take that, too.”

“I hope that’s not for me. I can’t bring that on a plane.”

“It’s not. It’s for my place. I don’t have any flowers.” He winked and leaned in so the florist couldn’t hear. “Plus, I figured you might like to smell it if after you wake up.”

I had to give him credit; he was at least consistent, even after almost a year.

Hunter loaded the boxed centerpieces and his new plant into the back of his pickup and secured the cap back down.

“What’s next on our list?” I asked as I buckled into the passenger seat.

“My place.”

“Your place? I don’t think so. We have errands to do.”

“This is an errand. Sam asked me to build a wishing well for the shower. I painted it this morning. It needed to dry before I loaded it into my truck.”

Hunter read my face, which called silent bullshit.

“No, really,” he said.

“So this isn’t an attempt to get me in your bed.”

“It wasn’t. But now that I get to impress you with my house, I can’t be responsible for your actions if you try to take advantage of me.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Maybe so, sweet pea. But you haven’t seen my house yet.”

***

Hunter’s house was incredible. It was also nothing like I’d expected. Surrounded by trees in the middle of a large piece of land sat a rustic-style cabin that blended industrial materials and natural wood and rock. The large stone exterior with towering picture windows looked more like an HGTV dream home than what I would have expected from Hunter Delucia.

I exited the truck, still taking in the house. “Is this really yours? It’s amazing.”

“Designed and built it myself. Took me six years.”