His Seduction Game Plan Read Free Page B

reassuring and a bit worrying. He’d have to tell her. It had been a long time since he’d had to do that. In fact, most everyone he met already knew the stories if not the facts. He should come clean with her but from past experience, he knew once he told her about his connection to the Frat House Murder, she’d freeze up on him.
    â€œParty of two?”
    â€œI made a reservation,” he told the hostess. “Hunter Caruthers.”
    The hostess nodded and led them to a table that overlooked the craggy cliffs that led down to the sandy beaches of Big Sur. He held Ferrin’s chair the way his mama had taught him to before sitting down himself.
    They ordered drinks and dinner before Hunter remembered this wasn’t just a date. He had invited her tonight to soften her up and get her to give him a glimpse at Coach’s old files even though her old man wasn’t in an agreeable mood.
    â€œSo...”
    â€œYou want to see my dad’s old office stuff. I know. And I’m thinking about it. But my dad and I aren’t on the best of terms and doing something blatant to anger him without a good reason makes no sense to me.”
    â€œFair enough, ma’am. But what if I can convince you that he won’t mind?”
    â€œI’d say you’re relying a little too heavily on that good old boy charm. I’m immune to that Texas ‘aw shucks’ attitude.”
    He threw his head back and laughed. At Coach’s house, Ferrin had seemed...well, timid didn’t feel like the right word to describe this feisty woman. But she had been subdued earlier.
    â€œWhat can I do to convince you?” he asked.
    â€œTell me something about Hunter that the world doesn’t know.”
    â€œSo nothing to do with football then,” he said.
    â€œYeah, nothing to do with football,” she said.
    He couldn’t understand her attitude toward the sport. He’d always thought it would be great to grow up with a coach as a father. His own dad really only cared about the cattle, the land...their family legacy. But Hunter had never understood it.
    â€œWhy don’t you like football?” he asked.
    She took a sip of her wine and glanced out toward the setting sun. He noticed the burnished copper in her dark hair and for the first time realized it was layered with different colors. The wind blew, stirring the strands against her face, and she put her glass down and looked over at him. Her blue eyes were serious and almost sad.
    â€œI could never compete with football or the players in my dad’s eyes. So I didn’t even try. It’s not that I don’t like football it’s just—”
    â€œYou hate it,” he said.
    â€œ Hate is really a strong word.”
    â€œNot for a passionate woman,” he said. “I get it. I feel that way about cattle. My family has a big spread in the Hill Country and my brothers all love the land. Or most of them do—one of my brothers is a surgeon. But damned if I didn’t hate ranching from...well, from birth, I imagine.”
    â€œSo you played football?”
    â€œWell, ma’am, I am from Texas.”
    â€œI could tell,” she said.
    â€œWhat about you? I’m pretty sure I heard a bit of twang when you talk.”
    â€œI teach at UT Austin.”
    â€œLet me guess. Literature,” he said.
    â€œWrong. I’m a psychology lecturer.”
    â€œWrong? Good thing we didn’t wager on it,” he said.
    She laughed. “Good thing. I bet you’re not used to losing.”
    The mantle of the past fell heavy on his shoulders. He had only really lost once and he’d done it bigger than life when Stacia had been killed and he’d been blamed for her murder.
    â€œNo one gets used to losing,” he said.
    She put her hand on his where it lay on the table and squeezed. She was very different from the coach, who’d always told them to shake it off. She was empathetic,