“I’m so full,” Hunter’s mom said with a happy sigh as she gave her padded stomach a rub, leaning back in the booth. “But the cheesecake was worth it. Wasn’t it worth it?” she asked nobody in particular.
Hunter, Malik, and their father were more interested in their football discussion than cheesecake, so Brit smiled and addressed Gail. “I was partial to the chocolate myself, but I wouldn’t kick the cheesecake out of bed.”
His mom gave an appreciative laugh, big and unabashed. “Too true. Though you’re young yet. The chocolate and cheesecake haven’t worked their magic on your dress size.”
“I’d like to think I’ll always subscribe to the life is short, eat the cake kind of mindset,” Brit said.
“One more reason to like you. I need to use the ladies’. Care to join?”
Brit agreed, since it beat having to fake interest in the Super Bowl. The guys looked up as the women stood, Hunter standing as well in a show of perfect manners.
Malik, who had an adorable case of hero worship for his big brother, mimicked the gesture, jumping to his feet so quickly he jostled the table.
Hunter’s dad stayed put, giving a good-natured grumble about being too old for that chivalry stuff.
The restaurant was a little bit swanky but comfortable too, and the enormous ladies’ room was a refreshing change from the trendy West Village hot spots that had a lone single-sex restroom for the entire restaurant.
“So,” Gail said, opening her purse and pulling out her lipstick. Brit watched as the woman twisted the tube, revealing a bright coral shade that Brit was guessing had been her trademark color longer than Brit had been alive. “Tell me how you’ve been, sweetie.”
Brit was surprised by the question because most all of dinner had been spent catching up, both with Hunter and her. What else was there to tell?
“Oh, well—”
“Are you seeing anyone special?” Gail asked, smacking her lips to blend the color and then pursing them to inspect her application.
Oh. Ohhhhh.
Crafty, Mrs. Cross. Very crafty.
“Not at the moment,” Brit said noncommittally.
“Hunter either.” Gail met her eyes in the mirror with wide-eyed faux innocence.
Brit gave her a knowing smile. “Gosh, whatever could you be hinting?”
Hunter’s mom laughed. “Well, you’ve got to give me a little credit for holding off as long as I have. Dennis made me promise not to say anything, but seeing you two tonight, I just couldn’t hold my tongue.”
“What about us tonight?” Brit asked curiously.
“Just a feeling I kept getting,” Gail said with a shrug. “I thought perhaps something had changed between you.”
Really?
Brit had thought she and Hunter had done a pretty good job returning to normal after the weird events of Tuesday night. They hadn’t talked about it, but she was pretty sure he was on the same page as she was in terms of chalking it up to being swept away by the moment.
Apparently not, though, if his mom was sensing vibes. Then again, it could just be a good old-fashioned maternal matchmaking ploy.
“Hunter and I are just friends, Mrs. Cross,” Brit said as gently as she could.
“Yes, but why,” Gail said with exasperation. “You get along so well. You’re so pretty; he’s a good-looking boy. . . .”
Brit smiled at the description of Hunter as a boy.
“We do get along,” Brit agreed. “But it takes more than that for a romantic relationship. And there has to be that spark.”
She kept her voice kind as she moved in the direction of the door, hoping to bring the conversation to an end.
“And you’ve never felt a spark for my son,” Gail said, her voice disappointed.
“Um—” She wasn’t ready to admit to herself, much less to Hunter’s mother, that she had felt a spark or two lately with him.
“I’m sorry,” Gail said quickly as she stepped out of the ladies’ room ahead of Brit. “The question was loaded and inappropriate.”
“A little bit loaded, yeah,” Brit admitted with a grin to put the other woman at ease. “But I don’t mind. And, no, I’ve never felt any sort of spark. Hunter’s the best, but he’s just like my brother.”
Not entirely true but necessary. Necessary for Mrs. Cross to believe, and definitely necessary for Brit to remember.
“Awwwwkward.”
Brit’s head whipped around toward the drawn-out pronouncement, saw that it had come from Hunter’s foster brother.
Malik gave her a cheeky thirteen-year-old grin, but he wasn’t the one she was worried about.
A quick glance at Dennis Cross revealed Hunter’s dad’s attention entirely on his iPhone, where he was painstakingly typing something in the slow one-fingered tap of someone who hadn’t grown up with touch-screen phones.
Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe Hunter’s attention would also be on his cellphone. Maybe he hadn’t heard her dismissal of him as a brother. . . .
She looked toward him, hoping. . . .
Nope.
Their eyes collided. Brit felt a little drop in her stomach. He’d heard. She could read him better than anybody, and she knew that he’d heard.
It shouldn’t matter—hell, she’d done it before, calling him a brother. Heck, she was pretty sure he’d described her as a sister at some point in their friendship.
But now it felt . . . different.
It felt wrong. Or at least not entirely true.
And the way he held her eyes for only a moment, his smile brief and a little forced, gave her a strange ache in her chest.
“Oh, you guys already paid the bill!” his mother said, oblivious to the quick moment of turmoil between Brit and her son.
“What the heck took so long?” Dennis mumbled good-naturedly.
Gail tucked her arm in his and grinned up at him. “All these years of marriage and you still don’t know that we ladies need time to powder our noses?”
Hunter’s dad leaned down and kissed her, smudging her lipstick slightly and causing her to giggle girlishly as she lifted a hand to wipe the lipstick from his mouth.
Malik rolled his eyes and made a subtle gagging gesture while Brit stared at Hunter’s stony profile and begged him to look over at her, to reassure her that he wasn’t bothered by what she’d said.
“So, what’s next?” Malik asked, rolling from his heels to his toes and back again with the impatient energy of a teenager.
“Well, I’m beat after the flight and all this eating,” Mr. Cross said. “I was thinking bed sounded pretty good.”
“Bed! It’s eight-thirty!” Malik said in protest.
Hunter leaned down. “Perks of sleeping on the living room couch . . . Xbox and Nintendo await.”
“Hell yeah,” Malik said, changing his tune and pumping his fist. Then he caught Mrs. Cross’s warning look. “Heck yeah,” he corrected.
The five of them left the restaurant, and hoping to ease any awkwardness, Brit caught up with Hunter and linked arms. “I know you and the guys sometimes do the Xbox thing like a bunch of college kids, but since when have you had a Nintendo?”
He looked down and smiled. “Since my friend offered her couch, and I used my hotel budget for a gaming system I’ll probably never use.”
“Ah, right. Must be some friend.”
“She is,” he said. “Practically like a sister.”
Brit went still and he pulled his arm free. He stepped away before she could reply, lifting his arm to hail a cab, which stopped immediately at the curb.
“All right, Crosses,” he said, opening the door. “Say goodbye to Brit, and in you go.”
Brit gave both of his parents a hug, accepted a fist bump from Malik, with promises to see them for brunch on Sunday.
As his parents and brother slid into the cab, Hunter turned toward Brit. “I’m going to take them back to my place, get everyone settled for the night. It still cool if I come over?”
“Yeah, of course! Maybe we can finally get around to watching Hitch.”
“Sure. You cool getting home on your own?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know, I do manage to navigate the city without you. Especially considering my building’s four blocks that way.” She pointed west toward her building.
“All right, smart-ass,” he said with a smile as he shut the back door of the cab and then opened the front to sit beside the cabbie.
At the last minute he turned back and kissed her cheek, startling her with the unexpectedness of it. “See you in a bit.”
Hunter disappeared into the cab with his family, and Brit waved until the cab disappeared from view a few seconds later.
The tingle from the kiss on her cheek?
Lasted much longer than that.