some information I thought Coach had. He can’t remember the details but I know that they used to keep track of some of that stuff.”
“What stuff?” she asked.
“Videotapes from workouts at the gym and stuff from the practice field,” he said. “Would you consider letting me look through the boxes?”
“What did Coach say?”
“Nothing. He didn’t answer me when I asked. In fact, he didn’t say much while I was in there,” Hunter said.
That was strange, she thought. “I wonder why. He loves to relive the glory days.”
“I’m searching for some answers about things that happened in old college football days. I was really hoping Coach could help.”
The sincerity in his voice and that tightness in his stance communicated his determination. She thought it over. She had nothing else to do during the day while her father ignored her, and she’d always fancied herself a Nancy Drew type.
“Let me see what I can find out from him,” Ferrin said. She wanted to double-check with Coach and make sure he was okay with her letting Hunter go through his papers. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”
He came closer to her then and she noticed how green his eyes were. Like the fields on the first days of spring. He was handsome—there was no denying that—with his thick dark hair, classic features and lightly trimmed beard. His jaw was strong, his nose straight as a blade, his brows thick but not too thick. She wondered if he had the golden triangle proportions. He must. He was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen.
“Couldn’t you ask now?” he asked, arching one eyebrow at her. “That way we could look and then I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Um...dinner?”
“Yes. I’d like to get know you better, Ferrin. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything fun. Plus I sort of owe you after being a bit of a jerk.”
Fun. He thought dinner with her would be fun. She sighed. “I’ll ask Coach tonight about the papers. He has physical therapy now and then he’ll be napping.”
“Fair enough. I shouldn’t have been so pushy,” Hunter said. He rubbed his hand over his chest, drawing her gaze to the way his shirt fit the muscles of his shoulders.
“So dinner. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said.
“You will? Shouldn’t you ask me?” She wasn’t sure what he was up to. It was clear that he’d changed gears when he realized she wouldn’t be budged. Even knowing he was probably trying to get something from her wasn’t enough to make her say no.
She hadn’t been out on a date in a long time. She’d broken up with Roger before Christmas, and really that relationship had been dying for at least three months before then. If nothing else, going out with Hunter would provide her some distraction from all the gloom that seemed to cling to this house, and to her while she was living in it.
“Apologies,” he said. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
She tipped her head to the side, pretending to think it over.
“I guess so.”
“You guess so?”
“You said it yourself. I’m used to classy,” she said. Even though she wasn’t. But she didn’t want to make this too easy for him. With that pretty face and muscled body, she doubted he ever had to work hard to get a date.
“Oh, I’ll give you classy, Ferrin,” he said. “You just wait and see. I’ll be back at six.”
“I’ll be ready at six thirty,” she said.
He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a minx.”
Doubtful. But she was tired of the same-old, same-old, and Hunter promised something different.
“Six thirty then. Dress classy.”
“As if I’d do anything else,” she said, leading him down the hall. She opened the front door and leaned back against it as he brushed past her. He stopped and leaned down, putting his hand on the bottom of her chin.
Dinner suddenly seemed like more than just a break in the routine. She suspected he might want something from her but that was okay. She wanted something from him, too. A chance to remember she was young and single. Maybe make a memory in California that wasn’t laced with guilt and disappointment.
Rocky Point Restaurant was famous in Carmel-by-the-Sea for its views of the Big Sur coastline. And since Ferrin had mentioned not being out of the house since she’d arrived, Hunter thought she’d enjoy being around other people. Plus, if he was completely honest, he really didn’t trust himself alone with her.
He might have gone to the Gainer house to see Coach and get answers, but tonight he was torn. Right now, his focus was on seeing Ferrin and a part of him—granted, a small part—didn’t even care if she let him see Coach’s boxes from his office.
She wore her thick, black curly hair down and it brushed the tops of her shoulders, which were left bare by her bohemian-style top. The blouse was a sea-blue color and she’d paired it with slim-fitting white jeans that made her legs seem even longer than they had earlier in those shorts. She had on heels, which made her only a few inches shorter than his six-two frame.
And as they walked from the parking lot to the restaurant, he was aware of people watching them. For a moment he forget he was Hunter Caruthers, famous for being accused of the Frat House Murder, and pretended people just noticed a good-looking couple.
But as soon as they got closer, people turned away and gave them a wide berth.
He cursed under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. I thought going out would put you at ease but I might have misjudged this. Everyone here knows me.”
She put her hand on his arm, her touch light and delicate. “That doesn’t matter. They don’t know the real you.”
“You don’t either,” he pointed out as he pulled her to one side before they entered the restaurant. “I wouldn’t blame you if you demanded I take you home.”
“You don’t know me either, Hunter. I’m not one to bug out on a date before it’s even started. I can handle a little gossip,” she said. “Are you one of those bad-boy players in the NFL?”
“Not really. I mean I do date pretty women and have a few rushing records, but I don’t see myself as a bad boy.” He wondered if she’d already Googled him and knew the scandal that followed him around like a dark cloud, driving him away from anything good. Damn, he was getting dramatic. It was just that ten years was too long to be on the run from the past. Even his dad, who made laconic seem chatty, had said maybe it was time to get answers, to find out what had really happened.
“Who would see himself as a bad boy?” she asked with a wink. “But you should know that no matter what else happens between us, I’m not someone for you to toy with.”
He reached around her to open the door. She entered the restaurant and walked over to the hostess.
He saw Coach’s inner steel in Ferrin. And she didn’t know who he was, which was 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.
“Party of two?”
“I made a reservation,” he told the hostess. “Hunter Caruthers.”
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