I sat through botany, taking notes inside the packet the prof had handed out at the start of the semester. After class I packed up quickly, trying to beat the crush out the door.

I trucked it to the Java Hut. Normally I grab a latte before class, but there hadn’t been enough time. By the time I entered the coffee shop, I was dying for a jolt of caffeine. I stepped into line. A pair of girls decked out in sorority regalia—matching sweatshirts and velour pants—chattered noisily about their weekend plans in front of me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the text.

Emerson: Lrge Carmel Latte Xtra Hot PLS!

Apparently she was up. Grinning, I texted back.

Me: What will u do 4 me?

Emerson: Make u so hot u will have 2 beat hottie bartender off w/stick

I laughed lightly under my breath and typed back.

Me: Why does that scare me???

Emerson: b/c you’re afraid to look good and get what u want

Me: Not true

Emerson: So true

“Hey, Pepper!” The words kissed my cheek in a small gust of breath.

I whirled around, and my gaze collided with the target of all my pent-up desires. My heart seized inside my chest.

“Hey, Hunter.” Was that breathless squeak my voice? My gaze swept over him, taking him in all at once. The chestnut brown hair carefully arranged to look artfully messy. The soft brown eyes. The dimpled cheek.

He pulled me into a warm hug. A warm, brotherly hug. The kind he always gave me. Stepping back, he nodded at my phone. “Reading something funny?”

I shoved my phone into my pocket. “No. Just a text from Emerson.”

“Ah.” He squeezed my arm fondly through my sweater. “How you been?”

“Good.” I nodded back, too eagerly, and then felt my face warm with embarrassment. With him, it was always this way. Awkward. Uncomfortable. At least I was always this way. He was only ever composed, easygoing, and comfortable, while I was forever that twelve-year-old girl in awe of him, despite how nice he was to me

He stared at me for a moment before I added: “You? Last year.”

I resisted closing my eyes in a long anguished blink. Apparently I could only speak in choppy fragments to him.

“Yeah. Getting my applications together. Narrowing down my top choices.”

“Wow. That’s great, Hunter.”

“Just hoping I get in somewhere, you know?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get in,” I gushed.

He gestured for me to move ahead in the line. The sorority girls were ordering now.

He shrugged. “Competition is stiff, and every program only has so many spots. Watch. I’ll probably end up studying medicine in Uruguay.”

He laughed and I followed suit, sure he was joking. Hunter had been valedictorian of his graduating class. There was no doubt in my mind that he would end up at whatever medical school he wanted to attend.

“I talked to Lila yesterday.”

“Yeah. They’re rehearsing hard for their holiday production already.”

Words swelled inside my throat and, unbelievably, somehow found their way out past my lips. “I heard you and Paige broke up.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was maybe the first time I’d ever seen him look uncomfortable and I instantly regretted saying anything.

“Can I help you?” the cashier cut in. My attention snapped to the girl behind the counter. I stepped up and placed my drink order. Her gaze swung to Hunter next. “What about you?”

I waved a hand. “Oh, no, we’re not together.”

“No, I got it, Pepper,” he said, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll have your house roast, medium.”

“Thanks,” I murmured as we moved over to wait for our drinks. Hunter motioned to a couple of plush chairs. “Want to sit down?”

“Sure.” I nodded and sank into an armchair, swinging my messenger bag around me and to the floor.

“So my sister didn’t waste much time spreading the news.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Pepper, it’s fine. I’m kidding. You’re like family. Of course Lila would tell you.” His lips twisted. “And everyone else in the northern hemisphere.”

Family. Fabulous. He saw me as another sister. They called our drinks and he rose ahead of me, reaching the bar in two strides and returning with the three drinks.

“Guess you can’t stay long,” he commented as he sank back down. “Your friend’s drink will get cold.”

“I ordered it extra hot and it has a stopper in it. It will be fine.” And Emerson would gladly sacrifice a hot drink if it meant some one-on-one time for me with Hunter.

“Well, yeah. We decided to see other people. I’ll be starting med school and she has another year here. Just made sense. I mean, the idea of living without her . . . it didn’t kill me, you know? And that’s what I asked myself. Can I live without her in my life?” He shrugged. “I figured I could.”

“I never heard it put like that before.”

He winced. “I guess I sound callous.”

“No,” I quickly reassured him. “I think it was fair. To both of you.”

He nodded and took a sip from his cup.

“So,” I hedged, hoping I wouldn’t sound too obvious with my next question, “you’re not into long-distance relationships?” I had two more years here after this one, after all, assuming I finished on time. I hoped the right girl—me—could convince him that the challenge of a long-distance relationship would be worth it.

“Oh, I could. I mean, I would. That didn’t factor into the breakup.”

I smiled, relieved that he didn’t read anything into the question. Relieved that he didn’t realize I was fishing for myself.

He smiled that achingly disarming smile of his back at me. I think it was his smile that endeared him to me the most. With all his advantages he could so easily be arrogant and full of himself, but he was just so good. “But for that to happen it’s gotta be right. It’s gotta be . . . special. You know?”

I nodded dumbly, a fist tightening around my heart. Hope filled me. The hope that one day he would look up and see me as that someone special.

“Sure.” I carefully sipped my hot latte. “I get that.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Enough about me. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” He winked. “Anyone I need to give the once-over, make sure they treat you right?”

My face heated and I looked down at my cup, toying with the edge of the lid. “You don’t have to do that.”

I didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing—him adopting a protective role. If his motives were more selfish than altruistic it would be a good thing. Unfortunately, he’d always looked out for me in the same way he looked out for his sister. It was sweet, but only served to underscore his very platonic interest in me. I wanted, needed, him to look at me like a flesh-and-blood girl . . . someone he protected because he wanted me for himself.

“And there isn’t anyone anyway,” I added.

“Yeah. Well, when you do meet someone make sure he treats you right, Pepper. You deserve that.” His eyes softened, but not for the right reasons. Not because he saw me. His velvety brown eyes weren’t softening because he was overcome with tenderness for the me sitting in front of him right now.

No. Looking at me, he saw twelve-year-old me. And the absolute suck that was my world—my past. A dead father. A mother God knows where. Growing up with a grandmother in her retirement community was a far cry from his idyllic life. He pitied me.

“Well, I guess I’ll get Emerson her drink.” My throat suddenly thick, I stood, securing my bag around me before bending to collect the drinks from the round table in front of me. He followed me to the door, holding it open for me.

Stepping outside after me, he gave me a quick hug, mindful of my cups. “Good talking to you. See you around, Pepper.”

“Yeah, you, too.” My bright smile slipped as he turned away. I watched him move down the sidewalk, merging with the traffic of students.

I stood there, blocking the entrance to the coffee shop until I couldn’t make out the back of him anymore. Until he became lost from sight.

All the emotion, all the desperation I felt last night surged through me again. It came back with a vengeance. I knew what I had to do. If I was going to get him to look at me differently, minus the pity, I had to be different.

Chapter       5

 There he      is.” Emerson shook her head. “I can’t believe I gave him to you. He’s so damn      hot.” She nudged me encouragingly and waggled one of her finely arched eyebrows.      “You better climb all over that or I’m going to punch you. No backing down.”

 I stood several yards back from the bar, tucked      half behind Emerson as I scoped out the bartender undetected. Her words didn’t      faze me. “You know the small matter of his interest in me, or lack of interest,      might come into play.”

 She looked back at me. “You’re kidding, right? You      look good tonight. Better than most of these overdone peahens prancing around in      here shaking their tail feathers his way. You’ve got something they don’t.”

 “Yeah?”

 She nodded. “Yes. You’ve got . . .” She      paused, searching for the word. “ . . . a freshness to you.”

 I winced, feeling rather as if she’d just called me      a “nice girl.” I couldn’t seem to escape that moniker.

 The bartender (I really needed to learn his name)      wore another Mulvaney’s T-shirt, this one a soft-looking gray cotton with blue      script across the chest. I had a flash of myself wearing that shirt and nothing      else, wrapped up in his scent. Wrapped up in him. Sucking in a breath, I shook      off the wicked image. Probably every girl who walked up to him entertained that      fantasy—along with a few choice others that I probably didn’t need to visualize.      That thought made me feel decidedly un-special. I had to somehow stand out from      the rest of them, and I wasn’t convinced my freshness would do the trick.

 He looked as good as ever if my memory served.      Better. A body made for sin and a face that was too masculine to be beautiful,      but the sight of it did something to me. Made me feel boneless and trembly all      over.

 “No backing down,” I echoed, my resolve still      there, burning hot inside me, keeping me from turning and running out of the      building.

 It was just the two of us tonight. Georgia was off      with Harris.

 “Okay,” Em announced. “I think we’ve reconned long      enough. Let’s move in.”

 Her words sent a wave of panic washing through me.      “It’s crowded . . .”

 “It’s crowded every night. Unless you want to come      stalk him on a Monday. Assuming he’s even working then.”

 I shook my head. No. No more delays.

 “Let’s go then. You should feel good. You look      great.”

 I glanced down. The jeans I wore belonged to      Georgia. They were too tight, but Emerson said that was the whole point. You’ve got the perfect curves. Show them off. The      blouse was Georgia’s, too. Various shades of orange and yellow. Very bohemian in      style and flouncy. Emerson vowed that it went great with my hair. It was      wide-necked, and every time I pulled it up over one shoulder, it slipped down      the other one. Again, the whole point, according to Emerson.