Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(31)

I chuckle. “That is how this works, after all.”

“I don’t have a game on Wednesday or Thursday night, so one of those evenings would work.”

Tina’s reminder rings in my mind about me having to be flexible for this particular client. The problem is, I don’t have the consistent income to be flexible. I need to work.

“Actually, evenings aren’t great for me. Keeping our meetings between business hours would be best.”

He eyes me curiously, and I can sense he’s trying to figure out what it is I’m doing with my nights, but he doesn’t pry. Because we are trying to be friends. Professional, non-overstepping friends.

“Friday then,” he offers. “After my morning skate and before my game. Let’s say three o’clock. My place.”

“Friday at three it is. Don’t be late this time.”

He chuckles. “I’ll do my best.”

A moment lingers between us, neither knowing what to say, when Rio finally gestures towards my house. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

I make the same motion towards his place. “So should you.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be surprised to learn that not much has changed in that department. I’m lucky if I can get a few hours a night.”

Like an instinct, it’s on the tip of my tongue before I remember that we aren’t kids anymore. We can’t sneak to each other’s houses to sleep and pretend it doesn’t mean anything.

So instead, I offer him a weak, tired smile and leave for my door. Once I reach it, and before I go inside, I look back over my shoulder at him. “Good night, friend.”

He grimaces. “Yep. Don’t love that.”

I chuckle, unlocking the front door. “Good night, Rio.”

He stays there, hands in his pockets, watching me go inside. “Night, Hal.”

Wren left the entryway light on for me, as well as the one on the porch. When I close the front door behind me, I lock it at the same time, but before I turn off the porch light, I look for him one last time through the peephole.

Rio is still standing there, hands in his pockets, wide stance as he faces my door, looking at it as if he can see me through it.

But he can’t, so I indulge in checking him out without the consequences of getting caught.

I understand that technically he’s the same man I’ve always known, but so much of him has changed. I thought he was the cutest boy I’d ever met back when he was shorter, had acne, wore braces, and didn’t have a natural athletic bone in his body. But now? Good God. If I allowed myself to look at him in that way again and wasn’t jaded from the past six years, I’d be in trouble.

After one final glance, I turn off the porch light and it’s only then Rio finally walks back home.





Chapter 10


Hallie


I hold my hand up to knock on Rio’s front door, but instead, decide to let it drop to my side.

Theoretically, I knew it might be strange working on his house, but I didn’t give myself the opportunity to really let it sink in just how uncomfortable this could be. I didn’t give this first walk-through a second thought until the anxiety kept me up for most of the night, tossing and turning in my bed.

We’ve seen each other a couple of times in passing this week. He was mowing his lawn one morning when I left for work and was then grabbing his mail around the time I made it home from my shift at the bar. I didn’t want to question why he might be getting his mail at two in the morning, so I let myself chalk it up to poor sleep.

There haven’t been any more words exchanged. Only small acknowledgments that the other exists—a casual wave or tip of the chin. Because we’re friends.

I could laugh at the thought.

We’re not friends. We’re just trying not to kill each other. And personally, I’m trying not to rip off his clothes.

The clock on my phone switches to three p.m., so I, once again, raise my hand to knock, but before I can, the front door swings open.

Rio is standing there, beanie pulled down over his ears, joggers cinching at his ankles, right above his bare feet. But that’s not what has my mouth hanging open. It’s the fully unbuttoned flannel cuffed around his elbows that he’s wearing without another shirt underneath.

Like a hot lumberjack.

There’s enough dark hair on his chest to remind me that we really were young the last time we saw each other, and when my eyes trail down to his abdomen, I find myself questioning what happened to all the junk food we consumed when we were kids. Trailing further south, that dark hair starts again, just under his belly button, creating a visual path to a part of him I’ve thought about far too often over the years.

“Hallie.”

My attention pulls up to meet his. “What?”

“I asked if you were going to put your hand down.”

Yeah. I’m standing here like an idiot with my hand still held up, ready to knock on the door and gawking at the guy like I’ve never seen a shirtless man before. Like I’ve never seen a shirtless him before.

He’s your client.

I quickly wrap my airborne hand around the books I have held tightly to my chest.

“That was creepy,” I say, turning it back on him. “I was about to knock on the door.”

He gestures to the doorbell camera, crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Not as creepy as it was for me to watch you standing and staring at my door for multiple minutes. Figured I’d come check to see if you were coming to our meeting.”