"COME ON BAKER! SLOW FEET DON'T EAT!"

I could've strangled Hunt right in the middle of the crowded gym. A 6 am workout wasn't what I had in mind when he offered to train me. I assumed we'd start slow, but Hunt had other plans when he beat down my apartment door at five o'clock this morning.

"I'm rowing, you idiot," I breathed. My frustration on the precipice of annihilation and my target included the five-foot-eleven athlete standing above me with a far too charming smile and the greyest eyes I'd ever seen. "I'm not even using my feet."

"It's a saying," Rhett piped up, twisting his body away from the squat rack Fischer was currently using.

I glowered at the pro snocross riders, sweat pouring in rivulets down my exposed spine. It was odd to see the guys from different teams working out together. All of them spotting and pushing one another. Team Baker trained alone. They lived together, ate together, raced together and lied together.

My heart slipped. I blamed it on my burning lungs. "How much longer?" I asked, my throat dryer than sand.

Hunt took his phone from his pocket–his grey sweats and beautifully sculpted shoulders an obvious distraction for the girls running on the treadmill a few feet away. I wasn't sure I liked it. "Two minutes."

I stilled.

"Keep going."

"My arms are going to fall off."

"Damn Baker, do you always complain this much?"

I seethed beneath my burning skin.

When two minutes was up, I released the handles with a snap, elbows on knees. "I'm going to puke."

Hunt nudged my arm with my water bottle—the sensation cold against my blistering skin. "You're out of shape."

"That's very perceptive of you."

I snatched the bottle while Hunt took the bench next to me. "You didn't work out at all over the summer?"

"I didn't exactly have time," I answered, taking the longest drink of my life. "Between cooking meals, cleaning, and taking care of my grandmother, I barely had a minute for myself."

"I get it," he said, taking a swig of his own water.

I looked him over, not forgetting that Hunt's mom was diagnosed with cancer when he was six. Not the same as Hama's, but similar.

For a moment, he was quiet, solemn as if remembering some long forgotten memory.

I wasn't sure if I should say something. She passed when he was thirteen, leaving him and his father alone. It was the reason he acted out, they said. Why he'd flipped from being the shy, quiet boy I once knew to the cool, confident ass he'd become.

I might have asked him if he was okay, hoping to bring him back, but Hunt found his own way out of the haze that settled around him. "Your family didn't help?" he asked–a casual remark.

"My family came when they could," I said defensively, even though I was still pissed about the mess in my grandfather's kitchen and let Lily know in an all-caps text message when Hunt and I were on the road. "Between running their businesses, paying for my grandmother's medical expenses, and keeping Bell Construction afloat, their hands were full." Plus, I didn't trust anyone else with her. I was her first grandbaby, and I was severely overprotective.

Hunt's chin dipped just a bit–conceding. "How's your grandfather?"

A dark cloud settled over me. "Grieving. He hasn't left his room since she passed."

"And Bell Racing? Your uncle Johnny didn't seem thrilled about the team being handed over to your dad."

My eyes ticked in Hunt's, unsure how much of my family's business I should reveal. Not that it mattered, everyone knew just how pissed Johnny was.

I exhaled, focusing on what would soon be blisters on my palms. "My papa loved his team, but my family worried about his ability to handle everything after Hama. When the decision was made to hand everything over to Team Baker, Johnny lost it. He argued the team was the one thing Papa had left after my dad took away Bell Construction." I paused. "Some words were said, and they haven't spoken since."

For a moment, Hunt was quiet. "Is that what your dad wanted?"

Something in his expression revealed a glint of sorrow as if he felt sorry for us. "Watch out, Hunt. Your affection is showing."

He gave me a small smile, but it wasn't happy. "I'm not as cruel as you think I am, Baker."

"I beg to differ," I replied, gesturing to the rowing machine. "If anything, you're worse."

That grin grew. "You're going to hate me more in a second."

I groaned, begrudgingly following him to the chin-up bar.

***

A crisp autumn wind rustled the dying leaves above our heads—the shade of the tree next to our table protecting both Hunt and I from the unforgiving rays of the afternoon sun. 

We parted ways after the gym. Hunt had an 8 am class he needed to get to, and I needed a nap, shower and food before my first lecture. I agreed to meet him in the quad at 2 pm to go over his paper for Dempsey before Stats.

Our books lay sprawled before us on the stone table. The sound of Hunt's laptop keys clacking.

I fished through his binder, flipping to the first divider. "You're organized," I commented when I took out the syllabus, noting all the colour-coded tabs and how nice his writing was. 

"I like having things in order."

"I see that." I combed the hair from my face, skimming through the due dates. "Your paper is worth fifty percent of your grade," I stated, more to myself, but that didn't stop Hunt from commenting.

"And I only have one shot at perfecting it."

I skimmed through the syllabus. "What's your major?" I asked, curious about his plans for the future. He had countless endorsement deals and was wanted by everyone.

"I'm a marketing major."

"So was my mom," I stated with equal parts surprise and pride.

The edges of Hunt's mouth curled, giving way to a soft smile.

I felt my cheeks warm and reverted to my notebook. "Once you've chosen your topic, it'll be easier for me to recommend material," I stated, keeping to the task at hand. "We can go to the library," I offered, jotting down a few notes of my own.

I could feel Hunt's lingering gaze sweep along the exposed skin of my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted heat. "What?" I asked, the branding kiss he pressed against the bottom of my ear coming to mind.

Letting my guard down around Hunt was a bad idea for many reasons, the biggest one being our family's feud, but it was more than that. I'd trusted Hunt once, and it ended with me standing alone in the middle of a crowded field with tear-stained eyes.

"Are you coming to my race this weekend?"

I finished my note, not bothering to look up. "No. Why would I?"

"Because all the guys' girlfriends see them off before a race."

I barked a laugh.

"Come on, Baker," he said, a large grin plastered on his face. "As far as your team's concerned, you and I are now an item."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of fangirls available to take my place."

"But none of them are you."

I gave him a flat look–suspicious about his intentions. Surely he didn't want me there because he cared about me. He told me exactly how he felt about my family and me when we were younger, and I still tried to console him years later when his mother passed. A bad idea, one my grandmother suggested when everyone had left the cemetery and Hunt stood before his mother's grave alone. No, Hunt's intentions weren't as pure as he was making them out to be. He was only helping me to rile Jace.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Hunt," I stated, not about to explain the reasons why us being together was problematic. He knew them as well as I did. "I'm your tutor, and you're my trainer, period. And if you don't pick a topic, I'm going to—

I didn't have a chance to finish that sentence.

"Well, well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes."

I snapped my head, finding both Liv and Joy approaching us–hands held as they ventured over the grassy knoll.

I should have known they'd track us down. Olivia's eyes were brimming with questions when I stumbled out of my room this morning–bag slung over my shoulder, gym clothes on. I dragged Hunt behind me, grasping his hand as a sleepy-eyed Liv made her way out of her room and practically skipped to the kitchen to begin her interrogation.

The two stood before us. Liv with an arched brow, her blonde hair pushed back by the black sunglasses she rested on her head, and Joy with a mischievous grin plastered on her face, a multitude of tiny braids hanging long past her cropped t-shirt. "Hey, Nadine."

I didn't appreciate the song like greeting and let her know with a look. Hunt, on the other hand, grinned. "Olivia," he welcomed before looking to Joy. "I don't believe we've met."

Joy slid onto the bench across from us, her teeth pearl white against bronze skin. "I'm the one you woke up at the crack of dawn."

Hunt dipped his chin, eyes flicking to me. "I apologize. I wasn't aware you had another roommate."

I made to answer–mouth parting when Joy said, "Oh, I don't live there." Welcoming Olivia onto her lap. "I merely spent the night."

Olivia grinned, leaning in to kiss Joy.

Hunt's eyes drifted to mine, the question evident. "Hunt, this is Joy, Olivia's girlfriend. Joy—" she broke, giving her attention to me. "—this is Hunt."

"Nice to meet you."

Joy's dark eyes flicked down then up, assessing the man before her with a crooked grin. "So you're Hunt."

Hunt's brows furrowed slightly at the insinuation.

Joy's gaze slid to me. "Nadine's told us so much about you."

My stomach flopped. Hunt grinned. "All good things, I hope."

"Not really."

He nodded once, going back to his computer. A part of me felt bad.

"You look like shit," Liv commented, twisting to look at me.

I reluctantly dragged my gaze to my roommate. My stomach knotted with guilt. "Hunt made me squat till my legs gave out," I replied, hoping he'd catch the tease in my dry remark and rejoin the conversation with a charismatic reply.

He didn't.

Their eyes flicked between us. "So you two are hanging out?" Joy asked, pointing a manicured nail between us.

"I'm just her trainer," Hunt answered.

His bland indifference had my brows pinching. Surely he couldn't be that upset. He knew I wasn't particularly fond of him. I'd let him know on several occasions.

Why it bothered me so much, I didn't know. He was the one who pushed me away, and I might've said as much had Joy not lifted her chin. "So you wouldn't mind dragging her to Julio's tonight."

Hunt lifted his gaze from the laptop. "What's at Julio's?"

"Dinner, dancing," she answered. "It's open mic night and two-for-one highballs."

"I have an early class," he said flatly. "And training before that."

I stared sidelong with a feeling I couldn't name.

Joy shrugged. "Suit yourself. If we're lucky, maybe Nadine will sing a song."

I dipped my chin, sorrow consuming the anger I held for Hunt. "Not tonight, Joy."

It had been weeks since I sang anything to anyone, aside from Hama and the wounds were still too new.

She sagged. "Fine." Not fully understanding. No one did, and I wasn't about to explain it to any of them.

They rose, Olivia giving me a sad expression. "I'll save you a seat at the cantina."

I nodded, swearing I could feel Hunt's curious expression, but he didn't ask, so I didn't acknowledge it.

They left, leaving Hunt and me to stew in the simmering quiet.

A/N: Nadine posted to her stories this morning.