by Rachel Kiss
Completely baffled.
Was that beautiful boy going to be living here with me?—in this beautiful mansion?
Mrs. Gilly smiled stiffly at me as I stared transfixed at the closed door where her gorgeous son had just exited, my heart pounding from a strange mixture of yearning mixed with bewilderment.
“You were highly recommended,” she told me again—for the fourth time. I guess because I must have looked as confused as felt as to why in the world I was here. I mean out of all the people in the world, why me? Here? At this beautiful place with that beautiful boy? What baffling mix-up had taken place?
I swallowed. “It was nice of the hospital staff to recommend me,” I said meekly. I mean, what could I say? That was all I could think of.
“Oh, it wasn’t the staff that recommended you,” Mrs. Gilly said. “However, they agreed wholeheartedly that you would do a wonderful job, and they gave me the information to get in contact with your aunt.”
“But—but they didn’t recommend me?”
“No, that would be my son.”
I blinked, confused. “Tommy?”
“No, my older son—Hunter.” She clarified dryly, “—Romeo, with the wink.”
My heart slammed against my chest. I had to grab on to the counter beside me to keep from toppling over.
That news was even more baffling.
I stammered out, “I—I don’t know Hunter.”
Mrs. Gilly smiled stiffly. “That’s what Hunter said. He swore up and down you didn’t know him. Yes, I know you’re perplexed—but think how I feel. My son, who is beyond rowdy and quite a handful—I’m talking about Hunter, by the way, and not your new charge: convalescent Tommy—Hunter swore up and down he would be good all summer and take both violin lessons and French lessons all summer long if I’d hire you for Tommy—and Hunter hates the violin and can’t stay out of trouble to save his life.”
She smiled weakly, “So, your stay with us may come to an end quite abruptly—and suddenly. But fear not—you will be paid quite handsomely for at least my son’s attempt at making amends to his impressionable little brother.”
Before I can ask what the—?? Because really, WHAT the—?? I mean, besides the fact I don’t know Hunter (which is an enormous fact) but what is just as confusing is: why would a boy promise to be good all summer just to have me watch his little brother?
But before I can ask, Mrs. Gilly goes on, “Apparently Hunter had dared Tommy to jump off the roof. He hadn’t expected Tommy to take the dare, of course. But Tommy is following in his big brother’s footsteps to an alarming degree, so off the roof Tommy went. Hunter felt so guilty about it that he promised Tommy the best care possible—and apparently that’s you.”
She smiled sardonically, “—well to my son anyway.”
Fireworks exploded through me.
I bit my bottom lip, my heart pounding too loud to try talking over. Besides, I had no idea what to say. Mostly because I now remembered that I had seen Hunter before. Actually, I knew I had the moment I saw him, but it had all happened so suddenly—him unexpectedly showing up, racing down the stairs, here in this magnificent house—it had made my brain basically stop working. But it was working now. A little.
I remembered seeing Hunter at my dance class. I guess he had been there with his mom, early for his sister’s dance lesson or something.
In any case, I now remembered disturbingly vividly seeing him there. It had been a few weeks ago. He was standing in the open doorway as I was intent on my dance lesson. I’d been in the middle of a pirouette, but I had felt his eyes on me. Distractedly I had looked up, then my eyes had locked on to his—the most beautiful long-lashed eyes I’d ever seen. Our eyes stayed locked like that, fixated, until my teacher broke me out of our magical spell, chastising me on daydreaming as she quickly shut the door in the beautiful boy’s still-staring face. Hunter’s face.
I swallowed, remembering all that now. But I couldn’t tell it to Mrs. Gilly. Of course. After all, it in no way explained anything. Nothing at all, in fact.
I mean, why would Hunter assume I was a good care-giver?—just because he’d (apparently) liked seeing me dance? And how could he have known the hospital could track me down?
Also, it wasn’t like I ever got to see him or any of his family after that day—which was weeks ago. I never got to go back to my dance lessons after that day. My aunt had cancelled them when my cousins started playing their mean tricks on me—and blaming me for every bad thing that happened in that horrible house. So, my aunt had abruptly cancelled my dance lessons, though she had no right. None at all. My deceased grandmother had specifically set aside money in her will for me to “continue on with my fruitful dance lessons.”
But my aunt announced after my newest spat with my cousins, “Jane, that money will pay for the laptop you broke, and the trauma you put upon this household for going after Gia’s sweet beau.”
(Who I must again stress—was so not sweet—and I’d tried my very, very hardest to avoid him at all costs.) Yet here I am—dance lesson-less, and now in a mansion, staring at Hunter’s mom, as baffled as she is. Well, really, I’m more baffled, of course.
All she is baffled about is how I have somehow managed to get her son to do the things he deplored doing—namely violin lessons, and being “good.”
But I’m baffled about all of this—why I’m here, or how these people know anything about me.
CHAPTER 10
When Tommy and Tia got home from chess club, I soon found that I liked them very much.
Tia swiped Tommy’s cookie from him with a playful laugh.
“For once I get to be the tease,” she announced with an impish smile. “I get the last cookie—and you can’t do anything about it.”
Tommy made a dramatic moan. “You would steal a cookie from a cripple?”
“When he’s dumb enough to jump off the roof—yes,” she teased. “Especially when last week the ‘cripple’ stole my cookie.”
“Last week I wasn’t a cripple,” he said, trying to chase after her as she waved the cookie out of his reach.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and helped him “chase” her.
We were having all kinds of fun, racing all over the house—until we almost rammed into Hunter who was covertly watching us around the corner (aka: spying).
I abruptly stopped running—and breathing.
“When did you get home?” Tommy asked Hunter the question I wanted to know as well. Then he added, “And why were you spying on us?”
Hunter glanced between Tommy and me with a wry smile. “I was just seeing how you liked the babysitter I got you,” he said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “—pretty sweet, right?”
Tommy ran his fingers through his shaggy locks, like trying to undue his brother’s mussing. He rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a little red. “She’s not my ‘babysitter.’ She’s just my helper. Right now she’s helping me get Tia! Come on, let’s go, Jane!” Tommy instructed, and I immediately dashed off with him again, chasing after laughing Tia.
***
I didn’t see Hunter again until much later that night. Embarrassingly, when he hadn’t come to dinner, I think his mother realized I was disappointed, though I tried my hardest to hide it, tried to act like I didn’t even notice he wasn’t at the exquisitely fancy dinner table. But my heart fell when I realized he wasn’t coming. It was alarming that it did that—fell. But it did. Like a brick.
His mother explained almost sympathetically, yet still quite sardonically, “My oldest son is very socially ‘in demand.’ I doubt we’ll be seeing him much this summer. Though I had thought he’d be around for at least a day or two—what with you here, after he begged for me to have you come here.”
Tommy grinned, raising his eyebrows at me. “He really begged.” Then he added, “Mom had hired a mean nurse.”
Mrs. Gilly laughed. “She wasn’t mean—she was … stern.”
“Mean!” Tommy contradicted.
“The mea
nest meanie ever,” Tia added. “And not fun at all. Thank goodness Hunter made Mom hire you, Jane, instead.”
“He didn’t make me,” Mrs. Gilly said with a sigh that had a note of satisfaction in it. “He promised to play the violin all summer—and stay out of trouble. If he manages to do that—well, then Jane here is a miracle.” She winked at me. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”
“We’ll make it last forever,” Tia announced. “We love Jane and want her to stay.”
“And we hate mean nurses!” Tommy moaned.
“Then hope your brother is able to stay out of trouble,” Mrs. Gilly said. “But don’t hold your breath for that.”
CHAPTER 11
Tia and Tommy had me read them story after story before they finally let me tuck them into their beds.
As I left Tommy’s room, I was startled to find Hunter hiding around the corner from his brother’s bedroom. He’d obviously been listening to my stories—spying again!
My heart fluttered wildly finding him smiling in the dark. “I knew you would be good at tucking them in bed,” Hunter told me in a husky whisper.
His warm hand took mine, making my heart explode. He placed a finger against his lips, indicating for me to be quiet, as he led me into a room—his room apparently.
He shut the door, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t be afraid—I’m not trapping you in here. I just didn’t want my mom to hear—she might get upset.”
I blinked. “At what?”
He shrugged, still smiling, like he was delighted to have me in his room, yet all he said was, “She gets upset about everything.”
“Well, you dared your brother to jump off the roof.”
Hunter breathed out a laugh, “I didn’t expect the dope to do it!”
“Well, the ‘dope’ said you did it before.”
Hunter laughed another husky soft laugh. “I did. But I didn’t break my legs—or know that he knew I did that.”
I informed him, “The boy seems to worship you.”
“Well, he shouldn’t.”
“That’s a big No duh.”
Hunter’s grin quirked, “Hey, you don’t even know me.” But he said it around an amused grin. After a moment he added huskily, “However, I’d like to change that.” He edged closer to me, “I’d like for you to get to know me—and me to get to know you.” He raised his eyebrows, “Us to get to know each other—very well,” he murmured soft and husky.
His words and seductive voice, and him being so near—it was too much for my inexperienced heart. I quickly lurched away from him, abruptly changing the subject and tone, since this one was making my heart long to leap out of my chest and deem itself his. “You don’t even know me, though. So, I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re being my brother’s assistant,” Hunter said, getting close to me again. “And you seem to be doing a good job of it,” he murmured huskily, his lips drawing closer and closer to mine with each word, seeming as though he was going to kiss me. For a moment I held my breath, and found myself leaning in for it, anticipating it with all of my longing almost-fifteen-year-old heart—but then I jumped away. I mean, I didn’t even know this boy. At all. And it would be my first kiss. I didn’t want to waste it on a player-boy. One that stole it the very first day he spoke to me.
Hunter groaned slightly as I jumped away from him. Blinking, he eyed the distance I put between us like it was painful for him to bear. Then with a tiny grin, he ducked his head, as though in playful defeat. Yet all he said was, “Aw.”
“I want answers, bucko,” I told him, taking another step back.
He grinned slightly. “Answers? What’s the question?”
“Why am I here?”
“My mom hired you to help out my brother for the summer. In case you haven’t noticed, his legs are broken. And also if you haven’t noticed—he seems to like you.” His grin quirks. “—I like you too.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes, “Yet you couldn’t even make it to dinner tonight.”
A pleased (though playful) grin flashed on his lips. “You noticed!”
He said it like—score!
Then he added quickly, “Don’t be hurt. I only did that for my mom’s sake. I mean, believe me, I wanted to be there with you—big time. But I knew my mom knew that, so I had to play it cool. She thinks I have a crush on you—which obviously I do—but I had to downplay it or you’re going to get kicked out so fast. And I don’t want that.” He raised his eye brows, “—do you want that?”
I shook my head.
“Good,” he said softly, then went on matter-of-factly, “So, I had to act normal—which is, I go off with my friends whenever I get a chance—always. So, tonight she offered to let me go out with my friends when they called. If I turned them down she would have immediately known I like you as much as she suspects. I mean, I begged to get her to let you come here—”
“Why’d you do that?” I asked, interrupting his other explanation.
His eyebrows went up. “Do what?—beg her to have you come here?”
I nodded.
His grin grew to epic proportions. “You’re not ready to hear yet. Or more like, I’m not ready to tell you.”
That of course made me respond with a clever, “Huh?”
His grin just grew even bigger. “I’m going to change the subject, so don’t think this has anything to do with your question—it doesn’t—but it’s an interesting fact. I mean, it was interesting to me.” He pauses a moment while he watches me wait, his smile still quite huge. “You’re name is Jane Air—right?”
I nod. “Like the book—only spelled differently.”
He leans his head towards mine slightly. “Well, my name is Hunter Rochester,” he emphasizes his last name, like to make sure I’m aware of the significance. Which I am—of course. The man Jane pines for in the book is “Mr. Rochester.” So that is quite interesting. Actually, it gives me tingles and goose bumps, but that could just be because I’m pinning for the dude and enchanted that he actually knows stuff about my favorite novel and that he’s aware of the special significance of our names.
These are all quite intoxicating things to me.
Yet, because it’s easiest to be chill about, all I respond with is: “But your mother’s last name is Gilly.”
Hunter nods. “Right. My mom remarried and got a new last name—though my stepdad is a dirt-wad and she’s divorcing him as we speak, which is why she finally hired you, I think. To let my brother have a little fun while she’s busy trying to act like she’s not suffering and wounded—but she is.”
My lips form an “o.” Because, well, that’s incredibly sad.
Hunter doesn’t give me a chance to dwell on it though. He quickly goes on, “It’s a little weird though—don’t you think? Us being like characters in a romance novel.” He leans his head closer to me again, “Romantic, right?”
Before I can say anything he gives a little laugh. “Maybe not. I never actually read the book, but I’ve heard often enough that the dude—Mr. Rochester—he goes blind in the end, so I’m a little nervous.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you have a French little girl and a crazy wife?”
“No.”
“Then you’re safe then.”
He scratches his chin. “I do have a crazy ex-girlfriend though.”
“Well, keep her away from lit candles and don’t lock her in your attic.”
“Okay. Though she’s locked herself in my room before—and put my house key down her bra where she wanted me to fish it out—this all happened in front of my current girlfriend, by the way. Well, she was my current girlfriend, at the time. No longer though. I’m now completely free—one-hundred percent available.”
I clear my throat, choosing to overlook his blatant innuendo that he is “free” to get together with me if I so desire. (I mean, the dude has had at least two girlfriends, and has already tried to kiss me—though we just met today. He’s obviously very fast, and experienced, and that is not me, n
or what I’m looking for in a first boyfriend. Quite the opposite, actually.) So, instead of responding to his mushy innuendo, I stick to the Jane-and-Mr. Rochester-thing, like that’s all we’re really talking about.
I nod and respond mock-seriously to his crazy-girlfriend info. “Let’s make a pact not to get married—just to be safe. Maybe we should even write up a contract, since you seem intent on making the story come true, and I’d really rather you didn’t. I don’t want another boy going blind over me.” I add quickly, “I can only take so much guilt.”
He nods mock seriously as well. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll have my lawyer write up a contract. I don’t want to turn blind either. No offense to you. I mean, I hear the guy and Jane get together in the end and live happily ever after. But really, I need to be able to see. I mean, I play hockey. My teammates would kill me if I went blind—even if I fell in love. Though that that’d freak them out as much as me going blind.”
“Okay, it’s settled,” I grin. “No marriage between us—and no locking your crazy girlfriend in the attic.”
He tilts his chin. “Again, I really can’t guarantee that last part. I mean, I won’t lock her in there. But she’s very unpredictable. And likes to hide my keys in inappropriate places—at inappropriate times.”
I tilt my head, finally actually dwelling on the instances he’s stated. “How old are you anyway?”
He only grins at this question. When I wait, he hedges, “Look, I got a late start on this ‘dating’ stuff,” he murmurs without actually answering. “So, it seems I somehow made up for it really fast—and got ahead.”
“Which means?”
“Well, technically, I’m only fifteen—well, okay, almost fifteen—but the girl I’m speaking of was sixteen at the time. She might have thought I was older. And she might be able to drive now.”
“Which means she’s sixteen?”
He nods. “But look, I’m mature for my age. Things have happened that have made me … mature.”
“Like having girls lock themselves in your room?—and trying to run you over with their car?”
