by Gina Kincade
Hunter places the bags on the carpeted floor, newly carpeted floor, and says, "I'll be at work most nights, so I'll be out of your way. The cleaner also filled the fridge and the pantry. You can eat anything you want in there. There are clean towels in the bathroom. And uhmmm..." Why does he sound like a bellhop?
"Where are you sleeping?"
"There's another bedroom on the other side. I've been using it as a studio, but it's got enough space for a bed and a dresser. I've kept some of my clothes in the closet to hang, I hope you don't mind. That dresser is all yours though." He points at six-drawer dresser with finishes matching the side table. "Do you need help with these?" He waves his hands over the bags.
Bee shakes her head. "No, thanks. I'll sort it out."
Hunter brushes a hand over his hair. He's due for a haircut, and a shave. "I'll leave you to it then. I have to go back to work."
"Okay." Bee's voice is too quiet.
Hunter hesitates by the door. "We'll make it work. I will try my hardest." Even he has a hard time believing what he's saying. If he can't convince himself, how else will Blanche believe him?
"Okay," she says, again in the same low tone.
Hunter leaves her in the bedroom, thinking to himself that no, nothing feels okay at the moment. Nothing will be okay for a while. He has made a move, chanced a decision. All he has to do, as Jay told him, is to man the fuck up.
Chapter Twelve
"I have to make this work." Hunter stares at the ceiling above the too-small mattress he's occupying for the duration of Bee's stay, which essentially is going to be a long while. How he will manage living with Blanche and not lose himself completely is not clear to him.
Jason was as surprised as he was when Hunter told him that Blanche has agreed to move in. "Do not fuck it up," his brother warned.
He doesn't intend to. Blanche is one of the good girls, the kind men take to meet their families, someone who follows the rules and doesn't skirt around the guidelines. What she was doing at the bar that night they met still wasn't clear to him. He knew even then that she didn't belong in his world. And yet, here she is, living under the same roof, a few feet out of his reach, and pregnant with his own child. He doesn't deserve to be with a woman like her, but it can't hurt to give it a go.
No matter how much he has tried to deny it, the son his parents raised existed within him. Duty and responsibility were drilled into him and his siblings. His own mother would disown him if he turned his back on Blanche, like how he initially thought he would do. But the good boy in him prevailed. All he has to do now is accept what fate has given him, work it out somehow.
Sure he can't say that he loves Blanche, but he respects her. She's good through and through, anybody can see that. And she's beautiful and smart. And sexy.
Hunter groans. How can he live with a woman without being able to touch her? Even the previous night when he peeked in to check on her after coming home from the long hours of work, he itched to join her in bed and soothe his ache with her warmth.
"Don't even think about it," his brother's voice was clear in his head. "You'll only make things more complicated if you try anything. Live with her, get to know each other, and then go from there. If it gets too hard, toughen up. If you make it too complicated, you'll end up hurting her. Stop and think before you do, for once."
"Thanks, brother," he huffs, glancing down at the angry erection in his boxers.
Hunter gets up, pulling and adjusting his boxers, and trudges to the bathroom for a freezing cold shower. He stops short as he sees Blanche balancing a plate, books and her bag with her hands. He runs over and relieves her of the items.
"What are you doing?" He didn't mean to sound short. "You have to be careful."
"Sorry. I'm running late. I overslept. That bed is comfor—" her eyes wanders his way, taking all of him in.
He should have put on a shirt or wrapped a towel around his hips. Too late now. She's seen it, his morning wood. And she widens her eyes and swallows.
He restrains a chuckle about to burst. "I'm going to shower," is his attempt of an explanation.
She finally averts her eyes, and a blush colors her neck and cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare."
She can stare all she wants, he thinks, but decides to keep it to himself. "What time do you have to be in for work?"
He continues to stand there, unashamed that whatever is going on in his boxers isn't deterring him from having this conversation with her. She has to get used to this. It's not like he can control it, especially not when she herself looks delicious in a yellow dress, thin enough that he can see the outline of her bra.
"Eight. Why are you up so early? I didn't hear you come in last night." Morning, he wants to say, but let's her continue. "I made coffee by the way." She points at the pot on the counter. "It's hot. Be careful. You don't want to burn yourself."
"I should put a shirt on, shouldn't I? This is bothering you?"
She raises her hands up. "It's your apartment. You can walk around in boxers or nothing at all if that's what you want." She says the words bravely, yet she doesn't look his way again.
He inches closer to her, leaning against the counter. His head dips so he can whisper in her ear, "You want me to walk around naked?" Hunter hears the small gasp she lets escape. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.
"I have to go," she announces, stepping around him and gathering her books and bag.
He snickers through his teeth. "What time are you done work?"
"Four, but I have an appointment after that."
"For the baby?" Hunter straightens. She nods. "Can I come?" He furrows his forehead. "If I'm allowed?"
Blanche ponders, opening and closing her mouth before giving him an answer. "Of course you're allowed. But it's only a monthly check up. Just listening to the heartbeat and doing measurements. Nothing special."
"I'll be there. Text me the address and time?"
"Okay." Then he sees it. The smile. And Hunter is taken aback from the sheer power of that simple gesture. Blanche, the sweet girl who just happened to get thrown into his life, smiles brilliantly and warmly at him that he feels it all the way inside his chest.
He wonders how often he can see that smile again, and if it will continue to have the same impact on him. If he's rewarded with those every now and then, their co-habitation won't suck as much.
"PETERS!" RED COMES up to him, arms wide open, ready to embrace the big man who just walked in through the studio doors.
He accepts the hug, but releases her right away. "Red, how was Europe?" He tries to figure out what he's feeling at the moment. He hasn't seen Red in three months, and now that she's returned...engaged to be married...
"Good. Great! You should go. The food, the people, the culture. Everything's wonderful." Red waves her hands around while she's talking. Hunter zeroes in on her naked fingers. No sign of an engagement ring.
"Yeah maybe one day."
Red stops grinning and crosses her arms over her chest.
"What?"
She quirks an eyebrow. "What's up with you? You look different. You seem different."
Hunter brushes his hand over his short hair. He's grinning like an idiot. "Not sure what you're talking about."
"Yes, there is something. Tell me." She unfolds her arms and wraps a hand over one of his forearms, one which is covered with art that Red herself has inked on him.
Hunter looks around, and cocks her head toward the back where her office is located. Red furrows her brows but leads the way.
"HUNTER A. PETERS, YOU sly dog! You're gonna be a daddy?" Red pops her mouth open and throws another embrace at her friend and colleague.
It hasn't been easy for them the past few months, particularly when she started seeing one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. Neither was it better when Peter proclaimed his love for her. She isn't disillusioned that everything is fine and dandy after her return trip with Wolfe, but Peter has been her friend for the longest time and he's
been loyal and honest, she owes him much of her successes. She's determined to work it out with him, regardless of how he feels toward her relationship with Wolfe.
But with a baby on the way...
"What's her name?" Red can't keep the smile off her face. She is genuinely happy for him.
"Blanche." He may not admit it, yet, but there’s adoration for this woman, and Red senses it by the way he says her name.
"How'd you two meet?"
Peters rubs his face, a sign that he's uncomfortable with the question. "At a bar."
Red's smile widens.
She was afraid she had lost him as a friend when her relationship with Wolfe became serious and a bit complicated. But here he is now, sharing his own good news—a baby with a woman he clearly adores.
"I guess we're growing up, huh, Red?" Hunter kids. "Me with a baby. You...engaged?"
Red looks down at her empty finger. "That I am." She slips a hand inside her jeans pocket and places the ring on her finger. She stretches out her hand.
Hunter gazes at her green eyes before looking down at a unique setting, antique gold ring. He feels a tightening on his chest. He would have said that it's jealousy on his part, but after hearing that quick whooshing of his unborn child's heart during the sonogram, he isn't too sure what he feels. Red is entitled to her happiness, if it's with another man, who is he to stop that?
Is it that easy? Can it be that plain and simple? He's letting go of her just like that? After years of pining for her, he can stop in a snap?
He lets go of Red's hand and pulls her in another tight embrace. Past her shoulder, on the monitor, which receives feeds from every camera in the shop, he sees a woman walk in, whose figure he someone knows a little too well. A warm smile spreads on his face.
Chapter Thirteen
"Hi, I'm looking for Hunter?" Blanche grips the handle of the small picnic basket she found under Hunter's kitchen sink. Why a man like him has it is beyond her.
The spritely receptionist she remembers the first time she came into Red Ink Studio regards her, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow. "Who?"
"Hunter? Big guy, short hair, angry-looking?" Bee laughs at herself.
"You mean Pete?" the girl says.
"Hunter Peters?"
The girl with the pink-tipped hair forms an 'O' with her mouth. "We call him Pete here. Yeah, he's here. Do you have an appointment?" She looks down at the basket Blanche is holding before checking the computer monitor.
"Uhm, no. I just thought..." Blanche shakes her head and lifts the basket. "I brought him dinner. It's a surprise."
"Are you his girlfriend?"
"No!" Bee regrets saying it too quickly. "We're uhm...roommates."
The girl lifts an eyebrow again. "You're shitting me, right? I have a roommate but she doesn't bring me dinner in a picnic basket." Bee's cheeks warm. "I'm Daisy." The girl offers her hand.
Blanche switches the basket to her left hand. "Blanche."
"You look familiar. Have I seen you hear before?"
"I was here once for a bit, with a friend." Almost three months ago, in fact. "I can just leave this here if he's busy."
"No. He's in the back with Red."
"Red?"
Daisy squints her eyes at Blanche. "You don't know Red? Peter's never told you about her?"
"Should he have?" Why does it feel like Daisy's privy to a secret? Blanche bites down on her bottom lip. Just because they will be parents to a child, it doesn't mean he has to tell her everything, does it?
That afternoon, while they waited for the doctor to come into the examination room, with her in a too-thin fabric, which the nurse handed her and asked to change in, Hunter was there. There for her, silently supporting her. He didn't say much, and he seemed as nervous as she was, but his presence made her wistful. Maybe they can make things work. Be roommates, then friends, and who knows what after that.
Hunter fiddled with the items in the room and dropped a model of a female's pelvis to the floor when the doctor walked in.
"Sorry about that," he has said, clumsily putting away the plastic form.
His breath held when the doctor measured and poked and prodded Blanche's stomach. And when that quick thumping of the baby's heartbeat, an echo which said, "its here. I'm here. I'm real. Get ready," filled the room, Hunter's eyes widened into saucers
His hand found hers, squeezing as they continued to listen. When the doctor asked them if they had any questions, he rapidly fired off a number of them. Enough to make the doctor hand him a list of websites and books and other resources from which Hunter can get his answers.
Right then, Blanche knew that they could possibly make it.
To thank him for going with her, she wanted to surprise him with a dinner she made. A little gesture of gratitude.
But as she stands there, with the inquisitive Daisy, Blanche wonders if it has been a good idea at all. She's about to excuse herself and leave the basket for Hunter, when she hears her name.
"Blanche?" And sees Hunter emerging from a door at the end of a long hallway, holding hands with a beautiful, redheaded vixen.
The worst part is he doesn't even let go of the vixen's hand as they stand in front of her. "What are you doing here?"
Blanche looks at Hunter, then at the woman. An ache burrows deep inside her. She's beautiful. He's handsome. They're both tall and effortlessly cool with colorful tattoos on their skin, a matching outfit of black shirt and dark jeans, and an air of je ne sais quoi. They make a striking couple.
"Red, this is Blanche. Blanche this is Red." Hunter makes the introductions. The way he says her name, a simple one-syllable, three-letter word, pokes at the green-eyed monster hiding inside Blanche.
Red's smile is effervescent as she finally lets go of Hunter's hand and stretches hers to Blanche. They do a quick shake, but it seems the woman feels it isn't enough. Red leans forward and wraps Blanche in a hug. Bee stiffens, a hug isn't what she expected to get from Hunter's lover. That's it. She must be that. One of his better choices. Then Blanche remembers what Jay said a few months ago about his brother being hopelessly enamored by a woman. What else did Jay say? Blanche wishes she's paid more attention back then.
"It's so good to meet you!" Red releases her and glances at Hunter, who looks...boyish, younger somehow, shy even. Has he told Red about them? But what exactly did he tell her? The two of them share a look, a quiet understanding that only two people who have known each other long can have. That green eyes twists inside Blanche.
Blanche feels like she's a voyeur, witnessing something she shouldn't. She needs to get out of there. "I brought you a little dinner to thank you for this afternoon. Here." She thrusts the basket at Hunter, who then takes it with a questioning look. "It should still be warm. I hope you don't have any allergies."
"Yeah, I don't. Thanks, you shouldn't have, really, Honey Bee." Why? Why would he call her that in front of Red?
Blanche shakes her head, then nods, confused as ever. "Not a big deal. Okay, bye."
"Wait." Hunter reaches for her hand. She steps back and lets him catch only air. "Stay."
Blanche swallows the anxiety building. "Nope. I'm going home. I have some files to review and stuff and things. You know how Jay gets."
"You work with Jay?" Red asks. Of course she knows who Jay is. She must know everything.
Blanche nods, but Hunter answers for her. "She's Jay's assistant."
"Oh great. Please tell him I said hi...and Mare too," the vixen tells Blanche, and then turns back to Hunter. "How are the boys? They must be growing like weeds."
"Yeah, they're great. You should come see them this Sunday for dinner," Hunter replies.
Sunday? Sunday night is family night at Jay and Mare's. Hunter is asking Red to join them. He's never asked Blanche.
"That would be fantastic! Can I bring Nana? She'd love to see the boys."
"Hells yeah! It would be awesome. Make sure Nana makes pie. I love her—"
"Sugar pie," they say at the same time
, and laugh.
Enough. Blanche has had enough of this show. The Hunter and Red show. Dizziness swoops in. The rush of blood thrums through her head. She feels faint.
"I better go." Blanche doesn't wait for them to acknowledge her existence, they're much too happy to be involved in their own world. She rushes to the door and out to meet the cool night air. Only then, she breathes out. And sobs.
Chapter Fourteen
"How's it going?" Trisha asks, balancing a fork on her index finger. Her dessert plate is cleaned off. Bee's plate is not.
"Okay." Bee scoops the icing off the chocolate cake. Any other day, she'd be licking her plate clean, but her appetite has nose-dived once again.
Trisha pokes her friend's cake with her own fork. "Spill it. C'mon, tell Momma Trisha what's wrong." She lifts a piece of the dessert and offers it to Bee. "Open up!"
Blanche purses her lips and lets her fork clang against the white plate. "Trish, stop. I'm not in the mood."
Taking the food into her mouth, and not bothering to swallow it before she speaks, Trisha points the fork at her friend. "Is he being an ass?"
"What?" Blanche knows exactly to whom she's referring, but thoughts of Hunter Peters just grates her nerves.
"You know what. Tell me or I'll eat all of your dessert."
Bee pushes the plate toward her. "Have it. I don't want chocolate cake."
Trisha raises her hands in an over-the-top fashion. "Do not! Do not push away good cake! I'm worried about you." Then she turns serious. "Really Bee, if he's being an a-hole, you can come back and live with me."
"I'm fine, Trish. He's not being anything." Nothing, she wants to correct herself, but even she doesn't understand why she wants Hunter to be not nothing.
"You've been living with him for a month and a half. I'm surprised you lasted this long with that troglodyte aka Shrek."
It's Trisha's way of making her laugh, and it works. Bee lets a snicker escape her lips. "We barely see each other. Actually, I don't see him at all. He's still asleep when I leave for work, and he comes home late, like two or three in the morning."
