We kissed once, and I blame that on the excessive tequila shots I did. Trent is a nice person, but he’s just that—nice. The most noncommittal word in the English language. When he touches me, I may as well be holding onto a dead fish. There are no fireworks, no stars flashing before my eyes. All I feel is…boredom.
I know Hunter thinks we’re more than friends who shared more than a drunk, non-earth-shattering kiss, because at dinner, whenever Trent touched me, I pretended it was Hunter. Each kiss, sweet whisper, I imagined it was him, and when I said to him he wants what he can’t have, it was wishful thinking, hoping he’d corroborate my claims and when he did, I almost believed him. Almost.
The person standing in the doorway holding two cups of coffee is the reason why Hunter and I can never be. He won’t settle for just one flavor—he wants them all. And Keira appears to be the flavor of the month—the flavor who can keep up with his sexual prowess because he admitted my fears—I’ll never be able to keep up with the likes of Hunter O’Shea.
“Okay, I’m done here,” I say, hating that relates to more than just my time here.
“You’re leaving already?”
Turning over my shoulder, I can’t hide my surprise. “Yes, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your coffee date.”
Hunter pushes off the desk, walking toward me, while I take two steps back. “Date? Keira asked if I wanted a coffee as she was getting one for her boss.”
“She works here?” I ask, my pitch a little flightier than usual.
“Yes.” He nods firmly.
Well, I don’t know if this a good or bad thing. But when she pipes up, “Actually, are you free tonight? I wanted to show you something,” I know it’s a bad thing, a very bad thing because no guessing what she wants to show him. It rhymes with MYVAGINA.
I’ve never been good with competition because quite frankly, I don’t like to lose. Curse this jealousy and my wicked tongue. “Oh, I need to swing past tonight. I didn’t have a chance to finish what I started last night.” BOOM! I mean that in every possible way there is.
Choo choo. Can you hear that? It’s the express train, ready to take my soul to hell.
I can see the exact moment Little Miss Sunshine turns into Xena Warrior Princess. I never bought her innocent act for one minute and am convinced she’s going to clothesline me right here in Hunter’s office. Her eyes narrow and I’m certain her fingernails sharpen into claws. In response, I smile sweetly.
Hunter’s gaze flicks between Keira and I as he rubs the back of his neck, clearly attempting to decipher what’s going on. If he denies me, I’m going to knee him in the balls. “Well, in that case, it’ll have to wait. Sorry, Keira. You can always email me if it’s important.” I’m sure she’ll take him up on that offer as she probably has snapshots of her cha-cha on file.
“No problem, but remember, Friday, you’re all mine.”
Check and mate.
Her red lips twist into a cunning smirk, while I envision what she’d look like bald. On cue, the sunlight bounces off the metal handle of a pair of scissors sitting atop the mess on Hunter’s desk.
Hunter clears his throat, looking at me like I’m to show him mercy. Not on his life. “I better make tonight worth my while then.” Hunter grunts in the back of his throat, while my ego does a backflip in victory.
It appears we’re all speaking in innuendos because there is no polite way to say BACK THE FUCK OFF.
Keira will clearly fight dirty, but who can blame her? I’m not naïve. I have no doubt they’ve already slept together, or at the very least, he’s seen her parade about naked. I’m sniffing around her bone, and although I should back down, all I want to do is lift my leg and mark Hunter as mine.
This is the reason why I need to stay away from him, because if I lower my guard and let him in, I won’t share. I will claw out any bitch’s eyes if she looks at him sideways. But there is something about Kiera I can’t quite put my finger on.
I don’t buy her girl next door smile. It’s all an act and I need to know why. Deciding to go home and do some recon, I lock eyes with Hunter, who seems more than just a little confused. “See you tonight.”
This is the moment I leave and snoop the internet for any dirt there may be on Goldilocks, but my feet are rooted to the floor. Hunter and I are caught in a deadlock because I know he feels this ever-present pull between us. My body is pulling in one direction, but my heart is slamming on the brakes.
“See you tonight,” he repeats, snapping me from my daze. I nod, too afraid to speak.
Keira makes no attempt to move out of the way, but she can bite me. Shoving past her, I relish in the contact when she almost goes hurtling into the bookcase. “Oh, sweetie, be careful. There’s a bookshelf there.” I don’t wait for her to reply because the evil scowl is all the response I need.
I have no idea what a can of worms I’ve just opened, but if Keira wants a war, then she’s got one.
Let the games begin.
Desperate
I have no idea what I’m doing. I passed the point of no return about two hours ago when I called up Hunter’s office, pretending that I was UPS and had a parcel for Keira, but her surname was unknown. I was hoping the clueless receptionist would confirm that a Keira…worked there.
She did.
Keira Celly. The name of my new arch nemesis. I have no idea, apart from the obvious, what my beef with this woman is, I just know I want her to take a slow walk through fast traffic.
As I’m trying on outfit number six, my phone rings. It’s hidden under my pillow because Trent has called me about ten times. I know I really should talk to him, but I don’t know what to say. After Saturday night, I’ve been giving him the cold shoulder and not returning any of his messages.
Once I get tonight over with, I’ll tell him that I’m not interested. It’s better I end things before they get out of hand. When it sounds once again, I decide to switch it off because I don’t want any distractions as I’m jumpy enough. I lift my pillow, but instead of seeing Trent as the caller, it’s Maddy.
I quickly answer. “Hey!” I say with a little too much enthusiasm, as I’m worried she’ll see what a shitty friend I am for not telling her about my current lapse in mental state.
“Hey yourself. Why are you so chipper?”
Breathe, Mary. “Can’t I be happy to talk to my best friend?”
Maddy laughs. “Aw, I’ve missed you too. How you been?”
Oh, you know, just the standard—losing my mind. “I’ve been good. Just trying to organize my last assessment.”
I wait for it because I know what she’s going to say. “Oh my god, you haven’t?” Even though she was the one who gave me Hunter’s address, I’m certain she believed I wouldn’t go through with it.
Walking back over to the mirror, I wonder if my outfit is too much. I have on a royal blue, high waisted flared mini skirt and a light gray tank which ties at the front. I’m probably showing way too much cleavage. “Yes, I have. Like you said, I’m running out of options. I really don’t have a choice.” Which is half true.
I can hear Maddy walking into another room as the TV in the background slowly fades to silence. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean…you hate Hunter.”
If only that were the truth.
Reaching for my black and gray spotted scarf, I wrap it around my neck to tone down the desperate and dateless vibe. “Yes, the man is an utter primate. His apartment just confirms this.”
“So you ended up going over Sunday?”
Maddy was in the shower when I called her and Dixon picked up. I told him if I could be bothered, I would drop in to see Hunter and asked if he knew if he was home. Dixon isn’t stupid. He knew I was going and he probably didn’t tell Maddy because it wasn’t his story to tell. Nothing slips past him.
“Yes, I did. I did what I had to and then left. I could only handle being alone with him for like two minutes.” Not an outright lie, but just not the way she thinks.
“I’m surpri
sed I didn’t get a call from NYPD,” she says with a chuckle.
Her comment has me thinking about little miss goody two shoes. “What’s the deal with the blonde?”
“Which one?”
A stab to the heart almost renders me unconscious, but I continue. “His date.” I can’t keep the bite from my tone, but quickly recover. “I saw her today. At his work,” I explain, not needing to go into detail, as Maddy knows home and office is all part of the deal.
“What about her? She seems nice.”
Pull it together, I instruct my mirror image as I sweep down my body with a few pumps of my favorite perfume. “She seems like a complete phony. She’s definitely hiding something.”
“Not you too. Dixon also seems to think she’s hiding some deep, dark secret.” From Maddy’s tone, it’s quite evident she doesn’t agree.
My ears prick up. Interesting. “Well, Dixon does know best.”
She bursts into laughter, the light sound instantly calming my nerves. “Since when?”
“Since I agree with him,” I reply, curling a limp lock of hair around my finger to give it oomph.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were both jealous.”
The cell slips from my ear and I quickly scramble to pick it back up. “Please, jealous of what? Being another notch on his bedpost? I don’t think so.”
“I don’t think he’s met the right girl, that’s all. I know you’ll disagree, but I think Hunter would make a great boyfriend. There really isn’t anything not to like. He’s a good guy once you get to know him.”
I pause, lip gloss wand en route to my mouth. “Maddy, have you gone insane? He can’t keep it in his pants for more than five seconds. Not to mention, since your fiancé left him his big manwhore shoes to fill, he’s been screwing anything that walks. I’m not saying he’s a slut, but let’s just say his penis volunteers a lot. And when someone says he’s a good guy once you get to know him, what they really mean is he’s an asshole, but you’ll get used to it.”
Rant over.
Maddy is cackling in uncontrollable laughter while I huff, annoyed that he isn’t even here and he’s able to get under my skin. I need a drink. “I think you two would make a great couple.”
“Yes, like Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. Milo and Otis.”
“Milo and Otis?” Maddy asks, confused.
“Yup, ’cause we’d fight like cats and dogs.” I have no doubt this is true, but it doesn’t stop me from daydreaming about her comment. Maybe in another lifetime. “Speaking of Satan himself, I have to go. I was due at his apartment like an hour ago.”
“You’re going back?”
Throwing everything I need into my handbag, I sigh. “Yes, desperate, remember?” I mean that in every literal way there is.
“Do you want us to come over? Offer some moral support?”
Bless her, but hell no. How high-strung I am, she’ll see right through me and I have no doubt she’ll make me talk to Dixon about feelings and all that other sentimental crap. “No, it’s okay. I won’t be staying long.”
“All right. Good luck,” she singsongs, not making me feel an iota better.
“Thanks. I need it. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’ve crossed the Mexican border and changed my name to Juana.”
“Okay. Your secret is safe with me. Have fun.”
Once I hang up, I feel like the world’s shittiest friend. I want to tell her, but I don’t even know what I’m feeling, so how can I put it into words? It’ll all come out in a rush of gibberish, leaving me flustered and tongue tied.
Grabbing my red coat, I lock up my apartment in Brooklyn and walk to the subway. No one bar pretentious assholes drives in New York. The subway is all one needs to get around. And besides, the forty-minute train ride gives me the guts to rearrange my lady balls and attempt to act semi-normal as I prepare for what the night will bring.
Yes, it’s true, I need to take pictures, but once that’s done, what happens then?
Oh my fucking god. What is the matter with me? I sound like a schoolgirl with a crush. ‘In and out,’ I chant to myself as I enter his apartment complex and push the elevator call button. This place is rather posh and I’m surprised they haven’t thrown Hunter out for offending the tenants with his foul mouth.
The concierge, a younger guy, doesn’t hide his curiosity at what I’m doing here, as I don’t exactly fit in. I’m too dressed to be a hooker, but not in lavish riches to be a resident. He tips his black hat when he sees me eyeing him. “Going to see Hunter?”
“What?” I bark, my temper simmering. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
He can clearly see me seething and quickly backtracks. “I was just wondering because all the pretty girls go up to see him.”
Peering down at his nametag, I have just added Marvin to my shit list. “You really need to stop talking.”
He pales and waves both hands in front of him. “I just meant…” But he soon zips his lips when I envision him doused in fuel while I strike a match.
Lucky for Marvin, the elevator arrives because I’m seconds away from shoving that bell so far up his ass he’ll be speaking with a chimed lisp. “Please feel free to vacate the room whenever you see me next.” He nods, knowing better than to argue with a fired-up redhead.
I storm into the elevator, stabbing at the button which will take me to Hunter’s bordello. My nerves are soon replaced with anger because what the fuck do I look like—one of Hunter’s groupies? I’m offended, not to mention pissed off that whenever an attractive woman enters the building, it’s assumed she’s here to see the manwhore.
Anger is good, I can work with anger. It’s all the other stuff that is confusing me and clouding my vision. Maybe if I live in a perpetual state of rage, this obsession will eventually fuck off.
The moment the doors part, I march down the hallway, intent on being here for no longer than five minutes. I do need his apartment, but that doesn’t mean I need to look or speak to him. From now on, it’s purely professional, and if an unprofessional thought crosses my mind, I’m going to punch myself in the boob.
Standing tall, I bang on Hunter’s door. I could ring the doorbell, but I figure I’ll pound on his door, rather than his face because that’s sure to happen when he opens this door. I impatiently tap my foot against the carpet—what’s taking so long? My scarf is cutting off my air supply, so I rip it off and stuff it into my bag.
With hand poised, I’m about to knock once again but almost fall flat on my face when the door opens and my underwear disintegrates into thin air. Fuck him and the hot horse he rode in on. He’s standing before me in blue jeans with a hole ripped in both knees, a white V-neck t-shirt and bare feet, which also happen to be sexy. I can’t help but take note of how big they are. You know what they say about big feet…big…shoes! I internally yell, primed and ready to sucker punch myself if I don’t push such inappropriate thoughts from my mind.
“Always so impatient,” Hunter says with a smirk, his bulky bicep flexing as he rests his arm against the doorjamb.
“It’s ’cause I want this over and done with as soon as possible.” Hooray for me, but when I push him out of the way, that celebration is short-lived. He feels amazing, and he smells even better. What is he wearing? LadyKiller—getting men laid since 1981. But he has no problems achieving that on his own.
When the door closes behind me, I put as much distance between us and make a mad dash to his bedroom. Extremely rude, but I don’t fancy a bruised nipple. The moment I enter, I can’t help but notice how much tidier it is. When I was here last, I did just turn up announced, but now it’s plain to see he’s put away his clothes and made the bed.
Why does that touch me in ways it shouldn’t?
Just as I curl my hand into a loose fist, Hunter enters and looks at me like I’ve gone completely mad. He’s not too far off the mark. Ignoring my need for violence, I hunt through my bag and do what I came here for.
I don’t even ca
re that the lighting totally blows, because if I don’t leave this room in thirty seconds, I’m going to explode. A push pull effect is tearing me right down the middle because every emotion I feel is quickly counterbalanced with an opposing thought. I hate him. I want him. He is hot. He makes me sick. I want to lick him. I want to punch him in the nuts. I want to touch his nuts. I need help.
Not even bothering to look over the photographs I just took, I shove my cell into my jacket pocket and turn on my heel. I’m panting, and the harder I clamp my lips shut, the louder my desperation bounces off these bedroom walls.
I need to leave, because I can’t pretend anymore.
Charging down the hallway, I remember to turn left instead of right and hope to god I don’t trip over my feet in the process. Although, a concussion might be preferable, because when he calls out my name, I know all my convictions are long gone.
“Mary! Wait! Where are you going?”
“Home,” I spit, keeping my eyes focused on the doorknob and nothing else.
When he runs past me and uses his colossal body as a barricade however, I know this is going to take some muscle, because he’s not moving without a fight. “What’s up with you? Did your favorite book boyfriend die or something? Why are you so angry…well, angrier than usual?”
When I try and shove past him, he latches onto my upper arm, stopping me from moving an inch. I try and break free, but it’s useless. “I’m not angry,” I snap, still fighting with him to let me go.
“You could have fooled me. What’s wrong?”
It’s like I’m attempting to brush a bee off of me as I wiggle out of his hold. “Nothing, I just don’t want to take up any of your precious time, because god forbid I deny the lonely hearts of New York your cock!”
Okay, well, that just spiraled rather quickly.
Hunter releases me, his mouth slightly tilted in humor and surprise. “Are you angry at me because I’m irresistible? That’s not my fault. Blame my parents.”
The Hunt - Monica James Page 12
