“Why are you so worried about meeting my mom?” he asks, which has me slamming on the brakes.
He’s right. I have no idea why I’m behaving like a crazy person. It’s not like Hunter is my boyfriend or anything. A sinking feeling weighs heavily in my stomach at that awful fact. And here comes insecurity, our forever third wheel.
He’s waiting for me to reply, so sucking it up, I shrug offhandedly. “Because if we’re going to keep this”—I gesture with two fingers between us—“a secret, then I better not look like I’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday. I’m sure she’ll tell Dixon, who will tell Maddy, who will probably wring both our necks for not telling her. I don’t know about you, but I’m not eager to face the firing squad about our little indiscretion. And besides, I’ll have to see your mom at Dixon and Maddy’s wedding, and I prefer that isn’t the first time she sees me clothed.”
Hunter ponders over my revelation before he nods. I turn on my heel and enter the en-suite, gently closing the door behind me. Leaning against it, I calm my raging nerves, wishing I was meeting Hunter’s mom under completely different circumstances.
I need to chill the fuck out, because I knew what this was from the very beginning. I don’t have a magical vagina. I never expected Hunter to change who he is for me. But the problem is, I’ve changed, and I didn’t even know it. This is neither the time nor the place, so I quickly wash my face and use my finger as a makeshift toothbrush to make myself as presentable as I can.
Once I’ve washed the shame clean, I quietly walk down the hallway, hoping that it was a short visit and Hunter’s mom is gone. But when I turn the corner and see a woman doting over Hunter, I know luck isn’t on my side.
Her emerald eyes instantly widen, while I wish I’d tripped and rendered myself unconscious. “Hello. I’m Mary. Maddy’s best friend.” I don’t see the point in sugar-coating anything because I see this as a Band-Aid—just rip it off and deal with the sting later.
She looks up, and Hunter, raising an eyebrow, simply slips his hands into his pockets with a stiff upper lip smile. Such a non-committal gesture which again, makes me want to eat a gallon of ice cream and listen to Justin Bieber on repeat.
“It’s so lovely to meet you, Mary. I’m Marie, Hunter’s mom.” She walks around Hunter, who looks like he’d rather be having a prostate exam. I extend my hand, but she bypasses it and goes in for a hug.
I hug her back half-heartedly, as I wasn’t expecting her to welcome me so graciously. For all she knows, I could be some barfly her son picked up the night before. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
When we part, she examines me closely with a smile. There is nothing but curiosity and delight radiating from her petite frame. I really don’t know what to say because I want to make a good impression, but I’m afraid if I open my mouth, it’ll be verbal diarrhea and I will thank her for giving birth to such a remarkable son.
“I was going to ask my son to join me for breakfast, but I can see he’s busy.”
Hunter runs a hand down his face, shaking his head, while I blanch. “Oh, it’s fine. You can go. I’m only here because Hunter has been kind enough to allow me to ransack his home and office. I’m studying interior design,” I explain before she thinks I’m some deranged lunatic. “Almost done, actually. My last assignment is to redecorate a space and document the progress.” I’m completely rambling, but I’m scared of what happens when she asks me a question and I blurt out the fact that I’m sleeping with her son.
She nods, processing over everything I just shared. “Well, god knows this place could do with a female’s touch.”
“Hold up,” Hunter pipes up, hands raised, while I smirk. “You never said you’d be turning my home into Barbie’s penthouse with glitter and doilies and shit.”
Marie stifles a laugh while I roll my eyes. “I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Shortcake, I’m serious,” he states, while his mom and I don’t overlook my nickname.
“Okay, fine, you win.” I mock sigh, pretending Marie isn’t watching our exchange with an inquisitive eye. “No doilies. Has he always been such a pain in the ass?” I whisper loudly behind my hand as I point in Hunter’s direction.
Marie bursts into laughter. Hunter smirks, a dimple hugging his whiskered cheek, which promises punishment for my smart mouth. My cheeks instantly heat.
“You must join me and my husband for dinner tonight, Mary. He’d love to meet you.”
“What?” I ask, gasping for air, my playfulness subsiding and terror soon taking its place.
“I can see you’re both busy now, but how about tonight?”
Marie looks at me kindly, while I look at Hunter to throw me a freaking bone. What is the proper protocol here? His cheeks puff out wide as he exhales slowly. Oh my god, I want to die. Please, floor, swallow me whole.
Just as I’m about to make up some excuse that I’m allergic to…dinner, Hunter leaves me speechless. “As long as it’s Mexican, we’re in.”
We are?
Marie claps once, excited, while I smile like a deranged circus clown, wondering if it’ll be rude if I sat down and breathed heavily into a brown paper bag. “Wonderful. I’ll let you pick the place. Invite Dixon and Madison too. We can triple date.” Air gets lodged in my throat and I subtly thump over my chest. Now I really need to sit. “Text me the details. It was so lovely meeting you, Mary.” All I can do is grunt in response.
She gently caresses my arm before hugging Hunter affectionately. He stands rigid, but smiles when she playfully tugs at his manbun. She shoulders her bag before turning to me. “By the way, I love your dress.” The cherry on top is when she winks. She so knows what’s going on, because who in their right mind refurbishes a home in a little black dress? But I think it’s safe to say the sane ship sailed a long time ago.
I smile in response, as I can feel word vomit rising. Hunter sees her out while I have a mini freak-out.
This is bad, so bad. Meeting Hunter’s mom and liking her is not part of the plan. I was supposed to get over him by now. I thought if we finally scratched the itch, I would be cured, but all I’m left with is fucking hives. I rub at my neck, the itchiness about to consume me whole.
“Are you all right?”
I jump five feet, placing a hand to my thundering heart. “Yeah, fine. I think I’m allergic to you,” I tease, needing to douse this sudden attachment with humor. “Which is why I think you, Dixon, and Maddy should just go to dinner.”
“Oh?” His handsome face pales and I feel like I’ve just kicked a puppy. “You don’t want to come?”
“I do!” I reply with a little too much gusto. Reining it in, I clear my throat, hoping to regain some composure. “I just…is it weird?”
Hunter takes a step forward, while I force my feet to stay rooted to the spot. “No, it doesn’t have to be. I mean, sooner or later we will have to see Maddy and Dixon together.” He advances forward slowly, pinning me with those eyes. “If we start acting differently, they’ll know something is up.” I gulp. “And nothing is different, well, apart from the obvious, right?” he purrs, stopping an inch away. “You still think I’m a disgusting pig. And I still think you’re the most infuriating woman on this planet.”
My head nods, but I can’t be held accountable for my actions, because sweet baby Jesus, he is epic. He’s sex on legs with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
“So you see…we will eat Mexican and I will pretend that I’m not envisioning your naked taco.” I can’t help but laugh, because I know what he’s doing and I appreciate he can be the grown up and not make a big deal over this.
“Okay, it’s a date. Deal! I meant deal.” Holy fuck, if that wasn’t the mother of all slip-ups, then I don’t know what is.
Hunter cocks his head to the side, examining me closely. I sizzle and pop under his gaze. “If you want to call it quits, just say the word.”
I almost give myself whiplash as I take a step backward. My worst fears have just been spoken aloud. I kn
ew this day would come. I just thought it wouldn’t be so soon. “No, that’s not what I want.” Working my lip, I ask the inevitable. “Why? Do you?” I’m certain he can hear my heart breaking and my pink bits weeping.
The silence is killing me. Just as I’m about to excuse myself and cry a river in private, his warm palm engulfs my cheek. “No.” I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “You’ve made it clear what you want, and I’m happy with your demands.”
‘Earth to Mary—tell him!’ my inner voice screams. Once and for all.
“I…” But I quickly seal my lips shut. This is the time a non-coward would speak up and mend the error of her ways. But I’m scared, fucking terrified, in fact. What if I confess I’m beginning to have feelings for him, and in response he tells me to grow up and take a number?
It may all seem like hearts, and roses, and endless orgasms, but what happens when that fades? I’m no one special. Just Mary Mitts, the ginger-haired, average Joe Blow, from the Bronx. Hunter will grow bored and find someone else to whet his appetite. I need to remember that the next time I get carried away and picture our happily ever after.
Corey has broken me, but I’ll be damned if I’m played for a fool a second time around.
“Good,” I reply, but nothing about this is remotely good. What does feel good however, is his thumb caressing the back of my ear. But forcing myself to concentrate, I persevere. “Now, I’m going to go home, shower, and hit some stores so I can finally get out of your hair.”
He blinks once, my words appearing to snap him to focus. “Oh, right. Can I come?” He reads my hesitation and smirks. “It is my apartment and office you’re redecorating. Surely I have a say.” And then he says stuff like this, which gives me a small shred of hope. I need time to clear my head.
Gently turning my cheek to sever our connection, I shake my head, while every part of me screams in protest. “I think it’s better I do it alone.” That holds more than one meaning.
“Okay, no worries,” he replies without fuss. A small part of me wishes he did. “I’ll text you the details about tonight.”
“Great.”
Now would be the time I turn and leave, seeing as I made a big song and dance about wanting to do it alone. But leaving him has me missing him all over again. I really need to talk to Maddy about this, but the truth is, telling her would mean I would have to admit to myself that I, Mary Mitts, have fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with…Hunter O’Shea, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
Men like Hunter don’t settle down, they especially don’t settle down with women like me—women who want a fairy tale ending. Tears threaten to break past the floodgates, so I quickly turn my back and leave, and attempt to figure out what the hell comes next.
I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, that much is clear, because if I did, I would turn back around and forget the day I ever met Hunter. I was stupid to think I could pull this off. I never saw Hunter as just a fuck buddy. He was always something more. If only I had been honest with myself and him from the very beginning, I wouldn’t be walking into Siesta’s with my heart lodged in my throat.
Today, I did some soul searching and realized that there is only one way I can end this insanity—I have to tell Hunter how I feel. If he laughs in my face and forgets my name come morning, then at least I know.
Needing to give my brain the day off, I actually did what I said I was going to do and went shopping for Hunter’s home and office. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get my mind off of him, but it gave me the thinking time I needed.
Tonight isn’t the time to air our dirty laundry, but now that I’ve come to a decision to finally grow a pair and tell him, or at least hint that this isn’t just a booty call for me, the sooner I can stop acting like a nutjob.
If only I was honest earlier, none of this would be happening, but it is what it is and now I have to deal with fixing this mess. Yes, I’m scared, but I’m even more terrified of not giving this a chance to grow. That’s my mantra as I walk into the Mexican restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, because what’s the worst that can happen?
The place is packed, a sure sign the burritos are as good as the fishbowl margaritas they’re infamous for. As I’m about to ask the charming hostess where my party is sitting, I see something which sanctions that I’ll be drowning in those fishbowls to survive the night.
Standing a few feet away is Hunter. He looks incredible, which is nothing new, and what’s also customary is the fact he’s talking to some blonde bimbo who looks seconds away from offering the shot she’s holding from between her fake boobs.
He laughs at something she says, and even leans in close to hear what she’s saying above the traditional Mexican music, which is blaring loudly over the speakers.
To onlookers, the sight seems innocent enough, but I recognize that look echoed in those doe eyes, because it’s the same one I wear whenever Hunter’s in the room. She wants him, and from the shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid, smug face, I dare say she’s in with half a chance. They’re definitely flirting. I cover my mouth, seconds away from throwing up my lunch.
Spinning on my heel, intent on fleeing and not looking where I’m going, I charge into some poor person who is in the firing line. Apologizing profusely, it isn’t until I look up and see the gods are wagging their finger at me, hinting this isn’t going to be easy.
“Mary?” Marie says with nothing but concern. “Is everything all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Pulling it together as best I can, I try my best attempt at smiling without bursting into ugly tears. “Hi, Marie. Yes, I’m fine. I just remembered I left something in the car. I won’t be a minute.” That was supposed to be my cue to leave and never return, but when a handsome gentleman steps behind Marie with her coat, I know chivalry runs in the O’Shea family.
“Oh, you sound just like me. I left my coat in the car.” She turns over her shoulder and smiles at her doting husband—Hunter’s dad. “Thank you, Ralph. This is Mary. Hunter’s friend.” The moment we’re introduced, it’s obvious they both know I’m currently screwing their son.
Ralph—I can see where Hunter gets his good looks from—gives me a polite kiss on the cheek and a gentle smile. “Great to meet you, Mary. You deserve some kind of medal for putting up with my son.”
I laugh, but it’s strained, because this is just plain awkward.
“Ralph, would you walk Mary to her car? She left something behind.”
“Oh, no, that’s totally okay!” I express a little louder than normal, alerting everyone to my impending hysteria. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” Damn him and his deep, honeyed voice to hell.
“Mary left something in her car. I told your father to go with her. The streets aren’t safe for a nice, young thing like her to walk alone,” Marie explains, because my mouth has become drier than the Sahara Dessert.
Hunter chuckles, which irritates and turns me on all in the same breath. “More like the streets aren’t safe from her.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but I’m in no mood to laugh.
Making a point to look at the bar, where the blonde floozy was probably getting ready to rack up tequila shots and dip her naked body in salt, I eye Hunter something wicked. He’s come to read me so well.
“Oh no, are you still sad about One Direction? Don’t worry, Shortcake, I hear Harry is going solo and we all know he’s the talented one, anyway.”
I know what he’s doing. This is the usual banter we’d engage in, and if everything is supposedly fine between us, then I should play along. But he’s lucky I’m not kneeing him in the groin and finding the puta who was flapping her fake lashes his way.
“It doesn’t surprise me you know all about their careers—your stash of women’s underwear surpasses the number that’s been thrown their way—ten to one.” Hunter clutches over his heart dramatically, but I’m only half joking.
“Oh, you two,” Marie gushes wit
h a cheerful smirk, not at all bothered that I called her son a manwhore in a roundabout way.
Ralph couldn’t look happier. “I like this one.”
They ask the server where our table is while Hunter lags behind, appearing to puzzle over why I want to throat punch him. “Hi,” he mouths. In response, I flip him off with a sarcastic grin. He quickly reads loud and clear that I’m not playing, and attempts to reach out, but I slap his hand away, and narrow my eyes in warning.
Marie and Ralph are oblivious to our sudden stalemate and follow the waitress to our table at the back of the room. Hunter subtly reaches out to caresses my ass, but I swat away his advances and eyeball a final warning. He raises one hand in surrender, while using the other to cup his balls.
The moment I see Maddy, tears well in my eyes. I feel like it’s been years since I last saw her, not mere days. She instantly deciphers my mood and worry overcomes her. This is exactly the reason why I never should have listened to my vagina and stayed away from Hunter. If this turns pear-shaped, so many people are bound to lose.
“Lamb?” She stands and is by my side in a heartbeat. “Are you okay?”
I want to pull her aside and divulge all my secrets. Tell her that no, I’m not okay, and I need to book an appointment to see her fiancé. But I suck it up and smile. “Yeah, as good as good can be, considering I have to spend my Saturday night with this annoying jerk. No offense, Marie and Ralph.”
“None taken,” Ralph says, while Marie’s light laughter hints they’re oblivious to my meltdown. Maddy, however, isn’t convinced, because she knows me better than I know myself. But she lets it slide.
We all take our seats, and I’m thankful when Hunter slides into the booth to sit near Dixon, while I slip in beside Maddy.
“Hello, I’m…”
“I’ll have a strawberry margarita, please. Is that fishbowl the only size you have?” I blurt out, interrupting the waitress, whose mouth is still open, mid-introduction, before I rudely interrupted her with my desperate need to get wasted, pronto.
The Hunt - Monica James Page 19
