More, Please (Please Series Book 3)

by Willow Summers

  “I just can’t get behind the idea of an area where you spend millions on a normal-sized house. You could have a palace in middle America for this kind of money.”

  “But then you’d have to live in middle America.” Hunter parked the car in between a shiny Mercedes and a Tesla, and across the street from a Porsche.

  “What’s wrong with middle America?” I didn’t make a move to get out of the car. Even if I looked like one of them, they’d be able to sniff me out, easily. I was from modest stock, and rich people could tell.

  “Snow, sleet, cold, not to mention landlocked—need I continue?” Hunter smiled at me and got out of the car.

  I was pretty sure a little snow would be a small price to pay for affordable housing, but I couldn’t tell that to someone who owned an island. He just wouldn’t get it.

  The door opened, allowing a swirl of cold air into the car. I pulled my wrap tighter around me before I took Hunter’s hand to get out of his sleek sports car. “I forgot that the temperature shifts by ten degrees across the bridge.”

  “At least. It’s chilly here.”

  I smoothed my dress and then looked around again. “I feel like Cinderella. I’ll probably have to pull a runner in a few hours when everyone realizes I still have something called college debt…”

  “Not Cinderella.” Hunter put his arm around my shoulders as we walked up the walkway to the front door. “Belle from Beauty and the Beast. You were smart and beautiful before I found you. The only change you made was putting on nice clothes and jewelry. It’s still the same you. I was the one who turned from something ugly into something I hope, one day, you’ll be proud of. The transformation was all on my side. Because of you.”

  I leaned into him as warmth filled my chest. He squeezed me tight as we arrived at the door. He turned me to him, lifting my chin so he could give me a soft kiss. He looked into my eyes for a moment before giving me a smile, then rang the doorbell.

  “You don’t just walk in?” I asked, savoring the soft look he’d just given me. Trying to commit to memory the beautiful words.

  “Do you just walk into your mother’s house?”

  “No, but your mother likes you. Right?”

  He squeezed me close again. “She likes to hang on to ceremony with these types of things. Besides, her butler insists on the right way to do things.”

  “She has a butler?” I mumbled as the door swung open slowly.

  An old man that may or may not have already died and refused to admit it stood in the doorway wearing a black suit and a bright red bowtie. Wrinkles lined his face and white wisps of hair stuck out from his head. “Mr. Carlisle. How nice to see you. And Miss Jonston, I presume?”

  “Mr. Smith, hello. How are you?” Hunter guided me forward as the butler stepped back to admit us before closing the door behind us.

  “Just fine, Mr. Carlisle. Just fine. May I take your wrap, miss?”

  Hunter shrugged out of his jacket as the oldest butler in the world draped my wrap across a coat hanger, moving so slowly a turtle would be impatient.

  “Please, follow me.” Mr. Smith led us down a wide hall adorned with well-polished furniture and really neat art. My gaze was captured by a painting and became trapped, following the colors and lines within the frame.

  Despite the fact that everything seemed high-dollar and of the best quality, it gave the impression of having been bought long ago and kept in good condition. The style, and an occasional faded color or two, lent it that older person feel that said Hunter’s mom hadn’t updated her furnishings in a while. Not that she really needed to—it all still looked great. Just…dated.

  When did I start noticing this type of stuff?

  “You were raised here?” I asked quietly as we made our way through a large room and toward the low murmur of voices.

  “Partly. My mother had a large estate in Arizona.”

  “Had?”

  “She had to sell in the divorce.”

  “Why Arizona? Talk about landlocked…”

  “That’s where she grew up.”

  We entered a large room where a crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. About twelve people were gathered, all in shirts or dresses. Everyone but us were in their later years, something I could tell by the loose folds in their necks or the liver spots on their hands. Faces were a different story, though. Most of the women looked ten years younger, at least, than their bodies. The men were the same, genteel and sophisticated.

  “Who has the fountain of youth in their backyard?” I asked Hunter as the butler bowed and slowly left the room. He was like wrinkles on a couple sticks badly held together.

  A middle-aged woman in a caterer’s suit with a black bowtie and a blank expression approached. “Can I get you two something to drink?” she asked.

  Hunter looked at me, indicating I should answer first. “Champagne, please.”

  “Scotch for me. Neat.” Hunter waited for the woman to nod and disappear before he said, “My mother has youthful friends. As you can see, they keep themselves in shape.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I saw that he was right. Women and men alike were slim or average, none overweight, and only one on the stockier side. They didn’t loaf around, either, unlike the butler. They moved well and easily, laughing often and smiling most of the time.

  I straightened up a little. They also all had great posture.

  “Hunter, dear.” A striking lady approached us with a slight smile. Her elegantly spiky hair said “fashionable” and her glimmering black dress screamed “sophisticated.” She had the same trim physique and ageless appearance as the others, highlighting this with mostly nude makeup. Her jewelry was similar in style, size, and cut to mine.

  And now I knew where Hunter got his style and taste. He’d learned from a master. Thank God he’d arranged for Pat to come over!

  “Mother.” Hunter gave his mom a light kiss to her cheek. He stepped back and turned to me, slipping his arm around my shoulders. “This is Olivia. Livy, this is my mother, Trisha.”

  “Hello.” Trisha put out a hand as her hazel eyes sparkled. “It is so nice to finally meet someone that has Hunter’s affection. He doesn’t usually bring anyone around.”

  Except Blaire, as she had been invited…

  “Hi.” I shook her hand, trying to match her light, soft tone and the grip. I figured mimicking her in manners would be my best bet. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.” Trisha looked at her son fondly, patting him on the shoulder. She turned back to me. “Where are my manners? I’ll take you for a tour while Hunter gets his business out of the way early.”

  “You know me too well, Mother.” To me he said, “I just want to talk to one of my mother’s advisors about an investment. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Of course.” Nervous jitters made my hands shake, forcing me to clasp them in front of me so as not to betray my lie. I didn’t want to be left alone with his mom—she’d figure out I was a fraud and probably tell her son to run away screaming.

  “Great.” Surprising me, Hunter gave me a light kiss to the temple before he took his arm away.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Lovely.” Trisha waited for Hunter to move away before politely putting out her hand, gesturing me toward the right. “And where did you grow up?”

  I nearly had to lean in to hear her. “Just north of here—San Rafael.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Beautiful area, like this one. A bit more removed from the fog and chill of the city.”

  “Yes. Summers get warm there, unlike San Francisco.”

  We walked down a hall, slowing in front of a painting. Trisha stopped with a patient smile, letting me take a look before walking slowly on.

  “Did you decorate?” I asked, uncomfortable with the silence.

  “In part. When I first moved, I used an interior designer, but I gave my input.”

  “Hmm. Mhm.” I clasped my hands behin
d my back, searching for something else to talk about. Despite what I’d said, Hunter really hadn’t said much about his mother. I had no idea what she did for fun, if she liked jokes, what she did with her day—I had no basis for a conversation, and asking basic questions might prove my earlier lie.

  “Do you go into the city often?” I said as we paused near another piece of art, this one a painting of a statue beside an explosion of flowers.

  “Not often, no. I shop there on occasion, but it is awfully busy.”

  “Yes. Very congested. I used to live downtown, which was great, as I don’t have a car. I could walk everywhere I needed to go—everything was right there. I was used to all the people. But now I live out near the ocean, and while it’s still kind of busy, it’s way slower out there. Downtown seems much busier to me now.”

  We climbed the stairs and turned left at the top. I had never been on a tour of anything with so few words. In all reality, I could’ve seen and learned a whole lot more if I’d just wandered around on my own. She wasn’t describing the pictures or telling me any family history. Heck, she wasn’t even grilling me about her son. Even though she seemed really laid-back and extremely genteel, I was starting to get more than a little uncomfortable.

  “This is my favorite piece,” Trisha said quietly as she clicked on the hall light.

  I dutifully looked at the mess of a painting on the wall. Then leaned a little closer, not believing this had actually been put on sale.

  A creature of some sort sat on a blob of brown. A man on a log? He held a gray sluglike thing. In front of him was a large, round blue area. Within it were strange shapes of all colors, one looking close to a five-year-old’s attempt at a fish. At the top was a round sun with the customary lines for rays.

  The thing looked like a child painted it, for cripes’ sakes. And it probably cost millions.

  “Oh. Wow.” I nodded and smiled. “It’s really interesting.”

  Trisha gave me that soft smile. “Yes. A lovely attempt by Hunter when he was six. He wanted to be a painter at the time.”

  My mouth dropped. My smile turned into a wry grin. “Get out!” I stepped closer, seeing that the brown smudge was a dock, not a log, and he was, indeed, trying to draw fish. “Wow. I had no idea he had been a budding artist.”

  “Oh no, he was never any good.” Trisha moved down the hallway to another mess of a painting, this one depicting a camping scene with a big brown blob in the far right. The dotted white of stars stretched across a streaked black sky. A burning flame, fairly well done, twisted up from strange greenish…sticks? Another creature, definitely supposed to be a human, sat with a tree trunk next to him. A squiggly gray line was on the other side.

  “Fishing pole,” I said, pointing to the tree-trunk-looking thing. “Fish.” I pointed to the gray line. “Fire, stars—I have all that. What’s the brown blob?”

  “A bear, I believe.”

  “Oohhhh.” I nodded, chuckling. “A nature scene with an element of danger.”

  I heard Trisha’s soft laugh as she led the way to the young Hunter’s next masterpiece. This one was a meadow under an orange sky streaked with pink. A half circle of yellow with hazy rays lay on the picture’s horizon. The green foreground had various colored dots, some representational of flowers, and some a lazy attempt to fill up the page.

  “Looks like he got tired of making flowers…” I pointed out the examples.

  “Yes. He didn’t have the constitution of a painter.”

  My eyes slid over the painting. “This one is way better than the others. It actually portrays a feeling. There’s kind of a…sweetness to it.”

  “He was a few years older when he did this one. It was his last. His dad pushed him toward money and business shortly after he finished this piece.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’s way better at business than he was at painting, but…it’s kind of a shame he let go of the hobby. He doesn’t have any hobbies now. Or none that I know of. Even golf is for business.”

  “Exactly. And if you’ll notice, all these are outdoor pictures. Wild, wilderness. He did so love to play in the dirt. He was always begging me to go camping. He has a fondness for the outdoors that, sadly, I never indulged. I regret that now.”

  I glanced back at the other pictures before looking again at the meadow. It was true—fishing, sitting beside a roaring fire under the stars, and finally, when he was older, a beautiful meadow filled with wildflowers at sunset. He had none of that now. No nature. Hardly even a yard, actually.

  Trisha continued down the hall. I followed, my mind whirling.

  “I used to like camping,” I said, remembering my own childhood. “My dad took me a lot. I was really good at fishing—very patient. I didn’t touch the fish once I caught them, though. My dad dealt with the hook and cleaning it and all that. It was fun. Those were good times.”

  “Maybe you can take Hunter one day—show him what he’s missing.” Trisha clicked another switch and light showered a guy’s room. There was a picture of a sports car on the wall with a half-naked woman leaning against it, sticking out her huge boobs. A desk off to the right had an old computer, some pens and paper, and a stack of magazines. I bet that if I lifted the mattress, I’d find a nude magazine.

  “Hunter’s room?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. I kept it as he left it. Not quite what you would expect…”

  “Uh, no! I can’t believe he left that picture of the car up. He would’ve been old enough to know how clichéd that was…”

  “Men don’t notice things when they’ve no need to. If he didn’t have assistants now, you would know he was a bachelor. For all his attempts to be a grown man, he has the traits of a teenage boy. I’m convinced they all do until they have a wife who makes them grow up.”

  “Hunter seems plenty grown up.” I shook my head, unable to help myself, and lifted the mattress.

  “I had that removed. But you are correct—boys aren’t always as sneaky as they think they are.”

  “Not as sneaky as women, anyway.” I laughed, walking back toward Trisha. “My mind is blown.”

  “Hunter was forced to grow up. His trouble with his father made sure of that. I have every belief, however, that having a baby, and raising a child, will remind him of some very good years. It would be good for him.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It sounded suspiciously like she meant me. Like he would have a child with me. I’d just met this woman and Hunter wouldn’t even say he loved me—what was she smoking that she thought this was a good idea? I could just have been after what was in his bank account for all she knew.

  She met my gaze and smiled. “He is too serious these days, don’t you agree?” She turned, not waiting for an answer, and led the way back out of the room.

  I followed with numb limbs. This situation had just become completely surreal. “I think he is afraid of having kids,” I mumbled.

  “He is afraid to make the mistakes his parents made. He needs an intelligent woman who cares for him deeply to reassure him. I worried he would never find one, with his lack of social life. I’m delighted he is looking at other options.”

  Often people were worried about getting the approval of their boyfriend’s parents. Not me. I was worried about one trying to hit on me, and the other using me as a baby factory. One wanted to strip his son of everything his son loved, and the other wanted to shove love in his face.

  Hunter was right—there was no normalcy here. His parents were nuts.

  My mom might not have cared about me until Hunter walked in, but then I was suddenly invited to her party. All her parties.

  All of our parents were nuts.

  Hunter looked up as we returned to the gathering, his eyes tight and his face devoid of expression. I had one moment of confusion before I heard the laugh and recognized the gorgeous woman standing beside him.

  Blaire said something to a tall man she was talking to before draping her hand on Hunter’s arm. Her dress fit her snugly,
showing off her stellar body. The top swooped low, giving her ample chest plenty of breathing room, and a slit showed all the way to her mid-thigh. The woman was a knockout, but a little too scantily dressed for this crowd, thank God.

  “I do so apologize for inviting his former…ward,” Trisha said in a low tone laced with distaste. “I had not spoken to him before I sent out the invitation.”

  “She’s…no fun,” I replied.

  Hunter stepped toward me as I closed the distance, his mom by my side. Blaire’s hand dropped when Hunter moved away, and she looked over.

  Fiery hate crouched in her glittering eyes as she saw me. She gave my dress the briefest of glances and smirked.

  “Trisha! Hi!” Blaire gave Trisha a giant smile. She kissed the older woman on the cheek. “You are looking great!”

  “Thank you, Blaire. It’s lovely to see you again.”

  “Yes. And thank you for the invitation. It’s been so long.”

  Hunter stepped up beside me and threaded his hand around my waist. He pulled me in close.

  “I was just telling Hunter the other day—”

  Blaire cut off for a second as Hunter moved us away. She started talking again a moment later, but I lost track of what she was saying.

  “Did you see my failed career as an artist?” Hunter asked, moving through the room, away from everyone else.

  “You knew she’d show me that, huh?”

  He stopped next to a large window. Cool, smooth blackness pressed against the other side. He turned to me, his eyes delving into mine. “Yes. She’s been dying to show someone those. All her new friends see those first.”

  “She thinks I should take you camping.” I ran my hand up his hard chest, wanting to tell him she also thought he should start a family, and that I wanted him to start it with me.

  “We’d get eaten by bears.” His eyes glittered down as his lips tweaked up at the corners.

  I fell into his gaze, lost in those velvety brown eyes. “Or so your painting would have me believe.”

  “I was telling the future. That’s why I never went camping—I knew what would happen.”