CHAPTER TEN
Hunter
You’d think with the two orgasms Miranda gave me last night, I’d have had enough, but no. This morning, I woke up with my hand around my cock, in desperate need of another release. I came so hard, it was as if I had been deprived for the last three months.
Just thinking of her gets me so aroused, but when I start flashing back to some of the things we did together last night, I lose it. That’s exactly what happened when I was under the shower an hour ago. One minute I’m washing myself, the next I’m jerking off again. How I’m going to make it through the day at Collin and Shane’s party without touching her is beyond me.
I invited Miranda as my date on Thursday morning while we were texting back and forth, but after what we shared last night, I can’t imagine going with anyone else. It’s hard to believe that I only have a few more weeks left here in LA and then I go back home. That means I’m going to have to accelerate her learning in order to make sure I’m able to give her what she wants and I can also get what I want in the process—which is all of her.
Jerking off frantically like a teenager has left me famished. There was no way I was leaving the house without eating something. I have limited skills in the kitchen, but back in Fort Collins our adoring housekeeper Isadora, who also doubles as Riley’s nanny, taught me how to prepare a mean omelet. I prepared a chicken and cheddar omelet. Instead of the usual two eggs, I had to double up this morning. For good measure, I even added half an avocado. And I scraped off every last bite off my plate with a huge slice of crusted bread drenched in butter that the housekeeper bought from Crusty Loaf. I was truly starved. I wolfed down my hungry man’s breakfast in no time and washed it down with two cups of strong espresso prepared with my dummy-proof Nespresso machine.
After a more than satisfying meal, I load up the trunk of my SUV with my swimming trunks, flip-flops, a change of casual clean clothes and a few other things I might need for the day away. I go back in the house one last time to pick up the ultimate party starter—booze. Once I have everything I need, I lower my Ray-Ban aviator shades over my eyes, hop behind the wheel and drive up the few blocks north to pick up Miranda.
Since we agreed to meet at ten o’clock, I’m not surprised to see her standing outside her door waiting for me. I honk a few times as I pull in front of her driveway and she waves back at me. I park, get out of the vehicle and walk towards the porch where she’s still standing.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Good morning, Hunter.” She beams.
“Wow.” I take her in fully, brushing my eyes from her cascade of magnificent hair flowing seductively over her shoulders, over her fresh face barely touched by makeup, all the way down to her sexy high heels. I’m stupefied by her beauty.
I’d have to be a blind man not to notice how drop-dead gorgeous she looks in this eye-catching outfit. Her tight white sleeveless fitted top does nothing to hide the fullness of her breasts, the bright scarf wrapped around her neck only brings more color to her already rosy cheeks, her red-orange skirt is made out of that slinky fabric that hugs a woman’s curves indecently well, and then there are those cock-hardening sandals.
Based on what she says next, I guess my eyes linger a little too long on her perfectly painted toes.
“Since you said Collin and Shane are fitness models and celebrities, I figured that some of the guests might be tall Amazons. I had no other choice but to arm myself with the only weapon I’ve got as a short girl—wedge sandals. Once I slide these babies on,” she says, twirling her foot around, “I instantly grow by four inches.” She giggles. I guess I should say something, but I’m still way too mesmerized to pull my eyes away from her feet. “I brought a change of shoes just in case these start hurting my feet and I have another outfit in my bag just in case this one doesn’t work.”
I blink a few times, incredulous that she’d question how stunning she looks. “No, no, no.” I start shaking my head. “You’re breathtaking in this,” I add, totally enchanted.
“Oh, thanks,” she says, brushing her long hair behind her ears. “I wasn’t sure of the dress code.”
“Fuck the dress code, you’re going to turn heads in this. If nothing else, I’ll spend the rest of the day ogling your tits until you change into your bathing suit, which, by the way, I hope is as inviting… if not more.” I grin.
Judging by her reaction, I’d say she wasn’t expecting my answer. She places both hands on her tummy and she starts roaring. Her laughter is so contagious that it doesn’t take me long to join in. “You have the absolute best compliments, bar none.”
“You make it easy to praise your beauty.” We stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of us willing to be the first to break the spell. “Ready?” I finally ask.
“Yes. I just have to grab a few things I left in the door and we can hit the road. I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be right here.” I turn around to determine if her nosy neighbor is up or not and when I hear a door close and some shuffling behind me, I return my attention to Miranda. Huh? “What did you do? What’s all this?” I first notice a duffle bag over her left shoulder and then my eyes move over to the handbag. My eyes continue to travel to the four big bags she’s holding in her hands. Is she going away for a week?
“Nothing,” she answers innocently.
“Liar. Come on, that looks a lot heavier than some empty bags.”
“I brought a little food.”
“Little doesn’t take this much space and it doesn’t look nearly this cumbersome.”
“Newsflash, I’m a quarter Italian,” she says as if it explains it all. “When you invite me somewhere, you’ve got to expect I’ll show up weighed down with enough food to feed an army. That’s just the way I’m wired. It would be inconceivable for me to show up empty-handed.”
“I’m the same way.” I press on my key to pop open the truck, walk towards her, reach out and grab the bags she’s struggling to carry. “What the hell do you have in here? Lead?”
“Funny.”
“I’m not one to criticize. My grandmother Rose taught me to never show up at someone’s house with just a big grin plastered across my face. It’s ingrained in me. I’ve never taken that principle for granted and still today I abide by it.” We get to the trunk and after opening it, I shove things around to make room for whatever she has hiding in these bags.
“I hear you.”
I close the trunk and Miranda starts walking towards the passenger side. Oh, no, not yet. I grab her wrist, forcing her to face me. I lean in closer, but not enough to raise any suspicions. “I hate not being able to kiss you when I pick you up. Watchdog Silverstein over there,” I say, pointing my thumb at the house across the street, “makes it hard for me to show you how much I enjoyed last night.”
She lowers her eyes, shifts them furtively to the left and then she zooms in on my inked arm before she brings her gaze back up to meet mine. The sensual way she wets her lips before speaking sends my mind straight to the gutter. “Maybe you can show me when we get to Collin’s place.”
Did she just say that right after folding her lower lip into her mouth? “You’re a little seductress. I’ll be sure to take you up on your offer. Now get in.” I tilt my head towards the SUV. “We have to get going.” After helping Miranda in, I slide behind the steering wheel, place my iPhone on top of the center console, press on the ignition button and pull out of Miranda’s driveway. We drive for a few minutes in silence, but the delicious aroma tickling my nose gets the better of me. “So are you finally going to tell me what you have in those bags?”
She giggles. “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”
“Whatever it is, it’s making me hungry and for the record I ate enough food this morning to last me a week, so it’s quite telling.”
“I don’t know if you can handle it.” She almost has me going with that serious look on her face, but her lips slightly curl up as if she’s struggling to bite off a smile. She’
s pulling my leg. Tease.
“Try me. I’m a stronger man than you think.”
“When you told me to bring my bathing suit, suntan lotion and flip-flops, I figured the day would be a casual pool party, so I prepared my famous loaded potato salad.”
“Just from the name, I have a feeling I’ll have seconds.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself, I’m pretty certain you’ll go back at least three times.” She’s hilarious. “Let me tell you what’s in it.” She shifts her body to the left so that she can face me as much as possible while still being strapped in by the seatbelt. “This is no ordinary potato salad. My Italian Nona passed on this well-guarded recipe to me when I turned eighteen. She didn’t think I was ready before then.” I smile at her dramatic recounting. “When she went to her first American barbecue six months after arriving in the US at the age of nineteen, she found the potato salad so bland and tasteless, she took it upon herself to come up with a much better recipe. She retreated to her kitchen and a few weeks later she created the potato salad to end all potato salads. She called it saporito patatas, flavorful potatoes, but my grandfather Americanized the name.”
“Woman, please stop tempting me like this. Just tell me what’s in the darn potato salad.”
She lifts her hand up in the air, turns her palm to face me and fans out her fingers. “One, golden potatoes, not the lowly russet ones. Two, sour cream—my grandma made hers with plain yogurt, but Mom changed that and I’m following her recipe. Three, cheddar cheese. Not the white one, the orange because it adds the splash of color. Four, bacon strips, but I substituted some Italian spicy pancetta. Five, green onions. I finish it off with a little dill and chopped parsley and voilà.”
“Holy smokes. You weren’t lying. That sounds out-of-this-world delicious.”
“You haven’t even tasted it yet. Over the years, both my grandmother and my mother have perfected this recipe and I really have to say it deserves bragging rights. I’ve yet to meet anybody who hasn’t gone completely gaga after one bite of this stuff.”
“You must’ve been up since the crack of dawn to prepare this.”
“It only takes an hour, but since you said there are twenty or twenty-five guests, I quadrupled the recipe.”
I was able to give Miranda an accurate number because I had texted Collin to confirm the guest list. I wanted to be dead certain to avoid any kind of unnecessary drama. When he assured me Brianna wasn’t invited, I felt confident in inviting Miranda as my date.
I place my right hand on top of her knee. “Sweetie, you do know you didn’t have to go to all that trouble, but I’m so glad you did.”
“While I was at it I also decided to bake some cookies.”
“Did you actually sleep?”
“It’s no big deal, Hunter. I had a great night’s sleep and I woke up this morning full of energy.” She winks. “Not to mention I had time to kill while the potatoes were boiling so I pulled out a few batches of frozen cookie dough I had on hand. I always prepare them by the truckload. And I even had time to make one extra recipe from scratch.”
“Homemade cookies?” I exclaim, excited. “You have those in my trunk and it’s only now that you tell me? Sheesh. I’m hurt.”
“If you’re going to take it so personally, I won’t tell you the flavors I baked.”
“Don’t you think you’ve tortured me enough?”
I love how she’s responding so smartly to my repartee. She doesn’t miss a beat. With some girls I’d have to explain that I’m joking, but Miranda gets it.
She tilts her head back and laughs. “Fair enough. But I’m only sharing because you’re really cute and you’re a bona-fide Goldfinger.” She giggles.
“Whatever it takes, honey.” I laugh before returning my eyes to the road.
“All right, but I’m warning you, you might not survive this.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Spit it out.”
“Here goes the list of sinful cookies. I have four varieties. Twix thumbprints, thick and chewy peanut butter, toffee butter and, because you forced me to miss dessert last night…” She flashes me a wicked, complicit look.
“I don’t remember you complaining.” I waggle my eyebrows.
She ignores me and continues. “I prepared a batch of chewy red velvet chocolate-chip cookies.”
Wow. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods proudly.
“Damn, girl, you’re killing me here. At this rate, I might have to marry you before the end of the day. You surely know your way to a man’s heart.”
“So it’s not only about my big boobs, then?”
“Wash your mouth out with soap. Your tits are a national treasure, but the fact that you’re drop-dead gorgeous, smart as a whip, sensual like a little volcano and you’re so talented in the kitchen… that makes you a quadruple threat, and I don’t know if it can get better than that.” I grin from ear to ear.
“Oh.”
I don’t have to face her to know she’s gone shy on me again. “Jeez. You’re making me look bad.” I change the subject because for some reason my confession is more intimate than I intended it to be. This is a temporary thing between Miranda and I, but she’s growing on me. Nevertheless, I haven’t got a clue why I’m talking about marriage. As if that’s likely to happen.
She furrows her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“I only brought wine. I didn’t slave over a hot oven like you did all morning.”
“Are you kidding me? What would a pool party be without booze?”
“Thanks for the encouragement. I know Collin is having this affair fully catered—he always does—and he usually tends to go overboard. That said, I still brought a dozen bottles of Shafer Hillside Select Cabernet Sauvignon and the same number of Rhys Chardonnay Alpine Vineyard for those who prefer whites.”
“I don’t know much about wine, but those names don’t sound like the kinds you can buy at Safeway while picking up your groceries.” She laughs nervously.
“I doubt it. I ordered these high-end selections directly from the wineries. At a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars a bottle, they’re not cheap, but well worth every single last drop. I figure we’ll start with these before the party gets out of hand.”
Miranda chokes. “How much did you say those cost?”
I smile. “You’ve never paid that much for wine?” I mock.
“No way.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I doubt I’ve ever spent more than seven dollars on a bottle. One of your bottles is equivalent to five months’ worth of booze in my world.”
I open my mouth to respond, but my phone rings. I lower my eyes expecting to see Collin’s number flash across my screen, but I freeze when I realize it’s not him. Brianna? Why is she contacting me at this time of the day? She never gets up before noon and I told her in the message I sent on Monday when I cancelled our Friday night booty call that I’d be busy all weekend.
Crap. I have two choices at this point, I can pretend Miranda is blind or I can take this head on. I swipe my finger across my screen to turn off the sound, but I have a feeling it’s in vain. I do the only thing I can—let it go to voicemail.
“Sorry about that.” I glance over at Miranda and she’s staring right back at me. It’s clear she saw Brianna’s name.
She shrugs. “No worries. You’re entitled to have other friends,” is all she says. She rummages through her bag, slips on a pair of sunglasses, turns her attention away from me and looks out the window.
Shit. Although I couldn’t have seen this one coming, I still feel badly about it. I have enough respect for women not to play two of them against each other. It’s not my style. As I race down the road, I can’t help but be bothered by what just happened. I don’t get it. There was nothing vague about my message to Brianna. Obviously I’m going to have to be a lot more explicit.
Miranda and I ride in silence. I much prefer when we chat animatedly like we always do when we’re together. This awkwardness between us is so foreign.
I don’t like it one bit. As much as I’m tempted to say something, I have a feeling it’s best to let things settle for a few minutes. I don’t want to have to explain who Brianna is and I certainly don’t want to ruin this day for us.
It’s only when I turn the corner heading south that Miranda speaks. “Where does Collin live?”
“He owns a mansion in Pacific Palisades.” I smile knowingly.
“Then you’re going the wrong way. You’re headed straight to Santa Monica Pier.”
“I know. We’re not spending the day at his house.”
“We’re not?” Her beautiful eyes widen with surprise.
“Nope. His party is happening at his beach house.”
“But there are no houses around here.” The expression on her face is priceless. She still doesn’t get it.
“We’re going to Catalina Island.”
“What? Are you kidding? You mean Santa Catalina? The island packed with very affluent, very famous and very influential people? The little oasis that’s a skip away from LA? The one that’s only accessible via helicopter, a ferry, a private boat or a freaking private plane? That Catalina Island?” Her voice rises by several octaves with that last question.
“That would be the one.” I nod as if it’s no big deal.
“Holy shit, Hunter. This is unbelievable. Why didn’t you tell me that’s where we’re going?”
“I’m happy I didn’t. I’ve got to be honest, I would be highly disappointed had I missed your reaction. I gather you’ve never been.”
“It’s on my list of places to visit before I turn twenty-five, but I thought I’d have to save like a squirrel in order to set foot there at my age.”
“I guess today’s your lucky day.”
“Either that or you’re my lucky charm.”
“I’d like to think it’s a little bit of both.” I wink. “We’re here,” I announce as I make a left turn.
“Is this for real?” It’s almost as if she still can’t believe me.
“Of course.”
I park and even before getting out of the vehicle, I spot Collin, Shane and a group of people waiting by a fairly impressive high-speed boat. I turn to let Miranda know that our transportation is waiting, but she speaks before I do. “Oh, my God, I recognize your friends. I met them at the gala.” She points excitedly in front of her. “They’re the tall ones waiting over there near that big boat. Is that the one we’re chartering to get us to the island?”
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