Hunter slammed the bonnet of the car, and lowered it. "For some screwed up reason you fascinate me. You have a certain je ne sais quoi." He wiped his hands with the rag from his back pocket. "I'll take the bait. On one condition."
"What?" She huffed, regretting what antics he'd come up with.
Hunter swung her around against the desk, his eyes roaming up and down, fixated on the tear on her pants. "Pass this test. It will assure me of your friendship. Or lack thereof." He moved into her personal space, the tips of his boots touching her sneakers.
Luxor creased her forehead, as usual Hunter talked in riddles and she didn't have the time or patience to deal with his antics. "I'll prove it. Ummm...How about a day out, anywhere you want,” she paused, her eyes widening at what she had just volunteered.
“The beach,” he said immediately and without hesitation.
“The beach?” she repeated.
Images of swimsuits, and exposed skin come to mind. If it was possible, she would have ripped her tongue out for mere stupidity. “No, no. Chose somewhere else.”
Hunter arched an eyebrow. "My decision is firm.” He paused as if contemplating his next comment. "Will you wear a bikini for me? Has to be red, such a sexy colour."
"I won’t go."
"Too bad. I want the beach," he replied adamantly.
The best Luxor could ask for was two things: constant rain, or Hunter to forget. Both were highly impossible.
"Fine. I've got to go. I'll contact you somehow."
"Somehow?"
"I lost my phone. I really have to go." The light drizzle of rain had increased and it would be just her luck to be stuck in a downpour.
"Hold up, I'll take you." Hunter left no area to argue, but as usual Luxor ignore him.
A ding-a-ling sounded above the door as Luxor entered the small convenience store, but as she ventured in further it came across as a mini-supermarket. The middle of the room was stocked with basic fruit and vegetables, with an open fridge on one side for dairy and on the other side a delicatessen/butcher where an elderly lady served behind the counter.
"What are you making?" Hunter snuck up from behind and swiped a basket before she could.
"Soup," she replied bluntly.
"You cook? Impressive. What kind?"
Now wasn't the time to admit she didn't have a clue on what to do. It was simple cut vegetables, throw into a pot of boiling water and stir. Wasn't it?
Food. I can do this. How hard could making soup be?
Luxor had inherited her lack of cooking skills from Meredith. On the rare occasion she tried to make a meal of mac n cheese she ended up burning the pot. She didn't think it was possible but she'd put the water on to boil, and forgot about it.
"As much as I appreciate your help, I can't be talking and wasting time. It's a simple in and out,” she said, releasing it came out snippy.
"No foreplay?" he chuckled.
Stepped right into that one Luxor.
An idea formed in her head, why do all the hard work when a shortcut was available? She headed to the frozen food section and grabbed a bag of mixed vegetables.
"That's horrible." Hunter snuck up from behind her, plopping the bag out of her hand and returning it. "Wait a sec." He circled around the store throwing in a variety of colourful vegetable; carrots, celery, potato occasionally taking time to smell it. "Now you're set," he told her, dropping them in the basket and returning it to her.
A man in his sixties whose name badge read Roger was already at the counter, a warm welcoming grin and brown paper bag ready. Used to self-serve counters, Luxor began to upload the bountiful amount of produce, and clear plastic bags of what looked like seeds, more than she would have originally got.
Hunter slinked in behind her, his body flush again hers as close as can be. She burned on contact, and even though he was helping her to unload the basket onto the counter, he was immobilising her by the way his fingers trailed up and down her back. Attempting to contain the electricity which raged within, Luxor fell into an awkward conversation with the man. The cash register had ceased to ping, leaving her to turn around and pull the notes from the inside of her jacket.
"How much?" She hoped she had enough.
"All paid for." The man tilted his head towards the door, where Hunter sauntered away. He whistled a tune from an advertisement, swinging his arms along with the bags.
Her bags.
Luxor followed him to the pick-up truck he had been working on. "What do you think you're doing?" She hissed, tugging his sleeve to get her bags back.
There was no way she would get into a stolen vehicle.
Fat raindrops fell from the sky, thunder rumbling promising anger the horizon. Despite this, she would rather get hailed on.
"Taking you home," he said nonchalantly, nudging her to the side. He unlocked the doors, and stashed the groceries on the back seat.
The thrum of the car, and soft, melodic tunes from the radio didn't subdue the irritation Luxor experienced. As usual Hunter had barged in and taken control, an area in which she barely had any.
It wasn't the fact he gave her no choice but to get in the truck, in a way it was a blessing in disguise, the torrential downpour continued to bucket down. It was him paying. Because now she owed him, and it wouldn't be monetary. It wasn't his style.
The car jerked to a stop once they reached The Chalet. Luxor turned slightly, kneeling onto the seat, and leaned over to the back to retrieve the bags. Her shoulder was pushed against the door.
Rain spitted in when the door was yanked, causing her to jump away.
"Hurry up, I'm getting drenched here," Hunter called out. A small, battered black umbrella, shielded the opening of the door.
Protecting her.
Shocked at the gesture, she couldn't move. Hunter pried her fingers open, wrapping them around the handle, tugging her outside. Her sneakers landed in a puddle, saturated, and now a putrid brown. They only worsened when she was prodded forward.
The rain continued to pelt him, as he carried the hefty bags with one arm, whilst locking the truck with the other.
Luxor knocked on the door, only to be met with no answer. She left her keys on the kitchen bench and assumed Meredith would have been home by now. Maybe she was in the bath.
Why today of all days?
She leaned her head against the door, trying to think of what to do. She had locked the balcony doors, and she wasn't about to break any windows.
"What's wrong?" Concern filtered into his voice.
She sighed despondent. "I'm locked out."
Hunter dug into his back pocket, pulling out two deformed paper clips. "Move," he ordered.
"Manners go a long way," she mumbled, and begrudgingly obliged.
Hunter scoffed. "I'm exempt since I'm doing you a favour." Bending them, he inserted the metal stick in the key hole, then added the second one. After a couple of jiggles, there was a click. "Voila." He grabbed the soggy bags, and instead of waiting to be invited he passed by her.
“Guess that explains how you entered the bakery.”
Hunter dumped the bags on the kitchen counter, turning in her direction at her inner thought. He ran his fingers through his tousled ebony hair, slowly like he was in some damn hair commercial, and flicked off the excess water off his hands.
"Meredith," she called out from the door way, struggling to remove her sneakers. If she was somewhere in the house, Luxor would be massacred. "Are you home?" she circled the house, continuing to receive the same answer. Silence. After checking all the rooms, she assumed they were still at the hospital.
"Thanks for the lift, I can take it from here."
"I said I'd help." Hunter reached into the bags, unpacking for her.
Luxor dug into her pocket, and without a clue on how much the groceries were, handed whatever money she had.
He waved it away. "Keep it." Luxor shook her head, her hand outstretched with the notes, not wanting to owe him anything.
"It's this or nothi
ng." She made sure to emphasise.
"Incredible." Hunter looked offended. "Haven't we been past this? Friends help out.”
Luxor didn’t believe he could so easily jump into friend zone but she gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks.”
The least she could do was be grateful, so sighing in defeat, she moved upstairs into her bedroom. "Take your top off, I’ll get you a towel."
Hunter raised an eyebrow, circling the room. "You want to see me naked? I'm starting to feel violated with this non-committal relationship we have going on." He laughed.
"Stay wet, see if I care."
"My pants are wet, can I take them off too?" A smile danced on his lips. Without waiting he unbuttoned the top one.
Luxor spun around, her face ablaze. The best thing she could do was to ignore his sexual connotations and antics, and refuse to take the bait. Didn't help she was in a compromising position and part of her wanted to see what was under his wet clothes. He reminded her of cake; sinful and even one taste would only cause her pain. Sometimes she craved to have him near, and other times she wanted to slap the smirk off his face.
Luxor wanted the former.
She entered the bathroom and slipped on her fluffy bunny boots, hopping on one foot, then another. She knelt down on the tiles, rifling through the cupboard under the sink for a towel, and headed out.
"You will catch a cold, I don't want that on my c-con..." She stopped short, her mouth gaping open.
Hunter's singlet was half way off, showcasing his tanned, taunt, and toned six pack, his V-line more prominent than the last time.
Luxor gulped, her gazed leading down. Another button of his jeans was undone, exposing the band of his boxers.
Hunter laughed plopping himself in the middle of the bed. She counted to three, a new tactic Valencia introduced to get her emotions under control. Except these emotions weren’t rage filled. No angst. No darkness. No fear. And no way of hurting anybody. Unless she opened up to the possibility of being happy and then getting her heart crushed. Or even worse, hurting somebody else.
"That's an old wives’ tale, you can only get a cold by the actual cold or flu virus in the air," he replied nonchalantly as if he wasn't half naked in her room.
Damn jerk not sticking to the truce.
"But still..."
Hunter held a fist to his mouth and faked cough. "Can you be my private nurse? It's a pre-req to wear the uniform." He held out his hand to receive the towel. "Something about the Red Cross against the angelic white has me praying for my sins."
God help me for the murder I'm about to commit.
"Yep, stripper attire." The towel was tugged, and before she had the time to let go, she came tumbling forward on top of him. "Damnit."
Hunter gulped, his eyes widening at the contact. He wriggled around, holding onto her hip with one hand, steadying her while the other caressed her cheek. There was something inherently fragile about the motion, his innocence beaming through those addictive toffee orbs.
Sparks tingled every pore, electricity sizzled through her veins. She allowed her mind to let go, momentarily fluttering her eyes closed to absorb all of which he provided.
Luxor inhaled sharply and jolted.
There was an old idiom derived from Greek mythology, to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. It had never been as prevalent as it was now, in a literal and metaphoric sense.
Luxor was stuck between doing what was right, and what she wanted, both resulting in a bad outcome. Her body was set alight flush against his firm torso, her leg stuck near a hard place.
She cleared her throat, crawling backwards careful not to hit any important and tender areas. "I need to cook the soup." She retreated away, scampering down to the kitchen.
It was time to get underway. Retrieving an apron from a drawer she tied it around her waist. She washed her hands and flipped the laptop open and typed 'best vegetable soup recipe,' into the search engine. A host of websites came up, and squizzing through them it was apparent her ingredients weren't up to scratch.
What the hell is saffron and quinoa?
Luxor had all the vegetables, a rainbow of healthiness before her, in preparation to make her first ever meal by winging it.
Boots slopped against the tiles, leaving muddy footprints in their wake. She glanced up just as Hunter left, slamming the door behind him.
What a sook.
Luxor counted. Three, two, one. It wasn't to see if he would be coming back, but if she should go out. When she was done counting, she turned the handle, and yelped when the door swung open.
Hunter entered wearing a fresh set of clothing. "As if I wouldn't have another set, being a mechanic stinks. In more ways than one."
Luxor scowled and blocked his way. There was no reason for him to be there now. "And you let me assume you'd be in discomfort."
Hunter smirked, stepping forward. "Believe me Angel, I am, couldn't you feel it? I'll give you a clue. It's a colour that mars us, mixed with sporting equipment that bounces."
Luxor had no idea what he was rambling about, but then again it was standard. "Well thanks again for your help, as you can see, I'm set up." She attempted to turn him around, rejecting feeling that the skin on skin contact caused coursing through her.
Too solid for her to move, Hunter escaped her clutches, swiftly dodging her and turned the laptop off. "I'll show you how to make the most amazing soup."
"You cook? Impressive," Luxor mocked him, presuming he lived on Skittles.
"It's limited, don't really bother if I can't eat most foods." He rounded the corner, collecting the peelers, chopping boards, and finally large knives from the dish rack.
Luxor filled up a stock pot to the brim with water, dumping a hefty glug of olive oil, and moved it to the stove. She was just about to place it when a loud thwack of a knife had her jumping back. She turned over her shoulder, Hunter held up a chunk of butternut pumpkin.
"What about your siblings?" There was no way she wanted their vile names in her mouth.
"They are also dairy and gluten intolerant, but that's the extent of it. Definitely non-vegan." Hunter moved behind her and spilled the entire contents of water down the sink. "Watch and learn." He poured in a small amount of oil, returning to the vegetables.
Luxor couldn't concentrate, her mind stuck on the fact all five of them had severe allergies wasn't sitting well. It bothered her that her abnormality was nearly identical. "How the hell can you be allergic to meat?"
"I just am."
Side by side they peeled, sliced, and diced vegetables in comparative silence, until there were only a few left. Luxor's mind whirling on the allergies.
The doctor had concluded the colour and marks of her veins were due the medication. It was a long shot, but what if they'd have the same adverse reactions. She was on a whole host that it would have been difficult to pin point which one, if it was the case. And that was a big if. It was better than the alternative.
You're not normal.
"You're doing it wrong," Hunter remarked, dicing an onion, without any adverse effects. "Look at me, slice the carrots longways but don’t leave it like that otherwise they’ll be julienne. You need to them cut it across, it's better to have diced or brunoise." He dumped the onion in the pot, giving it a little stir until it was brown.
"This isn't MasterChef, I'll do it however I like," she told him stubbornly, keeping her hand steady. It had rolled a couple of times, almost cutting her finger.
Once everything was prepared, Luxor scooped it up in a heap, moving closer to the stove and bumped him to the side. Glass shifted under her feet as she released the vegetables into the pot.
"What the heck?"
Luxor knelt down and fixated on the stains on the floor. Black flecks glittered and spread from one side over the stove to the over. Without thinking about it, she swiped two fingers across the floor.
"Ow!" she squealed, squeezing her eyes shut. Her fingers singed as a surge of heat shot through her fingers and sh
e anticipated blood.
Luxor wasn't queasy about blood; it was more the burn rather than the superficial gash. but she felt the glass slice through her finger, the gash breaking more than the superficial skin. And that wasn't an image she wanted to see.
"Keep your eyes closed," Hunter's ordered, his voice deep, and demanding. With quick thinking, he helped her up and propped her against the sink. Warm water trailed over her finger, rinsing them before he wrapped a paper towel around. "Where's your Band-Aids?" It throbbed, but not as bad she expected.
"First-Aid kit under the sink," she murmured, slightly opening her eyes.
"Look at me." He wrapped the Band Aids around one finger, then the other, never averting his gaze. "All done." He leaned forward and kissed her fingers.
Luxor's eyebrows knitted together, her lips parting to put a halt to whatever would have occurred.
Hunter silenced her words with a finger. His head hung low, circling the lettering of the apron that settled at her midsection, and pointed downwards.
Kiss the Cook.
He tilted her head up, his lips tilting to the side. "When it comes to you, seems I'm a puppy who obeys," he told her as an explanation, his hands settling over hers.
Damn him, he's turned on the charm again.
"Not always." Answers, she needed answers.
"Ask away Angel, but I have the right to refuse," Hunter said picking up on what she was insinuating.
"Why are you here?" It was one of the big questions that needed answers.
"I’m helping you cook. Do you want me to leave?"
Did she? Or not?
Luxor chewed her bottom lip. “You could be doing a million other things rather than be here.”
“Could. Operative word. Besides I figured you’d need this.” From his back pocket he retrieved her mobile phone and danced it in front of her.
“And you only mention it now?”
“Like all things, I wait for the right moment.”
Evie's trademark sign of arrival beeped from outside, her high beams flashed, cutting off any further answer.
"Shit," Luxor hopped off the stool, distancing herself from Hunter. "Hide, hide. You've got to hide." She opened up the walk-in pantry. "Damnit Hunter, hurry up."
Unveiled: The Chronicles of Luxor Everstone Page 32
