She is hiding as many, if not more, secrets than me.
“I will.” The words leave my lips, and for the first time, I actually want to share that shameful part of myself with a woman that’s not my family. Cheryl, I consider family. I want to expose my weakness. My failures. I want to be judged by Eleanor, and if she finds me lacking, at least I didn’t fall too deep. Perhaps she will share the horror lingering in her gaze. She may even allow me to stand beside her, a silent harbor as she battles the demons of her past that are colliding with her present.
I stare at her closed door. Eleanor won’t be persuaded with pretty words. She needs someone to expose themselves to the bone to break through her walls. I don’t want our time to be full of painful truths. I need to show her what life could be with me, how I can enrich it beyond her computer screens. Show her that laying down roots isn’t a weakness, but a strength, allowing you to gain a family who cares.
“You should bring her down to the bakery to meet Cheryl.”
Now that’s a hundred times more terrifying than him. Cheryl is the epitome of a mama bear to all the club members. If she sniffs out any disingenuous intentions, she won’t hesitate to have someone removed from town.
“What’s with that look?” William asks.
My eyes close for a moment as the wheels in my head turn. “Cheryl is?—”
“I’ll instruct her not to go too hard.”
I chuckle. Since when did Cheryl listen to her husband? “Fine.”
His lips turn upward in satisfaction. “And you’ll bring her to the camp out?”
“I will.”
Camping doesn’t seem like Eleanor’s thing, but it’s not negotiable. At least I have a few weeks to work on her before the trip.
“Then it’s settled.”
William’s phone lets out an annoying pinging noise that makes me grit my teeth. I have tried to change the basic notification noise several times, but someone always changes it back. It won’t be William; he’s about as tech savvy as a Neanderthal. My bet is on his lovely daughter, who lives to make my life hell.
He frowns at the message, meeting my gaze. “Seems your pretty friend has already made waves in my town, Hunter.”
My forehead crumples into a frown. How? Nobody but Rose and William have met her.
He passes me his phone.
C
Heads up. Someone hacked the town surveillance and hijacked it with a facial recognition software program. The source is at Hunter’s place, and if I’m not mistaken, they have a very distinct signature I recognize as one of the world’s best hackers. Let me know what you want to do.
Fucking hell, Ghost.
Chapter Twenty
Eleanor
What do you see when you look in the mirror?
Opening the bedside drawers, I stare at my options before selecting my trusty purple toy and slide it underneath my pillow. Damn, that bedding is soft. Hunter doesn’t skimp on things; he favors understated luxury. I run my hand along the bedding, already picturing being naked and cocooned in the silky material.
My stomach rumbles in warning, pulling me from my fantasy and communicating I need to eat. What I would give to have a body that wasn’t ruled by basic instincts like food, water, and sleep. The things I could achieve if I didn’t require sleep… They should have already developed a cure, but studies show hallucinations can happen after just thirty-six hours without it. I have enough monsters without adding make-believe ones.
Buttoning the shirt so I’m not flashing my cleavage, I exit the bedroom and get ready for battle with the panty-stealing monster... and Charlie too. Hunter moves around the kitchen with a slight bob of his head to the quiet rock music stillplaying in the background. Charlie lies on the couch, my panties between his front paws and his tongue flopped out. What is with that tongue? It’s twice the size it should be. Does it roll up into his mouth?
“You hungry?” Hunter asks, glancing over his shoulder. I don’t miss the slow perusal of my bare legs or the flash of possessiveness in his gaze at seeing me in his shirt. I don’t understand it. If I bought my clothes at a thrift store, the people donating don’t sit outside having fantasies about who would buy and wear their clothing. Then again, this wasn’t donated, and I didn’t ask permission.
I shrug as I slide my ass onto the bar stool, keeping one eye on the dog who is baring his teeth at me. Again. “Is that normal?” I wonder aloud.
Hunter follows my gaze. “He likes you.”
“But he’s showing his teeth.”
