“That’s just it,” Mark says. “He doesn’t bring anyone home. Ever. The fact you are here, in his space, with his dog, by definition makes you unusual.”
Something settles in my chest. Why? I’m not special. I am a favor owed to a mutual friend, and Hunter takes his debts seriously.
“If you have an issue with my presence, I suggest you take it up with your brother.”
“He’s never been short of female attention or company. Looking like he does and having a hefty bank balance will always turn a girl’s head.”
I fold my arms and stare at Mark. He raises a brow as he waits for me to react to his needling. He will be waiting a long time. I don’t need a man or his money. I pride myself on being self-sufficient, and it’s been essential in my healing, according to Gail. Hunter’s physical appearance is appealing, sure, but he’s not the only pretty man in the world.But he may be the only pretty man to make you cry out his name when you’re alone.
Charlie gives up terrorizing the birds and plonks his ass on my bare foot, almost like he’s taking sides.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“I would if you’d actually asked a question.”
His mouth flops open, then he snaps it closed with a finger wag at me, his lips lifting in a half smile. “I like you.”
“Praise be.”
He snorts. “Something tells me you aren’t the church-going type.”
That’s the truest thing he’s said so far. Perhaps he’s not a total idiot. “And?”
“This is going to be fun.” He laughs, studying me once more. “Hunter isn’t used to a woman who can run rings around him. That stupidly high IQ makes it difficult for anyone to unbalance him, but something tells me he may have met his match.”
I wonder how high his IQ is? I test well—I always have—but my lack of immersion in the real world has always put me on the back foot for social formalities and niceties. “Unbalancing seems like a stupid measurement for a relationship. Surely to be compatible, you should complement each other.”
He shakes his head. “Spoken like someone who has never been in love. Do you want a piece of advice?”
“No, but I suspect you are going to give it to me anyway.”
He blasts past my preference to give me said advice. “Lighten up. He doesn’t need someone as serious as he can be. He’s a ray of sunshine on the outside, but he shoulders a dark past.”
I tilt my head, waiting for him to enlighten me on this dark past.
He stares me down, and I try telling myself I don’t care, that I am not interested in Hunter’s past or why Mr. Fucking Sunshine and Rainbows might need me to lighten up.
Charlie licks my hand, breaking our standoff. Sucking my teeth, I stride past Mark, grabbing my shoe as I enter the building.
“It was nice meeting you, Eleanor.”
I ignore him, given I can’t say the same thing and I don’t want to offend Hunter’s brother.
The key slides into the door, and I release a breath when we step inside the apartment. That’s strange; I normally only feel at ease when I’m at home.
I shake my head and try to rid myself of the burning curiosity Mark ignited about Hunter and his past. I could do a deep dive on him, but it feels like a breach of my self-imposed ethics. I don’t research people for the fun of it. I don’t insert myself into their private business unless it’s part of my job or something attached to Jonathan. Hunter doesn’t fit either of those situations. I could tell myself it’s because I’m temporarily living with him, and it would make sense to know the ins and outs of the man who is sleeping down the hall from me, but I don’t lie to myself. Not anymore. Never again. What would be the point? I don’t feel threatened by Hunter—at least not in a way a search could solve. No, if he wants to open up to me aboutthe shadows in his soul, that is something he will choose. I won’t force it on him. I only hope he has the same mentality.
Pulling open the refrigerator, I grab a few caramel-flavored creamers from a bowl. Coffee is my fuel, and I need a little pick-me-up after the lack of sleep I got. As I close the door, my gaze lands on the teasing message he left. My lips twitch as I rearrange the letters. I can be light.
After assembling a coffee in the largest cup I could find, I settle in front of my laptop and check my messages for specific Ghost enquiries. I ditch eighty-five percent of them with little more than a glance. My ethics don’t include being bought by powerful politicians who want blackmail material on their opponents. If you can’t persuade the public fair and square, then you shouldn’t have the privilege of making decisions on their behalf. I also immediately toss anything from assholes representing major corporations looking to get the inside scoop on their competitors. Again, do better. Stop trying to reach for the top if you don’t have the balls to make it without crushing others to get there. I scan a request from Honor for a pair of new identities for a woman and her six-year-old daughter and add it to my to-do list for today.
I schedule a couple of follow-up meetings with companies I’ve worked with under my business name of Austin Security Solutions. After they implement my advice, I do another scan a few months later to check if their new security is working and if anyone has gotten lax in their duties. It’s surprising how lazy people are. When the top bosses aren’t looking, they stop trying as hard, which is a huge no-no in the world of cyber security. The people trying to hack them aren’t resting with their feet up; they’re already figuring out how to get past the new firewalls. You have to stay ahead of them to stay safe, hence checking the system every few months for the first year. After that, it’s on a contract basis if they want me to continue.
I drum my fingers on the counter as I debate several different strategies to go deeper on Jonathan. It’s unnerving having been so close to him, his oily fingers touching my skin, to not knowing where he is or what he’s doing. This is his most active phase; he’s gearing up for a conference and scouting fresh blood to keep the cogs of his empire turning. He should be traceable. He should be visible. He should be... but he isn’t. Any deviation in his pattern is a concern. Analytically, if you study someone and examine why their habits changed, it’s because something different was introduced into the mix. Logically, that difference is me.Fuck.I hope it’s not me.
I devour my coffee before taking pity on Charlie and his mournful eyes, and move myself to the couch, where he drops his head across my thighs and releases a contented sigh. I wait for the panic, the danger sirens, anything normally present when I’m near a dog, and I get nothing. In fact, as his eyes drift closed and he lets out a light snore, I find my breathing slowing down and mimicking his steady rhythm.
I give him a light scratch behind the ears and glance at the door. “You know, you embarrassed me last night. This feels like I’m rewarding bad behavior.” More snoring. “A little warning that your daddy was hovering over me like a creep and watching me get myself off would have been nice, but you dove on the bed like Cujo, so I lost control.”
