The Hunter (Boston Belles #1)(23)

I nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, just choose whatever you think won’t make me look like a fancy dessert.”

Persy clapped her hands, making her way past her sister to the XXS rack and browsing through it. I gnawed at the dead skin around my thumbnail as they plucked garment after garment they wanted me to try on, hanging them on their forearms.

My phone pinged in my back pocket. I took it out and read the text message.



HHH: Don’t forget about Saturday’s fundraiser.

Sailor: Who is this?

HHH: How many people are you planning on going to a fundraiser with?

Sailor: Hunter? You added yourself to my contacts?

HHH: The fact that I’m there is pretty self-explanatory.

Sailor: How dare you touch my things!

HHH: Easy, killer. I didn’t touch your phone.

Sailor: Then how did you get here?

HHH: I asked a hacker friend to add me into your contacts.

Sailor: WHAT?

HHH: You’re more easily scandalized than a 16th century British duchess. Calm your tits, Carrot Top. I didn’t look through your shit.

HHH: (not that I would find anything interesting there)

Sailor: Do you realize how illegal that is?

HHH: Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember your daddy being one of the nine justices of the Supreme Court.

HHH: Older bro doesn’t seem to be working toward a law degree, either.

Sailor: I’m going to kill you.

HHH: Stand in line, sweetheart. You’re not even one of the first twenty people waiting.

HHH: And you still haven’t answered me about Saturday. Btw, you can’t wear yoga pants and a hoodie there. Especially on my arm.

Sailor: Let’s take a little detour—what does HHH stand for?

HHH: Hot, Handsome Hunter, naturally.

Sailor: I’m speechless right now.

HHH: A picture is said to be worth a thousand words. Send nudes.

Sailor: I don’t think I’ll be able to stand you for consecutive hours.

Persy and Belle burst out laughing from the corner of the room, drawing my attention. I looked up from my phone, having a light bulb moment. This could alleviate some of the fundraiser problem. I started typing before Hunter had the chance to send me another snide comment, the three dots next to his name already dancing.



Sailor: I want to invite two of my friends to the charity event, but you’ll have to foot the bill.

HHH: I smell a negotiation.

Sailor: I’m not letting you drink or hook up with someone in our apartment.

HHH: You’re not exactly selling this arrangement to me, CT.

CT? Carrot Top. Goddammit.



Sailor: What do you want?

HHH: What are you offering? ; )

I thought about it. Belle and Persy were talking about how they’d do my hair and makeup in the background. Yes. Having them there would take the pressure off, and I’d have someone to hold me back when I was ready to pounce on Hunter and kill him. Plus, they loved fancy events. They’d have so much fun.



Sailor: You can have one beer.

HHH: I’m sorry, do I look twelve?

Fair point, but I really didn’t want to bend the rules too much.



Sailor: My friends are hot. Hanging out with them alone will be a good time.

HHH: Nothing like shooting the shit with hot girls when you’re fucking celibate. Up your game, CT.

Sailor: Stop calling me that!

HHH: Stop looking like him!

Sailor: Why don’t you just tell me what you want?

HHH: Why, I thought you’d never ask. A kiss.

Sailor: From who?

HHH: A flame-haired banshee.

There was a fluttery, warm thing struggling to break free behind my sternum, and I sucked in a breath, feeling my entire body tingle. I hoped it was the heart attack I clearly deserved for considering kissing him.



Sailor: Why? You call me Carrot Top and think I’m obnoxious.

I felt my fingertips growing sweaty as I typed.



HHH: Carrot Top is not obnoxious. He’s actually pretty funny for a thousand year old. Yes or no?

Sailor: That’s cheating. You’re supposed to be celibate.

HHH: There’s an ocean between kissing and fucking. More specifically, the visual offense you refer to as clothes.

Sailor: You’re disgusting.

HHH: And you’re tempted. You want to try me for a ride. See what the fuss is all about.

Sailor: Don’t put words into my mouth.

Hunter: What about other things? ; )

Sailor: You can’t even stand to look at me. It’s been five days since you acknowledged my existence.

HHH: It’s been five days since I looked in the mirror, old sport. Shit’s been intense. YES OR NO?

Sailor: When?

HHH: Whenever the right moment presents itself. My call.

Sailor: No tongue.

HHH: Yes tongue, no fondling.

Sailor: YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE ME.

HHH: Jesus, what does liking you have to do with this? You’re the only available female in my radius.

Sailor: Thanks.

HHH: Welcs.

Sailor: The kiss will mean nothing.

HHH: Should’ve said that before I printed out our wedding invitations. Wear a dress.

“We found it!” Persy shrieked, waving one of the gowns by its hanger.