The Hunter (Boston Belles #1)(60)

“Lost cause.” Aisling nodded gravely, doing the sign of the cross, mourning the premature death of my logic. I could see where they were coming from. Hunter was dangerous. He tossed morsels of sympathy and sweetness my way one moment, and was harsh and closed off the next. He was entirely too unpredictable for me to count on in the heart department.

Or the putting-the-toilet-seat-down department.

Or any department, really.

“Maybe he feels the same. That was the plan, after all. Getting them to fall in love,” Persy mused.

“Doubtful. You heard Aisling. Hunter’s manwhore-ness is worse than we thought.” Emmabelle frowned, like she was in the middle of calculating our next move.

“I don’t even like him.” I all but bared my teeth, bursting into nervous laughter. My phone buzzed with a text message. It was the food. Persy went to pick it up from the lobby while I shook my head, praying the walls were thick enough for Hunter not to hear this.

“Just be careful.” Aisling rubbed my arm.

“Jee. Sus. What makes you think I want to do anything other than punch your brother’s face?”

“The fact that you just very passionately described to us how dispassionate you are about him?” Emmabelle offered.

“You also looked at him like you were about to jump his bones,” Aisling supplied, tucking her chin to her chest.

“Additionally, your face turned red the minute he walked in, and has yet to take on a more human shade,” Emmabelle concluded.

“Sorry to disappoint, but there’s nothing going on between us.” I folded my arms over my chest. Now I was full-blown lying, but I was too mortified to backtrack. How dumb was I to ever let him touch me? To let things progress the way they had?

“Okay,” Aisling said.

“Right,” Emmabelle echoed.

“Food’s here!” Persy burst through the door with two huge plastic bags in her hands. Hunter materialized from the hallway, freshly showered, his blond curls damp and delicious against his glowing skin, clad in his eternal gray designer sweatpants and a black muscle shirt that showed off his ripped, bronze abs.

“You’re needed.” He pointed at me.

“What for?” I eyed him warily. If looks could kill, Hunter would be sliced in half, bleeding on the marble floor.

“Got a spider in my bedroom, and I need you to kill it.”

It was the lamest excuse I’d ever heard.

Aisling looked up, horrified. “You ask Sailor to do those things?” She wrinkled her nose.

Hunter acknowledged his sister for the first time since he’d gotten home with a frosty look.

“Chauvinism is beneath you, Ash. This is the twenty-first century. You got any idea how bangin’ I look in an apron? Come, CT.”

CT. God. I was going to stab him.

“CT?” Emmabelle raised a thick, carefully brushed eyebrow.

“Carrot Top,” he supplied.

“Wow, you’re a jerk,” she muttered.

“Wait till you meet my older brother. He makes murderers in solitary confinement look like a basket full of kitties.”

“As power-drunk as I am to rise to the occasion, you can do it yourself.” I looked away, helping Persy arrange all the food on the coffee table.

“Been doing enough DIY under this roof.” He waved his right hand, winning chortles from Persy and Belle and a disgusted look from his sister. “But no sweat. Guess I’ll transfer the spider straight to your room.”

There wasn’t any spider. I knew it. He knew it. Only my friends had such little faith in him that they actually believed Hunter was capable of tasking me with this mess.

“You do that. Put it on my pillow. Somewhere I can find it.”

“Got it, boss.” He mock-saluted, turning around and marching back down the hallway. I popped a tempura zucchini into my mouth, pretending not to obsess over the slight chance there was a spider, and that it was about to be put on my pillow. If Hunter did find a spider to use as an excuse to get me alone, I had no doubt he’d retaliate by making good on his promise. If anything, that would make me migrate to the living room or his bedroom for the night.

Cunning, blue-blooded bastard.

And his family thought he was stupid.

Hunter made a show of going into his en-suite bathroom as loud as humanly possible, filing from his room to mine, whistling the Kill Bill theme song calmly. Emmabelle burst out laughing, while Persy and Aisling exchanged worried looks. I stayed put, my body humming with the need to jump and take a look.

A spider.

On my pillow.

The suspense was killing me.

Maybe the spider itself was next. What if it was a black widow? A red-backed spider?

I shot to my feet. “I’m just going to…” I motioned with my hand to my room.

My friends nodded in unison.

“Yeah, you probably should,” Persy squeaked.

I sailed through the hallway on those damn heels, looking left and right, finding Hunter trooping back to his room, his back to me. I chased him, snatching the hem of his muscle shirt. He ignored me, essentially dragging me into his room, since I didn’t let go. Rather than giving me the time of day, he continued straight into his bathroom, disposing a piece of tissue into the trash can.

The tissue he used to move the spider from point A to point B?