The Hunter (Boston Belles #1)(63)

I was about to leave his office empty-handed when I noticed something on his desk, in plain sight—somewhere I hadn’t even thought to look. A piece of paper. I reversed, frowning at it. It was a list of names. Most of them I didn’t recognize, but one stood out, because it was the same chick who did PR for Sailor. Why would Syllie need PR? What scandal was he planning on extinguishing? He wasn’t running for political office, that was for damn sure. He was the kind of fuckface who only cared about making money. The public sector wouldn’t appeal to him. I took a picture of the names with my phone, making a mental note to Google them, and dashed out.

The minute I was out of his office, I collided with a dainty body.

“Hunter,” a delicate shriek whined.

“Mom?”

Ech.

She clutched her little Balenciaga purse to her chest, wearing a dress with a matching pattern. Jane Fitzpatrick had brought the looks into the union between her and Da, and I took after her in that department. She looked beautiful, and equally as pissy. Eyebrows pinched together, mouth flat.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls,” she said. No Hi. No How are you doing? Straight to stating the fucking obvious.

You’ve been avoiding me, I wanted to counter. For thirteen years, to be exact. When Da wanted to send me away, you should’ve said no. When I got kicked out of Eton, you should’ve brought me back. You never fought for me, Mom. Why would I fight for you?

“Been busy.” I popped a cinnamon gum into my mouth, starting for my station outside Da’s office. Back to my doggy spot. “Need anything?”

Parenting classes?

Moral compass?

A fucking heart?

“Yes. Some time with my son.”

Ahhh, not that. She continued, undeterred, as she quickened her pace to catch up with me.

“Your father said we’d be seeing more of you, that it was a part of your deal. But every time I contact Sailor regarding making arrangements for dinner, she says you’re too busy, and you never answer your phone.”

Sailor had been cutting me some major slack in recent weeks. Truth was, I straight up dodged them. So far I’d managed to do pretty well. Between college, work, Sailor’s injury, and that pub brawl, my life had been a goodie bag of calamities.

“Shame, Mom. Well, anyway, we’ve seen each other today, which has been good. Great. That should tide us over until next month.”

“Actually, you’re coming this week.” Her high heels stubbed the marble floor angrily. I felt like an asshole for making her chase me, but not enough to stop.

“Explain.” I rounded the corner. She followed.

“I talked to Sailor. She said she’ll make you come, no matter what.”

That certainly wasn’t what she told me when I actually tried to come with her in my arms, I thought testily. Still, it annoyed me that my grip on Sailor was loosening. She really was taking a step back from that thing between us, hence the plans with my mom.

“She’s my PA now. Sweet.” I stopped at my desk and flipped through files without purpose just to look busy. “Well, it’s settled, then. Anything else?”

“Yes. It’s on Friday. I’m cooking. And I have another question.”

“Of course you do.”

I was turning into Cillian, and I hated it. Being a cunt did not come easily to me.

“What did I ever do to make you hate me?” She looked up at me, and I could see in my periphery that her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Fuck. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have—in the office or at all. I didn’t look up from the file I was browsing through.

“Nothing. I think it’s safe to say you did absolutely nothing for me,” I said, amending, “I mean, to me.”

I closed the file with a thud, sparing her the look she’d been begging for.

The idea of having Sailor watch firsthand how little my family thought of me was infuriating, but inevitable. She already kind of had, at the charity bullshit, but she hadn’t been sitting with us, so it wasn’t like she’d experienced it from the front row. I shouldn’t care, anyway. As established, we were nothing to each other.

“I wish you knew the whole story.” She sniffed, looking down.

“I wish I cared.”




HHH: Thanks for the ambush dinner.

Sailor: Anytime.

HHH: ← Not going.

Sailor: ↑Not optional I’m afraid. My parents are going to be there. Sam, too.

HHH: Sounds like an intervention.

Sailor: Nope. You’ve got your sh*t together.

HHH: I can’t believe I went down on a chick who doesn’t spell the word shit.

Sailor: Hunter!

HHH: What? It’s like one step away from a nun. I feel like this is bucket-list-worthy. Can I strike off nun?

Sailor: I’m agnostic.

HHH: I’ll show you the light.

Sailor: You’ve already shown me plenty of things. None of them godly.

HHH: Not according to your moans.

No answer. Of course I had to take it one step too far. This was when I usually gave up on a chick, chalking it up as too much work. But with Sailor, her defiance turned me on.

HHH: Am I going to see you today?

Sailor: I’m watching tapes after practice until late. Then I have a photoshoot for a sports mag.