by Zante, Lily
“I’m not hungry.”
“But I am.” She didn’t understand his stubbornness. Probing deeper, wanting to test him and his boundaries, she made a suggestion. “We could grab something quick. I’ll need the energy, especially if we’re getting together later on,” she said, in her best seductive voice.
“Why don’t you go get something and come back?”
Huh? “Are you allergic to food?”
“No. Like I said, I’m not hungry.”
“Then at least come along and watch me eat.”
When he didn’t give her an answer, and stared at her as if she’d asked him to go looking for apartments together, she decided enough was enough.
Anger twisted in her gut. What was she doing with this man where even the idea of going out for dinner made him seethe? Usually, men freaked out about the big decisions, about going steady, about making big life plans.
Not about getting something to eat.
Walking away now would be the wisest, sanest thing to do. Heaven help the woman who ever got involved with Luke Hunter emotionally. She was lucky in that she hadn’t, that what they’d had was just sex.
“It’s only dinner. Just freaking dinner. I’m not asking for long-term commitment.”
“I told you to not have any expectations.”
Screw you.
She got up.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“You expect me to stay?”
Chapter 15
He wasn’t going to chase after her just because she’d had a hissy fit over dinner. Not over dinner, but because he didn’t want dinner.
Seriously?
Women were too goddamn emotional. She wanted a cozy dinner for two, and next she’d want to be staying the night. That wasn’t what he wanted.
It was exactly what dinner led to.
Expectations.
Crazy expectations.
He had tried to be transparent with her, let her know what being with him meant, and what it didn’t mean. It was a hookup, pure and simple.
Why couldn’t she get her head around that?
He got up and was about to head towards his office when he saw Xavier set foot into the bar. Approaching him with a smile, he greeted his friend, relieved to have normal male company for a change and grabbed a table just by the bar.
“Do you have an update on your little project?” he asked Xavier, curious to know how things were working out in that department.
“I haven’t had any pussy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No?” he asked, surprised. “I would have expected the two of you to have become better acquainted by now.”
Xavier made a face. “No fat fucking chance. But, she’s coming around.”
Coming around? Luke wondered if this was the case, or the way Xavier saw things. Izzy seemed to have way more sense than the usual airheads Xavier attracted, and it wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d told Xavier to get lost. Surely the guy would know when to back off? “She is?”
“She’ll be caving in soon enough, though,” Xavier replied, with his usual sense of smugness.
“Isn’t she a student or something?” he asked. They didn’t even mix in the same social circles.
“She is, but she’s doing some work for me on the side now,” Xavier announced proudly.
“Seriously?” Luke couldn’t believe his ears. Izzy was working for Xavier? The guy’s tactics blew him away at times. He was a real smooth hand when it came to the art of charming women. “How the hell did you manage that? Wasn’t she working for Savannah and looking after her son?”
“She’s not doing so much of that right now, so she’s got time, and I offered her some work.”
This was a new development. He could see how clever Xavier had been. Not content to sniff around Tobias and Savannah’s place, in the hopes of seeing Izzy, he’d given her some work just to get to spend some time with her. “Are you sure she even likes you?”
“What’s not to like?”
He wasn’t going to go there. “Are you sure you even like her that much?” he asked, opting for another angle. “Because I’ve seen you meet someone for the first time, and then walk away with her less than thirty minutes later. I’ve seen you do that, here, with my own eyes. And if you haven’t even gotten to first base after what, six, maybe eight weeks? I don’t think you stand any chance. Maybe it’s not so much that she’s not into you,” he said, phrasing his words carefully, “but maybe your heart isn’t in it. Just face it, pal. You’re not her type. You might even be too old for her.”
Xavier flipped his middle finger at him. “I’m twenty-fucking-seven. I’m in my prime, and I’m making progress, and that’s all you need to know.”
“Fine. As long as you know what you’re doing, and it isn’t illegal.”
“It isn’t,” Xavier snapped.
“Good.” Luke hoped for Izzy’s sake it wasn’t.
“Savannah’s cousin was here. You remember her, don’t you? Kay?” Xavier asked, completely changing the subject.
Luke’s insides hardened, and he wasn’t sure why the idea of Xavier talking about Kay bothered him. “Yeah, I remember her.”
“I think she’s pissed off with me.”
“Pissed off with you?” Why would this idiot think Kay was pissed off with him? He knew exactly why she was pissed off and Xavier had nothing to do with it.
“She wasn’t too friendly when I ran into her downstairs. Didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Do you blame her?” Luke asked. “The two of you didn’t seem to be getting on too well at the wedding.” But he was curious to hear Xavier’s take on things.
“She’s pissed I never called her.”
Called her? What the fuck would Xavier be calling Kay for? Luke’s stomach hardened like cement. “Were you supposed to call her?” he asked, casually reaching out and grabbing two beers for them. He needed something, anything, to show he was calm about the bullshit Xavier was spouting.
“I mean, we’re practically family now, but even if we weren’t, they expect you to, don’t they?” returned Xavier. Luke shrugged, his muscles tensing as he forced himself to remain quiet.
“Except, you wouldn’t call, would you—Mr. Ice-Cold and Doesn’t-Give-A-Fuck?” That title, the first time he’d ever heard Xavier call him that, described him to a tee. He had learned to control his emotions, had learned not to give too many fucks, but this was Kay that Xavier was talking about and, for reasons he couldn’t yet work out, it was impossible for him to not be bothered by Xavier’s commentary. “Are you going to call her?” he asked, gripping his bottle with more force than necessary. He needed to know whether Xavier had any designs on Kay. They weren’t strictly family, and if Xavier thought he stood half a chance with her, he’d go for it. Luke knew what the guy could be like.
Xavier shook his head. “She’s not my type.”
Luke released his grip on the beer bottle, and a slow exhale followed. “I didn’t think Izzy was your type either, but that hasn’t stopped you from pursuing her.”
Xavier seemed to be thinking about it but didn’t give anything away.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Luke told him, “you don’t have anything to prove.”
“We have a love-hate thing going,” Xavier insisted, before breaking out into a mischievous smile. “It’s always the prelude to better things.”
“Love-hate?” Luke chortled. “It’s been hate-hate each time I’ve heard from you.” It was odd how different Xavier saw things. The same could be said of him and Kay. She had only suggested that they have dinner. She hadn’t expected a proposal, nor a declaration of love, just goddamn dinner, and he’d behaved like a total dumbass over it. He’d treated her in a shitty way.
He sat with Xavier for a while longer, showing a polite interest in his friend’s plans for winning Izzy over, but he soon excused himself and returned to his office.
He hadn’t liked it—Xavier t
alking about Kay. He hadn’t liked it one bit. Picking up his phone, he decided to call her, but his finger stayed poised over the CALL button. If he called her now, if he sought her out, and apologized, then suggested dinner, what would happen? What signal would that give her? It might give her ideas, make her think he was malleable. Did he need the added complication?
No.
He wanted no baggage, no headache and no emotional fuckery.
But an image of Xavier’s smiling face flashed in front of him. If Xavier didn’t get anywhere with Izzy, the guy might be tempted to get it on with Kay. Luke’s gut twisted. The fuck he was going to risk that happening.
He called Kay, but she didn’t answer. He was about to text her, but he didn’t know what to say. If she’d picked up the phone, he could have made a joke about being hungry. A text was different. It was out there, and irretraceable. Not only that, but nuances could change the way she interpreted the message.
He had a better idea. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he snatched his keys from the desk and walked out of his office. He would turn up at her door. He got into the elevator with good intentions but by the time it reached the ground floor, he had changed his mind again.
Going to her place now would mean something, and he didn’t want anything to mean something.
Him turning up now would make her think he cared enough about her to want to change his rules and no woman was worth doing that for.
That wasn’t how he operated.
That wasn’t what he wanted.
Nobody would ever understand his position, which was why he kept his private life private, and his love life as vague as possible.
He threaded a hand through his hair. He was reacting hastily, instead of taking a step back and assessing things in a calm and level-headed manner like he always did.
Xavier had fucked with his head with all that talk of Kay, and that stupid bet, and he’d made Luke think he might not be able to keep his dick away from Kay.
If it came to that, he’d deal with it.
Which begged the question, if Kay was just a hookup then why the hell did he get so riled up about thinking of her with Xavier?
He ground his jaw. This was bullshit. Good-Time-Kay wasn’t going to get inside his head.
He’d only been with her once, and it had meant nothing.
She was nothing, and nobody, and he didn’t need to lose his shit over it.
He pressed the button and headed back up to the bar.
Chapter 16
“You’ll be there, won’t you?” Amanda asked again.
“Do I have a choice?” He’d been there, just about, at her first wedding, a few years ago. The thought of being in the same place as his family had filled him with such dread that he’d been late to the wedding, and had missed half of the service. As it was, he’d only stayed for a short time at the reception after.
This time, he was determined not to be that big of a jerk. Amanda hadn’t ever wronged him and she needed him to be a better brother than he had been.
“Not really,” his sister replied. “I’m going to mail the invites out after Christmas.”
“I know. You’ve already told me.” At least ten times.
“Bring your plus one.”
“You already said.” He slipped his finger into the collar of his shirt, a million things playing on his mind, not least of all the bid he had put in for the Canal Street site.
“Well, I’m reminding you,” she pointed out. “Since you always forget everything I tell you.”
“That’s because I’m a busy man.” He had more pressing matters to tend to, but he couldn’t focus on them because for the last ten minutes his sister had been rambling to him about her goddamn wedding, telling him about her ceremony which would be followed by a reception at a fancy hotel.
“It’s going to be a small and exclusive affair,” she’d told him earlier, dampening his spirit because he’d hoped there would be lots of people so that he could get lost in the crowd. So that he wouldn’t have to rub shoulders with his family.
“Is that all?” he asked. “I’ve got a meeting to attend.”
“There you go again! What happened to the nice conversations we used to have?”
“We can talk all you want at the wedding.” She was already on her second marriage and he wondered how many more times she’d be putting new rings on her fingers. It was just as well that she had no kids.
“Are you coming over for Christmas?”
He scowled. She asked the same question every year, and every year he gave the same answer. “What do you think?” Christmas at his father’s mansion. An empty place, full of empty memories. Amanda and Travis might have forgiven and forgotten, but he never would.
“That one day you might change your mind.”
“I’m coming to your wedding, Amanda. Be grateful for that.”
She laughed. “I am.”
“If you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of a meeting,” he told her, shaking his head at Marie who was scribbling on her notepad, and trying to make it obvious that she wasn’t listening, but it was so obvious that she was.
“You didn’t say it had started!”
“I didn’t think you’d be blabbering on for so long.”
“Charming!” she replied indignantly, but he could tell she was smiling. “I’d better let you go, Mr. Busy Business Man. Don’t forget your plus one.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s nice to have someone to share all that wealth with—”
“Goodbye Amanda.” He hung up before she started lecturing on the virtues of dating and finding a woman to love.
“Amanda’s wedding?” Marie asked, looking up.
“Yes,” he replied, wearily.
Bring a plus one, she’d said. He considered the idea. Maybe he would ask Kay, once things were back to normal between them. Not right now when things were still sore. Not that they should have been sore, but it had been a couple of weeks since Kay had been here and neither of them had contacted the other since then.
She’d been even more pissed off than he’d expected. Getting involved with a woman was a goddamn headfuck and this was why he steered clear of that stuff.
“You are going to Amanda’s wedding, aren’t you?” Marie asked.
“She’s my sister. I can’t get out of it.”
Marie knew things about him that nobody did. Not even Xavier. But she didn’t know everything, just enough, just what he felt comfortable telling her.
“Are you going alone?”
He knew she was going to ask that question at some point. “I might be taking a plus one.” Tension crept along his muscles. Talk of Amanda’s wedding and the ensuing family reunion always made him feel uneasy. He got up and stretched his arms out, exhaling deeply in a bid to calm himself down. He looked out of the window behind his desk, saw the tables full of people down below. From here he had a perfect view of the rooftop terrace.
“The sports masseuse?”
“She’s history.”
“Already?”
He shrugged, his brows knotting together at the question.
“You saw her for almost a month,” Marie blurted out.
“You’ve been keeping track?”
“You seemed more relaxed, when you—” She cleared her throat, “When you have a female friend.”
“She gave great head.”
Marie raised an eyebrow. “Notice I didn’t say girlfriend.”
“I don’t need a girlfriend. Just sex.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Sorry.” He fisted his pockets. “Why are you keeping track of who I see and for how long?”
“I have a teenage son. It’s a ninja skill us moms possess.”
He grinned. Marie was old enough to be his mother. Sometimes, their relationship scuttled into odd corners. Mostly, he was the business man, telling her what needed to be done, but there were times when she cut through all that work bullshit. She was direct and she would
say it as she saw it. He was thankful for the guidance. The only problem with Marie being his business confidante and go-to person was that she was a woman, and as such, had a woman’s curiosity about her. She’d be asking for Kay’s vital statistics next.
“Who’s the plus one you might be taking?”
He feigned nonchalance, and picked out a piece of fluff that was clinging on the cuff of his jacket. “I’m not sure.”
Her face had disapproval written all over it. “I hope you’re not going to take an escort.” She pinned him with a stern look. “Isn’t it time you stopped using those people?”
“I use them rarely, and never for sex,” he clarified. For one thing, he never trusted where these women had been. But for the purpose of having a plus one to take to the wedding, mainly so that he had someone to talk to so that he could avoid talking to his family, the escort service would do.
Unless Kay turned up at the bar sometime soon and he could ask her. He’d mention that it was no big deal, because women could be fickle and she’d no doubt make something of it, but having her there would make it easier on him. It would be better than taking an escort and pretending they were an item. Men didn’t pay attention to these things, but women did. And he wanted to portray the image of someone in a relationship. He wanted to show that he was just fine and Kay was the perfect trophy girlfriend to have on his arm.
“A fine looking young man like you,” Marie continued, rising up from her chair with a frown. “I don’t understand it.”
“I’m not paying you to understand my personal preferences, Marie. I pay you to look after my bars.”
“We both know that I do more than look after your bars,” she pointed out with a smile. She took care of the accounts, and invoicing, and marketing. She was a goddamn wonder woman but without a cape or a tiara, and he depended on her. She knew that, and sometimes, he sensed, she used this to her advantage, and treated him not as her boss, but more like her teenage son.
“Yes, you do. I take it back, I’m sorry. But you’re rewarded well, aren’t you?”