“Only when I see something worth being forward about,” Hunter said, holding eye contact with her.
When Deb visibly blushed, Esme found herself looking away and checking the time. Their reservations were at The Slanted Door in five minutes. She should probably head over and let Deb join her after Hunter finished working his absurd magic.
“You think you’re pretty charming, don’t you?” Deb said as Esme looked back at the flirting couple.
“Charming?” Hunter scoffed. “Not so much. But I can tell you that if I had a dollar every time someone called me ugly, I would have zero dollars. I have a feeling that’s something we might have in common.”
Deb threw back her head and gave him a fully belly laugh before looking at him again and bringing a finger up to test his stubble. “You’re a dangerous one, aren’t you?”
“I leave that for you to decide.”
That was it. Esme was out. While she accepted that Hunter could indeed pick up any woman he wanted with the worst pickup lines known to man, that didn’t mean she had to stick around to watch. She sent both Hunter and Deb the largest smile she could muster and pointed toward the restaurant.
“I’ll let you two figure things out while I go check in with the hostess.”
“Perfect,” Hunter said, keeping his eyes on Deb.
The woman blushed even deeper. “I’ll be right with you.”
Esme kept the pleasant smile glued to her face until she reached the restaurant. When the girl at the front greeted her she simply said, “Taylor, for two.”
“We have your table ready and your pre-orders will be delivered to your table within the next five minutes.”
“Perfect. Thank you,” Esme said, glancing back at Deb and seeing her standing with her arm brushing against Hunter’s as he put her number in his phone.
“Are we still waiting for your guest?”
“She’s right there,” Esme said, nodding her head in Deb’s direction. “She’ll be with us in a moment.” And she was. Thirty seconds later, Deb was standing next to her, a lopsided smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
“Right this way,” the hostess said, and both Esme and Deb followed her to their table overlooking the bay. By the time they sat down Deb was still mooning a bit, so Esme figured she might as well address the distraction that was Hunter.
“So…looks like you and Hunter hit it off.”
Deb fanned herself with her hand in response. “Your friend can turn on the juice when he wants to, can’t he?”
Esme mustered up a playful smile. “Only when he wants to.”
“Are you sure it’s not a conflict of interest for me to go out with him while I’m here?” Deborah asked. “I can absolutely cancel.”
“Of course not,” Esme said, looking at the menu. “You and I do business; you and Hunter do personal; and never the twain shall meet.”
“Sounds like a plan I can definitely live with,” she said, then leaned forward. “But tell me, what’s his fatal flaw? I’m probably not going to be here long enough for it to matter, but he has to have one.”
“No fatal flaw,” Esme said, busying herself with her menu even though she already knew what she was going to order.
Deb’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “No? Then why aren’t you all over that?”
Esme brought up her left hand and wiggled her left ring finger. “I’m taken.”
A sly smile pulled at her lips. “Then you have more self-control than I do, woman, because man! God wasn’t messing around when he formed that clay, am I right?”
“Definitely not,” Esme said, her laugh feeling a little more sincere this time around. There was no point in denying the fact that Hunter was a beautiful man. It was the very issue that was causing the trouble with Jon.
Deb picked up her menu. “So I’m not stepping on toes if I let him show me around town?”
“Not at all,” Esme said, maybe too fast and a little too loud. She couldn’t tell, and Deborah didn’t seem to notice.
“Excellent,” Deb murmured as their server brought over the pre-orders.
Chapter 21
Hunter had no idea why he headed to the Palace of Fine Arts after escaping the Ferry Terminal. There was nothing to do but walk in a circle surrounded by a sea of memories.
Not helpful.
The little Asian lady was back at it again with her cookie cart, giving away her cookies to mixed reactions. Some customers snarfed her cookies down while others discreetly deposited them in the nearest trash bin. It was kind of fascinating to watch…which was good because it was pretty much the only thing to watch.
From what Hunter could tell, Miss Pearl knew a couple hundred words in English, all focused around cookies and asking how they tasted. She’d ask people how the cookies were and, after a few efforts of trying to explain their thoughts, most people ended up pantomiming their reactions until they got a knowing nod from Miss Pearl.
Hunter’s mouth salivated, remembering the last cookie he’d had from her cart. He wanted another one. The old lady was stubborn, yes, but Hunter had it in him to be charming when the occasion required.
And the occasion totally required it. If anyone deserved a cookie today, it was him.
He waited until the flow hit a lull before approaching Miss Pearl’s cookie cart. He sent the pint-sized woman a smile and was met with an abrupt shake of her head.
“No kiss, no cookie!” Miss Pearl barked when he was still ten steps away.
“Ah, c’mon,” he said, holding out a twenty dollar bill. “An exception? For me? I’ve had a rough day.”
She turned her nose up at the money. “No kiss, no cookie.”
“How about I kiss you?” he offered. “Does that count?”
The face the little lady pulled was almost comical, and a little insulting in its disdain. “That cookie no taste good.”
“Hey, if it tastes anything like the last cookie, it will be amazing,” Hunter tried, but Miss Pearl wasn’t having it.
“Last cookie special because kiss special,” she said in choppy English. “Cookie taste like kiss. Kiss is final ingredient!” She gestured out to the random people strolling through the park. “That why some people like cookie and some throw away.”
Hunter fought to keep the skepticism off of his face, but was pretty sure he failed based on the scowl Miss Pearl sent his way.
“To you, my cookie only good when you kiss cute little blonde,” Miss Pearl said with authority. “Bring her and I give you new cookie.”
Well, that wasn’t happening. Not after the talk they’d just had.
Hunter held up the twenty again. “Sure I can’t buy one?”
Miss Pearl clucked her tongue and shook her head. “If only you this persistent in love. Then you no need cookie. You have soul mate.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “I do fine in the romance department.”
The little lady clucked her tongue again before her eyes moved to a couple approaching behind him.
“See? You watch,” she urged. “This couple not like cookie because they have no love. Loneliness bring them together, so cookie taste sad.”
“Or,” Hunter offered. “Maybe your cookies just don’t taste good today.”
Miss Pearl shook her head. “You stay. You watch.”
The words were less an invitation and more of a demand, which was normally something that got under Hunter’s skin. But there was also something endearing about how hard she was trying to communicate…and he was curious. So he stayed.
The guy walking their way was cheap. Hunter could see that from a stone’s throw away. There was zero chance he wanted to buy a cookie, but Miss Pearl lured the couple over with a simple look and accompanying hand gesture. Like magic, the man seemed to forget his reluctance as he let his date lead him over to the cart.
“How much?” the guy asked, looking at the cookies.
“One kiss,” Miss Pearl announced.
The guy and girl looked at each other self-consciously.
> “A kiss?” the girl asked. “That’s it?”
Miss Pearl nodded. “One kiss and my cookies show you the flavor of your love.”
Whoa. That was new. Hunter didn’t remember that disclaimer when he and Esme had been here before. It was pure silliness, of course. A cookie couldn’t taste like love. That wasn’t how cookies worked. Then again, the cookie he’d gotten with Esme had been amazing. And Esme was amazing, so he couldn’t exactly call the lady out on false advertising.
The prim kiss the couple shared reminded Hunter of the kisses his mom used to give him before sending him off to kindergarten—a quick contact of acknowledgment before moving on to other things. Definitely no passion on either side.
When Miss Pearl handed them each a cookie, they both accepted them graciously.
“You watch,” she said, looking at Hunter.
The couple started away, both biting into their cookies and pausing before the girl spit her bite out into her hand while the guy choked his down. They didn’t look back. They didn’t comment, but they did both head for the trash can.
“You see?” Miss Pearl said. “Not a good match. They break up very soon.”
“Or your cookies are gross today,” Hunter offered.
“Cookies perfect!” Miss Pearl declared. “Cookies always perfect.”
Hunter shook his head. “How is that possible when you do a new recipe every day?”
Miss Pearl leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “Same recipe. New people. See? You watch!”
This time she beckoned a woman pushing a stroller, and for a moment Hunter was worried that she was going to ask Hunter to kiss the young mom. He might not be the most moral man on the planet, but kissing a married woman wasn’t his thing.
His fears disappeared as the mother and toddler approached and the kid held out his hand, crying, “Cookie!”
Miss Pearl stepped out from behind her cart and approached the boy in the stroller. “You want cookie?”
“Cookie!”
Miss Pearl smiled. “Kiss mommy and you get a cookie.”
Odd. Miss Pearl suddenly had better grammar and less of an accent when speaking to the child.
“Oh, no,” the mother said quickly. “We can pay you.”
“Don’t even try,” Hunter said before Miss Pearl could reply. “A kiss is the going rate for her cookies. She doesn’t accept anything else.”
“Really?” the woman asked, giving Hunter a quick once over.
“Yeah,” he said, taking note of the ring on her finger. “Trust me on this.”
The mom sent Hunter a quick, almost shy, smile. “Okay, then,” she said, squatting down in front of her boy. “Give mommy a kiss?”
The little boy knew the drill, quickly leaning in and landing his puckered lips on his mother’s.
“Now you get a cookie,” Miss Pearl said, handing one to the son and the other to the mother.
“Thank you,” the mom said before biting in. Hunter watched as her eyes grew big and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness.”
Miss Pearl sent a sneaky smile Hunter’s direction. “You like?”
“It…it tastes like the orange dreamsicles I remember from back when I was a kid,” the mom said with a big smile while her son chowed down on his cookie without comment. The fact that he was trying to fit the entire cookie in his mouth in one go had Hunter guessing it didn’t taste exactly gross.
“Glad you like,” Miss Pearl said with confident satisfaction.
“Like?” the mom repeated. “How did you do this? How did you get a flavor like this into a cookie? It’s unreal.”
“Secret ingredient,” Miss Pearl said with a knowing look to Hunter. “Enjoy your walk.”
It was clear that the mother wasn’t done talking, but the simple suggestion from Miss Pearl that she move along seemed to do the trick. A few seconds later, Hunter was alone with Miss Pearl again.
“See?” Miss Pearl said, as if everything should make sense now. “Cookie taste like kiss. Your cookie taste like kiss feels.”
“Yeah…still not buying it,” Hunter said, even though part of him was.
“Cookie free! No need to buy,” Miss Pearl said, clearly misunderstanding him. “But cookie only taste good when love added.”
It wasn’t worth arguing, not when Miss Pearl probably only understood every third word he said.
“Cookie taste like kiss feel,” Miss Pearl repeated and Hunter blinked as he considered that.
The concept was totally impossible, of course. But a cool thought—especially since Esme loved the cookie she got with him. Hadn’t she said she’d thrown away the one she got with Jon? Esme wasn’t one to eat things that were subpar. Her parents had trained her out of that at a young age.
But Esme had definitely eaten the cookie she got with Hunter, which by Miss Pearl’s logic meant kissing him hadn’t weirded her out. She’d liked it. In fact, she’d said the cookie defied superlatives, and described the one she got with Jon to be something akin to a vanilla wafer.
Hunter felt his lips curve up a bit unkindly at the thought of boring vanilla wafer kisses. The thought that Esme and Jon might be a bit lackluster in the chemistry department didn’t hurt his feelings one bit. In fact, it was a small piece of sanity in all of this. Heaven knew he was going to watch Esme and Jon do their fair share of kissing over the next few years—after his banishment was lifted—and imagining downing a dry vanilla wafer each time their lips met was a nice coping mechanism.
For the first time that day, Hunter’s mood was a little bit brighter.
“You lazy,” Miss Pearl accused, pulling Hunter out of his thoughts. When he looked down on the much smaller woman, she was scowling at him. “You willing to fight me for recipe, but not willing to fight for girl.”
Huh. Maybe the woman knew more English than Hunter had assumed. “It’s not my place to fight for her. Esme is perfectly willing to choose what she wants for herself.”
Why had he said that? Why had he said Esme’s name and all but confessed his love for her between the lines? He’d spent his entire life avoiding slip ups like that, but one snide comment from Miss Pearl and he was suddenly an open book?
It was time to leave.
“She can’t choose you if you never make offer,” Miss Pearl said sagely.
“Yeah? But what if I offer and it ruins everything?”
Why. Had. He. Said. That?
He seriously needed to shut his mouth and leave.
“What if you offer and it fix everything?” Miss Pearl countered.
Hunter couldn’t be listening to this. Not now. Not when everything was so precarious. Esme needed his support. His blessing. His cooperation. Anything less and red flags would pop up and things would get weird, at best, or he would be banished eternally, at worst.
Now was the time to play by the book if he wanted to keep Esme in his life as a token sister.
He couldn’t mess that up. And to make sure that didn’t happen, he had to put as much space Miss Pearl’s hare-brained ideas and himself as humanly possible.
Chapter 22
Esme spun her phone in her hand as Jon turned the chicken on the grill.
Deb and Hunter certainly were packing in their time together before she flew out. Two dates in two days.
Esme hadn’t asked Deb how the previous night’s date went when she’d shown up glowing earlier that afternoon. They’d kept everything topical as they’d worked through the day, but Deb had been eager to get out the door the moment the clock struck 5:00. She and Hunter were definitely on another date, and Esme’s fingers itched to text Hunter to ask how it was going. But she couldn’t.
No texts. No calls. No contact.
Those were the rules. She hadn’t texted Hunter in the past 31 hours, and the urge to reach out was like a rash begging to be scratched.
Jon would approve of that simile: The urge to text Hunter was like a rash…
Yes. That would definitely meet Jon’s approval.
She couldn’
t stop her leg from bouncing or resist the urge to check her phone every minute or two to see if Hunter had sent her anything.
He hadn’t. At her request.
This was the new normal.
“Lemon and pepper?” Jon asked her from the grill and Esme sent him a bright smile.
“Sounds perfect.” She’d learned months ago that Jon could season chicken exactly two ways without ruining it: lemon and pepper, or teriyaki. She preferred the former, which meant Jon now thought that was her favorite way to eat it.
“How’s the salad coming?” he said, flipping the chicken.
“On the table, ready to go,” she called back, her thumb tapping on the messenger app before closing it again.
No. No texting.
Her leg kept bouncing and she tried to roll away the tension in her shoulders.
Where would Hunter have taken Deb? What were they doing? She had the apps installed on her phone to find out. One of the apps was designed to help people find a lost phone by showing its GPS coordinates to other authorized phones, but Esme used it to see the locations Hunter was called to while at work. She could check the app now and find out where Deb and Hunter were…
No. That was a little too close to stalking for Esme’s comfort, so she sat where she was and willed the meat to cook quickly as she replayed Deb’s giddy behavior back from earlier that day. The woman had been excited, so they had to be going somewhere fun. It was just so weird not to have Hunter giving her the play-by-play. Hunter always texted her during dates. Always.
Esme took a breath, rolled her shoulders again. “It’s fine,” she said as she exhaled. Because it was. It was fine. Yet even as she told herself that, her thumb found the messenger app again and tapped it.
Esme hesitated for a moment before selecting Grace’s name.
Esme:
Help me! Distract me!
It was only a matter of seconds before she got a response. Thankfully, Grace was as glued to her phone as Esme was.
King of the Friend Zone (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 12