Trickster’s Hunt

by Kel Carpenter

  That was when I lost my nerve. I wasn’t sure if she was taking the piss. Did he go down and discuss the whole thing with them at lunch? I probably would have. My mouth went dry at the thought.

  “No, thanks. I can just come down and use the sauna and steam room later. Thank you.”

  My retreat was probably a bit hasty, but I didn’t want to come face-to-face with him. Not if he had discussed…what? Nothing happened. But he knew it could have.

  I went up to my room, emptied the collection of snacks I had hidden in my suitcase onto the bed, and turned on the TV.

  Bored. I was bored.

  And alone. Don’t forget that.

  Adam would have arrived home, probably gotten ready and gone out for a few, as was customary on a Sunday night. He would be with friends. The next night, he’d be sat lecturing Bruno on how offensive he found drool and making suggestions as to how to make it stop while feeding him treats, creating more drool.

  I looked at the clock. Nine. I’d done well. But I nodded off at least once over the course of the afternoon, and while I loved sitting around doing nothing, I was hungry. I could just order room service, but I was missing people.

  Well, Bruno. I was missing Bruno. Quiet companionship. The presence of someone else, without them bothering me. I decided to sort myself out.

  Without Adam there to help, it was a case of a quick French braid, tinted moisturiser and lip gloss, playsuit and heels. I’d thrown myself together and gotten to the restaurant in less than half an hour.

  A waiter escorted me to a table by the window, took my drink order, and disappeared, leaving me to look for that damned cat. It wasn’t there. It probably hadn’t even been looking at me. I was just bonkers.

  When I’d ordered my meal, a pan seared salmon steak with seasonal vegetables, I sat and sipped my drink considering what I could possibly do for five whole days. I crossed my legs and sat back, resting my head against the high back of the chair.

  Five. More. Days.

  “Excuse me, Miss.”

  I froze.

  The accent.

  There was no mistaking that accent, but the voice was different. A couple of octaves deeper. Warmer. Looking from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone hovering to my right.

  “Miss?”

  Forced to acknowledge him, I turned my head. Not the same guy, but shit…

  “Sorry, what?”

  Rather than explain, he bent to retrieve the phone that had fallen out of my bag. His black, shiny curls bounced slightly with the motion, and when he straightened they fell over his eyes. Pushing them back with easy, practiced grace, he smiled. “Your phone.”

  “Oh…I hadn’t realized…”

  Before I could reach down to pick up my bag, he asked, “Are you dining alone?”

  I just blinked.

  What was I supposed to say? If I lied, and after half an hour nobody turned up to eat with me, he’d know I was on my own. If I told the truth and admitted I was alone, I was probably making a mistake. His eyes twinkled as he watched me deliberate.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “Thanks for picking that up.”

  Rather than answer, he bent again, and I noticed his eyes flick up just as his head drew level with my hip. They held mine for just a moment, then he presented my handbag dangling on his finger by its delicate silver chain.

  I stared, matching his appearance with the masseuse. They were similar.

  Was I desperate? Yes.

  Was it pathetic? Yes.

  Was I still horny? Bet your arse I was.

  And there I was with the undivided attention of a second beauty in twelve hours.

  “Thanks.”

  Pursing his lips, he straightened. “My name is Rhett. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Umm, the other...” I began to explain, looking for the other waiter who had taken my order. His eyes hardened, as though he was incredibly pissed off at the mention of his colleague, and he pinned me with them.

  “Yeah,” I managed to choke out after an uncomfortable few seconds. “I’ll shout you. Thanks again.”

  His eyes didn’t release mine until I gave him an uncomfortable smile, then he bowed slightly and walked away. I watched. I couldn’t help it.

  He might have been a bit intense for a waiter, but his arse in those trousers was worth my time. I found myself wondering what the top half of him looked like under that pristine white shirt. All honey coloured skin and rippling muscles, I imagined.

  I picked up my glass and looked out of the window. Two hotties in one day was doing nothing for my overactive, and unexercised, libido.

  Dinner was alright. Would have been better if the portions had been for adults. I’d also found the spectator at the window distracting. I wouldn’t have minded, but the furry little arsehole had watched every single mouthful I’d eaten as though I’d stolen his food and kicked him outside.

  Meal over, I sipped the glass of wine in my hand and stared him out, wishing I knew where he’d come from and when he was going to piss off back there. His wasn’t the sort of male attention I wanted to attract. I didn’t even like cats, really.

  Glass empty, I picked up my bag and made for the door leading to the garden. I don’t know why, but I planned to confront my stalker.

  “What?” I snapped at him as the door closed behind me.

  He didn’t even flinch. Narrowing his eyes on his smoky grey face, he sat stock still and watched me. If that had been Bruno, he’d have rolled onto his back and pissed. But not that little monster. He sat there without a single fuck to give.

  “Well?”

  “Is everything alright, Miss?”

  I felt a tingly feeling slip down my spine as his soft words reached me. I hadn’t heard the door open, but when I turned around, I noticed he was holding a bowl in his hand, apparently for the cat.

  “Yep. Just saying hello to this little wa—” I stopped myself. They were clearly friends and it wouldn’t do to upset the guy’s pal. “Beauty. Then I’m going back to my room. Thanks again for picking up my phone.”

  Out of the bright lights of the dining room, his eyes seemed to gleam as he looked me up and down. Slowly. I felt my blood heat and my heart rate increase. It was insane. One look and my body was carrying off.

  “I was about to feed him.”

  I stepped aside as he approached the cat and placed the bowl on the table murmuring something unintelligible. Whatever he’d said sounded beautiful. The way the words rolled from his tongue mesmerised me. I imagined him speaking to me like that, whispering….

  I realised he was looking at me and I stopped dead in my train of thought.

  “Where you just speaking another language to a cat? What did you even say?”

  “Yes. It is an old Egyptian dialect. My mother tongue. And I told him he has my thanks, and to hurry and be gone.”

  “Why would you say that?” I asked, confused.

  I couldn’t properly make out his expression, but it looked like mild amusement. “My reasons are my own.”

  His answer pissed me off and I was about to give him a shitty reply when the cat looked up from the bowl and let out a loud meow.

  “Thank you, my friend. We will see one another again soon.”

  The cat seemed to understand him, and leapt from the table, running off into the dark recesses of the garden. When it was gone, the waiter turned back to me. “My apologies.”

  Whatever my face did, it pleased him, and he took a step toward me. He was tall, and this close he smelled just as enticing as the one that morning had. Something spicy, like cinnamon and something else I couldn’t place, took over my senses as he leaned in close, whispering into my ear. “Do you speak any other languages?”

  My breath caught in my throat and I stepped back, the heel of my shoe clicking on the paving slab. “No.”

  “Would you like to learn?”

  In daylight, or a well-lit room with people and no weird cats roaming in the shadows, it would have been a
simple enough question. But there, the way he said it, leaning in so close that I could feel his breath on my neck? It sounded like an invitation.

  I swallowed and took another step away.

  Everything about him set my nerves on edge, and not in a I-should-runaway sense. I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but I turned away and as I did, my stomach growled. Not just a little rumble, but a full-blown growl. I cringed at the sound, and the waiter laughed.

  “Your meal was not satisfying?” he asked. This time I heard the amusement in his tone.

  I looked back over my shoulder and answered honestly. “No. I eat for a living. Those piddly portions won’t do at all. I could murder a pizza, if I’m honest.”

  I realised I was complaining about the food where he worked, and while he didn’t appear to be offended, I decided it was time to shut my mouth. “I should go.”

  I didn’t hear him say anything as I walked briskly toward the door that led into the bar. There were a few people still in there, sitting at tables, chatting, laughing, sharing bottles of wine, and it made me feel strangely lonely. I looked back one last time before letting myself in and found the garden to be entirely empty.

  No sexy waiter.

  No creepy cat.

  What I did find when I got up to my room was a piping hot pizza and a box of fries with four cans of coke to wash it down, all sitting on the bed.

  That guy was amazing.

  Kicking off my shoes, I sprawled out, turned on the TV, and got to work.

  I didn’t know how he’d done it, but Rhett was now my go-to guy when I needed feeding.

  7

  I woke up with my face next to the empty pizza box, the theme of my favourite morning TV programme blaring at me, and my playsuit pulled tight into the crack of my arse.

  It hurt.

  At least my hair hadn’t gotten all greasy since it was still held back in the plait.

  I felt like shit. A hotel was the last place I needed to be when I felt like shit, and I considered going home. The train ticket was open. I could just hop on the first one I got to and go and die in my own house.

  But that bed was so comfortable. And there was room service, and a spa downstairs, and waiters who brought pizza.

  My thoughts came to a halt. In the space of, what, five minutes, he had delivered a piping hot pizza to my room without passing me in the halls? How the hell had he pulled that off? It wasn’t the kind of hotel to even serve pizza. Copiously topped flat breads with Italian prosciutto and a sprinkling of cheese with a rocket garnish, possibly, but not pizza.

  Dwelling on it wouldn’t help, I decided, rolling from the bed, and forcing myself to stand. According to the tiny clock on the TV screen it was 9:00 a.m. Full English was on the cards at the very least, so I pulled the offending fabric out of my arse and headed for the shower.

  On the way to the restaurant, I stopped in at the reception desk to say hello to Adam’s bit of stuff. Judging by the shade of puce he turned when he saw me smiling down at him, he wasn’t expecting to run into me.

  Collecting himself, he ran his hands down the front of his blazer as though to brush the unease away and then smiled. “Good morning, Miss Reeves.”

  “Hello. I missed the reception and I was wondering if the CECC had left anything here for me?”

  “Such as?”

  And there he was. The pompous little wanker had returned, brow raised and talking to me like I was stupid.

  “An envelope with a grand cash in it? A badge? Bully’s special prize?”

  He looked at me like I was sprouting a second head and I realised that he wouldn’t have the first clue what the latter was.

  I watched a lot of old gameshow reruns in my spare time, and with Adam being older than me by several years, he was already familiar, so it had become part of our vocabulary. Since Adam’s piece was about my age, it made sense that he’d never seen anything like it. I doubted he even watched television.

  I tilted my head impatiently and he snapped to it. “I’ll check the safe for you. If you could wait a moment?”

  When he’d disappeared into an office behind the desk, I pulled out my phone and checked for missed messages. One from Adam, telling me he was home safely. Oops. Rather than admit I’d forgotten him being distracted by all the talent roaming the hotel, I asked what happened between him and the clerk.

  His reply was swift and had me choking on my own spit. I barely managed to compose myself when the man in question returned holding a large sealed envelope, clearly stuffed with cash.

  “This is highly irregular, Miss Reeves.”

  I held out my hand. “You’re telling me.”

  “I’ll need to see some identification.”

  My eyes narrowed, and I lunged forward, snatching at the envelope.

  “Don’t give me that. You know who I am. I won’t tell if you don’t. Although we know you can’t hold your own shit.”

  I smirked as I said it. I didn’t mean to, but it gave away Adam’s indiscretion, and I pointed at the computer screen on his desk as a distraction.

  “You have it all there.” He flushed again, and I turned on my heel and waved the envelope over my shoulder. “See you later.”

  Breakfast was amazing.

  Those all you can eat jobs were my best friend. I’d managed to get myself barred from three around my hometown. The only one I was bothered about was the carvery. Sometimes I just needed a good roast. Unfortunately, they hadn’t banked on me walking through the door when they advertised it as all you can eat. Even with plates the size of bin lids, I’d managed to eat half a catering size gammon joint and cleared them out of roast parsnips.

  C’est la vie. I could cook my own.

  Being a five-star establishment, it wasn’t called all you can eat. It was a buffet style breakfast, but it amounted to the same thing. All that was missing was my knight in starched white shirt. I wanted to thank him for the emergency pizza the previous night, but he was nowhere to be seen. Again, I didn’t dare ask the other staff, so I ate and returned to my room. My quiet, boring room.

  It was going to be a long five days without Adam. I missed him, and my dog. They were someone to talk to. The best thing for me, I decided while looking out of the balcony doors and over to the pristine park outside, was a spa day.

  No treatments. Just a day doing nothing but being relaxed. So I dug around in my case for my bikini and made for the spa.

  I wasn’t usually a bikini girl, but nobody knew me there and I honestly had no idea where my full costume was. Bikini was fine for sitting around in a robe all day. I had a sneaking suspicion that many people wore nothing, so I was winning in coverage from the get go. Shoving the suit in my bag, I made for the door.

  A day of nothing. I was fed, I was watered, I was relaxing.

  The spa was empty. No one there at all. Shrugging to myself beneath the thick, fluffy robe, I walked into the relaxation and pool area and chose a bed.

  As I lay back, that spa scent of lemon and lavender washed over me and I closed my eyes. Perfect. Nothing to do, no one to see. I could lounge around there all day and not be bothered by anyone at all.

  I couldn’t tell if I’d nodded off or not. I must have, because the clock was showing two hours had passed. I could honestly see myself doing that every day. It was amazing to feel so relaxed.

  But it was quiet. Oh god, it was quiet. I was used to the TV or music playing in the background. I was used to Adam messing in the kitchen or Bruno shuffling around and nudging me for treats. Here, there was nothing and no one. That was great a little while ago. Thinking of everything that was missing, I was no longer relaxed. I was itching for something to do.

  Not to be beaten, I decided that a swim wouldn’t kill me. For all I would eat in a day, not once did I deliberately set out to exercise. Bruno’s walk was my limit, and I only partook because he needed it. Even then, I had every confidence that he’d forgo the gruelling hike if I didn’t physically force him out of the door.

>   He was my spirit animal.

  I looked around before disrobing. I’m not self-conscious by any means, I mean, I eat for Britain and never weigh any more than a hundred and fifteen pounds. Ever. If anything, it’s a struggle to keep at that weight, and while most people envy it, it’s a bloody nightmare. But I still looked round.

  The bikini was not my choice. It was Adam’s, and it showed more than it covered. His argument for buying something so skimpy was that it was on sale, and if we went on holiday, it’d probably do me some favours. It seemed a bit much for a hotel spa.

  The scrap of fabric preserving what little modesty I had was attached to another scrap of fabric at the back, and that was pointless given it disappeared between my arse cheeks. This all held together by equally pointless ties. One wrong move and they’d come undone.

  But I did love the look of it. The chain mail effect of the fabric meant it glinted in the light and I liked how it caught attention. Not that I’d worn it much. I didn’t usually have the grooming in place to pull it off. Thankfully, Addie had prepared for this week and he’d forced me out to his favourite salon where I was waxed to smooth perfection. I looked fucking amazing.

  I managed five lengths of the pool before I lost the ability to breathe and positioned myself on the steps leading down into the water for a rest. That was when he walked in.

  I’m pretty sure I gawked. I couldn’t help it. Most people would have found it odd that all these fit guys were wandering around, but not me. I was damn grateful for them.

  He was tall; taller than the other two, broader across the shoulders, and ripped. Not that I was comparing. I make a point of appreciating the male form in most of its varieties.

  He ignored me, walking around to the deeper end of the pool. I shamelessly watched him pass. The past two days I’d been subject to the torture of two flirting men. The one passing me now, with his honey coloured skin, rippling abs, and short boxed beard, was one too many. His choice of swimwear didn’t help either.