Anything For Love (The Hunter Brothers Book 1)

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Anything For Love (The Hunter Brothers Book 1) Page 3

by Lola StVil


  “So…this guy who took you home…” she begins.

  Shit. Okay, I can do this. I can stay emotionless as I answer her questions. No big deal.

  “Oh, yeah. His name was Wyatt or something. Anyway, he stayed the night to make sure I didn’t go totally nuts. Then he went home or wherever. Anyway, I’m good and the drama is over. Yeah, anyway…it’s all good now,” I reply as I busy myself with tasks around the office. She pauses, raises her eyebrows, and looks over at me with suspicion.

  “Winter Madison Bennett, you better stop lying to me.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Yes you are. When you lie, you say ‘anyway’ like ten times. You’re terrible at lying. So don’t try it. What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” I insist. Jana tilts her head to the side and places her hands across her chest. Crap.

  “Okay, okay. The guy—the detective was…kind of good looking and kind of not a jerk.”

  “Oh my God! You had a sexy-ass detective holding you all through the night and you wanted to fuck him!” she says, jumping up and down.

  “Shhh! Lower your voice.”

  “Do you know what this means? You are finally over that shit rag, Danny. You are ready to venture, and Mr. Hottie is going to be your first rebound.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Why not?” she whines.

  “I’m done with dating.”

  “Okay, so you two can fuck. You’re not done with fucking, right?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with Wyatt.”

  “Oh my God, you like him! Oh, this is too good!”

  “Jana, can we get back to work? We have a ton of things to go over before the afternoon sessions begin.”

  “Okay fine, but this isn’t over,” she warns.

  ***

  A few hours later, I’m in my office and I hear one of my favorite sounds—a hallway full of chatty kids running to class. Today is our ‘Life Skills’ class. The kids love it because a professional comes to talk to them and explain how they got their jobs and the skills that were required.

  They thought we were just going to have business people come and lecture them, but Jana and I go out of our way to get them interesting speakers that will excite and educate them. We’ve had firemen come in wearing their uniforms, chefs who made them dessert, and scientists who let them create their own mini science projects at their table.

  Today we’re supposed to have a class on “Drug prevention.” The local precinct was supposed to send a drug prevention officer to us but they have cancelled twice already. So, when I see the look on Jana’s face as she comes down the steps, I’m guessing they cancelled a third time.

  “You have to be kidding me! Don’t they get how important this class is to the kids?” I snap before she can even speak.

  “I know. I told them the last time they cancelled that we really need them to come through,” Jana replies.

  “So the kids are ready to go and, yet again, there is no speaker? That’s unacceptable,” I reply as I take out my cell and dial the number of the precinct.

  “Okay, Winter, don’t call with an attitude. If you do they won’t send anyone over here.”

  “Well it’s not like they are sending anyone here anyway. Argh! What the hell is their problem?” I bark.

  “Maybe the speaker is just late,” Jana suggests.

  “What kind of jerk would keep a class full of kids waiting?” I demand.

  “The kind of jerk who didn’t know about it until twenty minutes ago,” someone says behind me. I turn towards the entrance and find Wyatt standing in the doorway. My jaw drops. My pulse races and I marvel at how good he looks in daylight. Damn him.

  He looks so damn good, every inch of me is aching to touch him. He’s even hotter than I remember. He’s not wearing anything special, just dark jeans, a grey tee shirt, a leather jacket, and boots. But he’s the finest thing I’ve seen in all my life. My heart leaps into my mouth. I can’t recall what I was mad about or even what Jana and I were talking about.

  “It’s…you,” I reply, utterly beside myself.

  “Hi. How’s your arm? Does it hurt? Are you okay? I thought I’d hear from you,” he says warmly as he gazes into my eyes. He has this way of turning off the whole world and only paying attention to me. It’s as if I’m the only one he sees. I’ve never had that before. It’s a powerful thing. It’s also scary for me, since it only makes me want him more.

  “You’re a detective. You don’t do this kind of stuff,” I reply, still in a haze.

  “Normally, no. But the guy who does this is a friend. He needed me to cover for him, and I owed him one,” Wyatt says. His voice. I forgot how deep and rich it was. It awakens parts of me that have no business being awake. Jana clears her throat and holds out her hand. She’s so damn happy; it’s a wonder she’s not dancing.

  “So…you’re Wyatt. Wow. Just…wow. I’m Jana,” she says, sounding like she’s auditioning for a feature porn flick.

  He takes her hand, never once breaking eye contact with me. The urge to fall into his arms is so strong that I have to place my hands on the wall behind me so I won’t give in. He studies me like I’m the last piece of a puzzle he’s been trying to solve. I’d love it if he played with me like a puzzle. If he laid his powerful hands all over me. I’d whimper as he bent and molded me to fit into place.

  “We should probably get started,” Jana says as she studies both of us. I guess she realized the two of us were never going to willingly pull away from each other’s gaze.

  We enter the assembly room, the largest room in the center. All the kids, of various ages, have gathered awaiting today’s speaker.

  If Wyatt is nervous, he’s not showing it. His walk to the front of the class is confident and certain. When he addresses the students, he does so with a strong, commanding voice that scares the hell out of the kids but in a good way. His tone is firm and adamant. He’s unlike any other speaker we’ve had.

  He tells the kids about the horrors of drug use, but it’s more like a conversation than a lecture. He curses. I hate that. But the kids love it. They feel connected with him. I can tell because long after the bell rings, the kids are still seated. They ask follow-up questions, and he’s honest with them.

  He tells them about some of the bloody, messy, and sad things he’s seen in his line of work. And how he believes they can avoid that if they really want to. He gives it to them straight, no bullshit. (Which is exactly how he put it.) When he’s done, the whole class cheers.

  Joy, a cutie pie no more than five years old, raises her hand. When Wyatt picks her, she gives him her bright, toothless smile. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she says as she giggles. Her classmates join her. Before he can reply, I stand up and tell the kids to thank Wyatt for coming. I did that because the afterschool is over and they need to get home and also because there’s a very real chance that he does have a girl. And I just didn’t want to hear him say “yes.”

  Normally my staff of twelve is in a hurry to get home when the workday is over. Yet for some reason, ten of my staff members, all of whom happen to be women, find reasons to linger. It’s like nothing I have seen before. The women who normally rush to their cars or head for the train station suddenly find themselves with a little extra time today. They surround Wyatt a few at a time and strike up a conversation, and some of the quieter women linger in the doorway of their classroom, licking their lips as they gaze at Wyatt.

  “You were so good with them today, Mr. Hunter,” one of my English teachers, Macy Mores, says as she bats her eyes at him. She has a great figure and a pixie haircut. She makes sure he notices by arching her back slightly and sticking out a hip to accentuate her hourglass curves.

  “Call me Wyatt, and thanks.”

  “I bet your kids just love having you around,” she replies, damn near purring.

  Oh c’mon!

  “Macy, did you need something?” I ask in an official tone.

  “Oh yeah, I really need somethi
ng,” she says, pulling in her lower lip and biting it.

  “And what is it that you need?” My sharp tone brings her back to her senses.

  “Oh, um…I need more textbooks. The three new kids don’t have any,” she says, blushing.

  “It’s in my office,” I reply. She walks towards the office and passes by Wyatt in the process. She gazes into his eyes and slowly enters the office, using the best “look at my ass” strut I have ever seen.

  “Wyatt, you’re still here, great!” Jana says. Oh crap. Please don’t let her do what I think she’s about to do.

  “You know I was supposed to help Winnie get some stuff out of the basement, but I hurt my arm earlier. Can you help her with that?” she says with a sweet smile.

  I’m gonna kill her.

  “Yeah, I’d love to help ‘Winnie,’” he says with a big grin. One of the teachers raises her hand to volunteer her services. Jana takes her hand down and dares her to join Wyatt and me. Meanwhile, Wyatt loves how uncomfortable I am. He follows me down the steps and into the basement. There are stacks of books and classroom supplies around us. In the corner is a large box too heavy for me to carry by myself.

  “Listen, you don’t have to help—I can get the janitor to help in the morning,” I assure him.

  “Are you a bagel person or a pastry kind of girl?” he asks.

  “Um, what?”

  “This morning, I was gonna go out and get you breakfast since you had nothing in the house—by the way, how do you have nothing in the house to eat? Anyway, I was gonna do bagels but I wasn’t sure if you wanted like a donut or…in the end I thought I’d get both but then my cell rang and I had to go.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is to me. I wanted to have breakfast with you,” he says.

  “You’ve done enough, really. And you were great with the kids earlier. Aside from the cursing, which they didn’t really need to hear,” I mumble.

  “People curse, and if that’s all those kids ever have to deal with, they’re really lucky.”

  “Anyway, thanks again. And I’m sorry I ruined your operation.”

  He sighs deeply as he looks over at me. I’ve been keeping a safe distance since we got to the basement and now he comes closer, about to close the gap. He places an arm on the wall on either side of my head, essentially blocking me in. There is a very good chance my heart will beat right out of my chest. I don’t want him coming closer but I dread the thought of him leaving any space between us.

  I remember his powerful embrace and I would love to feel that again. Yet if he touches me, there may very well be a “Winter Bennett” shaped hole in the hall as I run away. His body is so close to mine, there’s no room for daylight. I look into his face. It’s perfect. There’s a wild, reckless look in his eyes, like he’s a breath away from ravaging me. Yet, there’s also an intense sincerity behind his eyes. It grips me.

  “Thank you for sending the locksmith this morning. It was really nice of you,” I add, not knowing what else to say. He sighs and hangs his head in frustration.

  “Christ, I wanna kiss you so fucking bad…” he says once his head comes back up.

  “We don’t know each other. You could have a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know, how can a woman as gorgeous, funny, and crazy as you be single?”

  “I’m not gorgeous.”

  “I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” he says.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m cute. And pretty on some days, but I’m not…no one has ever said I was…”

  “Well, I’m saying it.” He leans in even closer. He’s about to kiss me, and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it. But I have no doubt that this is a bad idea. He places his hand under my chin and gently brings me to him. But before our lips touch, someone enters the basement.

  “Winter, I can’t find the textbooks.” Macy says, stomping down the steps. That bitch knows very well where the textbooks are. And although I can’t stand her at this moment, I’m relieved she came in and broke the spell Wyatt cast on me. I quickly point out the boxes that need to be brought up and run up the steps to help Ms. “No shame” Mores.

  ***

  It takes about an hour to get everyone out of the building and lock up. I thought Wyatt would have been called away by then. But when I get out to my car, there he is, waiting for me. I’m guessing Jana and her crazy self thought she’d try again to get us to be alone.

  He looks me over. His smoldering gaze is doing things to me that my best vibrator couldn’t do. His arms are folded across his chest. He looks down at me with an intense genuine longing that makes me ache with desire. I inhale his intoxicating scent of crisp autumn and musk.

  Please, let me walk out of this without giving in.

  “Thank you for last night—for saving my life,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “You already thanked me,” he says softly as he studies my lips.

  “I did?”

  “Yeah.”

  I look away and form an “O” with my lips and let out a soft sigh to release some of the pent-up tension between us. It doesn’t help. The longer I’m near him, the stronger the urge to wrap my legs around him.

  “Can you stop doing that?’ he asks.

  “Doing what?”

  “Licking your lips like that. It’s doing some really crazy things to me.”

  “Like what?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  “Like making it hard to focus on asking you out.”

  “You want us to go out?”

  “For starters.”

  “Wyatt…last night you save my life and—”

  “Don’t thank me again. Just say you’ll have dinner with me later tonight.”

  “I don’t want to see you later,” I reply in a whisper.

  He’s taken aback. The disappointment in his eyes makes me feel like I’m dying. He looks past me, as if he needs a moment to regroup.

  “Okay, what’s going on? Talk to me, babe,” he says.

  Babe…

  It’s so easy to fall into this. It’s easy to let the sound of him calling me babe take me on a whirlwind ride. But what do I do when it’s over? When the love is gone and only pain remains?

  “Wyatt—”

  “There’s something between us. I don’t know what it is exactly but I know you feel it. I know you feel it. So, what’s the issue?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “That’s the whole point of going out, to change that.”

  “Wyatt, I don’t want to date you—or anyone. My date last night was the first one in a year. It was also my last.”

  “Winter, are you saying you don’t want to see what this could be between us?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  I did the right thing, didn’t I?

  I have been asking myself that question since my conversation with Wyatt in the parking lot five days ago. I am trying to block out all thoughts of him, and by now, I should be successful at it but I’m not. I’ll be doing laundry and randomly think about him. Yesterday, I was in the grocery store and I thought I spotted him, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t him. The worst part is at night when I picture him crawling into bed with another woman, one who doesn’t have as much baggage as I do.

  Today marks a week since I last saw Wyatt. And I vow to myself that today will be different. I will not speculate on what or whom he’s doing. So, when I put my key in the door, I don’t look over to the sofa where he once sat. Instead I wrap up whatever work I didn’t get done in the office, binge watch shows on Netflix, and order Thai food.

  My phone rings. It’s him. He input his cell number in my phone the night we met, in case I needed anything. I don’t pick up. It’s hard to listen to it ringing, knowing he’s on the other end. I want to talk to him. I want to know how his week has been. He seems so serious; did anything make him
smile or laugh today? Did he find Donavan? He’s a detective, so I’m guessing danger is part of his everyday life, but is he being careful? Is he okay? Is he alone tonight?

  After six rings, the phone goes silent. Deflated, I turn my attention back to House of Cards. But then, my phone makes a chirping sound, which lets me know that unlike the other times, Wyatt has left me a voicemail. I leap off my sofa like a cartoon character whose butt has been set on fire.

  My hands are shaking and my mouth is dry. I can’t reach the “play” button on the screen fast enough. Soon, his deep baritone voice is filling my ear and resonating throughout my body.

  “I’ve been thinking about you. I don’t know how long I can…I really fucking miss you.”

  I replay it six times and each time brings me closer to returning his call. I tell myself the only thing to do is to delete the voicemail. I touch the screen and my cell asks if I’m sure I want to delete…

  No! Hell no! I want to replay. Replay!

  And I do. I replay it again. How many more times? I won’t say, I don’t want you to lose respect for me. Soon the recording is less about how wonderful it feels to be missed and more about how pathetic I am that I can’t even bring myself to return his call. I turn off the TV and get ready for bed. I crawl under the covers and close my eyes. But I know the night will be long and sleep won’t come easily.

  ***

  I managed to get about an hour and a half worth of sleep. So, this morning, I make my way to the biggest cup of coffee I can find. I pull into the parking lot and find my favorite helper waiting for me.

  “Hi, Luis! Why are you wearing such a light jacket? Where’s your coat?” I ask.

  “Ms. Bennett, it’s not even winter yet.”

  “Yes, but it’s only fifty-two today. And the rest of the week will get even cooler. Did your mother let you leave the house with that jacket?” I ask.

 

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