My Favorite Mistake (My Favorite Mistake #1)(16)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Gag me,” she said.

“Literally.”

“Blow jobs aside, you can say you hate him all you want, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to believe you, even if you do. Because you definitely don’t. I think there’s only one person you really hate in this world and his name isn’t Hunter.” No, his name wasn’t Hunter. “I don’t know if it’s possible for you to hate more than one person at a time.”

“Can you love more than one person at a time?” I said.

“I think you can love multiple people, but in different ways.”

“So why can’t you hate more than one person, but in different ways?”

“Because.”

I sigh. “That’s not a reason.”

“I’m your big sister. It’s true because I said so, Kid.” She’d used this reason when we were younger, and it hadn’t worked then either. I wasn’t a because-I-said-so kind of person.

“Whatever. I’m not giving up.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Still, I don’t think it’s a fight you’re gonna win. You’re not going to get rid of that boy.”

“Maybe I can pretend that I love him.” That was my last resort.

“Kid, pretending and the real thing aren’t that far away. Just be careful.” I heard the commotion in the living room that meant the boys were back.

“Gotta go, he’s back.”

“Spit, don’t swallow!” Tawny yelled as I end the call. I stifled a laugh as Hunter popped his head in the door.

“You hungry?”

“Maybe.”

“Aw, come on, Missy. Don’t be pissed at me. You were the one who pretended you were going to seduce me and then hit me with your bag. By the way, do you carry bricks in there? I think I’ve got a bruise. You want to kiss it and make it better?” He started to lift his shirt up, revealing a few inches of flat stomach. That was just what I needed.

“Why don’t you go fall off a ladder?”

“Can’t. I completed the safety test and now can properly use a ladder without incident.”

“Damn.” He crossed his arms and gave me a satisfied look. Why was his face so… perfect? “Why don’t you be a gentleman and fetch me some pizza. I’m a little busy,” I said, pointing to the mountains of notes and textbooks.

“I said I was a prince, I never said a charming one,” he said as he went out the door. He came back a moment later with two plates of pizza, two sodas and a roll of paper towels under his arm.

“I thought we could celebrate our first day of work. If you’re not going to throw this drink at me. That’s considered assault in the state of Maine, FYI.”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, the vast stores of things I know could fill many volumes, Missy girl,” he said, handing me a plate and a cup and dumping the paper towels in my lap. I should throw the drink at him. Assaulting Hunter would be quite satisfying.

“I can imagine,” I said, rolling my eyes. He chuckled and seated himself on the floor.

“Come on, floor picnic.” He patted a spot beside him that was free of clothes. I hadn’t had a chance to do laundry in a while, and a few of my clothes hadn’t made it to the hamper yet. Hunter didn’t seem to care, even though he was an obsessive neat freak, for a guy.

“Are you bipolar?” I asked. He stared at me for a second and threw his head back and laughed. “No, seriously.”

“Says the girl who has been to more than one therapist.”

“So what? It wasn’t my choice.” I didn’t want to talk about me. I got down from the bed and moved a sweatshirt out of the way so I could sit far enough away from him.

“Parents make you go?” he said, taking a bite.

I picked up my piece of pizza and studied it. He’d gotten all my favorite vegetables on it, and he was eating a piece of it, too.

“Sort of. It’s complicated.” I did not want to discuss my dark and twisty past.

“I had to go, too,” he said, wiping his mouth and balling up the paper towel in his hand.

“What for?”

“It’s a long story. Complicated.” His hand went to his seven tattoo and rubbed it three times before he picked up his pizza again.

“Huh,” I said.

“What?”

“Well, I just never thought we’d have something like that in common. Guess we’re both a little f**ked up.” I was a lot f**ked up, but I didn’t say that.

“A girl like you? No way.”

I laughed.

“Oh, Hunter. You have no idea.” I hadn’t showed him even a fraction of the crazy in my head. True, I probably hadn’t seen a fraction of his either.

“Well, we can just be f**ked up together.”

“No, thanks.” I munched my pizza and scooted away from him. Hunter was always too close for comfort.

“You talk to your sister lately?”

“Why are you so concerned about my personal business?”

“Because I’m a gentleman. And your roommate.”

“Bite me.”

“Deflecting, I see. You seem to do that a lot. I bet it’s because your sister likes me. Admit it. I’ve never been with sisters before, but for you I’d make an exception.”

I reached behind me for the closest thing I could throw. Turned out to be a kitten heel. For the first time in my life, I wished I wore spiked heels. Really sharp ones.

He ducked my shoe assault.

“Shoes don’t count under the assault category, do they?” I asked.

“Not sure, I’ll have to check my law books.”

“You do not have law books.”

He nodded and picked up his pizza, totally blasé.

“My uncle does. A whole room full of ’em. I used to read them when I was a kid.”

“Law books. You,” I said, pointing to the smirking dude across from me, “read law books? Did you get punished a lot as a kid?”

“Why, you wanna punish me, Missy?” His eyes sparkled, and he smiled wickedly.

I closed my eyes and shook my head to rid myself of the mental image of doing just that. It wouldn’t be as fun for him as it would for me, in my version.

“Nah, I just liked reading them. I don’t know. There’s something comforting about the law. Most of it’s written down, and there are rules to follow. It’s equal for everyone.”

“Yeah, the law is great.” We were veering into uncomfortable territory, but I didn’t want Hunter to know that. “Works every time.”

“How would you know?” His playful tone was gone, and his face was serious again. Shit.

“I watch a lot of crime shows,” I said, rolling my eyes and shoving my pizza in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to talk.

“Uh huh,” Hunter said, but dropped the subject.

We both looked up when there was a knock at the door. Mase slowly poked his head in, as if he was expecting to surprise us in a compromising position.

“Hey, guys,” he said, taking in our floor picnic. He seemed relieved that neither of us was nak*d. “I just wanted to see if you were coming to the house this weekend?”

“Yeah, I gotta meet with Joe, so I’ll be over for dinner.”

Mase’s eyes flicked from me to Hunter and back.

“Cool, I’ll tell Dad. See you later, man.”

Hunter nodded goodnight, and Mase closed the door softly.

“Who’s Joe?”

He got up and tossed his pizza plate and chugged some of his soda. “Family friend.”

“You have to ‘meet’ with him? Doesn’t sound friendly.” Well hello, secret that Hunter didn’t want me to know. Nice to meet you.

He drained the rest of the can. “I’m gonna go shower. Care to join me?” The flirty smile was back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Gotcha.

“Hmm, that sounds a lot like deflecting, Hunter.” He slung his towel over his shoulder as I sauntered over to him. I tipped my face up and smiled.

“Now who has a secret?”

“You know, for a girl who claims to hate me, you’re doing a really good job of trying to get into my pants. We could fix that, right here, right now.”

“What about the bet?”

“Missy, if you slept with me, I’d say screw the bet. Whatever you wanted, I’d do.”

“So if I sleep with you and told you to get the f**k out, you’d do it?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, putting up his fingers.

“Bullshit.” I was calling his bluff. Also, I was not sleeping with him. Still, if I had one more chance of getting rid of him, I’d take it. Maybe more opportunities would come my way.

He stuck his hand right in my face.

“Shake on it?”

“Deal,” I said.

“Why, Missy, if you wanted to get rid of me, you chose the most fun way of doing it.”

“Oh, Hunter, I’m not going to sleep with you. Dream on,” I said, brushing my hand on the front of his jeans, just near a very important area. He made a little groaning noise and tore himself away from me, slamming the door.

Who was in the driver’s seat now?

*****

“So who’s Joe?” I said when Hunter came back after his very long shower. He looked distinctly grumpy.

“I told you, a family friend. Don’t stick your pretty nose in places it doesn’t belong, Missy. You might find something you don’t want to find.” He had no idea.

“How do you know that I don’t have secrets?”

“Oh, I know you do. I’m just not as overt as you are about finding them out. The best way to get what you want is to pretend you don’t want it.”

“So are you telling me you don’t want me?” Could have fooled me. I was pretty sure you didn’t proposition people you didn’t want to sleep with every five seconds.

He pointed to me. “You’re my exception, Missy. I don’t make exceptions very often. It’s bad luck. I can want you without liking you, so don’t take that as a confirmation that I like you.”

“Am I bad luck?”

He laughed.

“No, Missy, you’re a jackpot. Best lucky break ever.”

“So you’re saying you do want to sleep with me?”

“Given the fact that I just took my millionth cold shower since I’ve moved in here and I have to constantly recite the Gettysburg Address and The Bill of Rights in my head when I’m around you? Yeah, I’d say so. Why, you want me, too?”

“No. I hate you.” I gave it a shot.

“Not a chance, Missy. But if you wanted to get this over with, I could be out of here in an hour.” He hopped up on his bed and started pulling his shirt over his head. Oh, God.

“No.”

“No?” He stopped, with half of his stomach exposed.

“No.” My voice was firm. It was not going to happen. Joking aside, if he EVER tried to force himself on me, they would have to drag me off his dead body because I would have beaten him to death. He must have seen my anger rising or sensed that I was about ready to do something crazy again, because he pulled his shirt back down and put his hands up in a peacemaking gesture.

“Message received. Shirt is staying on. Well, until we go to bed, but that’s nothing new.” He rubbed his tattoo again. I’d seen him doing that more than once.

There were other little things I’d noticed about him. Like the fact that he was really into the numbers three, five and seven. Well, the seven was obvious. Five was more subtle. I’d heard him counting under his breath once, like it was a way to calm himself or something. When we walked, sometimes he counted his steps, one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five. I’d never said anything about it because I knew he wasn’t aware of it, or he didn’t think I was aware of it. I didn’t want him knowing I noticed things like that.