My Favorite Mistake (My Favorite Mistake #1)(27)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

It would have been so easy.

Hunter went to bed early, and by the time I was ready myself, he had his back turned to me and the light off. He didn’t even say goodnight.

Eighteen

He avoided me the next day, even at work. We had three carts of documents and things to reshelf on the closed stacks, which meant we were going to be alone up there for hours. Luckily, I brought the radio and turned it on as soon as we wheeled the carts, Dolly and Daisy and Dulcie, off the elevators. One of the other student workers had named all the carts and put little cow faces on them. I understood the obsession with naming inanimate objects. Exhibit A: Sassy, my car.

He took Dolly, which had the beginning of the alphabet, so I grabbed Dulcie, which was at the end. We’d have to work together when we got to Daisy, but maybe we wouldn’t get to it today, and then one of the other student workers would deal with it.

I finished my first cart faster than I would have liked. There were a lot of big books on it that were right in a row call number wise, so I sat there with the empty cart. I’d heard Hunter quietly working, but I didn’t know if he was finished. God, what a baby. Suck it up.

I reached the cart just as Hunter did. Of course.

“Come on,” I said, dragging the cart to the right aisle. I started grabbing things and shoving them on the shelf. They were in relatively the right place. A hand reached out to stop me.

“I know you said you didn’t want this, but here’s the thing. I don’t believe you.” He held my wrist gently, but I couldn’t seem to move. He put his hand on my waist and slowly turned me around, as if we were dancing. We faced each other, and I couldn’t escape his intense gaze. His eyes were locked on mine and they weren’t going to let go. I was trapped.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want me to kiss you. Tell me you don’t like it when I do this,” he said, running his hand down my arm. “Tell me you don’t like it when I touch your hair…” He did so, brushing it behind my ear. “Tell me you don’t like it when I touch your face.” He brushed his hands on both of my cheeks, moving up to my forehead and then back down. He rubbed both thumbs over my lips.

“Tell me you don’t like it when I do this.” He leaned his head closer, stopping just short of my lips. “Tell me to stop and I will. You’re in charge, Missy.”

Oh, but I wasn’t. I’d never been so out of charge in my life. I hated being so out of control with him. This was only the second time it had happened, the first being Saturday night and the recliner incident. I closed my eyes and prayed to whoever would listen to give me some control so I could say no.

I wasn’t some horny teen girl with raging hormones. I was Taylor Caldwell, Ice Queen. That was what they had called me in high school. The boys had avoided me for fear of getting their balls frozen off. Or so they had said. I didn’t mind. It made things easier. Any boys who had wanted to try and break through my exterior had been quickly squashed like bugs.

Hunter was different. He’d seen through my exterior, seen through the wall of tangled thorns that guarded me. And here he was, asking me if I wanted to let him try to break through.

The answer was yes.

And no.

I was going to hell.

I leaned forward until our lips met. This time he waited for me. I pushed closer, and he responded, jamming me up against the shelf and devouring me once again. Were his kisses ever gentle? I hoped not.

My hands were trapped above my head so I couldn’t touch him, but he was pressed against me, so I could feel him on every inch of my body, even through our clothes. I let my worries about control fade away, like letting go of a balloon string and watching it float away. Hunter demanded my attention.

I made a little moaning noise and he laughed, slowing our kisses so they were sweeter. Also, I could breathe better. Not that breathing mattered a whole lot at the moment. It was secondary.

I pulled my head back, feeling dizzy.

“I don’t like you,” I whispered, giving him one last soft peck.

“Sure,” Hunter said, reaching around me. I thought he was going to assault me, but he was just reaching for a book. “You just keep telling yourself that.” He shelved the book above my head, looking down at me and smiling slowly.

“Get back to work, Miss Caldwell.”

I grabbed the nearest book and wacked him with it.

“Dark. I like dark chocolate.”

*****

That night a bar of expensive dark chocolate found its way onto my pillow. Wonder how that got there. I picked it up and found something else. A black velvet box. What. The. Fuck.

With trembling hands, I picked it up, my brain telling me it must have fallen there by mistake. Maybe Renee had left it in my room, or thought it was mine, or maybe it was a gift from Mase to Darah and he decided to hide it in a place where she wouldn’t find it or…

Just open the damn box.

Slowly, with a little creak, the box opened. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

There was a ring inside. For like, fingers and such. It was gorgeous, with a clear blue stone in the middle, surrounded by what I thought might be diamonds (and I prayed were cubic zirconium) and then a double row of greenish stones of alternating sizes, all wrapped with silver. It made me think of a peacock feather.

“It’s not what you think,” Hunter said, scaring the bejeezus and daylights out of me all at once. I dropped the box.

“Must reassemble heart,” I said, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Wow, I didn’t know it would get quite that reaction.” He picked it up and looked at it before holding it out to me.

“What? How? Why?” I couldn’t form coherent words.

“It’s a ring. It’s for your finger. I bought it, and I thought you would like it. And it’s to say sorry for all the douche-y things I’ve ever done. Figured I’d cover my bases.”

“Ring?”

“Yes. Ring. Hunter,” he said, pointing to his chest. “Missy,” he said, pointing to me.

I stared down at the sparkly thing. It was so pretty. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Like someone had designed a ring just for me.

“It’s not what you think it is. It’s an apology ring. It’s an I-saw-it-and-thought-of-you ring. It’s not a commitment ring. Promise rings are lame, and you know I’m not proposing. I’m not getting married, ever. So. This is a ring. Just a ring for your pretty finger. I had it sized.”

“When?”

“I measured your finger while you were sleeping one night.”

“What?!”

He laughed at my still-stunned face.

“Kidding! Damn, you’re weird when you’re surprised by jewelry. I’ll have to do it more often. I stole one of the ones off your dresser I knew you wore a lot.”

“You had this made for me?”

“Kind of. I saw the ring with the blue and the diamonds, and I just thought it could add a little more to make it something you’d love. Do you like it?”

My ears cringed at the word diamond. Maybe I’d heard him wrong. Diamonds were expensive.

“I don’t like it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I could say the same about you.” I looked up to his face to find him smiling at me.

“Would you put it on? For me?”

He plucked the ring out of the box and held it out to me. I slid it on my right ring finger. Too much symbolism with the left, at least in the United States. It fit as if it had been made for me. It was so shiny I could barely look away from it.

“How does it fit?” Hunter said, taking my hand and turning so the ring glimmered.

“Perfect.” I still didn’t comprehend the fact that Hunter had bought me a ring with diamonds and God -knew what else in it, as if it was nothing.

“How much?” I said.

“Price doesn’t matter.”

“I thought you didn’t accept money from your family.”

“I didn’t. I bought it myself.”

“With what money?” It had to be crazy expensive. He wouldn’t meet my eyes when I looked up.

“Don’t worry about it. Money is meaningless.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me how much it was.”

“If I do, you’re going to freak out like you did about the house, and then I’ll be forced to kiss you again. Do you want me to kiss you again?”

“It’s not my fault you keep trying to kiss me. How much did the ring cost?”

He grabbed my hands and tried to plant one on me, but I ducked away.

“Are you asking for me to kick your nuts again? Because I totally will.”

“Why can’t you react like a normal girl? Anyone else would be a puddle of goo at my feet.”

“You didn’t give this ring to another girl, you gave it to me. So deal with it.”

“Do you want me to take it back? I’m sure they can cut it apart and use the stones for another ring.”

“No!” It would be a crime to destroy such a lovely thing. Not that I was much for jewelry but this was something different. This wasn’t a ring. This was a work of art.

“Okay then. So I guess you like it.”

“I love it.”

“I have reservations about you wearing a peacock feather on your finger, but that’s just a representation of one, so I guess it’s okay. Just… be careful.”

“Peacocks aren’t bad luck for me,” I said. He had no idea what they meant to me. Or maybe he did. “How much, Hunter?”

“It’s not important, Miss. You’re more important than money. Bottom line.” I wanted to ask him again if he was bipolar. How could he say things like that and then make a comment about my ass the next? He was a conundrum.

“So the only thing you have left to do is thank me. I know a really special way you could thank me, but it’s really up to you.” And there he was again.

“Okay,” I said, having an idea.

I crooked my finger for him to come closer. I tipped my head up like I was going to give him a steamy kiss. I bit my lip and his face went blank for a second. Ha.

I went for his mouth slowly, but moved at the last second, catching him on the cheek for a lightning- fast peck.

“Thanks,” I said brightly before stepping away from him. I needed some space so I could breathe.

“Tease. You’re a tease, Missy girl.”

“You know you love me.”

He shook his head.

“Nope, still don’t like you,” he said with a sigh.

“Liar,” I countered.

“Hypocrite.” He stepped closer to me.

“Douche.”

He smiled slowly. “Gorgeous.”

“Ass.”

“Sexy.” He was coming for me, and I couldn’t stop him. Somehow I’d have to.

“Stop.”

“Go.”

“Red light.”

“Green light.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he whispered, reaching out to hold my shoulders. “Just say yes. Say you’ll be with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”