The Hunt - Monica James Read online

  I’ll make it up to her later, but for now, I need to take a chill pill.

  Once she leaves, Dixon sighs. “Dude, you need to calm the fuck down.”

  “And you need to stop touching me,” I retort, slapping his hand.

  Finch is beside us, his face reflective of Maddy’s. “What’s going on?”

  Finch knows I’ve had a “thing” for Mary, but the past two minutes was more than just a “thing”—it almost turned into a bloodbath. “What’s going on is that guy”— I jab my finger in the direction he went —“is the Dark Lord, and I’m pretty certain he just said he’s going to eat my soul. Or maybe he wanted me to dig a hole? I don’t know, it’s not important. What is important is that I’m not breaking bread with him. The only thing I’ll be breaking is my plate over his fucking head.” And there I go again, all Hulk-like. I swipe my palm out in front of me to ensure I’m not green.

  Dixon runs a hand over his scruff. “Hunt, I know this is hard, but please, for the love of god, just try to be civil. Just ignore him. Better yet, pretend he doesn’t exist.” That would be easy, but the thought of him sitting near Mary leaves me stabby.

  “Guys, I really feel like the third wheel here. What have I missed?” Finch is looking between us, desperate someone shed light on the situation.

  Placing my hands on his shoulders, I state, “It’s fine, Finch. Do you think orange is my color?” which just adds to the confusion.

  Finch looks at Dixon for help, but he just shrugs. “If not for me, do it for Madison. Please.” His plea snaps some sense into me and my anger begins to subside.

  I’m being a fucking drama queen. “Fine, you win.” Dixon looks more than relieved, but it’s short-lived. “But if he looks at me sideways, I will stab him with my fork.”

  “Stab who?” Finch screeches, noise control non-existent just like always when he gets worked up.

  “Fuck me, man. Does baby brain affect men too, because holy fuck balls, do I need to draw you a diagram?” He scratches over his beard, as if contemplating my offering. “Jesus Christ, I was talking metaphorically.”

  Dixon laughs, breaking the stalemate. “Life was so much simpler when I was the messed up one.”

  I pull back, faking offense. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we’re not having this conversation again. You know what you have to do. Grow a pair, or get the fuck over it before you end up someone’s bitch in prison.”

  He does have a point. “Fine, you win, sensei.”

  Dixon’s lips twitch and I’m glad the air has cleared, because I don’t want to ruin Maddy’s night. “Good, now remember, if he talks to you, just pretend you didn’t hear him.” His pause has me anticipating what his train of thoughts are. “That shouldn’t be hard because I have no fucking clue what he said.”

  “Thank you!” I cry out, arms out wide while Dixon scratches his temple, confused.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s Australian,” Finch says, raining on my fun parade.

  Feeling like the old me again, now that Satan reincarnate has gone, I snicker, “Well, the land down under can grow a giant dick and eat me.”

  Dixon slaps me on the back. “’Attaboy.”

  Finch huffs, while both Dix and I burst out laughing. It takes him a minute, but he finally catches up. “Oh…oh…you’ve got a thing for Mary and you’re jealous?”

  I scoff, shaking my head and crossing my arms in defiance, but Dix sets things straight. “There you go. See, you didn’t need Hunter’s diagram after all. Probably best that you didn’t ’cause it would consist of stick figures with massive erections.” Dix throws his arm around Finch and gives him a manly man hug while Finch blanches.

  And just like that, I’m me again thanks to these fuckers. “Let’s go before jerk-off eats the entire table. Although, did you see the size of him? I doubt he eats anything but eggwhite steroid omelettes.” The thought has me grinning from ear to ear.

  “What now?” Finch asks, still playing catch up.

  “His dick would be the size of a fucking prawn!” I roar in laughter. “I hope Mary brought her magnifying glass. What a needle dick!”

  Finch pales, while Dixon shakes his head, doing a poor job hiding his smile.

  As we make our way toward the dining room, Dix elbows me in the ribs. I grunt on impact. “You’re not off the hook. We still have to talk about your date. But that can wait until after I’ve had a bottle of scotch or two.”

  I raise my shoulders in carefree manner. “Don’t be hating on my date. At least she speaks English.”

  Dixon smirks, while Finch nods regretfully. “Touché, motherfucker.”

  What would I do without these foul-mouthed bastards? Lucky for me, I’ll never have to find out.

  Speaking In Tongues

  “And…er…blah…blah…kangaroo…hyagirf.”

  I’m pretty certain I’m rivaling Scooby Doo, as its story time with Trent, aka jerk-off. He’s been chewing our ears off for the past twenty minutes about…I have no fucking clue what.

  I’ve been on my best behavior, because I can’t believe this shitstain is who I’m up against. It’s fairly obvious Mary has gone insane and she needs to get her head back in the game. I almost feel sorry for him…almost—when he wraps his arm around her and draws her into his side, that remorse turns to rage. This gigantic shithead is going down.

  Sure, it doesn’t help he looks like he’s carved from granite and that his perfectly symmetrical head is enough to make a grown man cry, but looks aren’t everything, and besides, what do Mary and him talk about? He may be pretty, but he sure as hell sounds like he’s chewing dog shit.

  Finch is nodding, engaging in conversation, while Dixon looks as confused as me. He peers at me from across the table, raising his scotch in salute. The big fella is proud of me for keeping my cool. In response, I blow him a kiss.

  Because I have been busy strategizing a takedown, I have completely ignored my date, who is sitting quietly beside me, picking at her roast like a sparrow. As far as dating companions go, I blow ass, and this is the reason why I don’t date.

  Mary is sitting opposite Keira. It’s like looking at complete polar opposites. The polite, innocent blonde, versus the uncouth, impious redhead.

  “How’s your course coming along, Mary? Aren’t you almost done?” asks Rachel as she cuts into her lamb.

  Dixon wasn’t lying when he said Sebastian was a mean cook. He has prepared a feast fit for a king. There is everything one could ever want spread before us, but too bad my appetite is for shit, because the thought of eating turns my stomach.

  Mary nods, her red waves bouncing. “Yes, thank god. I just have a couple more projects to complete and then I’m done.”

  Mary is in her final year of interior design. From what Cherry Pie has shared, she’s a fucking genius, not that that surprises me. Look at her canvas—complete perfection. She catches me staring and narrows her eyes, her warning of catching me fantasizing about her being naked ringing loudly in my ears. On instinct, I cover my nuts. Her gaze flicks downward, and a hint of a smile plays at her pink lips. It’s gone before I can break out into a touchdown dance.

  “What does that entail?” Sebastian sits at head of the table, seeing his guests are well fed. It’s still hard to believe one of his swimmers is to blame for bringing the she-devil into this world.

  “My final assessment is transforming two spaces. Before and after, that kind of thing. The problem is finding someone who will be happy for me to gut their home and office and be in their face 24/7 for the next two months.

  Maybe if Dr. Genius over here didn’t rent out his office and he worked full time, I could have used him as my lab rat, but I have a feeling it’ll take a miracle to revamp that place.”

  Dixon pauses from cutting into his potatoes, looking over at Maddy for clarification. She raises her hands with a slanted smile, wanting no part of this conversation.

  When Mary reads his confusion, she has no qualms setting him stra
ight. Using her fork as a gesturing tool, she blankly states, “C’mon, Dix, that place screams old man cave.”

  Dixon places his silverware on the edge of his plate and finishes chewing. “Old man cave? If by that you mean professional, with a touch of modernism, then yes, I completely agree.”

  Reaching for my beer, I get comfy, because this is going to be fun.

  “Old man cave is exactly that…an old’s man cave,” Mary explains without sparing his feelings. Dixon exhales in a long-winded affair, while Maddy turns into him and giggles.

  “Oh, you agree with her then?” he teases, looking down at her as she attempts to conceal her uncontrollable laughter.

  “Of course she does. She has to spare your feelings, that’s what people in love have to do, but me, I call ’em as I see ’em. Speaking of, I see a few extra pounds beneath that shirt, Dr. Dix. When was the last time you hit the gym?” Mary sits taller in her seat, pretending to look down her nose and scrutinize Dixon’s non-existent extra pounds.

  I can’t contain my laughter and burst into a gruff chuckle. “Well, he is in love, so I suppose it’s only fitting he gets love handles,” I counter, while fuck me dead, Mary giggles. When she realizes she just laughed at a joke I cracked, she bites her top lip.

  But she did it, and it was the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard.

  “All right, enough with the old man talk. You’ll offend Sebastian,” Dixon says, which has the table bursting into hysterics.

  The mood, thanks to Mary’s wisecrack, is light, even Keira seems to be having a semi decent time. All in all, tonight hasn’t been a complete disaster. Or, so I thought. As I’m cutting into my dinner, I’m certain I’ve just been shot in the leg.

  Grunting on impact, I lift the tablecloth to see what the hell just happened. And what just happened was Dixon kicking me under the table, because he does it again.

  “What in the holy hell, you cocksmoking fucker?” I mouth, impressed Dixon can lip read so well, because he smirks.

  He cocks his head to the right, eyes wide. I scrunch up my brow. Is he having an epileptic fit? When he does it again, but with more jarring and jerking, I’m certain he’s about to have a stroke.

  He raises his eyes to the ceiling before reaching for his napkin and using it as a subtle shield to mime, “Offer your soul.”

  It’s official. Dixon Mathews has lost his marbles.

  “My soul?” I scratch my head, so fucking confused, my brain starts to hurt.

  “Moan.”

  “Moan?”

  “Bone.”

  “Bone?” I almost choke in excitement. Whoever he wants me to offer a bone to, I’m in.

  An exasperated sigh leaves Dixon before he drops the napkin onto the table and turns to Mary. “Hunter could offer you his home. And office, in fact.”

  It takes about three seconds before I catch up to speed, and when I do, I open my mouth in understanding. Oh…home. Maybe if his facial charades didn’t suck donkey dicks, I’d understand he was hinting I was to offer my home to Mary to redecorate. This plan is genius, and I’m surprised I didn’t think of it first.

  “Isn’t that right, Hunt?” Dixon says, encouraging me to get my foot out of my mouth and speak. He pointedly looks at me, hinting I’m a dumbass for not offering myself. It’s not my fault I don’t speak idiot.

  Returning the favor, I kick his shin before turning to Mary with an innocent smile. “Sure. Mi casa es su casa,” I say, attempting to act causal.

  “You’re joking, right?” She doesn’t hide her distaste. “There is no way I’m going anywhere near your home.”

  I shrug, masking my hurt. “Your loss. I hear McDonald’s is hiring.” When she glares at me, I cock my head to the side. “No? Taco Bell then?”

  “Lamb, you should consider it. You’re running out of options. No offense, Hunter,” Maddy sweetly says, leaning forward to look at me.

  “None taken.” I wave her off.

  Mary looks jacked off because she knows Maddy is right, but doing this means she’ll owe me, and let’s face facts, I may quite possibly ask for repayment in the form of her dancing naked to the theme of Jeopardy.

  “Well, I mean offense, because there isn’t enough bleach to decontaminate your walls. I’d have to be baptized first before I even considered stepping foot inside. No offense,” she sarcastically says, addressing Keira for the first time all night.

  Keira shifts beside me, clearly uncomfortable with Mary’s jab that my home is on unholy ground. Thinking back to some of the things I’ve done in there over the years, she isn’t too far off the mark. But regardless, Keira is just an innocent bystander. However, what she says next has me almost falling off my chair. “Lucky for me, I’m already baptized then.”

  If I wasn’t in a state of complete shock, I would high five Keira for thinking on her feet so quickly, but all I can do is grin a shit-eating grin.

  Mary appears taken aback also, as her mouth parts, but then I see something damn frightening breed before my eyes—Keira has just bumped me from the top spot off Mary’s shit list. Mary has just been upstaged, making Keira public enemy number one.

  I fear for Keira’s life when Mary snickers before leaning forward, ready to rip Keira a new one. Instinctually, I pull her into my side, helping her avoid any shrapnel, because I have no doubt Mary is seconds away from imploding.

  The gesture was supposed to help Keira, but all it seems to do is piss Mary off further. She focuses on where my arm is wrapped loosely around her, staring at our union like it just told her to fuck off. I have no idea what it means, as I’ve never seen that look before reflected on a woman’s face when in relation to me.

  “I’m going out for a smoke,” Dixon quickly says, intervening because he too can sense World War Three is moments away from erupting. He gestures with his head that Finch and I are to follow. Looking at Keira, still fearful that when I return, she’ll be missing a limb, she smiles and nods, giving me the green light.

  I risk a glance at Mary, who appears to be challenging me with that unreadable look still slathered on her pretty face. Jerk-off chooses this moment to console her, whispering something into her ear.

  When the apple of her cheeks turns a dusty pink, I have images of partaking in my own acts of violence, starting with cutting off his balls with the steak knife to his left.

  “C’mon, dude.” Dixon slaps me on the back, hinting I’m to get up before this meal turns into a roast. With jaw clenched, I stand slowly, making a point to stare this koala hugging dickhole down. He doesn’t even seem to notice or care. But Mary does, and fuck me dead, I think…I think she likes it. But that makes no sense, right? Zero.

  I don’t have time to think about this further because Dixon all but drags me out of the dining room and through the balcony doors by my collar. The cool breeze is exactly what I need to extinguish the fire burning under my ass.

  Neither of us speak. Finch and I follow Dixon like two naughty kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Finch is guilty by association. Poor bastard.

  When we’re far enough away from the house, out of range from prying ears, he stops and turns, shaking his head at me. I recognize that judgy look right off the bat.

  “What?” I ask, a glutton for punishment.

  Searching through his pockets, he finds his Marlboros, obviously needing a fix of nicotine before addressing my question.

  As he takes a hit, I can’t help but quip, “Those things will kill you.”

  He snickers, blowing out a ring of smoke into the air. “You’ll most likely get there first.” I could counter, but he’s probably right. He’s mulling over what to say, but he should know by now I only like sugar-coated donuts.

  “For fuck’s sake, spit it out.”

  He accepts the challenge. “How well do you know Keira?”

  “Well enough. She completely owned Mary back there.” I hook my thumb toward the house, unable to get the moment out of my head.

  Dixon, however, doesn’t seem to see th
e humor. “I’m sorry, man, but I smell a rat.”

  I pull back, confused. “A rat? What the fuck? She’s a fucking saint.”

  “Exactly.” Finch is no help, as he clearly agrees with Dixon, because he’s nodding like a bobble head. “Someone who looks and acts like her…” He leaves the sentence hanging, leaving me to join the dots.

  It doesn’t take me long, and when I do, the picture I draw is one of my best friends stabbing me in the back. “You smell a rat because if a nice girl wants to date me, there must be something wrong with her? Is that it?”

  “Yes,” Dixon replies without pause. I know I said I didn’t want him sugar-coating anything, but he could at least apply a little lube before he fucks me in the ass.

  “Gee, fuck you too. That’s the reason you were eyeballing her earlier. You think she’s up to no good? Going to steal my billions? Try to fuck me into submission?” I offer, as he better pick one answer and explain what the fuck is going on.

  He takes another drag of his cigarette before saying, “I’m sorry, but there’s something about her I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “That’s because your finger has been on and in one woman for far too long, and you’ve apparently lost your balls.”

  “I agree with Dix. Sorry, Hunter.” Finch decides now is the time to pipe up and be in cahoots with Dix.

  “No offense, but fuck you both.” I cross my arms in defiance, ready to shove that ember where the sun don’t shine.

  But it doesn’t deter Dixon in the slightest. “I’m sorry, dude”—what he wants to say next clearly pains him, but he perseveres—“I’m sorry, but she just reminds me of…” He seals his lips, shaking his head like he’s about to hurl.

  But fuck him. He started this, so he can finish it. “Reminds you of what?”

  Swallowing down his revulsion, he simplifies, “It’s not a what, but rather a who.”

  “Who? Who the fuck who?” I bark. He has three seconds to explain what the holy hell is going on before I…