His Regret by Bella J.

Chapter Three

Holy fuck.

Her eyes. Those damn eyes. They were…they were fucking blue. The only way to explain it was by comparing it to the ocean under the full moon at midnight, and looking down at the water from the highest cliff. And he knew this exact comparison because he had stared into eyes like those before, and they were hauntingly beautiful.

While he held her hand firmly in his, he noticed the way her face had paled. He knew she was secretly squirming on the inside, contemplating whether she should run, hide, or do nothing. By the way her eyes had zeroed in on him, it was like she was prey waiting for the predator to strike. And to tell the truth, with those eyes staring back at him, he wanted to bolt as well. But he smelled the stench of secrets all over her, which incited the PI in him to find out exactly what she was hiding.

According to his client, this was just a simple search and find job. There was supposedly nothing complicated, dodgy, or questionable about it. When he agreed to find her, his sixth sense of being able to smell bullshit from a mile away didn’t give him that tingle of warning as it usually did when something wasn’t right. So why the hell was he getting a completely different vibe now that he was staring at the face in front of him?

He let go of her hand and shrugged. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you from that guy.” He nodded his head toward the bartender at the far end of the bar who just so happened to wave at Scarlet like a total goofball the minute she looked in his direction. “I think Joe over there might have a crush on you.” He winked.

Her shoulders relaxed and she started wiping her hands on her apron. “Well, that’s unfortunate…for Joe.”

Hunter smirked. “Not your type?”

“Let’s just say that I’m not his type.”

“I think Joe would disagree with that.” He swallowed a mouthful of his beer while keeping his eyes on her.

Scarlet handed another customer his drink, placed the money in the cash register, and then turned back to him. “I think Joe needs to find himself a naïve little rich girl.”

“And I take it that’s not you?”

“If I were a rich girl, would I be working here?”

“I was referring to the naïve part.” He shot her a challenging look, and she raised a brow.

“Are you a smart-ass?”

“Oh no, not at all. Do I look like a smart-ass to you?”

She reached up to her ponytail, untied it, and swept her hair back, retying it before placing her hands on her hips. “I think I’d rather not answer that question.”

Hunter was unable to stop himself from looking in the direction in which her hands went and admiring the perfect curve of her hips. The sex obsessed man in him was saying, “Those hips would make for some real good pounding,” while the P.I in him was saying, “Put your dick back in your pants, she’s not your type.”

He slowly lifted his gaze to her face. “So, back to Joe over there. He looks pretty tame and safe. You sure you don’t want to give him a chance?”

“Joe being tame and safe is exactly why I don’t want to give him a chance. That and the fact that my balls might just be bigger than his.”

Hunter snickered. “Poor Joe.”

He sat down at the counter and leaned forward, summoning her to come closer with his finger like he was about to tell her who really assassinated JFK. “Do you think there’s a chance that your balls might be bigger than mine?”

Leaning closer, she answered smoothly, “Oh, I guarantee you that they are.”

Hunter snorted when she pulled back, and noticed the faintest hint of a cocky smile curving up at the corners of her mouth—a delicious-looking mouth.

But the nose studded wild chick with blood red streaks in her dark hair who stood in front of him was far from the prim and proper, innocent-looking young girl in the picture he had. In the photo, she looked like no trouble at all. In person, she looked like one shit bucket full of trouble, and for some unknown reason he liked it—especially when he stared at her very well-endowed cleavage in the leather top she was wearing.

“See something you like, Ace?”

He looked up and she cocked her head, staring at him as he unashamedly gawked at her breasts.

After another large gulp of beer, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s Hunter. And obviously I’m seeing something I like, otherwise I wouldn’t be staring now, would I?” He shot her a smug grin.

She leaned over the counter again, crossing her arms in front of her chest, pushing those already sweet-looking breasts tighter together, giving him an eyeful of those gloriously bulging tits.

“Then you’d better get a good look, ’cause that’s the closest you’re ever gonna get, Ace.” While biting her cherry red bottom lip, her gaze remained locked on his. The more he stared into those blue eyes of hers, the more he was reminded about why he had his no blue eyes rule.

Desperate to push back the god-awful feeling of nostalgia, Hunter broke eye contact and leaned forward even more, glancing down at her breasts that were only a few inches from his face. He licked his lips. “Who says I want to get closer?”

“Are you saying that you don’t?”

“Are you saying that if I do, I won’t get any closer than I am right now?” He moved just another inch, and braced himself before he looked up and into her eyes again.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Ace.”

God, her calling him Ace was slowly starting to get on his nerves. But he kept his shit together.

“And what makes you so sure that I won’t get much, much closer than I am right now?”

“Just like Joe, I’m not your type either.”

She didn’t move away, and neither did he. Unfortunately for her, Hunter knew exactly what kind of game she was playing—the game of “evasion by douche-baggary.” He invented the damn game. He was the fucking master of the game. The only difference was, in her case, it was “evasion by cock teasing bitch-baggary.”

Hunter slightly shifted in his seat. “So when exactly during the last five minutes since you’ve met me did you come to the conclusion that you know me and my type?”

“It took me exactly five seconds to figure out that your type is definitely not me. And you most definitely aren’t mine.” A devilish grin crossed her face like she knew she had the means to seduce him to his death if she wanted to. If she only knew that there was no way in hell she would be able to do that—not with those fucking eyes.

After moving his beer to the side, he crossed his arms on the counter. “Care to elaborate on that?”

She shifted and for a split second his gaze dropped to her breasts again.

Goddammit, those tits were like eye magnets, seducing his gaze away from her face every few seconds, making him seem like he was actually interested in her in that way—which he definitely wasn’t.

A smug grin spread along her pretty little face when she noticed the struggle between his gaze and her voluptuous breasts. The little cock tease was doing it on purpose—shoving her tits in his face. He wondered how she would feel if he showed her the same damn courtesy by shoving his dick in her face. Not too fucking peachy, he was willing to bet.

Scarlet slanted her head to the other side, watching him intently. “I’ve seen the little innocent princess Barbie dolls with daddy issues that you’ve been taking home. And trust me, I’m nothing like them.”

He lifted his gaze to hers again and narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been watching me?”

“And what if I have?”

“Then I’d be totally okay with that.” He looked down at her red lips, and up again. “Because I’ve been watching you too.”

For a few seconds their gazes were locked, neither of them moving or even blinking. It felt like there was this high pulsing energy around them, threatening to suffocate them both. It was excruciatingly intense, and Hunter felt it spread all the way down his spine. Then the energy got shattered when a man pushed in next to Hunter and barked out his order. For a split second Hunter had the almost uncontrollable urge to slam the guy’s face into the bar counter and shove the beer he just ordered up his ass.

Scarlet pulled back. “Sorry, Ace. Duty calls. But nice chat. My life feels so much more enriched now that I had this very intelligent conversation with you. Let’s notdo that again, ’kay?”

He smiled and tipped his beer in her direction. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Scarlet Woods. You and those tits you’ve been shoving in my face for the last five minutes. I’m sure I’ll see you—and them—around.”

“Yeah, don’t count on it, Ace.”

“It’s Hunter.”

“Whatever.”

As he walked away, he pushed back the memories of the blue eyes he had seen in his dreams every goddamn night for the last seven years. There was no way he would allow his personal shit to interfere with this job.

One thing he would give Scarlet, she had fucking attitude, and a part of him actually found her sassy ass amusing. With all the little—how did Scarlet put it?—innocent Barbie dolls with daddy issues he had been screwing the last few years, he didn’t get a lot of feistiness. But then again, feistiness wasn’t what he was looking for. Right?

He made his way to the other side of the club, taking his seat at a table while inconspicuously watching Scarlet work behind the bar. While he watched her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that trouble was about to come bite him in the ass. Like every other human being on the planet, Hunter loved it when he was right. It made him feel all kinds of good. He once told Adam to pass on a woman who had come on strong to him while they were out on one of their regular boys’ nights. But as per usual, Adam was his obnoxious, Mr. Know-It-All self and didn’t listen. The next day, his self-proclaimed man whore friend pitched up at Hunter’s apartment with a split lip and a bruised jaw. Turned out said woman had a taste for dominating…and dominate Adam she did. It was fucking hilarious. Hunter burst out laughing every time he looked at Adam’s face. Needless to say, Hunter wanted to pat himself on the back and give himself a high five for being right that day.

But that night, he didn’t like the fact that he was right ninety-nine percent of the time. In fact, this time he was hoping like hell that he was wrong. Fucking hoper.

Even though it was an old picture he had of her in his file, she looked completely different now than she did then. In the picture she looked innocent, free, and light. Yet the woman he was watching serve drinks to a bunch of drunk guys who were only here to see tits and ass was no longer that girl. She didn’t look free, and even though her eyes were a brilliant blue, it was ice cold and hard. There was no emotion behind them, so sign of any kind of warmth.

Scarlet was no longer the innocent-looking girl in the photo, and again Hunter wondered…why?