Flirt With Me by Kristen Proby
Chapter 8
~Hunter~
“You want what?” I hear on the other end of the line.
“I need the dress remade.” I mix my protein shake by hand. “It was ruined last night by a flood. And I need it, in LA, by tomorrow at noon.”
“Mr. Meyers, it’s a one-of-a-kind dress. I don’t just have another hanging around here that I can send to you.”
“I need it,” I repeat. “I’m happy to pay for it. Look, it wasn’t her fault. It was an act of God. And I’ll be damned if she doesn’t wear the dress she fell in love with.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and then a sigh. “Okay. I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you.”
I end the call and turn when I hear bare feet pad into the kitchen.
“Good morning.” I take a sip of my shake. “Did you hear me come and go in the middle of the night?”
Rachel frowns. “You snuck out?”
“Honey, I’m the boss around here. I don’t ever sneak. I left.”
My daughter yawns and then reaches for a box of cereal. “Didn’t hear you. Where’d you go?”
“I had to help Maeve.”
That wakes her up. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, but her house isn’t. She’s staying in the apartment above the garage.”
“Oh my God, Dad. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
I raise a brow. “You were sleeping.”
Rachel pours two cups of coffee, doctors them up with too much sugar, and starts to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“To comfort Maeve,” she says like I should already know the answer to that stupid question.
I grin. I love that my daughter likes Maeve. Hell, she likes the whole family. And what’s not to like? They’re a bunch of awesome people.
Watching how they all rallied around Maeve last night only cemented for me the fact that these are the kind of people I want in our lives, and I’ve only known these people for roughly a month. It’s unexpected but only reaffirms that moving here is precisely what Rachel and I needed.
I pour my own cup of coffee, black, and walk out to the apartment.
When I enter, both girls are sitting at the small table by the kitchenette, sipping their drinks.
“Good morning,” I say and watch in horror as Maeve’s eyes fill with tears. “Hey, what did I do?”
“Nothing.” She wipes the tears and blows out a breath.
“She’s just emotional,” Rachel explains. “It’s been a rough night.”
“Did you get any sleep?” I ask Maeve as I sit next to her.
“Not really.” She sighs and checks the time. I feel like shit. I should have stayed with her last night. “I’m just waiting for people to open up for the day so I can start making calls. I’m sorry about the trip. I know it’s short notice.”
“Hey, Rach, why don’t you go get some breakfast?”
She frowns, but I give my head a brief shake, and she nods.
“Oh, yeah. Sure. I could eat.”
Rachel takes her mug and leaves the apartment. When I can no longer hear her clomping down the steps, I reach over to push a stray piece of hair behind Maeve’s ear.
“You’re still going to LA, babe.”
Maeve frowns. “I don’t see how.”
“Well, you have a million relatives who will be happy to oversee things at the house for a couple of days. We won’t even be gone a full forty-eight hours.”
“But the dress—”
“Has been dealt with.” I sip my coffee. “It’s all been handled.”
“Hunter, I don’t even have underwear at this point.”
“Yes, you do. I’m crazy about you, but you’re being dramatic, Maeve. We just have to go gather your stuff, bring it back here, and run it through the laundry. Good as new. We gather up any toiletries you need—or buy new ones. I have so much luggage, I could open my own shop, so you’re covered there.”
She bites her lip, and I see a little spark of hope light in those gorgeous eyes.
“I guess my clothes aren’t ruined,” she admits. “Just wet.”
“Yep. Clothes can be saved from the wetness. We just have to go get them before they mold.”
Her eyes widen. “Mold. Oh, God, I’m going to have mold in my house.”
“No, you’re not. Because we’re going to call people to come take care of it. It’s a pisser, I won’t deny it, but it’s all fixable. The most important thing is that you are safe, Maeve. You’re the only thing that can’t be replaced.”
She nods, sighs, and then firms that bottom lip. “Okay, enough of this wallowing. It’s dumb and doesn’t solve anything. I’m just tired. Because you’re right, all of this can be dealt with. Can you give me a lift over to my place so I can gather up some stuff? And if you don’t mind, I might have to camp out here in this apartment for a little while.”
“You’re welcome here for as long as you like.”
I don’t think it’s wise to tell her she can stay forever. Not yet.
And I need to have a conversation with my kid because I have no intention of letting Maeve stay out above the garage for long.
“Of course. We’ll take the bigger car.”
“You have a bigger car?”
I smile at her. “Several.”
“You’re a car guy, aren’t you?”
“I do enjoy a well-built automobile, yes.”
She smirks. “You and Kane are two peas in a pod. I’m ready when you are.”
“Let’s go, then. I’ll let Rachel know we’re leaving.”
“Do you trust her here alone?”
I raise a brow. “Where is she going to go? We’re on an island. But, yes, she seems to have turned over a new leaf and hasn’t pulled any bullshit since we got here. Granted, it hasn’t been that long, but so far, so good.”
“I’m glad,” she says as she follows me down the stairs. “She’s a sweetheart. She was so worried when she brought me coffee this morning.”
“She’s a good kid,” I agree.
Rachel insists on going with us to help, so I decide to take the bigger Range Rover. When we turn the corner, and Maeve’s house comes into view, Rachel gasps.
“Holy crap,” my daughter mutters.
“It looks worse in the light of day,” Maeve agrees. “How did you guys get those tarps up there in the rain and the dark?”
It was a bitch and a half.
“We’re men,” I say and pull to a stop in the driveway. “We have our ways.”
“Well, thank God for your ways because there’s no way I could have done that on my own.”
We get out of the car, and Rachel and I follow Maeve up onto the porch and then inside the house. There’s water all over the floors, and when we get upstairs, the hole in the ceiling of the master bedroom is gaping and still dripping.
There’s a green blob of material on the floor beneath it that I assume used to be a dress.
“This must have been scary,” Rachel says and reaches for Maeve’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Scared the hell out of me,” Maeve agrees. “Okay, I’m just going to pack a couple of suitcases with most of my clothes and some toiletries. I don’t think the bathroom was flooded too badly.”
She pulls some luggage out of a hall closet, and we all get to work helping her fill them with sopping clothes after stuffing them into trash bags.
“Oh, my jewelry box, too,” Maeve adds and tugs it out of the closet. “And my important papers. I have them all in one filing box. I’m sure they’d be safe here, but I’d feel better if the important stuff was with me.”
“Understandable,” I reply and start to haul things out to the Rover. Less than an hour after we walked into the house, Maeve is locking it up again, and we’re headed back to my place.
“You only have four suitcases of clothes,” Rachel says as we begin to haul everything up to the apartment. “How is that possible?”
Maeve laughs. “I’m not really a collector of things. I’m definitely not a clothes horse. I have nice things, and when I’m done with them, I donate them. My wardrobe is always evolving, and I don’t hang on to much.”
“I still have clothes that I wore in junior high,” my daughter replies.
“I’m so glad there’s a washer and dryer up here,” Maeve says as she begins opening her cases and tossing items into piles. “It’ll make it easier. When do we leave tomorrow?”
“You’re going?” Rachel asks, excitement on her young face.
“We’re going,” I confirm. “We’ll drop Rach off at my parents’ by nine and meet the plane at ten. We have to be on the red carpet by six.”
“Well, then, I’d better get busy.”
“This is fancy.”Maeve runs her hands over the soft leather of her seat and looks out the window at the view. We’re somewhere over central California. She’s sitting across from me, facing forward. I’m in the seat directly across from her so I can look at her. “You own a private plane?”
I grin. “No. I charter it.”
“You know, you didn’t have to do all of this just for me. You don’t have to impress me.”
“I usually travel like this. It’s easier.” I tip my head to the side and take her in. “Does my money make you uncomfortable?”
“I just don’t want you to think that you have to do expensive things for me to make me like you. I’m not like that.”
No. She’s not. And that’s why she’s here with me.
Well, one of the reasons.
“And I’m not trying to impress you with money.” I lean forward and brace my elbows on my knees. “Maeve, I know you don’t look things up on the internet, which is actually kind of endearing and nice, but it also means that I have to spell some things out for you. I have more money than I could ever spend in my lifetime.”
Her eyes go wide for a moment, and then she blinks and looks down.
I move onto my knees, closer to her, and tip that chin up so she’s looking at me with those stunning green eyes.
“I’ve never really done it in the past, but it turns out that I enjoy spoiling someone. Spoiling you.”
“Has there really been no one in your life since Rachel’s mom?” The question is quiet and completely without judgment.
“No one important,” I reply. “There’s been no time and no desire for it. Until you.”
“Why me?”
She swallows hard and licks her lips.
God, I fucking want her more than I want my next breath.
“Because the second I saw you, I knew my life was about to change.”
Her lips twitch into a smile, and she reaches out to brush her fingers through my hair. “It turns out, Hunter Meyers is charming.”
“Not usually, no.” I take that hand and kiss her palm. “Are you telling me you didn’t feel the chemistry?”
“I felt it,” she admits softly. “I didn’t know what to do about it. You took me by surprise.”
I lean in and press my lips to hers, feeling everything in me tighten, the way it always does when I touch her. “Same goes.”
I blindly reach over and press the do not disturb button and then rise on my knees to cup her face as I kiss the hell out of her. She fists those small hands in my shirt, and the low moan from her throat makes my cock twitch.
“I’m going to do things to you,” I inform her as I drag my lips along her jawline, “that you won’t soon forget.”
“Oh, I have no doubts.”
The backs of my fingers brush down over her collarbone and farther still to gently touch the tips of her already perky nipples, straining against her bra.
“You can always say no,” I remind her and press a kiss to her chest bone as I unbutton her shirt. “Always.”
“So noted.” Her fingers delve into my hair again after her shirt is completely open, and I slide it down her arms to toss onto my abandoned chair. Rather than strip her out of her bra, I take my time, slipping one strap over the ball of her shoulder and then pressing a kiss to the smooth skin there.
“I feel like we’ve been doing the foreplay thing forever,” she says with a sigh and tilts her head to the side when I drag my lips over to her neck. I take my time enjoying her. I’m able to unfasten her bra with one hand—a skill I acquired in high school—and her heavy breasts spill into my hands.
She sighs.
I groan.
“Too long,” I agree. “But it’s a damn fine form of torture. I don’t mind waiting. I’m not a randy twenty-year-old who can’t keep his dick in check.”
“How fortunate for both of us.” She laughs when I pinch her nipple, and then moans again when I slide my hand into her pants. “If I’d known this would happen on the plane, I would have worn a dress.”
“Now we know for next time.” I wink at her, urging her pants over her hips, and then sit back and stare at the absolutely stunning woman sitting mostly naked before me. “Fucking Jesus, Maeve.”
Curves. That’s all I can think as my hands roam over her slightly rounded thighs, the gentle dip of her waist. She has the body of a goddamn goddess.
“I don’t work out like I should.”
“Did you think that was a complaint?” My eyes meet hers, and I hurry forward to cup her face again and kiss her hard. “You’re so fucking beautiful, my eyes hurt. Jesus, it’s a good thing I didn’t know what you had hidden beneath those clothes because I would have stripped you bare in one of those houses and fucked you on someone’s kitchen counter.”
Her chuckle is startled and pleased, and I can’t help myself.
I grip her by the knees and scoot her forward so I can spread her wide and fucking enjoy her.
“I like the panties, babe.” I kiss her navel as I pull the black lace down her legs, and they join the pile of clothes on my chair. “But Christ on a cracker, the view is so much more spectacular without them.”
She’s not self-conscious in the least, splayed before me.
There’s nothing sexier than a confident woman.
She bites her index finger and watches as I kiss her hip and the top of her thigh. Then I hitch one leg over my shoulder and drag a finger through the wet, gorgeous slit that’s just begging for my mouth.
“Oh, my,” she murmurs.
I grin, lower my head, and just barely lick the edge of her lips.
“Ah, shit,” She grips onto my hair, her fingers clutching as I sink in and go to town, lapping her up. I take turns, teasing that little nub of a clit and then feasting on her pussy.
And when I slide a finger inside her, I’m rewarded with her pulsing climax.
She twists in the seat, cries out, and then almost jackknifes into a sitting position.
I feel the plane begin to descend as she stares down at me with shining green eyes.
“Better get dressed.” I kiss her thigh, her stomach, each breast. And then I find her lips with mine.
“You’re stopping?”
“We’re about to land.” I grin and then kiss her again. “Pretty sure the crew doesn’t want to wait while I have my way with you.”
“Damn it.” But she laughs and reaches for her panties. “That was fun, though.”
“Best time I’ve had in years.” I grab her shirt and wrap it around her shoulders, help her into it, and then fasten the buttons. Her eyes never leave mine. “There are always parties after the show. We’re not going.”
She quirks a brow. “We’re not?”
“No. They’re boring as hell. It’s just a way to see and be seen. And, frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that.”
“Okay, what do you care about?”
“Getting you back to our suite and picking up where we left off.”
I slide back into my seat and buckle my belt in time for landing. When the plane slows and begins to taxi toward the terminal, I grin at her.
“Unless you had your heart set on going to the after-parties.”
“You know,” she says, her voice light and nonchalant, “I was never one for parties. I prefer to spend my time focused on one person. Especially when the party in question is full of people I don’t know. Small talk is so…boring.”
“Good.” I laugh and shake my head. “I do enjoy you, Maeve O’Callaghan.”
“The feeling’s mutual, Mr. Meyers.”
