Page 11 of Hunter

“Louisa?” I venture, snapping her out of her eye contact with the guy from across the street. He’s of a similar age to her, attractive, but his clothing makes him look like he belongs more in her brother’s bar than out here in the business district. She turns to look at me with the smallest of smiles, always offering only a hint of what she’s feeling so you end up second-guessing yourself.

She already looks a hundred times better without the ugly glasses, which were neither stylish nor her size. Her dowdy outfit, however, looks even more alien on her, knowing it’s not her choice to wear them. Her pulled-back hair only has me remembering how long and luscious it looked when it was allowed to flow down her back. She’s not wearing a lick of make-up, but then, I would argue she doesn’t need it. I was just too stupid and superficial to see how beautiful she was before I saw her the other night – no cover-up, no pretense, no inhibitions. Stunning.

“Ready?” she says and pushes herself away from the concrete wall.

“Let’s go,” I confirm.

As we begin walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the deli, a place she frequents daily, I find myself stealing glances at her. Scratch that, I’m studying her; I can’t help it. I now see the hidden confidence in the way she holds herself, the pace of her steps, and her general aura. She might not feel at home in a formal setting, sitting with the likes of Trent or other wealthy clients, but everywhere else, she is more than able to hold her own. And in her brother’s bar, the way she dances, she positively shines. How have I missed all these little nuances over the two years she’s worked for us?

We enter the deli and join the queue, all the while she chews on the inside of her cheek. Her arms are firmly crossed, and her foot is tapping impatiently on top of the tiles. Still feeling a little shocked over seeing this new side of her, I release a small chuckle which earns me her attention.

“Something funny, Mr Hunter?” she asks accusingly.

“Not at all, Miss Flynn,” I reply before we order our food. She’s asked to pay, to which she pulls out her purse, but I push my card out in front first. “Here, let me get that.”

As I finish ordering and paying for my and Theo’s lunches, she ducks away and makes a beeline for the door. However, I rush over to pull at her elbow so I can gesture to one of the empty tables sitting by the window. She looks nervous at first, but soon gives in to my suggestion and takes the seat opposite to mine. I watch as she sorts out her lunch, placing everything just so in front of her.

“So, you’ve got quite a good act going on here, Louisa,” I venture, offering her a smile that will hopefully put her at ease over my accusation. She shrugs before biting into her sandwich. “Tell me, is the nonchalant attitude an act too, or do you actually not give a shit?”

“Mr Hunter, I grew up with big, hairy bikers in a bar, so I’ve had to develop a thick skin,” she says matter of factly. “I decided a long time ago not to let a man get me riled up because at the end of the day, that’s what really pisses them off.”

“Touchè,” I reply, impressed by her response. “So are the outfit choices your idea?”

“No, they would be my brother’s idea.” She offers me the first genuine smile…ever, before slurping on her soda can. “Phoenix figures if he can’t be there to protect me, then he would rather I make myself look as unattractive as possible.”

“That sounds a little…stifling; suffocating almost?”

“Hence the apartment,” she explains. “I guess he has reason to be protective. My last employer was less than gentlemanly, especially when he tried to fuck me without my consent.”

She tips back her can again like she hasn’t just told me what she has. I, on the other hand, swallow my water the wrong way and end up choking. It takes me a few moments to pull myself together again.

“What?!” I finally manage to gasp. “Please tell me he didn’t succeed?”

“Of course not, Mr Hunter,” she says as though the very idea is ludicrous, “you don’t have a brother like Phoenix and grow up in a male-dominated environment without knowing some self-defense moves. He ended up with the heel of my boot in the side of his head and a knee to the groin. He had a few choice words to say about that.”

“Thank fuck!” I declare a little too loudly, causing a few of the customers to tut and look at me in disdain. I throw up my hands in a sorry kind of gesture, which makes Louisa laugh at me. “So, why do you call me Mr Hunter, but Theo is Theo?”

“Because he asked me to call him Theo,” she says and gives me one of her familiar shrugs.

“Oh,” I utter stupidly, looking to the floor with embarrassment. “Well, then, will you call me Daniel from now on?”

“Sure…Daniel.”

As we walk back to the office, with her comfortably calling me Daniel, which sounds good on her lips, I force myself to snap out of whatever trance she’s beginning to put me in. Her talking about music and favorite foods sounds positively erotic to my ears; this is dangerous territory, and definitely something that would cause Theo to worry. And a worried Theo is not a fun guy to be around. I should be trying my best to make his life as easy as possible after his hell with Izzy and her family. Instead, however, I’m beginning to feel strange things toward the one PA we have. Snap the fuck out of it, Daniel.

Outside the office, she stops and turns to look across the street again. The same guy she was looking at before is now standing by his car, smoking a cigarette, all the while eyeing her up and down with a smirk on his face. He must be some old boyfriend or some guy who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I find myself tensing up and feeling protective of her all of a sudden. She, however, remains as cool as a cucumber and merely stares back at him without fear or emotion. Eventually, he blows her a kiss, then climbs into his car. His tires screech as he takes off down the road, heading back in the direction of the desert.

“Louisa,” I finally say, snapping her out of her trance-like state. When she turns to face me, she’s wearing the same fake smile that she always wears around the office. It’s not half as bright as when she smiles genuinely; I miss it already. “Do you mind me asking who that man was?”

“No one, Daniel,” she says politely, “absolutely no one.”

She then turns toward the door and walks in without another word or look my way.

Chapter 6

Louisa

Past

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