I get out of the car and go back to undo Matty’s car seat. Fishing a bottle of water from my purse, you never know when you’ll be dying of thirst, I give it to him, pulling at the NASA sanctioned straps and belts guaranteed to keep him in place if we ever get into an accident.
The poor kid finishes the whole thing, sucking it back like its air with enough gusto, he misses half his mouth and some gets on his t-shirt. Whatever. When he’s done, he looks up at me, guilty.
“It’s water, little buddy. No big deal. C’mon, help me with these things or you’ll stay in this car forever!”
I get a giggle, and because I want to, I lean close and kiss his cheek in a loud smack that I’m sure everyone north of Australia heard. Matty looks at me smiling, starting to shrug off the should straps from his seat. “I love you, Sera.”
A sweet slice of pain cuts into my heart, Matty grafting himself in place. I smile at him, pushing his damp hair back off his face, making my customary Mohawk.
“I love you, too, little man. Now, we gonna get you out of here, or you really wanna stay here forever and ever?”
“No! I’m coming, I’m coming out!” Matty tosses back his belt with such force, the buckle hits the tip of my finger which on the pain scale is somewhere from a ten to stepping on a lego. I grunt in response, moving out of the way so he can get out. I’m sucking on my finger by the time I get the door closed, startled to find Hunter right behind me.
Around my finger I ask, “Were you staring at my ass?” I joke. How could he miss it?
Hunter smiles, the light in his eyes says hell, yes. “Unabashedly.”
“What? Why?”
Hunter holds the doorframe and looks down at me. “I think about your ass a lot.”
I look away. I feel like all my cells are squirming, and attempting to do complicated dance moves. Did that really just happen?
“HUNTER MACLAINE WHERE IS MY GRANDSON?” The Lady Duchess has spotted us, standing in the doorway with a thousand stone stairs leading up to the palatial entrance. Poor Matty is hiking up those stairs as fast as his little legs will take him when it hits me.
My hand with the injured finger wraps around Hunter’s (fraking awesome) bicep, pulling him back to me. Do not drool.
“Your last name is MacLaine?”
Hunter lifts both eyebrows at me.
“Is your dad’s name John?” I ask, eyes probably big and round. Hunter doesn’t know it, but I’m on the verge of a geekasm. I’m biting my lip, waiting for him to answer.
“No.” He grins at me, eyes dropping to where my nails have embedded themselves around his bicep, marking my spot. “But I really want it to be if it puts that fire in your eyes.”
“You’re joking me right? You’re last name’s McClane! I’m going to start hyperventilating.” Excitement erupts in my belly and I feel like yelling and laughing and doing a little dance at finding out that Hunter SexGod’s real last name. Shit, shit, shit. I’m so screwed. I don’t think I even care. I’m gonna date this guy so hard, he won’t even know what hit him.
“Can you wait until after we eat? I’m starving.” With that he tugs me up the stairs, a tension about his shoulders, snaking down his forearm to the way he holds my fingers between his.
As we pass through the threshold, it’s like Hunter’s been hit with a baseball bat – his body jerks, and his foot stomps on the floor of the house entryway, like it abruptly had to hold more weight than it bargained for. He doesn’t like this place.
“Hunter, what is she doing here? What happened to Alysha? Is she on her way? Do tell her to come inside as soon as she arrives, Edouard, won’t you?” With a whirl of awful Burberry perfume, the Duchess twirls with Matty in her arms, ignoring the way he’s squirming to be put down. Odd that he doesn’t just come out and tell her.
This place is weird. And who the frak is Alysha?
Hunter lets go of my hand like I’m lightning about to electrocute him, and steps away from me quicker than the Flash. What the hell?
“She’s not coming, Mom. We’ll be back around midnight. See you then.”
The Duchess teeters on her stilettos and comes back towards us. Now, this close, I can see she has the same blue eyes as both Hunter and Matty. On Hunter, the color is sexy; on Matty, innocent. On her – the effect is frosty - she’d give the Ice Queen of The Lion, the Witch and The Wardrobe shivers. I’m going up against an evil villainess that puts other villainesses to shame. I don’t gulp, but it’s a close thing.
Putting Matty down, she faces both of us. With the giant divide (a whole two feet) between Hunter and I, the Duchess takes her time slowly crossing over it with her eyes, first looking at me, then Hunt, then me again. I feel that stretch, that separation.