“It amazes me that any of that is news to you.”
“My father said something similar, but he doesn’t count.” I wiped a tear from my cheek. “I’ve been living in my mother’s shadow for a long time. She hated that I wasn’t a mini-me.”
“I know the feeling. You’ve met my father, after all.”
“How about your mother? Did she ever remarry?”
Hunter’s jaw tightened as anger flashed in his eyes. “No. She lost a lot of money in the divorce with my father—she’d brought the money to the marriage, but the prenup expired after ten years—my dad doesn’t fight fair.”
“Even with his mistresses?”
“California is a no-fault state. He was entitled to half, but he ended up with more since he sank a bunch into his company. She wasn’t destitute, by any means, but the whole situation…turned her off marriage. She rarely dates. My father ruined her chance of happiness in many ways.”
“That sucks.”
“Yes.”
We crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. The ocean sparkled below us, twinkling in the evening sunshine.
“My father died right before I went to college,” I said as I looked out the window. “I miss him every day. He was such a good man. I spent my freshman year crying half the time. I think Kimberly was the only reason I made it through.”
“She’s a sweetheart, Kimberly.”
“Yes. And she interviewed for you.”
I just barely caught Hunter’s quick glance. “Yes. Being my admin was no place for her. She would’ve become attached if she didn’t start to hate me first. If she did get attached, and I had to let her go, she still would’ve ended up hating me. Not a good fit.”
“But she’s tougher about that stuff than I am.”
Hunter turned off the main road. “I’ve already told you—I had to have you. There was no rhyme or reason for it; I just needed you. I knew you were the type to fall, and I knew you wouldn’t be okay with my setup, but…I wanted you. I’m selfish.”
“You’re not selfish,” I muttered. We wound back through the large houses toward the cliff overlooking the ocean. “You live in here?”
“My city house is here, yes.”
“Didn’t Robin Williams live back in here?” I watched the huge houses roll buy, larger and larger as we got closer to the ocean. “Wait, your city house?”
“I keep a residence here because it’s closer to work, but I also have an estate in Napa Valley, as well as a of couple properties abroad.”
“Of course you do,” I said under my breath as we pulled into the garage of a mansion with a crystal-clear view of the limitless horizon beyond.
We got out of the car as the garage door closed. Shelves lined the sides of the space with labeled boxes and containers. It was the most organized garage I’d ever seen. Not a single thing looked out of place. While there was a toolbox, there were no stray tools littering any work tables.
“This is…not normal.” I walked around to the other side of the car, toward the door leading into the house, trying to find something out of place. “Does anyone use the garage, because…this is weird.”
He didn’t answer. Apparently he didn’t see my point of view.
With his hand on the small of my back, we walked through a door into a parlor decked out in earth colors, fine furniture, and oil paintings. He directed me through a hallway and into a living room with perfectly staged chairs, couches, and tables. A large entertainment center stood in the corner, and I noticed wireless surround sound speakers strategically placed around the room.
“Big.” I didn’t really know what else to say.
His grin had me blinking up at him as he led me from the room. “I’m never usually home this early—would you like to take a dip in the pool, or watch TV, or…”
“You’re about to ask what normal people do with their free time, aren’t you?” I asked with a laugh, leaning into his warmth.
“I can order food, if you want. What would you like for dinner?”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “I don’t know—what delivers out here?”
His brow furrowed as he looked down at me. “Did you want takeout?”
“Maybe I’m hearing things. Didn’t you just ask if you should order dinner…?”
Hunter led me through the room to a hallway on the other side. I tried to glimpse the art as we passed, only to suddenly stop in a large kitchen where a portly woman in a white apron was writing something as she leaned over the central island. She glanced up at our entrance. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Mr. Carlisle—you’re home early. Is everything okay?”