Some Sugar(3)

“Stay away from her. She’s not worth playing with.”

“Oh, why not?”

“She’s a lesbian. You’ve got no chance of getting with her, and more chance of getting your dick sucked by me.”

“I always knew you wanted me, mate. Fine, fine, I’ll wait.” He heard some movement, and imagined Paul sitting his ass down on the floor near his door.

“Try not to get me kicked out of my place. I’ll be home in ten.” He disconnected the call and hurried toward the checkout.

He rushed toward his home, and was outside his apartment within eight minutes, only to find that Paul was nowhere to be seen. Entering his apartment, he called out Paul’s name, and again, nothing.

Frowning, he pulled out his cell phone, and dialed his number.

“Hey, man,” Paul said.

“I rushed back here, and you’re not.”

“Oh, I’m at Faith’s.”

Jealousy coursed through him.

“Hey, babe. Hunter is back, and I’m going to head out.”

Hunter went to his door, and watched as Paul opened Faith’s front door, and she was behind him. They were laughing and talking, and he didn’t like it.

“You know, those lemon-blueberry rolls are the bomb. I’m going to have to drop by to have another lick,” Paul said, leaning in a little too close for Hunter’s liking.

“What’s going on?” Hunter asked. He stared at Faith and saw the anger in her eyes as she looked at him.

“Your friend was all alone, so I invited him in.”

“He wouldn’t have been if you’d just let me borrow some sugar.”

“Why don’t you stop hurting women and start shopping for stuff you need?” She didn’t wait around for an answer, and slammed her door closed.

Growling, Hunter turned on his heel and began pacing.

“What the hell was that?” Paul asked.

“She hates me, and I don’t know why. I’ve been nothing but polite to her.”

“Oh, she thinks you’re banging women here, and breaking their hearts.”

Hunter paused. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It seems she has seen one too many women coming and going, and all of them have the same thing in common. They are crying.”

Hunter thought about it, and then groaned. “Shit! Fuck! I was helping those women. It was a breakthrough, and I never, ever fuck a client. Never.”

Paul collapsed onto the sofa. “I take it Faith is off limits.”

“You don’t get to touch her.”

“Why is that?” Paul asked.

Hunter stared at his friend. “I don’t want you or any shit that you create falling on me. I’m already off to a shitty start, and I don’t need your help to make it worse.”

Paul grabbed a pillow. “Is that the only reason?”

“Shut up.”

“I think you want her, Hunter. I think you want to hunt her.”

He walked into his kitchen getting a couple of beers from the fridge. He didn’t want to think about what he wanted right now. Faith was a sexy woman, and he would be lying if he hadn’t already seen what a looker she was.

“Do you? Want her?” Paul asked. “Or am I free to walk over there and ask her out?”

“No. You’re not free to do that. She’s mine.”

“You’re staking a claim?”

“Yeah, I am.”





Chapter Two



Faith had just finished wrapping up the remaining lemon-blueberry rolls to snack on throughout the week when there was a knock at the door. Glancing at the clock above the wall near her phone, she saw it was a little after eight at night. She was working the late shift again, but she didn’t mind. It was late, and she didn’t know who would want to be knocking on her door. Making her way toward it, she opened it and paused. Hunter stood on the other side.

“It’s late,” she said. Every time she looked at Hunter, all she saw was a man who hurt women.

“Paul told me why you don’t like me, and I think it’s time I cleared the air.”

“Look, what you do and how you do it is really up to you. I want no business in know—”

“I’m a life coach. I help women, and men as well, through their problems that they are facing. I’ve taken courses in psychology and life studies. I’m qualified to do the job I do. Sometimes doing that at a workplace, it doesn’t always help. A social setting helps. Those women that you’ve seen crying, they’re clients.”

“How are you helping them if they’re crying?” she asked.

“Have you stopped them and asked why they are crying?”

“No, of course not.”

“You know, you’ve naturally assumed I’m some kind of monster. I’m not. Next time one of my clients leaves my home, why don’t you do the polite thing and ask if they’re okay? Maybe next time you won’t jump to the wrong conclusions about your neighbor.”