Chapter 18
Juliet
A few days later, I am still brooding about the events at the nightclub. My brain replays every moment in slow motion: the heat of the dance floor, the smell of his cologne when he leaned close to hear me, the way the lights caught on his jaw when he smiled.
Craving Hunter in a way that I shouldn’t have. I crossed a line. I know better than this.
I keep thinking about how respectful he was.
Not one wandering hand. Not one crude comment.
He kept a careful distance, even when I leaned in.
Even when I tilted my head so our faces were inches apart.
I remember the way he looked at me at that moment.
His eyes were dark and steady. His hand stayed on my waist, firm but not possessive. He acted like a man in control.
I acted as though I had absolutely none.
I’m embarrassed at how I threw myself at him. More than that, I’m irritated that I cannot stop thinking about it. A couple of cocktails do not explain the way I pressed against him during that last song.
The music was loud. My pulse was louder. I kissed him hard, gripped his shirt, and would have taken it further if Wren had n’t interrupted us.
God, I am a mess.
The team got back very late from an away game last night. When I got up this morning, Hunter was still asleep. That is probably for the best, because I’m not sure I could look at him without thinking about that kiss.
And I’m not sure I could look at him without wanting to try again. Which is exactly why I am still kicking myself.
Thankfully, I’m pulled from my contemplation when I get a text from The Coven asking me to join them at an SPCA charity event. It’s technically a team thing, but… apparently I’m sort of part of the team now, which still feels surreal.
Being seen by the team management as someone who fits in and helps can only make my case for a future job in PR stronger. Hunter is still asleep when I leave the condo at eleven; I write him a note asking him to meet us if he feels up to it as I head out the door.
The event is at a local park, with adoption booths set up under white tents and adorable dogs everywhere. I find Jessa and Ivy picking out funny selling points to write on the adoption cards for the dogs.
“This one’s name is Princess, but she clearly has anger management issues,” Ivy says, scribbling on a card. “Perfect for someone who needs a guard dog with attitude.”
“That won’t help her get adopted,” I laugh.
“Are you kidding? Honesty is refreshing. Plus, look at that face.”
Princess is indeed adorable, despite apparently being a tiny terror.
Only a few team members are in attendance since they all had such a late night. Thorne’s here with some rookies, all of them looking ragged and running on maybe four hours of sleep.
“Hey!” I say, greeting Thorne and Shane. Ivy put them in charge of the doggy kissing booth. For a cash donation, you can receive kisses from either a pit bull or a terrier. It’s adorable.
“She lives!” Shane says, teasing. He holds up his terrier, talking to her. “Have you met Juliet? She’s a party animal!”
Thorne coughs and nudges Shane in the ribs. I blush.
“Oh no. Did I misbehave?”
“Nope,” Thorne says. “You were perfect. Right, Shane?”
Shane grins. “I was just kidding. You were an angel, Juliet.”
“Uh huh.” I give them both a knowing look. “I’m keeping an eye on you two.”
I circle the adoption fair, then settle in with Jessa and Ivy, who are in a large circular pen with a few small dogs that are fiercely friendly. Jessa hands me a little packet of dog treats and I lead the dog up to a curious family standing to one side of the pen.
They enjoy meeting Piglet, a five-year-old Yorkipoo. The little girl gives Piglet a few scratches behind the ear and declares that she’s perfect. Her mom smiles gently and tells her they have to look around a bit, but they can come back to Piglet if they want.
I pet Piglet, giving her a wink. “You hear that? You’re perfect.”
She gives me a doggy grin before barking twice and running off to sniff a mini schnauzer’s butt.
I turn, scanning the rest of the pen for a new family. Ivy is telling an older man where to go to apply for an adoption. It makes me smile. We’re a pretty good team!
That’s when I see him. Patrick, walking toward our booth like he owns the place. What the hell is he doing here??
My stomach drops. “Shit.”
“What?” Jessa follows my gaze. “Oh shit. Is that…?”
I nod. “That’s my ex.”
Ivy hears, immediately going into protective mode. “Want me to spill coffee on him? Or maybe I can get a dog to pee on his leg…”
I gulp, my hands balling into fists at my side. My body is ready to go to war, if that’s what it takes. “No, I can handle this.”
It’s better if I draw him out, make him approach me. His plan is to stare at me and hope to make me stumble over my words. Hiding isn’t how I’ll win today. I know Patrick and just how he behaves.
I step out of the pen, walking toward the kissing booths. Drawing him out. Patrick corners me, a familiar smirk on his face that used to make me feel special.
Now, it makes me want to throw up.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Juliet Monroe.” He looks around the fair. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
I straighten my spine. I hold up my hand, flashing my ring. “Hunter is actually my fiancé.”
Patrick laughs, the sound sharp and condescending. “Fiancé? Really?”
He reaches for my hand before I can pull away, lifting it to examine my ring. His touch makes my skin crawl. I pull my hand out of his grip and shoot him a pained look.
“Could you please not touch me?” I say, hoping my tone is thoroughly dripping with disdain. “Why are you even here?”
“Your ring is tacky,” he declares, loud enough for people around us to hear. “But I suppose some women trade up, and some just settle for whatever they can get.”
The words hit like a slap. I loathe Patrick with every fiber of my being. Just because he’s from an old-money family, he thinks he’s too good for everyone.
If I hadn’t been so weak when we were dating, I would have left him years earlier. Instead, I let him and his snooty family push me around and make me feel less than. Never, ever again.
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a two-dollar hooker,” he fires back.
I feel helpless and humiliated, rage burning in my chest, but before I can find my voice to tell him exactly where he can shove his opinions, my new friends come to my rescue.
“Is there a problem here?” Ivy asks sweetly, but there’s steel in her voice.
Thorne appears too, looking exhausted but alert. “Everything okay, Juliet?”
“Fine,” I manage, but my voice sounds shaky.
Patrick smirks. “Just peachy, right Jules?”
Uh, I loathe that nickname. It’s a thousand times worse than Ace, the one I made Hunter quit calling me. At least Hunter listens. And he’s not even my real fiancé!
Thorne steps in, looking menacing. “I think you’d better get lost, loser.”
“Loser?” Patrick barks a laugh. “You'd better watch who you’re calling names, Alex. At least I’m a hockey player. This bitch is just a wannabe puck bunny.”
“Shut the fuck up! How about that?” Ivy jeers. “I need you to leave, stranger.”
That’s when Hunter walks in, which surprises me because he wasn’t supposed to be here.
He must have gotten four hours of sleep maximum, but he looks amazing in dark jeans and a fitted henley that shows off his arms. Even though I absolutely should not have been hoping for Huxley to save me, relief floods through me at the sight of him.
“Sorry I’m late, babe,” he says. He walks straight to me and pulls me into a kiss that makes my knees weak.
“So, Hunter.” Patrick smiles at Hunter. “Do you know any high-end consignment boutiques around here? I figure you must really love used goods. I mean, since you’re set to marry Juliet and all.”
Hunter goes absolutely still. I can feel the tension radiating off him as he lunges for Patrick’s throat. I grab him by the shirt. He stops, but he’s glaring daggers and lobbing f-bombs at Patrick like grenades.
“You want to say that again, fuckface?” Hunter snarls. Rage is rolling off him in waves.
“Hunter, don’t,” I hiss, still gripping his shirt. “Please.”
“He just called you used goods.” Hunter’s voice is deadly quiet.
“Let it go.”
“Like hell I will.”
I realize cameras are appearing. Local news crews covering the charity event, phones coming out, people recognizing Hunter.
Hunter seems to realize it too because suddenly he’s switching gears, wrapping his arm around me and speaking directly into a camera.
“Actually, I’m excited to announce a wedding date. Juliet agreed to marry me this February. We’re getting married right after Valentine’s Day. I can’t wait for her to be Mrs. Huxley.”
“You two are disgusting,” Patrick spits.
“Disgustingly in love,” Hunter says, needling Patrick. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yes?” My answer comes out as a question, but neither man is really paying attention to me, anyway. My eyes widen as I stare holes into Hunter’s face. Where does he come up with this shit? Announcing a wedding date that will never materialize? I dig my nails into his arm.
Hunter looks at me, smirking, and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Relax. It’s just for show, Firecracker.”
I shudder. Hunter’s name for me coming from his mouth sounds sweet as pie. Too bad I want to throttle him right now.
Before I can process what’s happening, the Havoc’s social media guy and a cameraman materialize at my elbow like vultures scenting fresh drama.
“Juliet, perfect timing,” he says, already waving the camera into position. “We’d love a quick clip about the engagement. You and Hunter have such amazing chemistry.”
He glances toward Patrick, who’s lingering far too close, then back to me with a smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. The camera swings up, the ring light flares, and suddenly I’m trapped between Hunter at my side and Patrick watching from a few feet away.