Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hunter
The right nickname makes or breaks a group chat.
I lick the spoon, causing Honor to squeal and Helen to laugh. Meanwhile, I’ve been cataloging every single thing Eleanor does behind me by watching her in the video on my screen. She made an effort to seem like she wasn’t listening to every word discussed tonight, then proceeded to search out the book we read this week. I had to smother a laugh when she was looking for books about serial killers who owned restaurants serving spicy food. She’s incredibly innocent in so many ways, yet I know her childhood was fraught with nightmares that chase her even now.
I have never slept with a woman in my bed before—kind of impossible to do when I don’t bring them back here—but having her tucked against me, trusting me enough to fall asleep, is a gift I will treasure. Now I have to figure out how to get her to do it again, and again, and again… until it dawns on her that the best possible place for her is with me.
“What’s next week’s read?” I ask, putting down my ice cream with a grin. Eleanor has been slowly scrolling through the reviews and shaking her head as she takes on people’s disgust and delight at the rather unique events in this book.
“We haven’t decided,” Honor states. “Helen wants a stalker.”
“There are some great stalkers right now,” Helen asserts.
Eleanor’s head whips around, her brows lowered. “Not an actual stalker,” I clarify for the literal person in the room.
“I want something a little lighter. Maybe a hockey romance,” Rosa chimes in.
“What about you, Hunter? Any suggestions?” Honor asks.
“What about branching into a little PNR?”
Eleanor quickly types it on her computer, trying to keep up with the conversation.
“There’s a super spicy vampire one I fancy,” Honor adds, wiggling her eyebrows.
Helen sighs. She’s not a fan of anything not set in reality. “If we must. It’s a good thing you are my favorite daughter-in-law.”
“I’m your only daughter-in-law.”
“Drop the link in the group chat,” I tell them.
“Speaking of group chats,” Honor sing-songs as she pushes her tongue against the inside of her cheek. My phone pings, as does Eleanor’s. Honor winks. “Peace out, and stay spicy.” The call ends, and I huff a laugh at the woman that stole the heart of one of my closest friends outside of the Reapers.
Eleanor glares at her phone as I move into the kitchen. “What has she done?”
Best go with the logical and time-saving excuse. Otherwise, this is going to be an uphill battle I’m not ready to fight. “Honor decided to put the four of us in a group chat. That way, you won’t get three people asking you the same question every day.”
“That makes sense.”
I open the refrigerator and scan our options for dinner. Pasta? My nose curls. We had that last night. I dig a little deeper, pulling open one of the drawers. I have enough veggies for a stir fry, but I don’t feel like cooking tonight.
I slam the door closed, finding Charlie waiting patiently for any stray scraps that might leap to their death from the refrigerator. He huffs at my empty hands before slinking around the breakfast bar to Eleanor. She reaches down and scratches behind his ear without taking her eyes off her phone. He’s an absolute flirt. He’s had her wrapped around his wagging tail since the night he slept with her.
My phone pings again with a notification, and Eleanor blinks at her screen. “Gang?”
Oh hell. What are you doing, Honor?
I pull out my phone and click accept on the chat named “Ghost’s Gang.”
MrsFoxyRoxy
@HunKing Where are you? This only works if everyone joins.
@HunKing has joined the chat
Boo
Who named me?
Fox
I named everyone
A little heart appears on the last message— liked by MrsFoxyRoxy.
Boo
I want to change it.
MrsFoxyRoxy
To what?
Boo
Ghost will be fine.
MrsFoxyRoxy
You’re no fun.
HunKing
I’m okay with mine. *fire emoji*
Eleanor’s gaze snaps to mine. “Of course you are. Yours is a play on your actual name and suggests you are physically attractive.”
“Suggests?”
She gives me one of the dirtiest looks I’ve ever received.
Boo
I resent the implication I am dead.
I snort.
MrsFoxyRoxy
You’re right. Let’s change it. @HunKing @Fox suggestions?
Oh, I have the perfect solution.
HunKing
Trouble.
Boo
No.
@Boo name has been changed to @Trouble
“I hate you,” she says with so much ice in her voice, I almost believe her. Almost.
MrsFoxyRoxy
Just roll with it. The guys will make it worse if you complain.
Trouble
What exactly is the point of this chat?
Fox
Support system. Right now, there’s a round robin of messages going around the four of us, taking longer than need be to check in. So, my lovely wife thought it would be better for us to share information in a group chat.
MrsFoxyRoxy
Speaking of check in. @Trouble did you give Hunter access to your tracker?
I raise my eyebrow and stare at her. No, she did not, and I’ve given her several gentle daily reminders.
Eleanor bites her lip and avoids my gaze.
Trouble
Not yet. I haven’t even left this house unless it’s to take Charlie for a bathroom break.
MrsFoxyRoxy
@HunKing Please confirm this is not true. You’re not cooping our girl up and keeping her naked, are you?
“What the fuck, Honor? Why would I be naked?” Eleanor snaps.
HunKing
Not my doing, and she’s only naked sometimes. I’m not a total beast. *smug emoji*
Fox
Staying inside all day, every day, is not healthy, Ghost. Go outside. There’s a whole world of possibility.
Trouble
I’m fine with the possibilities existing within the confines of these walls.
MrsFoxyRoxy
*smirk emoji* What possibilities are those?
Trouble
The type that don’t involve socializing.
Fox
Can sex be defined as socializing?
HunKing
@Fox What kind of sex are you having? *shock emoji* It’s not normally a social activity, unless you enjoy a little swapping? *pineapple emoji* *pineapple emoji* @MrsFoxyRoxy do you need help? Blink twice for yes.
MrsFoxyRoxy
*GIF of Dexter Morgan blinking*
Fox
Woman, don’t make me come and get you from my mother’s house.
MrsFoxyRoxy
*GIF of Morpheus with bring it hand*
Trouble
I think we have gotten off topic.
MrsFoxyRoxy
For goodness’ sake, babe. If you do nothing else today, get out of that damn house.
I glance at Eleanor, deciding Honor is right. Being sequestered in here isn’t doing her any good. She might not seek out human company, or even be happy in it, but we are creatures that need contact with people, and her world has shrunk to only me. Not that it was very big to begin with.
I snatch her phone from her hands, and she blinks at me, not fully understanding what’s happening. “What are you doing?”
“Get dressed.”
She looks down at herself, a small crease forming between her brows. “I am dressed.”
Anyone else and I would say they were being difficult, but this is Eleanor and factually, she is correct.
“Get dressed for a trip to the local bar. We are going out for dinner.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Biker bar for food? Sounds like we are asking for a case of campylobacter.”
“They have a five star hygiene rating and impressive reviews, but if you are concerned about food poisoning, you can watch me eat the best ribs in a hundred mile radius.”
“Best ribs?” She straightens her shoulders, her eyes shining with interest.
“If you want to find out, you’ll need to change. You’ll stand out in sweats and my old T-shirt.” The one I’ve not tried to reclaim, finding too much pleasure in the fact she washes it every two days to rewear.
In a heartbeat, she’s off her stool and dashing down the hall, the bedroom door snapping closed behind her as she mutters about biker bars not having discerning tastes. I have no doubt, regardless of what she wears, she will command every single male gaze in that place. She’s never struck me as insecure. In fact, I know she’s not, but there is an innocence to her that is like a siren call. Mixed with her beauty and brains? It’s fucking intoxicating. Eleanor Austin may not socialize, but that won’t stop them trying to claim a nugget of her time to bathe in the light radiating around her.
Now the real question isn’t if she’ll enjoy the food—it’s whether or not she can dance. It’s Friday night, where the Desert Reapers trade out leather for suede, and exchange rock for country. It’s time to hang up our jackets and put on our Stetsons.