Wild Thing (9 page)

Chapter 6

When Hunter was stressed, he cooked. It calmed him, and since he’d made that crack about Toni’s weight, he knew she hadn’t eaten much for lunch. Maybe a nice meal and a couple bottles of wine would help her to forgive him.

He’d bet his bottom dollar Toni was a woman who enjoyed food. He’d never known a passionate woman who didn’t, and on the passion scale, Toni was off the charts. The memory of how she looked when she came apart in his arms made his dick twitch. He took a big gulp of wine, which didn’t help the fit of his shorts any, but it made him care less about his discomfort.

While the tuna thawed, he grabbed his favorite knife and a cutting board and chopped the vegetables. Once he had them roasting, he took out a loaf of challah he’d made the day before and cut it up for a quick bread pudding. He tossed in a handful of raisins and dark chocolate chips before pouring the bread and custard mixture into a loaf pan and placing it in the water bath waiting in his second oven. Then he started the apple and port wine compote.

By the time the shower shut off, the vegetables were roasting, the compote simmering, the bread pudding baking, and he was well on his way to finishing the salad. He tossed what was left of the fennel into the salad bowl and turned the roasting vegetables—red pepper, eggplant, cherry tomatoes, onions, fennel, zucchini, and garlic. Perfect. He threw in a handful of kalamata olives and added a few sloshes of a very nice white wine—a 2009 DAOU Chemin de Fleurs Paso Robles he’d been saving for a special occasion. He couldn’t imagine a better woman to try to woo with it. He was just lucky he had two chilled bottles—the way Toni had looked when he’d left her, he wished he had ordered a case.

Hunter poured Toni a glass and refilled his own before starting on the salad dressing. Grabbing a bowl, he whisked together a nice Italian and sprinkled it with a few fennel leaves. There. It was simple meal, yet a feast for the eyes and soul, or so he hoped.

Hunter tossed the tuna steaks on a hot grill. While they seared, he turned on dinner music, wishing he knew what Toni liked to listen to. Since he was in the mood for some bluesy jazz, he clicked on his favorite playlist and set the table for two while humming along to Corinne Bailey Rae.

Hunter felt Toni’s presence before he heard her. She stood in the living room wearing the clothes he’d set out and looked uncertain. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome.” He’d decided against candles, because it was still bright out. In the past, he’d always appreciated the long summer days when it stayed light past ten in the evening. For now, he’d have to just imagine her washed in flickering candlelight with his T-shirt slipping over her bare shoulder. She’d tied the T-shirt at the waist, probably because it would look like a dress if she hadn’t. The effect was anything but functional.

Her wet hair hung straight, her lips were bright pink, probably from biting them, although it could be from the sun. He wanted to kiss her, but then he remembered the steaks. He ran back to the kitchen to turn them, hoping they weren’t overdone. “I poured wine.”

Toni watched him move toward her and hugged herself before he got too close.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head and took the wineglass he offered.

“I hope you like tuna. While you showered I threw dinner together.”

He went back to the kitchen and pulled out the vegetables. He plated them, took the tuna steaks off the grill, and sliced and arranged them on each plate.

A silent Toni was unnerving. She eyed him like she would a hairy spider.

“The salad’s in the refrigerator if you want to grab it.”

She did, but he couldn’t help but notice she was sure to keep her distance. Great. He took another swig of wine and whisked the dressing a few more times before pouring it over the salad. “The salad tongs are in the drawer directly in front of you.”

“I didn’t expect you to cook.” Toni found the tongs, tossed the salad, and then brought it to the table.

So she does speak. He picked up the plates and set them on the table before taking a chance and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. “I really am sorry.”

She looked at him with guileless eyes. He liked that about her. When Toni looked him in the eye, Hunter saw the truth. If she didn’t want to talk about something, she told him point-blank. There was no beating around the bush, no lies he could see, and he saw more lies than anyone, but maybe Trapper.

He realized a little too late he couldn’t stop at holding her. No, he pretty much had to kiss her. She tasted like the wine she’d just sipped, cool and tart. He took it as a challenge, but then everything with Toni had been somewhat challenging. “So, are you going to forgive me?”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes it is. It was a major screwup, and it was all my fault. I didn’t think about you. I’m not used to having anyone…” he stumbled. What the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn’t used to having anyone who cared about him? That was kind of presumptuous. Anyone to care about… which, when he thought about it, fit the bill. But she didn’t look at all ready to hear that. He couldn’t say he wasn’t used to anyone counting on him. That wasn’t true. Everyone he guided counted on him, just not the way he hoped Toni would. Damn. “I promise not to let you down again.”

He kissed the skeptical look right off her face, and this time she kissed him back. Oh, she was still mad, but as long she took it out on him with kisses, he could definitely get behind that.

He slid his hand under the back of her T-shirt, traced her spine, learned every bump and curve of her, and loved the feel of her body against his. She ended the kiss before he was ready, but since dinner was cooling, it was probably for the best.

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes dark and bright, and her lips swollen. She stole his breath.

He held her chair only to be met by a look of surprise. She surveyed the meal, and her eyes widened. “I can’t believe you did all this.” She sat, and he took his seat, scooting a little closer to her.

“Why? I cook every night I’m home. It’s about an hour and a half to Ketchum and the closest restaurant.” He reached over to serve her salad.

“If it were up to me, I’d starve.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d learn to cook after a month of eating frozen dinners.”

She gave him another incredulous look.

“What?”

She placed her napkin in her lap. “How do you know so much about me?”

He sipped his wine and thought about it. “I spent the entire day watching and listening to you. I think it would take a lifetime to figure you out, but I have to hand it to you, you fascinate me. I want to know everything about you, and since you’re tight-lipped about certain things, I find it necessary to make deductions. It’s good to know I’m right.”

Toni almost choked. She fascinated him? “What is this, figure out the weird girl?” Suddenly it didn’t feel like the compliment it had a second ago.

Anger flashed in Hunter’s eyes. “I don’t think you’re weird. I think you’re beautiful, passionate, and smart. Fascinating. I say what I mean, Toni. I don’t give backhanded compliments. Why is it that’s all you hear?”

“I don’t know.” She’d never thought about it. She’d also never confronted anyone like she had Hunter. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her blurt out the first thing that came to mind. She had no filter where he was concerned. “I’m sorry.”

He shot her the same look she’d seen when she told him she wasn’t interested, and at the time, she really hadn’t thought she had been. Sometime through the day that had changed; now she just
wished
she wasn’t interested.

Hunter was a complication she didn’t need, but one she didn’t want to give up either. When she’d thought he was dead, she’d been upset—like anyone would be, but it went deeper than that. She felt a profound sense of loss of something beautiful, something she might never find again. And that something covered a lot more feeling than a few kisses and a mind-blowing orgasm should instill. She’d known him only hours, but that wasn’t the way it felt.

Toni took a bite of tuna with a piece of roasted red pepper and tomato on it. The flavors exploded in her mouth, and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. Hunter was a seriously awesome cook. She’d be stunned to have a meal this wonderful at a five-star restaurant in Manhattan; to think he threw it together while she showered was unbelievable.

When she opened her eyes, Hunter watched and wore what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

“This is so… incredible. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to carry on a conversation. I’m sorry, but this is…” She shook her head trying to come up with a proper label but failed. She needed a thesaurus. “Stunning, amazing, magnificent, luscious, delectable… they all pale in comparison.”

Hunter took a bite and chewed. He looked like one of those über-sophisticated wine tasters, which was funny considering his attire—a T-shirt and shorts he’d risked his life to save. “I would have liked the tuna to be a tad more rare, but you distracted me.”

Toni rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“My mom is a great cook, so she started me off.” He sipped his wine and then holding it by the stem, rolled it around in the glass, watching it slide back into the bowl.

Toni stared at his hands, strong, scarred, and beautiful—hands that looked as if they should belong to a concert pianist, but full of character too.

“All the Kincaid men are good cooks, but Karma…” He shook his head, but the side of his mouth tipped up. “Mom was never able to get Karma to fall in line. I started as a short-order cook on the weekends during high school. I worked as a guide in the summers, which meant outdoor cooking, and then as a cook off season all through college, moving up through the restaurants my grandfather owned. Well, Grampa Joe really isn’t related, but he’s like a grandfather to me. I made it to the big time before I quit.”

“You just quit?”

“Yeah, I did. I wasn’t happy. I love to cook, but I don’t like being indoors all the time, not to mention the hours. No, I like my life just fine the way it is.” He took another sip of his wine.

Toni thought she saw a flash of something other than contentment. But then, what did she know?

“When I get a wild hair, I go to the restaurant on Castle Rock and give the chef a day off with pay. It’s great to cook and know I can spend the next day skiing, teaching, or doing whatever else I want to do.”

“It must be good to be king. Me, I pretty much have to do what I’m told.” Toni looked down at her plate and found it was almost empty. She wanted to cry. She felt this way whenever she read a really great book too. She’d curse the dwindling pages.

“What’s the matter?”

Hunter was watching her again.

“Dinner’s almost gone. I hate when perfect things end—the perfect meal, a great book, a wonderful movie, a play. The entire second half, I know it’s dying in a way. And no matter how wonderful it is, I’ll never see it, taste it, read it, or hear it for the first time ever again.”

He pushed his plate toward hers. “You’re welcome to eat off my plate, but that won’t help with the first time conundrum.” He took a bite of tuna and looked deep in thought. “I guess it’s a good thing we’ll have a week of firsts, though I’d really hate to see you sad every time you experience one.”

In one sentence he took the conversation from polite dinner chat deep into sexual territory. Judging from the heat she felt in her cheeks, she’d turned bright red. Damn her and her Irish skin. God forbid she should get her father’s Italian olive complexion. No, she was paler than pale. Toni finished her wine only to have Hunter refill her glass the second it hit the table.

Hunter apparently wasn’t waiting for a response, which was probably a good thing. It wasn’t often she was left speechless.

He picked up her empty plate, and when she rose to help, he waved her back. “I promised you coffee. Do you want regular or decaf?”

She sank into her seat and picked up her wineglass. “What’s the point of drinking decaf?”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart. I keep it in the freezer for my Mom when she visits. Caffeine keeps her up all night. Though, to be perfectly honest, if the same happened to you, you wouldn’t hear me complaining. Dessert should be about done. I just need to finish the sauce. I hope you have room.”

“Dessert?”

Hunter pulled a pan from the oven, flipped it onto a cutting board, and lifted the inverted pan off a weird looking loaf. Whatever it was smelled positively heavenly. He placed slices on two plates, arranging them so one slice leaned on the other. It drove her nuts that from where she sat, she couldn’t tell what it was. After he had the servings on the plates to his satisfaction, he took a saucepan from the back of the stove and spooned something chunky over the top and then drizzled sauce over each portion like they did in restaurants. Then he took something small and red out of the refrigerator and placed it on one plate beside the tilted masterpiece. Weird, since there was only one something. He looked it over and cleaned the edge of the plate with a towel. Amazing.

He brewed the espresso, cut a sliver of lemon peel for each cup, and then set the coffee and dessert on a tray along with a sugar bowl and utensils. By the time he was done, she’d finished her wine.

Hunter carried the tray from the kitchen. “It’s getting a little cold. Do you want me to light a fire? We can have our dessert in the living room.”

“You don’t have to go to any more trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I have a gas starter, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t mind. Besides, it gets pretty cold at this elevation once the sun goes down.”

She followed him to the living room. She hadn’t noticed the cold until she stood, probably an effect of drinking too much wine. Hunter set the tray down, and she could only stare. “What is that?”

“Bread pudding with raisins and chocolate chips and an apple port wine compote.” He set the plate with a rosette made out of what looked like the peel of the apple on the coffee table and sat beside her.

“Wow, Hunter, you can cook for me anytime. I wish I could reciprocate, but the best I can do is Toaster Strudel, and that’s only if my toaster doesn’t burn it. I feel as if I should take a picture of everything you serve.”