Perfectly Pink - An It's Always Been You Romance (Complete)

Chapter 9

This was technically their third date.

Mary wore her hair up and a strapless magenta pink dress to draw attention to her assets. Hunter had been a perfect gentleman so far.  At the end of their last evening together he had walked her to her door, asked if he could kiss her goodnight and after she gave her consent, he tasted her lips and only her lips in a sigh-educing smooch that did not include any tongue. Unfortunately.

Tonight, Mary was interested in more than appetizers. She had her eye on a full course meal.

The restaurant Hunter had selected was a quaint French bistro in the Dupont Circle. The hostess had recognized her date and seated them in a quiet corner in the back. Still, two people had already "popped" by to say a quick hello to Hunter, one asking if they could meet this week to discuss an upcoming bill.

It wasn't long until someone sent over a bottle of wine, with compliments. Mary didn't even get a chance to check out which brand it was to assess its value before Hunter sent it back.

"But it's already paid for?" protested the sommelier.

"Tell you what, why don't you keep the bottle.  You can enjoy it next week with your wife on your wedding anniversary," offered Hunter.

With a toothy grin and a thank you, the bottle disappeared into the back. It was on their second date, only after ordering her own glass of wine, Mary had learned Hunter Locklear didn't drink. Ever. Mary hadn't wanted to pry but her date didn't hesitate to shed light on the decision. He'd softly explained his father was a heavy drinker. As a teen, he'd started down the same path with alcohol first to fit in with friends and then as a coping mechanism. After an incident that landed him in a bit of trouble, he knew things had to change. He didn't go into the details but explained it was what had pushed him into the military.

Mary had immediately apologized for ordering her wine and secretly worried if she ended up with a tea-toddler she may never be able to enjoy a sip again. Hunter waved off the offer and insisted she have what she liked. Just because he didn't partake, he claimed he wouldn't judge anyone else for imbuing a drink or two.

Still, tonight she had opted for an alcohol-free strawberry concoction the restaurant called their summer special to go with Hunter's sparkling water drink. When in Rome...

"Everything here looks scrumptious." Mary couldn't decide what to order. The other night they'd gone to an Italian place where Hunter had suggested she try their gnocchi. He claimed it was possibly the best in town.  She took him up on his challenge and hadn't regretted it. The man knew his cuisine.

"Are you a fan of seafood?"

Mary nodded.

"Their scallops and mussels are excellent. And I've never been disappointed by the salmon." Hunter's golden eyes glowed in the low candlelight of the restaurant reminding her of liquid pools of honey. Mary had to concentrate on not licking her lips. He was wearing another suit tonight, slim-fitting and showing off his assets, looking all dapper and freshly coiffed. She had this urge to run her fingers through his styled hair, muss it up and see what reaction it netted. Resisting the impulse, she admired the show he put on for her. Clean angles and straight lines combined to create a picture perfect specimen.

'What are you having?" She had her eye on the mussels but didn't want to be the only one with garlic breath for what she had planned for dessert.

"I'm leaning towards the salmon." Disappointment shot through Mary. It was only a meal, not where they were going to live or who he was going to choose as a running mate in his presidential bid. She could adapt. She'd done it for years. Moulding herself to what others wanted. Best way to be accepted, to get what she needed.

"Unless you would like to share?" countered Hunter. "We could both have the salmon and say some mussels?"

Had he read her mind? Surely not. Still, she couldn't suppress the smile. "That sounds perfect."

After a lovely dinner which did not include dessert, but was overflowing with lively conversation and laughter, Hunter was once again walking Mary back to her apartment. At some point, he had taken hold of her hand.

"Do you want to come up for a coffee?" Or something sweeter?

The corner of Hunter's mouth twitched, and Mary was sure this time he had read her mind. "Yes." It was a simple, straight-forward answer. Very much like the man himself.

Each time they talked it became clearer and clearer to Mary with Hunter what you saw was what you got. Unlike so many people in this town, other men she'd dated, this tall catch didn't try to hide behind glossy assumptions of what was and empty promises of what might be. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. No questions, no excuses. At the end of their first coffee date, Hunter told her he was going out of town for a few weeks but wanted to contact her when he got back. True to his word, two weeks and a day later Hunter called. It was refreshing and Mary wanted to believe it would last.

Experience knocked on her heart and said don't you dare. People disappoint. It's a proven fact. She had a long line of men to show it. All the way back to Tony. Years ago, she'd trusted him and look where it got her. He'd been tall and handsome as well. Lips that teased with scandalous suggestions and calloused hands that skimmed her skin while they flirted in front of Simon. Dark eyes that flared with jealousy when she turned her attention to Simon and ignored him.

Tony was a Bridgetown catch and she basked in the spotlight of his gaze. In a small town, the dating pool is more like a puddle. Sure, she only spent summers there, but they were long, lazy summers with nothing to do in a "blink and you miss it" seaside village. Still, she had to have some fun. Playing the two boys against each other was a good distraction from life. The town heartthrob all the girls wanted and the mysterious newcomer with blue eyes rivalling the ocean. A way to pass the time.

Until the fun ended. Tony had whispered in her ear on that fateful night, Simon notably absent. Promised to entertain her enough for the both of them, lay the world at her feet. After he got what he wanted in the backseat of one of his father's cars, she awoke to the reality. The boy ghosted her. Ignoring her calls when she told him she needed to see him. He was on to a new girl, setting up his next score. She was left with more than she could handle.

The walk of shame home that night ended in a morning of mourning. Her parents sitting her down, spilling her mother's diagnosis. Breast cancer. It had spread. Less than three months later Mary stood at her mother's funeral sobbing for the loss of so much.

But Mary didn't like to dwell on the past. The future was where she concentrated. She'd been looking forward to getting Hunter into her bed since they'd first danced at Emily's wedding. At last, the time had come.

Slipping her key into the lock, Mary ordered certain body parts to calm down. This wasn't like with Simon.  No instant gratification. She'd have to take her time with Hunter. Not seem too eager. Tease and taunt until the man couldn't take it anymore. Until he was begging to take her.

Swinging the door open Mary crossed the threshold, her foot squelching down on a far too springy carpet.  Cold wet seeped in between the toes exposed by her sandals.

"What the-"