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“Paula.”
“Got it. You know, maybe the doctor didn’t lie to you after all, because the number of times you fucked that woman, you two should have had a little army of blue-eyed monsters.”
Aside from her four sisters, Paula had nine younger brothers, and all of them were pesky little devils.
“Thanks for being the sunshine in my life.” I said.
“I heard the sarcasm.”
“Good. See you this weekend?”
“See you.”
We hung up at the same time, and I made the last turn into a shopping center. I picked up a box full of rose-scented candles and Grace’s favorite wine before heading to our local bakery for fresh baguettes. At the marina, Olivier prepared a box full of ingredients, along with instructions. I wasn’t the best chef, but I was sure I could manage Grace’s favorite vegetarian dishes. When I pulled into Cougar Court, Grace’s car was still missing.
I brought the groceries inside, rolled up my sleeves, washed my hands, and gathered the dishes and utensils. Soon enough, fresh pasta was boiled and the tomato herb sauce had reduced. I set up the candles underneath the pergola while fish steamed over apple bark on the barbecue. A delicious aroma filled the house. I set the food in the warming drawer, picked the brightest clumps of roses from Grace’s garden, and arranged three vases on the table. I lit torches around the perimeter and saved three toads from their never-ending pool laps. The first sound of crickets echoed as twilight neared. I lit the firepit in the backyard and sat down on a lounger, stretching my legs.
I took a whiff. The stench of sweat wafted from underneath my arms. I shed my clothes and hopped underneath the shower in the pool house. I dried myself, combed my fingers through my hair, and knocked a stick off a shelf. When I realized the piece of plastic was a pregnancy test, I almost dropped it. But it was negative.
Grace wasn’t pregnant. Of course, she wasn’t. I was sterile.
The oven timer went off. I set the stick back on the shelf and went back to the kitchen in time to remove the crème brûlée from the oven. The sun disappeared below the horizon, and I was worrying about Grace. Scar had promised to monitor her until her return, but what if Scar was in trouble? I didn’t look when I grabbed the glassware without a towel, burning my hand.
“Fuck!” I screamed.
My skin sizzled red, and I turned on the faucet.
“Mother fucking hot water!” I withdrew my hand from underneath the stream.
My skin shriveled before forming bubbles, which grew with every blink and sweat drop.
A tumble of footsteps sounded from the upstairs. I kept my focus on the kitchen entry and changed the water flow to cold. Grace ran into the kitchen, cheeks flushed, hair wild, and large breasts bouncing in a new, lacy bra. The white fabric clung to her body and hid nothing. Beautiful pink nipples winked my way.
Hello.
Her full breasts stole all of my attention.
“Hunter? Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
My head flew up to meet her gaze. She froze midway to the kitchen and slowly drew her robe from the sides, tying its belt at the front. It still did little to hide her body, and by then, my blood had already drained south. White was officially my favorite color.
She sniffed the air. “Are you cooking?”
Cooking?
My hand seared with pain.
“I burned my hand.” I wiggled my fingers.
“Jesus, what the hell?”
“More like an accident, but it definitely burns like hell. I grabbed a hot crème brûlée dish.”
“Crème brûlée?” She licked her lips while filling a bowl of water to which she added ice. “Soak it here. It should help. Since when do you cook?”
“Since I lived like Tarzan in a jungle. But you’re forgetting I’ve lived here as well. I picked up the ingredients from Olivier at the Marina.”
She nodded. Her attention was drawn to the glow outside. She eyed the table set beneath the pergola, where soft candlelight illuminated the space. “Impressive.”
