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I give him a flat look. “You’re supposed to say, thank you.”
“No, you are supposed to say thank you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Because he’s right, of course. He made breakfast for me and I haven’t even said thank you yet. But I’m not used to people doing thoughtful things for me like this. I’m rich and powerful enough that I’m usually the one who is asked to do kind things for others. And something as simple, and yet as extraordinary, as randomly making breakfast for me is not something anyone has ever done before.
Clearing my throat, I manage to press out a bit awkwardly, “Thank you.”
As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I realize just how rarely I say those particular words. At least in these kinds of circumstances. They sound almost strange on my tongue.
Across the table, Jace’s smile turns into a full-blown smirk.
I immediately regret thanking him, even though the food was incredible.
I’m not supposed to thank him. Or enjoy the food he makes. Or feel any sort of gratitude towards him at all. I’m not supposed to like him. I’m supposed to get him the hell out of here so that I can finally live my life without a bodyguard looming over me every step of the way. I need to remember my mission. Make this job so unbearable that he quits.
“Aww, look at that,” Jace says, with a grin on his face. “I’m growing on you.”
I give him a flat look. “Yes, like fungus.”
He chuckles and simply gets to his feet before reaching over to grab my now empty plate. I scowl at his back as he walks over to the dishwasher and puts the plate and utensils into it. Why didn’t he take the bait?
In fact, why is it so bloody difficult to faze him? My rudeness and insults and annoying stunts never seem to hit the way they normally do. Jace just takes it all in stride. Always shrugging casually and smiling while that unshakable confidence pulses from his entire soul.
But I refuse to give up. I will make him quit. No matter what.
14
JACE
My two days of relative peace are apparently at an end. After I made her breakfast this morning, she spent the entire day trying to ditch me and sneak off alone. I have a feeling that it’s because she has started to actually like me a little bit. And why wouldn’t she? I’m awesome.
Soft evening winds swirl down the street, bringing with them the smell of warm asphalt and car exhaust. Since everyone is trying to get home from work at the same time, the cars covering the street are barely crawling forwards. The sidewalks are full of people too, bustling one way or the other. I scan our surroundings for threats while I follow Kayla towards some mysterious location that she refused to specify beforehand.
I also watch her. Watch the way her red ponytail swings across her back. The way her hips sway slightly. The way she walks with her spine straight and her chin held high.
There are lots of other people heading in the opposite direction, but they all shift aside for her. As if that is the natural order.
Kayla Ashford moves through the world as if it belongs to her.
And it’s hot as fuck.
We reach a tall building made of white stone. It’s designed to look like one of those fancy buildings from England’s Victorian era, and I recognize it immediately.
Surprise pulses through me when Kayla starts heading for the front door.
“This is where we were going?” I ask as I follow her.
“Yes,” she replies without even looking at me.
Pulling open the door, she strides inside. She doesn’t bother holding it open for me, but I was prepared for that, so I yank up an arm and catch the door before it can slam into me. Despite Kayla’s nonexistent manners, I find myself getting incredibly excited.
Among other things, this building houses a restaurant called La Fleur, which is one of the best restaurants in town. It has a waitlist several months long. For normal people, anyway. Being a Hunter has its perks. But even despite my ability to skip the waitlist if I want to, I’ve still only been here twice, because I haven’t really had that many occasions to visit.
I glance down at the jeans and t-shirt I’m wearing. Kayla is dressed in chic black pants and a stylish shirt that makes her look like she has just stepped off a fashion runway. Her clothes fit the dress code. Mine do not. I’ll most likely need to pull the Hunter card to get inside.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m still ridiculously excited. If she is here to eat alone, then I might as well claim the second seat at the table and eat too. This is turning into a fabulous day.
The moment that thought has finished passing through my mind, we turn the corner and find a group of people who instantly darken my mood.
