Lily Knight - Hunt's Desire Vol. 1 Read online

  To be fair, he hadn’t been the father I believed I should have had either.

  Just as I should have been parking, I hesitated. I didn’t want anyone to know I was here yet, and walking in the front door felt like hurling myself into the lion’s den. I wondered how long it would take my father to realize I needed money. And what were the chances he would just give it to me, instead of insisting I get an actual job?

  Yeah, right, Caleb.

  I suddenly wished I had stopped for a drink before coming here. Of course, I wouldn’t have been able to pay for that drink, so…

  At the last minute, I pulled along the shoulder of the driveway, where I wouldn’t be noticed right away. I figured I could go for a walk on the grounds and gather my strength before facing the firing squad.

  Getting out of the car, I started around to the back of the house, which was richly landscaped and managed daily by the team of gardeners my father employed. I wandered back through the trees that were on either side of the property, eventually leaning against one and sliding down to the ground. There was no denying the view in front of me was breathtaking, looking out for miles into the land my family owned.

  The property had been in our family for many generations, and you could walk for hours without ever leaving it. Memories of growing up in the house flooded my mind; endless games of hide and seek and tag with my friends. There had been barbecues and parties, fun and so much laughter. But all of that seemed so long ago now.

  My eyes grazed over the back porch and I sat up a little straighter when I noticed a young woman walking out through the door. She appeared to be around my age, maybe a few years younger. Short, but pretty, and with curves in all the right places. My father had employed the same house staff for more than twenty years now, but I wondered if he had hired someone new recently? It was the only explanation for her presence that made any sense to me. And with that, the side of my mouth curled up, a sleeping-with-the-help fantasy already playing out in my mind.

  I watched with amusement as she started talking to herself rather animatedly, hands moving through the air as she paced back and forth. I had never seen anything like it before, and I stood without thinking, walking toward her.

  She saw me approaching and abruptly stopped everything she had been doing. I was still a few yards away from her, but I could see her cheeks were crimson with embarrassment. I broke out in a grin as I made my way up to the porch, her eyes following my every step.

  “Well, hello there.” I called out.

  “Who are you?” She asked, not even bothering with the pleasantry of a greeting.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” I smirked. “It’s not every day I catch my father’s help embarking on a conversation with imaginary friends on the porch.”

  Her scowl told me she was still far from amused. “I wasn’t… I’m not… Uggg! Never mind.”

  She started to turn on her heel and walk away, but I still didn’t know who she was. “Wait!” I said, not about to let her off the hook that easy. I was suddenly fascinated by her, maybe all the more so because upon closer inspection, she really was quite stunning. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a simple T-shirt, with wavy, light red hair cascading off her shoulders. Her blue eyes, wide and lined in black, were her most captivating feature, followed closely behind by the smattering of freckles across her nose. And it wasn’t often I met a woman who seemed so disinterested in me. I had to admit… I liked it. It was kind of a turn on.

  She stopped, paused for a moment, and then slowly turned around, the scowl still on her face.

  “I’m Caleb Hunt,” I said, reaching out my hand to shake hers. “This is my father’s home.”

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she didn’t make a move to return my attempted handshake. “Oh,” she said. “So you’re the reason my mom missed nearly every one of my soccer games and school performances growing up.”

  Her words caught me off guard for a moment, and then… the pieces came together.

  “You’re Rosie O’Keefe’s daughter.” It wasn’t a question. I knew the answer before I spoke the words. The hair alone was a dead giveaway. “Skye?”

  “And you’re the prodigal son.” She said pointedly.

  We both stood there for a moment, studying each other in silence. For my part, I certainly wasn’t complaining about the view. Though I was trying to figure out some way to soften the look she was giving me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I finally asked.

  “Talk about what?”

  “Whatever it was that had you out here engaged in a full on conversation with yourself?”

  She hesitated again, and seemed to be assessing my face before she responded. “It’s a long story. I gave up an internship in New York to be here for my mother, and to be honest—I’m not very happy about it. But it’s my own fault. I guess I was just kind of berating myself a little. While also trying to figure out how I’m possibly going to land a similar opportunity come fall.”

  When she fell silent, I searched for a way to keep her talking. “What kind of internship?”

  “Journalism,” she answered. “I’m a grad student, and I hope to be an international correspondent someday. So you can imagine how stupid it was for me to walk away from an opportunity at a New York paper.”

  I thought about that for just a second, and then said, “So… why’d you do it?”

  She huffed. “Because… I can’t ever say ‘no’ to my mother. And when she asked me to spend the summer here with her, it seemed like something that was really important to her. So here I am.”

  “New York will wait,” I promised. “If you were smart enough to land an internship like that in the first place, I’m sure there will be another. Especially because you’re so passionate about it. It’s admirable. I’m not passionate about anything.” I said it with a chuckle, but the look on her face told me she wasn’t at all impressed.

  “I should be getting back in,” she finally said. “My mother may need my help.” She started to turn, but then stopped.

  “Do they know you’re here?”

  Unintentionally, I cast my eyes down as I said, “No. Don’t worry, though. They’ll know soon enough. I’ll probably be here for a few weeks myself; maybe you and I could hang out?” The words sounded odd on my lips. It was the closest I had come to asking a girl out since Megan. Most nights, I just randomly picked one out of the crowd and brought her home; ushering them out as soon as I could the next morning.

  “Your father will be glad you’re here.” She said, seeming to ignore my offer entirely. “He’s been pretty sick, from what my mother has told me.”

  Sick, he’s sick? Was that why Rosie had called me, to tell me that my father was sick? And… how sick?

  She watched my face for a moment, and I wondered if she could tell how clueless I was. If she could, she didn’t say anything before turning once more to walk away.

  Once she was gone, my thoughts were torn between her and my father. This gorgeous girl I knew I needed to know more about, and the man who had been a distant part of my life over the last decade, but who now may be sick.

  What would it mean to actually lose him too?

  Despite our strained relationship, I didn’t want my father to die. He was the only family I had left, even if we didn’t get along. And the fact that Skye had known about my father’s illness before I did made me feel like an even bigger asshole. I should have kept in contact with him. What was wrong with me? What kind of a son was I?

  I headed back to my car, wondering what in the hell I was going to do.

  Chapter Four

  Skye

  I didn’t go far after walking back into the house. Instead, I watched Caleb through a slit in the window shade, reading into the fall of his face what I had suspected the moment I spoke those words.

  He had no idea his father was sick.

  I doubted Caleb remembered it, but we had met several times as children. He was a few years older than m
e, and always completely disinterested in including me in anything he and his friends were doing. So I had often been placed at a table in the kitchen by my mother, given crayons and coloring books as Caleb and his friends ran outside.

  Just remembering it now left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  Still, I couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man. In fact, he almost resembled a male model—tall and lean, but sexy as hell. He had longish brown hair and was clean-shaven, dressed like a businessman, though I had I gotten the impression from my mother that he wasn’t much for work. He just had that look about him; confident (likely to the point of being cocky), attractive, and rich.

  Because of course someone like him would have it all.

  Without my meaning to, my brain briefly flashed on what he might look like naked; his chiselled face serving as source material for what his body might look like. I pictured the muscles leading into a ‘V’ down to his…

  Ugggg! Shaking my head, I wiped the image away. It had clearly been far too long since I last had sex. Caleb was nowhere near my type. An entitled playboy with nothing going for him beyond his money and his looks. What kind of man didn’t even know when his father was sick?

  As I peered behind me into the house, I could hear my mother working in the kitchen. Just one more reason to be irritated with Caleb; I had gone outside for a much needed moment of fresh air, and he had interrupted that.

  I wonder though…

  Peeking back out the window, he seemed long gone. I had watched the direction he walked away, and was pretty sure that I could head the opposite way, into the trees, and get a walk in without fear of running into him again.

  I heard my mother set some pots down, and wondered if she was about to come looking for me. Taking my chance, I dashed out the door again and into the trees.

  Once I was confident I was out of sight, I slowed my pace and gazed at my surroundings. In the distance, I spotted what looked like a break in the trees, so I headed in that direction to see where it led. I was delighted to find a small path I couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

  My mind wandered to Caleb again as I walked. I wondered what he was doing here, if he hadn’t known his father was sick? And had he been asking me on a date when he mentioned we might hang out? I hated to admit it, but the way he had looked at me had sent a bit of a thrill up my spine. I’d been so focused on school over the last year, there hadn’t been much time for dating. Still, I doubted Caleb was much of a “dater.” He struck me as one of those men who had conquests rather than girlfriends.

  Though, now that I thought about it… maybe being Caleb Hunt’s conquest for the summer was exactly what I needed. I certainly had no interest in dating him, but… maybe getting laid would make the summer go by faster.

  Which brought me back to New York. I had to find a job for the fall. My mother had paid for all my schooling, likely saving and stocking away for years to be able to do so. Which was probably another reason I was here; my mother had always sacrificed for me. She had spent her entire life basically acting as a servant for this rich and entitled family, just so that I could go after my dreams. Didn’t I owe it to her to be here when she wanted me to be?

  Of course, the dilemma was that if by being here, I wasted every bit of momentum I had worked for in school, was her sacrifice even worth it in the end?

  I had worked part time at a coffee shop during those days, saving up money specifically so that I could work a semester or two at an unpaid internship when I finally graduated. Now I still had that money, but no prospects. And if I went to New York and blew it all while waiting for something to come along, I wouldn’t have any reserves left to last me through the working-my-way-up-to-a-staff-position phase.

  What am I going to do?

  For just a moment, the path ahead pulled me from my thoughts. It twisted and turned in an unexpected way, and my adrenaline shot up as I followed it. I loved adventures and investigating new things. The thrill of the hunt was what I lived for. I giggled to myself a the thought of my play on words. I felt butterflies in my stomach at the opportunity of discovering something out there beyond the tree line; maybe something that would make staying worthwhile.

  That was what I loved about journalism. Every day brought fresh ideas, new stories, and mysteries yet to be revealed. It was all about discovery and bringing new information to light. It was why I needed to be in New York.

  I sighed. If I kept thinking about this, about what I had stupidly walked away from, I would probably lose my mind. But seriously, what had I been thinking?!?

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to focus on the path. I followed it to the end, where I found a small clearing and an old gazebo. It was a very charming spot, quaint and peaceful. Inside the gazebo was a bench, beautiful and mysterious, as if it had long been forgotten by someone.

  Natural light streamed through the trees, leaving shadows everywhere. Whoever built this place had certainly been a bit of a romantic, as everything about it was straight out of some Jane Austin novel. I wondered if it had been Gordon that built for his wife before she died. Or if it had always been here, lasting throughout the generations of this family. I imagined what it would be like to sneak away in the middle of the night to meet a lover in a place like this. Two people not wanting to be discovered, meeting to explore their love for one another. I had always had a hard time believing that love like that really existed. But maybe this place, this pathway, was evidence that I was wrong. Somebody had built this little hideaway, and even if it hadn’t been meant for lovers, it was obvious that a lot of love had been put into it.

  Just then, I noticed footprints by the bench. They looked relatively fresh. Maybe this spot wasn’t completely forgotten after all. I wondered who the footprints belonged to, and who had been here last. My investigative side kicked in, and I bent down to look more closely at them. They were too small to be a man’s footprints. But Gordon was the only family member still living here. What woman on his staff would have known about the spot and had the time in her day to visit it? It would have to be someone who was familiar not just with the home, but the grounds as well. Could they be my mother’s footprints? Would she really come to such an intimate and private place in the midst of her busy days?

  It seemed a little inappropriate to me, but then again, my mother had always seemed like family to the Hunts, so maybe things were different. Maybe a part of her considered this place home; I suppose it had been her home for many years now.

  The more I contemplated the situation, the more I realized I could easily picture my mother in a hidden place like this, dreaming of love. I’d never known her to be with anyone in a romantic way over the years, and I had often wondered if she was ever lonely. Surely she must be. My father had died before I was even old enough to remember him, and I’d always wondered why she’d never dated after. She certainly could have remarried at some point as I was growing up, but she never did. And now it seemed like she probably never would.

  I looked around the gazebo, loving the fact that it was a private little place set away from the house. I pictured myself writing here, maybe putting together a portfolio of pieces I could use to help me land another internship. Just picturing it induced a flood of ideas; perhaps this spot would turn into my very own oasis, a muse by location.

  As I scanned the area, I noticed a piece of paper lying on the ground. Assuming it was trash left behind by the recent visitor, I reached down to pick it up. It was folded in half, and I opened it to find a handwritten message, “You promised. Please don’t ever forget.”

  What on earth? The paper was signed with a simple calligraphic G.H. and nothing else. It felt slightly damp, probably the result of the overnight dew, though it couldn’t have been out here long.

  G.H. had to be Gordon Hunt, right? But who had he written the note to, and what promise was he referencing? Ohhhh, a mystery. I grinned as I wondered if I could solve it.

  Did Gordon have a lover? Or a friend he was locked into some kind of agreeme
nt with? When I read it again, I could see it being taken a number of ways. So how could I figure out who it was meant for, or what it was about? Journalism was all about discovering things through research. I bet if I did enough research, I could find the answers to my questions. At the very least, it would give me something to do.

  Of course, what if the note had been intended for my mother?

  I put the paper back down, suddenly feeling as if I had invaded a personal moment that wasn’t meant for my eyes. Still, as I backed out of the clearing and headed down the path toward the house, I couldn’t stop speculating about the contents of the note.

  Chapter Five

  Caleb

  I walked back to my car, got inside, and slowly pulled into the main drive. The house loomed over me as I sat parked, looking up at its vast expanse.

  I still didn’t want to be here. Maybe even more so because now I realized my dad was sick, and no one had bothered to tell me. That was how valued a member of this family I was.

  Sure, Rosie had made a call to me the other day, but if he was sick enough for her daughter to know about it and think it was good that I was here, then he had been sick for a while. And no one had thought to inform me.

  Of course, I hadn’t bothered to call in quite a while either. It wasn’t completely my fault, though. My father had done an excellent job of pushing me away over the years.

  Just as I was trying to build up the courage to exit my car and walk towards the house,

  Rosie came flying out of the front door. I wondered if Skye had told her I was here. Or maybe she had just seen me sitting here from out the window.

  My time to contemplate had run out. She met me as I stepped out of the car, pulling me into a hug. I smiled as she hugged me tighter. It had been a while since anyone had embraced me like that, and it felt like home. I realized in that moment that there was probably no one on earth who loved me as much as Rosie did.

  “Caleb, it’s so wonderful to see you,” she finally said, and I could hear the tears in her voice. Suddenly I felt very, very guilty. Not just for failing to return her most recent call, but for not being around over the last few years.