Page 41 of The Revenge Agenda

My friends throw out some more ideas, and Molly takes notes as they talk. I try to act interested and involved, but some of the things they throw out there are college-level pranks, and I can’t see Hunter being interested in any of that.

We wanted revenge.

We have a good plan.

But if Hunter doesn’t want me, I’ll let it go; sexual attraction isn’t something you can force.

What feels like a second later, he stretches his hands out over his head. “Well, thank you. I think we’ve got some good ideas to go over.”

“Wait, you’re going already?”

He turns to me with a small smile. “We’ve been here for an hour.”

“Have we?”

The smile widens. “Time flies when you’re plotting revenge.”

And that might be the case, but I’m not ready for him to go yet. All morning, I’d gotten worked up in my head about my friends and him and how it would all mesh together, but now he’s here … it’s pissing me off we didn’t get a moment alone. Well, other than that moment where he found me ass up on the stairs, and I don’t really count half-naked embarrassments as part of our relationship. Even if that’s what started us in the first place.

“Are you leaving because you’re done with this conversation or because you have plans?”

Hunter eyes me curiously. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

Nothing, actually. All I know is that I don’t want Hunter to go. It’s Saturday morning, we’re not back at work until Monday, and the emails are all fun and great, but I’m getting a kick out of talking to his actual face instead of my screen, and I want some more of that.

We could hunt down Kismet the cat and see if Hunter has any more luck getting the furball to love him than the rest of us. Or we could do naked yoga with Madden. Go out for lunch? I gnaw on my bottom lip as I flick through ideas and dismiss them just as quickly.

Then I think of my atelier. It’s nothing fancy, and he’ll probably be confused, but it’s something I know a lot about and will give us talking points. Just us. Maybe help him thaw to me a little more.

“You like clothes.”

His gaze travels the room before landing on me again. “Well, yes …”

“Follow me.” I jump out of my chair and feel Hunter follow me. “Thanks for all the help, guys!”

“Do you want your list?” Molly asks, holding it up, and I pluck it from his grip as I pass. This will come in handy when I want to burn something later. TPing Ian’s house? Sending a baseball-bat-sized dildo to his office? Fuck me. The asshole would probably use it to spite us.

We climb the stairs and follow the hallways deep into the house until we reach the room at the back that I’ve set up as my atelier. It’s got soaring ceilings and high windows that filter in the afternoon light, sending everything a burned rose color. The room is like a deep inhale after being in a musty closet for too long. I love it.

“What’s this?” Hunter’s deep voice shivers through the quiet space.

“My safe place.”

“Safe?”

I approach my workstation and run my hands over the fabric I left lying there. “I like to hide here sometimes. When my thoughts get too much. Or the world gets too busy. It’s quiet, and the others know that when I’m in here, I need space. We all have our coping mechanisms. Christian and his blanket burritos, Seven and his late-night internet holes.”

“I don’t know what either of those things mean.”

“You don’t have to. But we do. All of us. They’re my family, and I really hope you don’t hate them because I love them more than words, even if I don’t understand them all the time.”

“It’s cool that you have that.”

“Yeah?”

Hunter nods, hands in his pockets, strolling closer to look at the suit I half abandoned that’s pinned to a bust. “None of my friends have contacted me since I moved here.”

“Have you contacted them?”

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