Page 63 of Sweet Poison

She beams at me, clearly pleased with her work. “I’m glad you approve, Mr. Hunt. Your guest is very lucky,” she says, her tone respectful and warm.

“I’m the lucky one,” I mutter as I keep playing with the knife absently.

With a quick nod and a knowing smile, she disappears back into the flow of the restaurant, leaving me alone to wait for my guest.

I check my phone, ignoring the countless notifications undoubtedly from the shitstorm going on back in the States. I glance at the time— still early.

Why the fuck am I so damn nervous? The feeling is strange and only happens with her. That damn fairy and her witchy charms.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I?—

Suddenly, the sweetest voice cuts through the buzz of the restaurant. “I’m sorry if I’m late. I didn’t think anything in my luggage was proper for the occasion.” Her voice is so soft it barely registers, yet I catch every word.

I always do.

Putting the phone down, I look up, and the air is knocked out of me. Willow stands before me, looking shy yet breathtakingly beautiful in a skin-tight, almost see-through dress that shimmers in soft shades of pink, green, and silver. The thin fabric ties delicately at the neck, exposing the top of her ample breasts making her look like a real-life naughty fairy. Then there is that damn hair of hers that makes me crazy. Her long brown curls tumble down her back in a playful half-ponytail, framing her stunning face perfectly.

I’m taken aback when I notice she’s wearing makeup. Not too much, but enough that her eyelashes look thick and long framed by black. Her cheeks have a soft peach hue, and her natural plump lips look fuller and glossy.

Fuck, so damn beautiful.

Was she always this stunning?

Yes.

For a moment, I’m speechless, unable to find my voice. “Fucking beautiful,” I finally manage to say, the word falling to short compare to her beauty.

A blush creeps across her cheeks, spreading to her neck as she glances down at her out of this world sexy as fuck fairy get up. “T-thank you,” she stammers, the pink deepening, making her all the more enchanting to me. It’s strange… even with theflickering candles and twinkling fairy lights all around us, she's still the one who truly lights up the room.

Rising from my seat, I pull out a chair for her. She smiles shyly, her blue eyes lighting up, and takes a place at the table looking perfectly at ease. As I settle back into my own seat, I watch her survey the table with an infectious grin, “I like this,” she says, her voice sweet and melodic.

“The candy?” I ask, noticing as her fingers play with the candy canes.

Willow meets my gaze, her eyes sparkling. “I do like those, but I meant the whole tropical Christmas explosion all over the hotel. Was it your idea?”

I nod once, hoping she doesn’t press for more. As if sensing my reluctance, she shifts the topic. “Thank you for asking me to join you tonight.” She brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her smile radiating joy. Fuck that smile. It’s a sight I could lose myself in forever— lose myself in her forever. In each little detail—the way her hands move gracefully as she communicates with me, her sweet voice, the gentle lilt of her laughter— it keeps drawing me closer to her and I’m helpless against it.

I clear my throat, at a loss for words, and nod again, feeling like my mind turns to mush whenever she’s near. Just then, the waitress returns, bringing with her the a la carte menu, her smile much the same as Willow, warm and kind.

Willow’s fingers brush against mine briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through me as we both take the menus. She opens it, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration as she scans the large variety of options. I can’t help but watch her, captivated as she reads the names of the plates aloud.

“Everything looks amazing, and I appreciate that there are so many vegetarian options,” she signs, glancing up at me with those bright, doe eyes. I nod, the waitress stands by, patiently waiting for our order. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spicedcider drifts through the air, making my stomach growl. “What do you recommend?” she signs again.

It hits me then—she's using sign language instead of her voice. As of lately, she speaks freely with me, her laughter filling the air like music, and her words melting my heart. But with strangers, she retreats into herself, and it makes me furious that she still feels embarrassed of her disability. Fuck, that. There is not a single part of her that isn't perfect.

Clearing my throat, I say, “You should definitely try themoqueca.” I watch as she frowns, scanning the menu for the dish. Reaching over, I point to where it is listed and explain, “It’s a delicious Brazilian stew made with vegetables, coconut milk, and spices.”

“I do love me some veggies, coconut milk and spices.” She smiles wide and gestures with her hands, asking, “What’s in it?”

I can’t help but smile at her curiosity and excitement over some soup. “It usually has bell peppers, tomatoes, and onions, all simmered together with fresh herbs. Sometimes, they add plantains or squash for a touch of sweetness. It’s served with rice, and honestly, you won’t ever taste anything quite like it.”

She nods, then licks her plump lips making my groin tighten. Fuck. She has no idea what she does to me. “That sounds delicious,” she signs back, her excitement mirrored in the sparkle of her eyes. I’ve never met anyone who feels happy and excited over the little things until her. The sight warms my heart.

Willow glances down at the menu, then meets my gaze as she signs, “What are you having?”

So damn sweet…

I bite back a smile and without breaking eye contact, I gently hand both menus to the waitress. “I’ll have thepicanha,” I say, my voice steady. “It’s a flavorful cut of beef, grilled to perfection. Served withchimichurriand some roasted veggies on the side.”

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