Hunter stares at me with inquisitive eyes as we stroll down the street. Based on my swaying gait, the mystery liquor has fully absorbed into my bloodstream. Under normal circumstances, I would limit my intake to four drinks over the course of the night, that's my magic number. Nothing bad ever happens at four.

Whatever Beardy McEarring face gave me earlier has made me exceed that limit. Once I surpass .08, my inner Kimmy likes to emerge. I've been trying to walk two paces in front of Hunter to avoid talking but he keeps catching up. The last thing I want to do right now is say something I'll regret.

Hunter probably already thinks I'm crazy based on the Jason fiasco. God, I can't believe that happened. I know that Jason wouldn't have actually hit me. He was probably aiming for the peanuts the whole time. That's just his M.O. Yell and make enough noise to warrant some attention. I wish I didn't know this about him. It makes me sad that Kimmy wasted seven months dealing with this shit.

Hunter catches up again. His hand taps my shoulder. "Are you ok, Lilah?"

"I'm just dandy!" I swing my arm up and hit Hunter with my purse. Oops. "Why do you ask?" I ask sheepishly.

Hunter rubs his chin. "Well, you haven't said a word for four blocks." Oh, that is so pot calling the kettle black.

"Maybe I'm taking a page out of the old Hunter Carlisle playbook," I tease. "Am I mysterious to you now? Do I make you want to know more?"

Hunter's lips curl up in amusement. "I have a playbook, do I?"

"Maybe." I shrug and start skipping down the block. Hunter jogs beside me.

"Are you sure you don't want to drive to Ricky's?" Hunter looks behind him to the car that's apparently been following us since we left the bar. "My driver's already here."

My eyes widen. "You have a driver?"

"Yes, I have a driver. Should I tell him to stop?" Hunter holds out his hand and the black Lincoln halts immediately.

"Whoa, obedient," I observe.

Hunter lowers his hand. "Shall we get in?"

I tilt my head up and look around. "Sure, my star's not out anyways." Based on his facial expression I've clearly piqued his interest, but I don't explain.

The Lincoln pulls up beside us and Hunter opens the door for me. The brown leather interior feels cold against my bare thigh as I slide inside. I tug at my skirt to keep it from rising.

"Good evening Mr. Carlisle." The driver tips his cap as Hunter closes the car door.

"Harry." Hunter nods. "To Ricky's, please."

Harry's forehead creases. "Ricky's? The hot dog shack?" I look away embarrassed.

"Yes," Hunter replies unfazed.

"Right away, sir." Harry adjusts the shifter, which for some reason is behind the steering wheel, and starts driving.

Hunter turns to face me. "So, a new job?"

"Yeah, I start next Monday!" I gush. "Honestly, if Jack didn't set up that interview, I'd never get a job at GE."

Hunter's jaw clenches as his eyes narrow. "GE?" he asks slowly.

"Oh, Global Elite Solutions. Seriously, your brother is the best." Hunter's chest rises.

"Which division?" Hunter rakes his hand through his lustrous ebony-brown hair.

"Marketing," I answer. "So, how do you and Jack know Marice?"

Hunter's jaw relaxes. "Marice is an old family friend. My mother went to school with her in Georgia."

"Oh, so that's the connection!" I muse. "Anyways, yeah. I'm really excited to start! I hope my boss likes me."

"I'm sure she will," Hunter murmurs as he turns to look out the window. I glance over his shoulder; there's a beat up silver car parked by the side of the road. "Beauty," Hunter praises.

"But it's so old... and dingy," I comment. Hunter darts his head towards me.

"That is a late 50's Gullwing," Hunter explains. Should I know what that is?

"A gull what?"

"A Gullwing. Mercedes Benz 300 SL, one of the best sports cars ever made." Hunter looks disappointed by my lack of useless car knowledge.

I roll my eyes. "So, you're a car guy?"

"I suppose you can say that." A half smile appears on his face as he leans into my ear. "I have other interests as well," Hunter whispers.

Holy shit.

I nibble on my lip as he reclines. Other interests? Please don't let it be some pervy Fifty Shades of Grey shit.

I examine Hunter intently. "Are these other interests... normal?"

"Normal varies from person to person, do you not agree?"

"Semantics," I quip. "Let me rephrase, could you discuss your 'interests' in a public setting?"

Hunter smirks. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're just saying things to make me nervous."

Did I really just say that?

"I make you nervous?"

Shit.

"No." I blush and quickly turn away from Hunter mortified. Can you sue a bartender? There must be some sort of law about infliction of emotional pain or something!

"We're here, sir," Harry announces as he puts the car in park. Oh thank God. I need some fresh air. As soon as we're parked, I open the door and bolt out of the car nearly running into oncoming traffic.

"Lilah!" Hunter shouts from across the car, his eyes full of disbelief. "Don't go and kill yourself now."

I scowl sarcastically at Hunter and walk around the car towards the stand. Hunter's laugh echoes behind me. He is enjoying this!

Ricky's is a tiny rusty cart on wheels. Most New York tourists wouldn't give it another thought, but the locals know better. Technically, it should be called Ricky Junior's since his son owns it now.

"Miss Delilah!" Ricky Senior exclaims. "I haven't seen you for so long dear, how are you?" Ricky glances over at Hunter.

"Hi Ricky! I know, it's been a while. I'm good. How've you been? Where's RJ?" I ask.

"RJ wanted to go watch that fight that was on tonight. So, here I am! He's going to be sorry that he missed you though!" Ricky starts grilling up my usual.

"Do you want one? They're really good," I ask Hunter.

"Sure."

Hunter starts to pull out his wallet. I try to stop him by placing my hand on his front pocket. Hunter clears his throat as his eyes light up. Too close! Too close! I drop my hand and turn back to face Ricky.

"Two please," I squeak. Ricky nods and continues grilling.

"You're very forward," Hunter teases. My mouth drops.

"Hunter, I was merely reaching for your wallet," I state firmly.

"Wallets generally are situated on the sides of one's pants. Your hand traveled a little further...East."

Time to die.

I'm tempted to go back and actually throw myself into oncoming traffic. I can't even look at him right now.

"Alright, for you dear that will be five dollars," Ricky says as he places our food on the ledge.

"I'll get it!" I dig into my purse and fish out a wrinkled five dollar bill. "I owe you for the coffee, anyways."

Shit. Why did I mention that?

Must. Stop. Talking.

Do they make muzzles for humans? I'll have to Google that later.

"Coffee?" Hunter taunts as he grabs both hot dogs and walks over to the yellow and red lawn chairs and drags over a plastic white table.

I grab a hot dog off the plate and stuff it into my face. "Mmm," I mumble. "So good. Eat, eat!" I lift the other one close to Hunter's face.

Maybe he doesn't remember buying me a coffee. Or maybe he does and he's just being a dick. Oh, how embarrassing. I hope he doesn't bring it up again. I take another large comforting bite.

Hunter eyes the massive bratwurst. "Do you come here often?" Oh a normal question, how nice.

"Hmm...I used to," I say as I chew, lifting my hand quickly to cover my mouth. "This was my Dad's favourite place."

"It's not anymore?" Hunter asks as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"He passed away a year and a half ago. It's just not the same coming here without him." I fiddle with my napkin. "They actually introduced a veggie dog when my dad had to stop eating meat, and when he passed, Ricky renamed it the 'Reggie' dog." I point to the menu board.

Hunter glances over and then looks back at me with sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry Lilah, I didn't mean to-"

"It's ok," I reassure him. "So, do you like it?"

"Yes, it's very tangy."

"That's Ricky's secret sauce. I've been trying to figure it out for years. I think it's a mixture of mustard, horseradish and lemon. I tried to recreate it at home but to no avail."

"If you bring me a sample I can ask Jack to run it through the Mass Spec."

I peer up at Hunter and laugh. "Doesn't that equipment cost millions of dollars? I don't think Jack can use it to test the contents of condiments."

Hunter shrugs. "I don't think his boss would mind."

I grab our empty plates and toss them into the overflowing garbage can. At least business seems to be booming. Ricky waves goodbye as Hunter and I walk towards the corner of the street.

"Harry's around the corner. Can I drop you off at home?" Hunter asks, typing on his phone. I nod.

"So, what do you do? As a job?" I ask Hunter as the Lincoln pulls up. I thought only people in movies had town cars.

"I work in healthcare," Hunter replies as we greet Harry again. "My whole family does."

"Really?" I ask, wiping my fingers against the ends of my skirt trying to remove any remaining grease. I don't want to leave smudges on his leather seats. "Doing what?"

Maybe he wasn't joking about the Mass Spec.

"Mostly biomedical research," Hunter answers nonchalantly.

"So, you're a scientist then?" He doesn't look like someone who spends hours staring into a microscope.

Hunter laughs. "No, I'm not a scientist. I handle the finances." Oh, that makes more sense.

"What's 24 times 13?" I ask quickly.

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"You must be good with numbers if you're in finance. So, what's 24 times 13?" I cross my arms and lean back.

Hunter smirks and places his index finger on my thigh. "312," he answers as he draws the numbers slowly across my skin. My whole body tingles and I squeeze my legs closer together. "Am I right?" Hunter asks in a hushed tone.

"I-I don't actually know..." I stutter.

Hunter leans towards me and tucks a loose hair behind my ear, lightly dragging his finger down the length of my neck. "I guess you'll just have to trust me," he softly whispers.

A lump forms in my throat and I'm unable to speak. Say something! I open my mouth and a small stream of muffled giggles escapes. That's not words!

My eye catches the lit up 'open' sign of the bodega I live above.

Anxiety and anticipation rush to my belly as Hunter leads me to my front door, his palm pressing on the low of my back. The street light flickers softly as my shaky hand tries to insert the key into the lock. Hunter wraps his hand around mine and helps guide the key into the hole.

"Can I see you again, Lilah?" Hunter asks in a whisper, his thumb gently stroking my fingers.

"Mhm," I whimper.

Hunter twists open the front door handle and I take a tentative step inside. Is he going to follow me upstairs?

"Good night, Miss Sterling." Hunter runs his hand through his hair and starts to walk back to the town car.

"Goodnight," I manage to say before closing the door.

How does he know my last name? Did I tell him?

I fall on my bed fully clothed and close my eyes. Tonight was such a rollercoaster... but, God I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Well, maybe minus the middle part with the flying peanuts. I wonder when he'll call me?

I sit up and open my eyes dramatically. Oh, my God, he can't call me! We never exchanged phone numbers! Oh, that's so awkward. Maybe I'll tell Kimmy to give Jack my number so he can give it to Hunter. Mmm... No. That seems a little desperate.

Oh! Maybe he'll find me in the Yellow Pages. Do those even exist anymore? Would I even be listed? At least he knows my last name, so if I am listed he could find me. But what if he looks for a 'Lilah' and I'm listed under 'DElilah'. No, he's smart enough to figure that out. How many Delilah Sterling's could possibly live in New York?

I grab my phone and Google "how common is the name Delilah Sterling". As I'm scrolling through the results a text appears on the top of my phone screen. I don't recognize the number.

I look forward to seeing you again.

Hunter? I text back

Who is this?

I bite my lip as I watch the text bubble ebb and flow.

Hunter. Were you expecting someone else?

My heart does a somersault and I rest against my headboard.

No... but how did you get my number?

Hunter replies back with a photo of a little black card balancing on his..knee? I zoom in. Oh my God. It's my print-at-home business card. It must have fallen out of my purse the first night he gave me a ride home. I laugh.

Sly

Hunter replies.

Like a fox. Sleep well.

That night I fall asleep dreaming of Hunter's "other" interests.