It was around 4:30 in the evening when Hunter came to pick her up.
Mirabella was curled up on the living room sofa, half-interested in a random show flickering on the television. The sound of a car outside drew her attention. She got up from where she was sitting, curiosity prickling at her chest, and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain aside just slightly, her breath caught for the briefest second.
A sleek white car had pulled up in front of Hilda’s house, the kind of car that screamed danger. And sure enough, it was Hunter.
Her stomach did a little flip when she saw him step out of the car, tall, broad-shouldered, freshly dressed, and sensual in every movement as though the world belonged to only him. His dark shirt clung to his muscled body, the first few buttons were open just
