CHAPTER 1 WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?
WREN
I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze him- self into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun thing. His beard is a hip- ster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet, here I am, sidling up next to him.
He glances at me, eyes bleary and not really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half- empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the un co or di nated way he picks up his glass and tips it toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.
What I could really use is a cup of lavender- mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.
2 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 3
“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that’s miss-
sidering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m ing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat
actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching
place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer in there him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make
if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my my move. While he’s been sitting here, he’s turned
drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me pack- down two women, one in a dress that could’ve doubled
ing like he did the other women who approached him as a disco ball and the other in a top so low- cut, I could
earlier. almost see her navel.
He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on
“What is that?” his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant
“Cranberry and soda.” blue hue despite them almost being closed. They move
“No booze?” over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black
“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below
morning.” my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco
He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch Ball or Navel Lady.
from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smil- “That solving your prob lems?” I give him a wry grin
ing under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.
with you beside me?” His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a
I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?” chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his
“Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I face under his beard, anyway.
was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remem- “Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.”
ber my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed to night. I He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.”
should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and
then motions to me. “I wouldn’t proposition you.” creepy on my part since its half- genuine, half- contrived
I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi- affronted, comfort. “I’m so sorry.”
since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and
know.” refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think
“Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better
hot. I mean attractive. I think you’re pretty.” He tips his off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but
head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush
eyes, all four of them are lovely.” to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop
This time I laugh— for real— and point to the bottle. up the mess.
“I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for “I’m drunk,” he mumbles.
the night.” “Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, con-
He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.”
4 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 5
He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit
He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders
pulling into a furrow. “I can’t remember the code. It’s to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely
thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling
and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh
line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horren- soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoul-
dous and he keeps missing. ders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually
I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m
built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I recon- a three drink max guy.”
sider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harm- “I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I
less and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn’t pose slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and
a threat. I’m also trained in self- defense, which would wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head
fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can taller than me.
I help?” “Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomor-
He rolls his head, eyes slits as they bounce around row.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing
my face. “Please.” in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread
I take his hand between mine. The first thing I notice my arm through his, leading him away from the bar.
is how clammy it is. But beyond that, his knuckles are “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass
rough, littered with tiny scars and a few scabs, and his out right here.”
nails are jagged. He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has
“Your hands are small,” he observes as I line his set him off balance. “That’s prob ably a good idea.”
thumb up with the sensor pad and press down. He leans into me as we weave through the bar and
“Maybe yours are abnormally big,” I reply. They are stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There’s
rather large. Like basketball player hands. no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I
“You know what they say about big hands.” drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway,
I fight not to roll my eyes, but for a brief moment, I and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a
won der if what’s in his pants actually matches the rest mostly straight line to the elevators.
of him. And if he’s unkempt everywhere, not just on his “Which floor are you on?” I ask.
face. I cut that visual quickly because it makes me want “Pent house.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and
to gag. “And what do they say?” flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the
His eyes crinkle again, and he slaps his own chest. hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”
“Something about big hands, big heart.” “It’s prob ably all the alcohol sloshing around in your
I bite back my own smile. “Pretty sure you’re mixing brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the
that up with cold hands, warm heart.” last twenty feet to the dedicated pent house elevator.
His brow furrows. “ There’s a good chance.”
6 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 7
The elevator doors slide open. He pushes off the wall
“Your hands are really soft,” he mumbles. with some effort and practically tumbles inside. He
“Thanks.” catches himself on the rail and sags against the wall as
The pad flashes green, and I turn the handle. “Okay, I follow him in. I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this
here we go. Home sweet home.” right now.
“This isn’t my home,” he slurs. “My cousin’s family He doesn’t have to press a button since the elevator
owns this building. I’m crashing here until I can get the only goes to the pent house floor. As soon as we start
fuck out of New York.” moving, he groans and his shoulders curl in. “I don’t
I scan the pent house. It an eclectic combination of feel so good.”
odd art and modern furniture, like two dif fer ent tastes Please don’t let him be sick in here. If there’s one
crashed together and this is the result. Aside from that, thing I can’t deal with, it’s vomit. “You should sit.”
it’s clean to the point of looking almost like a show He slides down the wall, massive shoulders rolling
home. forward as he rests his forehead on his knees. “Tomor-
The only sign that someone is staying here is the lone row is going to suck.”
coffee cup on the table in the living room and the blan- I stay on the other side of the elevator, in case he
ket lolling like a tongue over the edge of the couch. I’m tosses his cookies. “Prob ably.”
still standing in the doorway while he sways unsteadily. It’s the longest elevator ride in the history of the
He tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, but all world. Or at least it feels that way, mostly because I’m
he succeeds in doing is setting himself off- balance. He terrified he’s going to yak. Thankfully, we make it to the
nearly stumbles into the wall. pent house floor incident- free. On the down side, now
“Thanks for your help,” he says. that he’s in a sitting position, getting him to stand again
He’s back in his pent house, which means my job is is a challenge. I have to press the open door button three
technically done. However, I’m worried he’s going to times before I can fi nally coax him to his feet.
hurt himself, or worse, asphyxiate on his own vomit in In the time between leaving the bar and making it to
the middle of the night, and I’ll be the one catching heat the pent house floor, the effects of the alcohol seems to
if that happens. I’ll also feel bad if something happens have compounded. He’s beyond sloppy, using the wall
to him. I blow out a breath, annoyed that this is how my and me for support as we make our way to his door.
night is ending. There are two pent house apartments up here. One on
I heave his arm over my shoulder and slip mine either side of the foyer.
around his waist again, leading him through the living He leans against the doorjamb, once again fighting to
room toward what seems to be the kitchen. There’s a find the coordination to get his thumb to the sensor pad.
sheet of paper on the island, but other wise it’s spotless. I don’t ask if he needs my assistance this time since it’s
“What’re you doing?” he asks. quite clear he does. Once again I take his clammy hand
We pause when we reach the threshold. “Which way in mine.
is your bedroom?”
8 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 9
He looks slowly from right to left. “Not that way.” He
Moorehead Media fortune and all the crap that comes points to the kitchen. It’s very state of the art.
with it. And there’s a lot of it. I guide him in the opposite direction down the hall,
One eye becomes a slit. “ Every time I open my eyes, until he stumbles through a doorway, into a large but
the room starts spinning again.” simply furnished bedroom. Once we reach the edge of
“If you drink this and take these, it might help.” I the bed, he drops his arm, spins around— it’s drunkenly
hold up the glass of water and the pills. graceful— and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide
“ ’Kay.” It takes three tries for him to sit up. He tries as if he’s planning on making snow angels. “The room
to pick the pills up out of my palm, but keeps missing is spinning.”
my hand. “Would you like me to get you a glass of water and
“Just open your mouth.” possibly a painkiller for the headache you’ll likely have
He lifts his head. “How do I know you’re not trying in the morning?” I’m already heading for the bathroom.
to roofie me?” “Might be a good idea,” he mumbles.
I hold up the tablet in front of his face. “They don’t I find a glass on the edge of bathroom vanity— which
say roofie, so you’re safe.” is clean, apart from a brand new toothbrush and tube of
He tries to focus on the pill and then my face. I have toothpaste. I run the tap, wishing I had a plastic tumbler,
my doubts he’s successful at either. because I’m not sure he’s in any state to deal with break-
His tongue peeks out to drag across his bottom lip. able objects. I check the medicine cabinet, find the pills
“The cameras in the hall will catch you if you steal my I need, shake out two tablets, and return to the bedroom.
wallet.” He’s right where I left him; sprawled out faceup on
I laugh at that. “I’m not going to steal your wallet, a massive king- size bed, legs hanging off the end, one
I’m going to put you to bed.” shoe on the floor beside him. I cross over and set the
“Hmm.” He nods slowly and opens his mouth. water and the pills on the nightstand.
I drop the pills on his tongue and hand him the glass, I make a quick trip back to the bathroom and grab
which he drains in three long swallows. “Would you the empty wastebasket from beside the toilet in case his
like me to refill that?” night is a lot rougher than he expects.
“That’d be nice.” He holds out the glass, but when I tap his knee, crossing my fin gers he’ll be easy to
I try to pull away, he covers my hands with his. His rouse. “Hey, I have painkillers for you.”
shockingly blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment He makes a noise, but doesn’t move other wise.
they’re clear and compelling. Despite how out of it he I tap his knee again. “Lincoln, you need to wake up
is, and how much he resembles a mountain man, or long enough to take these.” I cringe. I called him by
maybe because of it, I have a hard time looking away. name, and he didn’t offer it to me while we were down
“I really wish I wasn’t this messed up. You smell nice. I at the bar. Here’s hoping he’s too drunk to notice or re-
bet your hair is pretty when it’s not pulled up like that.” member. His name is Lincoln Moorehead, heir to the
He flops a hand toward my bun. “Not that it’s not pretty
10 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 11
like that, but I bet if you took it down, it would be wavy
my head. “I need you to roll onto your side, please,” I and soft. The kind of hair you want to bury your face in
say loudly. and run your fin gers through.” He exhales a long breath.
Nothing. Not even a grunt. “I haven’t had sex in a really long time, but I feel like I
I pull on his shoulder, but he’s dead weight. Leaning would have zero finesse if I tried right now.”
over him, I make a fist and give him a light jab approxi- I smile and turn away. In the time it takes for me to
mately where his kidney is. “Lincoln, roll over.” refill his glass, he’s managed to get one arm out of his
And roll he does, knocking me down and turn- suit jacket. He’s made it most of the way onto the bed,
ing over so he’s right on top of me. We’re face- to- face. feet still hanging off the end, but he’s on his back, which
Good God, he’s heavy. His bones must be made of lead. is not ideal.
He shifts, one leg coming over both of mine. I push at I set the glass on his nightstand, along with a second
his knee, but his arm swings out and he wraps himself set of painkillers, which I’m assuming he’ll need in the
around me on a low groan, pinning my arm to my side. morning, and give him another nudge. “Hey.”
He’s like a giant human blanket. This time I get nothing in the way of a response. I
“How did this become my life?” I say to the ceiling, poke him twice more, but still nothing. He can’t sleep
because the man lying on top of me is apparently out on his back with how drunk he is. He needs to be on his
cold. side or his stomach with a wastebasket close by.
I try to wriggle free, I even yell his name a bunch of I can’t in good conscience leave him like this. My
time before I give up and wait for him to roll off me. options are limited. I shake my head as I kick off my
And while I wait for that to happen, I replay the con- shoes and climb up onto the bed with him. This is not
versation with his mother, Gwendolyn Moorehead, that at all what I expected to be doing when I brought him
took place forty- eight hours ago and put me in this awk- back up here.
ward position under neath her drunk son. I stare down at his sleeping form. His lips are parted,
I’d been standing in Fredrick’s office, still digesting they’re nice lips, full and plump, even though they’re
the fact that he was dead. It was shocking that a mas- mostly obscured by his overgrown beard. His hair has
sive heart attack had taken him, since he was always so started to unravel from its man bun, wisps hanging in
healthy and full of life. his face. He has long lashes, really long actually, and
Gwendolyn, his wife— now a widow— stood stoic they’re thick and dark, the kind women pay a lot of
behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in the center. money for. His nose is straight and his cheekbones—
“I’m so very for your loss, Gwendolyn. If there’s any- what I can see of them— are high. With a haircut, a
thing I can do. What ever you need.” The words poured beard trim or complete shave, and a new suit that actu-
out, typical condolences, but sincerely meant because I ally fits, I can imagine how refined he’ll look. More like
couldn’t imagine how my mother and I would feel if we a Moorehead than a mountain man lumberjack. I shake
lost my father.
12 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 13
Gwendolyn’s fin gers danced at her throat as she
necessarily wanted, and I was prepared to politely reject cleared it. “Thank you,” she whispered brokenly and
the offer, but my mother asked me to take the position as dabbed at her eyes. “I appreciate your kindness, Wren.”
a favor to her since she’s a friend of Gwendolyn. “Let me know what you want me to handle, and I’ll
Beyond that, my relationship with my mother has take care of it.”
been strained for the past de cade. When I was a teen- She took a deep breath, composing herself before she
ager, I discovered information that changed our rela- lifted her gaze to mine. “I need your help.”
tionship forever. Taking the job at Moorehead was in “Of course, what can I do?”
part, my way of trying to help repair our fractured bond. “My oldest son, Lincoln, will be returning to New
The financial compensation, which was ridiculously York for the funeral, and he’ll be staying to help run the
high, also didn’t hurt. Besides, Gwendolyn is on nearly com pany.”
every single charitable foundation committee in the city, A hot feeling crept up my spine. I’d heard very little
and since that’s where my interests lie, it seemed like a about Lincoln. Every thing from Armstrong’s mouth
smart career move. was scathing, Fredrick’s passing references had been
“Since you’re already working with Armstrong and with fondness, and my interactions with Gwendolyn had
things seem to be settled there for the most part, I felt been minimal as it was Fredrick himself who hired me,
it would make sense to keep you on here at Moorehead so this was first I’ve heard of Lincoln through her. “I
to work with Lincoln. He’s been away from civilized see. And how can I help with that?” I could only imag-
society for several years. He’s nothing like his brother, ine how difficult Armstrong would be if he had to share
very altruistic and focused on his job, rather than recre- the attention with someone else, particularly his brother.
ational pursuits, so he should be easier to manage.” “Transitioning Lincoln.” Gwendolyn rounded her
I fought a scoff at the last bit, since “recreational desk. “ You’ve managed to turn around Armstrong’s rep-
pursuits” was a reference to the fact that Armstrong utation in the media during the time you’ve been here. I
couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped when it came to know it hasn’t been easy, and Armstrong can be difficult
women. to manage.”
Gwendolyn pushed a set of papers toward me. “It Difficult to manage is the understatement of the
would only be for another six months. And of course, entire century where Armstrong is concerned. He’s a
your salary would reflect the double work load, since cocksucker of epic proportions. He’s also a misogynis-
you’ll still have to maintain Armstrong in some capac- tic, narcissistic bastard that I’ve had to deal with for the
ity while you assist Lincoln in transitioning into his role past eight months on a nearly daily basis— sometimes
here.” even on weekends.
“I’m sorry, what—” My job as his “handler” has been to reshape his
Gwendolyn pulled me into an awkward hug, hold- horrendous reputation after his involvement in several
ing onto my shoulders when she stepped back. Her eyes scandalous events became very public. It wasn’t a job I
were glassy and red- rimmed. “You have no idea how
14 HELENA HUNTING
much I appreciate your willingness to take this on. As soon as your contract is fulfilled, you have my word that I’ll give you a glowing recommendation to whichever organ ization you’d like. Your mother told me you’re in- terested in starting your own foundation. I’ll certainly help you in any way I’m able if you’ll stay on a little longer for me.” She dabbed at her corner of her eyes and sniffed, then tapped the papers on the desk. “I already have an agreement ready and an NDA, of course. Every-
thing is tabbed for signing.”
I’m pulled back into the pre sent when Lincoln shifts
and one of his huge hands slides up my side and lands on my breast. At the same time, he pushes his nose against my neck, beard tickling my collar bone. He mut- ters something unintelligible against my skin.
I’m momentarily frozen in shock. Under any other
It feels circumstances, I would knee him in the balls. However,
way ou he’s not conscious or even semi- aware that he’s fondling
Fuckin me. Thankfully, now that he’s moved, I have some wig-
Tha gle room.
Tha I elbow him in the ribs, which prob ably hurts me
me into more than it does him. At least it gets him to move away
My enough that I can slip out from under him. I roll off the
phone bed and pop back up, smoothing out my now- wrinkled
I’ve dress. My stupid nipples are perky, thanks to the atten-
seven. tion the right one just got. Prob ably because it’s the most
I pe action I’ve seen since I started working for the Moore-
The sli heads eight months ago.
feel lik I hit the lights on the way out of the bedroom, pause
sunbea in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and check out the
It’s sheet of paper on the counter. It’s a list of impor tant de-
when tails regarding the pent house, including the entry code.
manda I nab my purse, snap a pic, and head for the elevators.
and a I have a feeling this is going to be a long six months.
with.
033-79194_ch01_1P.indd 14-15
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Helena Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
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