Chapter 142
Hunter Wilde's call came while Ethan Smith and Lucy White were watching a newly released film in a private theater. Both phones were silenced, so neither noticed the incoming call.
After the credits rolled, Ethan glimpsed Hunter's dinner invitation in their group chat. Deeming it unimportant, he didn't respond.
Fate had other plans—they ran into each other at the restaurant.
"Had my phone silenced this afternoon," Ethan explained casually, his gaze sweeping over the trio. "How'd you find us here?"
Hunter grinned, thumbing his own chest. "Spotted your back when we entered. Got your booth number from the host." They frequented this establishment and knew the owner well.
Ethan nodded. "Rain check."
The dismissal couldn't have been clearer.
The three men exchanged glances. Since when did Ethan prioritize romance over friendship? The old Ethan would've invited them to join immediately.
Evan York tactfully tugged Hunter's sleeve. "Sure, next time." Best not interfere with the man's pursuit—unless they wanted future retaliation.
David Wilson's gaze lingered on Lucy. He'd initially admired the woman who'd saved Ethan, especially after his sister Emily's glowing reviews. But since his friend had staked his claim, David knew better than to intrude.
"We'll leave you to it," he said with polished courtesy.
Hunter turned to go, then froze at David's address. "Master Lucy?"
"Miss White is a metaphysics expert," David clarified. "She saved Emily."
Hunter's eyes lit up as he plopped into the seat opposite Lucy. "You can really do divination?"
Lucy's lips curved. "Can't speak for others, but I can." She studied Hunter briefly. "As a courtesy to Ethan, I'll give you one reading."
"If provoked today, walk away. Otherwise—" her fingertip tapped the tabletop, "—blood calamity."
Hunter scoffed. "Seriously?"
"Your choice to believe." Lucy speared a slice of sashimi with deliberate grace. "If bottles start flying, protect your head."
"Alright, I'll play along." Hunter rose with a dismissive chuckle, winking at Ethan. "Later!"
"Remember her words," Ethan said suddenly.
Hunter waved him off, thinking love truly made men irrational.
After they left, Ethan asked, "How bad?"
"Minor injuries." Lucy accepted the shrimp he'd shelled. "A scratch at worst."
Ethan nodded. The idiot could use some humbling.
As seafood dishes arrived, Lucy's eyes crinkled with delight. "Ethan, you're a secret gourmet, aren't you?"
"Know a few decent places." He cracked a crab claw. "I'll take you next time."
Accepting the crabmeat, Lucy felt an odd warmth. Since their island ordeal, Ethan treated her with inexplicable familiarity that put her at ease.
Their meal concluded with another knock.
Hunter reappeared, sporting a bloody scratch and bandaged arm.
Ethan arched a brow. "Couldn't resist?"
"That bastard Felix Von started it!" Hunter grimaced, then turned shining eyes to Lucy. "You're psychic!"
At the restroom, his rival had provoked him. When Hunter retaliated verbally, the man smashed a bottle—but thanks to Lucy's warning, he'd shielded his head, taking only an arm wound.
"Sent the jerk to jail already." Touching his injury, Hunter fixed Lucy with an intense stare. "Oracle, another reading?"