CHAPTER TEN
Newman had several weaknesses, and he was at present entering the Roar to indulge in one of them. He would be leaving here with two bags of Gussie Neeps’ coconut fudge.
He loved food, but especially Gussie’s fudge. When he’d approached her about putting coconut in her fudge she’d pretty much told him where to stick his request, then two weeks later she’d handed him a batch. He’d been her slave ever since. It was their secret.
“You got money?”
Newman rolled his eyes at Mac. They did this every time he came in here. Mac made out he was Newman’s supplier, like he was some major drug seller.
“I do, you got the goods?” He played along.
“I do.”
“How many bags?”
“That bad?”
“Let’s put it this way, Mac. The business I’m trying to help doesn’t think they need it, and is run by idiots. I’ve spent weeks trying to make them see reason.”
“Has to be taxing on a person.”
“And then some.”
“Extrapolate, Newman.”
“Get you, with the big words,” Newman said as he studied the counter for anything he may need.
“I’m in a big word kind of mood today,” Mac said, then headed out the back of the store. Newman wandered, like he always did, and usually ended up with an armload of stuff he didn’t need, but had to have. He found Hope talking to Declan, and refused to acknowledge the little charge of pleasure that travelled through him as he looked at her. Even if she was dressed in the ugliest shirt he’d ever seen.
“You can’t be serious?” he said, now leaning on a set of shelves that held more fudge. The sweet, addictive scent had him reaching for a bag,
“About what?” She glared at him, eyebrows drawn together. Her hair was pulled back from her face. She wore a long T-shirt that came to her knees. It fell off one slender shoulder, which he was sure was not deliberate, as she kept yanking it back up. He doubted Hope had ever dressed to please anyone but herself. Commendable, Newman was sure, but as people had to look at her, he being one, she could at least work on her colors. It was a cross between army green and mud brown, and had the words The World Needs Help, Recycle, on it. Accompanying it were her black boots.
“That shirt.” He waved a hand at her. “It’s four sizes too big, and looks like something HRH’s dog left behind. Even for you, this is a bad look.”
“Newman.” Declan nodded his way, and his word had a caution in it that he ignored.
“You shut your mouth.” She pointed a finger at him. “I don’t have to dress to please you.”
“Well you certainly won that point.” He popped a piece of fudge in his mouth and hummed. “In fact, I doubt that ensemble would please anyone.”
Color flushed her face and he wondered if she had any idea how hot she actually was. Her beauty was in the wildness. The thick mane of hair and high cheekbones. The slashing dark brows and soft lips. He could only imagine what she’d look like if someone actually got hold of her and dressed her in something that didn’t hurt his eyes.
She turned to see where Declan now stood, and as it was to the back and slightly to the right of her, she held up a hand to shield the bird she flipped him. Newman laughed.
“Such a badass.”
This time she poked out her tongue, turned away, and continued shopping.
“You got a problem with that girl, Newman?”
Declan approached him.
“No, we just always do this kind of thing. It’s been this way between us since we first met each other. We were only three and five then.” Newman offered the Irishman some fudge.
Declan gave him a steady look that suddenly had Newman digging his toes into his worn trainers, and then took two pieces.
“You have to wonder why it’s still happening.”
“No I don’t.”
“Sure you do.” Declan gave him that calm smile of his. “Because that girl certainly changed when she heard Mac call out your name, and I have to say I haven’t seen that particular look in your eyes before.”
Newman was literally struck speechless, but as Declan wandered off, he didn’t have to answer. Sure, he felt something when he saw Hope. But it wasn’t anything more than annoyance, and yes, he had to concede that was now tinged with awareness.
He found her looking at a magazine. She didn’t hear him approach, and as he drew level he noted her hands were shaking.
“Hope?”
Her head shot up, and the look was filled with anguish.
“What’s wrong?” He looked down at the magazine and saw a picture of a bird. It was surrounded by trees, and the beauty of it was hard to describe. It almost flew right off the page at you. He read the name of the photographer. Jay Herald.
“That’s an awesome picture.”
She slowly closed the magazine and turned away. Newman tucked the fudge in his pocket before placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Talk to me.”
“I took that picture.” The words were torn from her. “He stole it from me.”
“Jesus.” Newman whistled. “I’m guessing this is what you were alluding to when I found you that night?”
She nodded, then shrugged his hand from her shoulder and walked away. Newman picked up the magazine and followed. When he got to the counter she was paying for her things.
“Thanks, Hope. You say hi to your mom for me.”
She gave Mac a jerky nod, then clutched her bag to her chest and walked out.
“What the hell did you say to upset that girl?”
“Nothing,” Newman said. “She was reading a magazine when I found her, and was already upset.”
They looked out the door and watched her walk down the steps.
“Always liked that little girl. She had a tough time of things because of who her mother was, but the folks in this place are not entirely right about Millicent either.”
“Sure we are,” Newman said. “The woman tried to break Buster, and spends most of her time objecting to everyone and everything, Mac. How the hell could we get that wrong?”
Mac’s mouth formed a disapproving line, but he didn’t say anything else, so Newman paid for his fix, and left.