CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“ You don’t have to come down on her all the time because she’s not into fashion, bud.”
“What?” Newman was on his feet about to follow Hope when Buster’s words stopped him.
“Sure, I get that it’s like some weird form of communication for you two, and you’ve been doing it for years. But the thing is, Newman, sometimes, like now, it actually hurts her. Especially considering you’re the male fashion icon.”
“How do you know I hurt her sometimes?” Newman looked at the man who knew him better than he knew himself.
“It’s in the way she hunches her shoulders, and if you get close enough and really look, you can see it in her eyes.”
“You’re going soft,” Newman muttered. “And I’m not a male fashion icon.”
“Not to me you aren’t, ’cause I have my own style.”
Newman scoffed loudly.
“But let’s face it, bud, even your socks match your shirts. Plus, there’s that thing you have going on where everything you put on looks designer.”
“I’m sure that’s an insult.”
“No, just a fact. You could throw on one of Jake’s grease rags and look good. Now go and find her and apologize. She’s got shit going on, and we have to help her fix it.”
“We do?”
“That’s what we do, remember? Look out for each other.”
Newman shook his head and made for the door. “You’re just plain weird, Griffin, but I get your point.”
Newman hadn’t meant to hurt her. Hadn’t meant for his teasing to make her cry, but it had. This, he knew, was not about clothing, it was about the stuff she’d told Buster. The stuff he’d heard. Just thinking about what she went through made him angry enough to want to hunt this Jay down and beat the shit out of him. Which he knew was a possibility, as the man and Hope’s old colleagues were nearby. But for now, he needed to get to Hope.
She was quicker than he’d thought, and he only caught a glimpse of her as she sprinted into the trails. Stopping, he listened, and heard the thud of her feet. He followed. Stopping again, he heard her cries. He moved as quietly as he could until he found her. She was hugging a tree. Later, he’d smile over that. Only Hope would hug a tree when she was in pain.
“I’m sorry, Hope, I never meant to hurt you.”
She wore a hideous rainbow-striped shirt and worn jeans. Her hair was damp, and a loose, tangled mess.
Newman had seen many women cry in his lifetime. His mother was the loud, demonstrative type, as were several of his friends. But he had to say that the soft, heart-wrenching sobs coming from Hope were making his chest hurt.
Closing the distance between them, he stopped at her back, then placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch or move, just kept crying.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
“G-go away.”
“You know I can’t do that, Hope. The gentleman in me would never leave a woman in distress.”
Newman eased her off the tree when her cries slowed to sniffles. Turning her, he pulled her into his chest, then wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She didn’t fight him, just let him hold her. Her hands went around his waist and they stood that way, there among the mighty redwoods, for some time. Light dappled around them, and he inhaled the earth and scents of this place he called home.
“I was thinking of hiring someone to take Jay out. We could make it look like an accident. I’m sure Tex and Brad would have the contacts.”
She snuffled.
“But seriously, Hope. You can’t let him get away with what he did.”
“There’s nothing I can do, Newman.”
She sounded defeated, and the fact that she was still in his arms told him she was. His heart ached for her, and not in the way he would if she were just a friend. He felt something more for this woman, and while that was scary, it was also in a weird way compelling.
“So what, you’re just going to let that limp dick get away with what he did to you? Destroy your reputation and take your place? Come on, Hope, surely your rep means more to you than that. And let’s not mention the fact he’s on your turf now too.”
“We are not gangsters, Newman.” She sighed, then levered herself away from him. Her eyes were bloodshot, face pale. She looked beaten. He wasn’t having that.
“I never took you as chickenshit, Hope Lawrence. I had you pegged as a fighter.”
“Don’t speak to me like that. I’m… I’m upset.”
“Wah, wah,” Newman said in a soft whiny voice, that he knew would piss her off.
She hit him hard in the chest. He grunted obligingly.
“You don’t know what it was like that day! To walk into a place where even if the people didn’t like you, they at least respected you. They all looked at me like I was something they’d scraped off the bottom of their shoes.”
“Cry me a river.” Newman yawned, which earned him another thump. “Okay, that’s enough of the hitting.” He grabbed her wrists.
“I worked hard for that position, damn you! H-he took it all from me, and simply because I allowed him to. I didn’t see what he was doing until it was too late!”
She was angry now, color riding high on her cheeks. Excellent , Newman thought. A much better look on her than the last one.
“So how are you going to turn the tables on him? Because from where I’m standing, you just let him screw you over without much of a fight. Those photos had dates.” Newman ticked the points off on his fingers. “Your colleagues know your style and surely someone would have seen you taking some of those photos. There also have to be people in your community who respect you and can attest to your excellent reputation.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I really don’t,” he added. “You could go for a wrongful termination suit against Wildlife, and there’s also defamation of character, and yet you did nothing but run.”
She looked at him, her eyes focused on his. Intent, as if she could read the answer to the next step to take in his eyes. He felt it again, that little zing of awareness he’d been getting since they’d reconnected again.
“A colleague from Wildlife called me today, Newman.”
“What’d she say?”
“That she didn’t believe Jay, but had been too scared of losing her job to speak up.”
“So not everyone believed him then.”
“No, not everyone.”
“Where there’s one in your camp, there’s probably two. If you’re willing to let others help you with this, Hope, I think between us we may be able to come up with a plan to get this Jay back while he’s here.”
She was shaking his head before he’d finished. “No, I don’t want others to know. Those photos and clips he took of me, he told me he’d release them if I made trouble.”
“Did you see them?”
She nodded. “They’re horrible. I’m rambling and look drunk.”
Newman was fairly sure he needed to do something to this Jay that would ensure he never messed with anyone again, and have a little chat with him about the right way to treat a lady.
“So. People get drunk all the time and end up on social media. Big deal.” He shrugged.
Hope dropped her eyes.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Hope, this is not grade school. Tell me what you’re hiding. I may be able to help.”
He saw the devastation in her eyes as she looked at him again.
“People know how I feel about drugs, because I may not be outspoken, but on this matter, I will voice my opinion.”
“Sure, even I know that. I remember when that Kyle Blatch brought some to school, you ripped him a new one.” Newman wasn’t sure where she was going with this but didn’t think he was going to be happy when she got there.
“Jay put white powder around my nose, and some on the table, and he…” She closed her eyes. “He made it look like I was using heroin.”
“I’m going to kill that fucker!”
“Get in line.”
He held her again, wrapping his arms tight around her.
“You should have told me this right off.”
“Why? There’s nothing you could have done. Jay had the clips of me naked, drunk and supposedly high. If he releases them, I could be charged. My reputation would take even more of a hit than it has, and I would never be able to look my mother in the eye again.”
“Okay, sure this changes the playing field, but only slightly,” Newman conceded. “Plus, he would have to be able to prove it, as it’s still his word against yours.”
“Except I look drunk or high. The evidence is damning, Newman.”
“Why are you so willing to let him take away everything you’ve worked for?”
“I had no choice.” She shrugged out of his arms. “I wasn’t popular, I told you. He was. The fight to clear my name would be a hard one.”
“So you gave up before trying. I thought you were tougher than that.”
That pissed her off enough to have her eyes firing to life as she gave him a heated look.
“Not everyone is popular, Mr. Nice Guy.”
“No need to come at me because you know you’re wrong. But enough about that for now.” He lifted a hand as she opened her mouth. “If you’re willing, I’d like you to tell the others your story, and see what they say. Those guys are smart, Hope. I know between us we can come up with a way to get back at him. Especially as he’s here now.”
“I don’t want them knowing about the clips.”
“They’d believe you, Hope.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do.”
Her head tilted slightly, and suddenly the anger was gone.
“Why do you always help people?”
The question threw him. It was out of left field, and he wasn’t ready for it.
“I like you, therefore I want to help you.”
“But you always do that. Always the friend who helps. Even your job, you help failing businesses. Or buy them when they hit rock bottom. What’s with that?”
“What?” Newman said to buy himself time.
“So you want me to slice open a vein but you won’t do the same?”
“I like helping people.”
“You know what I think?”
He was fairly sure he didn’t want to know.
“I think you like being needed.”
Her words hit the bull’s-eye, but he didn’t show it in his expression.
“Whatever, and we’re talking about you.”
“Whose approval did you want as a child and never got?”
Christ.
“Don’t take up psychoanalyzing as a career,” Newman drawled, when inside his head was suddenly all over the place as he remembered snippets of his childhood. Always trying to please his father, and never quite getting there. “Why can’t you be more like that McBride boy?” or “Why can’t you throw a ball like that Griffin boy?”
Grabbing Hope’s shoulders, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her words had cut to the heart of what had once been something very real for Newman. The need to be accepted. He’d thought he was over it, but hearing Hope’s words made him wonder if in fact he wasn’t.
“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she whispered against his lips. She then plunged her fingers into his hair and tugged his head down for more.
It was wild, sometimes savage, and probably the best make-out session he’d ever had without getting naked in his life. His hands ended up under her shirt, stroking her fine breasts, hers under his, trailing over his skin, and the entire time their mouths remained fused. Teeth clashing, tongues dancing.
“We’re ending up in bed, Hope.” He said the words as he came up for air. “You don’t have this kind of heat and not end up there.”
“But this is purely physical.”
Newman wasn’t sure about that, but as he was sure that thought would scare her, he kept it inside his head and kissed her again, because he needed it as much as his next breath.