CHAPTER FIVE
“ Where are you staying?”
“Somewhere.”
He led her to the elevator. His phone rang as he hit the up button.
“Tex.”
“All organized, bud. Just head to the airstrip.” Newman listened to his friend.
“Sweet, see you in Brook then,” he added.
Looking at the corner of the elevator he’d backed Hope into, he felt it again, the pleasant zing of lust.
Interesting.
“So I’ll pack, then we’ll go to yours and pack you up, then head to the airstrip. They will drop us at Brook.”
“That’s hardly a bus ride, Newman.”
“Sure, but they’re dropping stuff to Tex in Brook, so not a detour after all.”
“Why is it you’re not listening to me? How hard is it for you to understand that I don’t want or need your help? Seriously!”
“No, I got that actually. But here’s the thing, Hope.” Newman turned her and gripped her shoulders. “Something’s off with you at the moment. I’m not sure what, but my take is creepy Jay has done you over good. So come back to Howling and regroup.”
She blew out a breath in frustration and it smelled of lemon and honey, a surprisingly erotic combination. Who knew?
“I’ve got this,” she said with very little strength in her words. “I’ve been handling my problems for years, I don’t need anyone’s help.”
He found a small mole, just above her left eyebrow. It was barely noticeable unless someone was standing as close as Newman was. He wondered if anyone else had ever noticed it, besides her family.
“I’m not going back, Newman, and you can’t make me.”
He planted a kiss on her lips because he couldn’t not.
“That took me back to grade school.”
“Don’t kiss me again,” she snarled.
Newman smiled. Once in his room, she watched as he packed.
“You sure you don’t want to press that stuff before you put it in your Hermes travelling case? Maybe you should do up all the buttons on those shirts, it would help keep them all the same shape and size.”
“I like to be neat, so shoot me.”
She laughed. The first real one he’d heard.
“You’re neater than my grandmother used to be, and that’s saying something.”
“When did she die?”
“When I was six.”
Her words were flat and cold, telling him it was a painful subject. So her father had left and her grandmother died in the same year. Couldn’t have been an easy time for anyone in the Lawrence household.
“Why am I standing here watching you?” Hope turned for the door. “I’m done with this, Newman. Seriously, I can’t believe I’ve let you do what you have so far. Dress me, and then feed me. That’s not like me. Maybe I hit my head last night.”
“You step another foot in that direction, and I’ll take my favorite Louis Vuitton belt and tie you down with it.”
She made a huffing sound but didn’t move. Newman finished his packing, then pulled up the bedcovers.
“Why are you doing that when they’ll change it anyway?”
He shrugged. “It’s nice for the staff to see it neat.”
“I can’t believe you do stuff like that.”
“Not all of us live like a sloth.”
“I just don’t live like a soft pretty boy.”
“I bet those homespun sheets pill real bad.”
“Asshole.”
“Freak.”
He zipped up his bag, then ushered her out the door. She had to follow, because he’d wrestled her backpack out of her hands again.
He paid his bill at reception, and minutes later they were out on the street. His cell phone rang. It was those idiots he’d been trying to help all week.
“No, I’m leaving town today,” Newman said after he’d listened. “If and when you want to implement what I have suggested, then call me. If not, then I wish you luck, but your company will go under by the end of the year.”
Hope watched Newman pocket his phone after the conversation. He hadn’t raised his voice, but she’d heard the anger in each word. His body was calm, but she looked into his good eye and saw it had darkened.
“Who was that?”
“A client with shit for brains.”
He flagged down a cab.
“Address?”
She gave it to him, then slumped into the seat and watched the scenery pass by.
He’d kissed her…. twice. And what a kiss. Hope hadn’t had many partners. Her problem was she didn’t trust easily, but maybe if she had, she’d have reacted the same as she did with Newman.
“Tell me you are not staying here?”
The place had a flashing neon sign stating rooms for rent. The outside had chipped and peeling paint, a cracked window, and trash scattered along the front of the building.
She didn’t answer his question, instead handing over her twenty-dollar note for the cab before Newman could, and getting out. She walked into reception, past the young girl talking on the phone, and up the stairs with him on her heels, like a dark, avenging angel, all angsty on her behalf. The hell of it was, Hope enjoyed the feeling of him worrying about her. It had been a long time since someone other than her family had done so. She’d get over it, she always did. But maybe the novelty was why she had let him care for her and buy her things. She’d rebel soon, she was sure.
Pulling her keys out of her backpack, she opened her door and entered. She contemplated briefly shutting him outside, but knew he’d just bust the lock if he wanted in. Newman may appear easygoing to most people, but Hope had seen the other side to him on occasion. He could be a mean son of a bitch when required.
“Christ, this is like something out of a seedy movie. Any minute now we’re going to be busted for possession, or beaten up and robbed.”
“Don’t be dramatic, and just because it doesn’t hold up to your expectations, doesn’t mean it’s not okay. You’re such a snob.”
“So not.”
She ignored him as he prowled around the small space, taking up all the oxygen. Damn, the man smelled good.
“So you can go now, Newman. I’m paid up for two more nights, and then I’ll move on.”
He returned from inspecting the bathroom, and the look on his face told her he was spoiling for a fight. She looked around and saw the cracked mirror, worn carpet, and cheap furniture. Perhaps it wasn’t what he was used to, but it had been all Hope could afford.
“No.”
“You don’t have rights to me, Newman. I do what I want, when I want.”
He stalked closer, so close that she had to dig her toes into her boots to stop from retreating. Hope didn’t back away from people. If her mother had taught her anything in this life, it was that. Face people, running makes you weak.
“You either pack and come with me, or I pack for you and throw you over my shoulder. So don’t say I don’t give you choices.”
“Fuck you.”
“Sure, but there is no way I’m doing it on that bed.”
She was not aroused by that, Hope told herself. No way was she attracted to this man. Now or ever!
“That’s crude.”
His smile held no humor. Suddenly he looked bigger to her, bigger and more confident. Hope wished for a few more inches on her legs right then, so she could eyeball him.
“Imagine how bad I feel.”
“Bastard.”
“Pack your things, Hope. Now.”
They stared at each other for long seconds, and it really pissed her off, that she broke first. It was only temporary, she told herself. She’d do what he wanted for now, and then when the chance presented itself she’d leave, and he wouldn’t find her.
“You want these?”
Hope turned to find a pair of pink lace panties dangling from one large finger. She snatched them off him, and stuffed them into her backpack. Just because her clothes didn’t appear girlie and labeled didn’t mean she couldn’t have the occasional lace pair of underwear when she could afford it.
“Imagine you wearing something so girlie.”
“Yeah, well at least my wardrobe doesn’t cost the same as the national deficit.”
“I like nice clothes, sue me.”
“I hope you’re aware that some of the things you buy are made in countries that pay their workers a pittance, and what’s more, they use child labor.”
“Is there any cause you don’t champion?”
“Someone’s got to care.”
“I get that, actually.”
“Sure you do,” Hope scoffed as she did up the top of her backpack.
“You don’t know anything about me, Hope, so don’t judge.”
“Ditto.”
He sighed; it was loud and long.
“Okay, you got me there. How about we call a truce?”
“Can we?”
He moved closer and took her bag, slinging it over a broad shoulder. Hope didn’t fight him. She’d bide her time, then escape when his guard was down.
“Sure, after all, I used to trade your mother’s bran muffins for my mother’s chocolate cookies, remember. We haven’t always disagreed.”
“I made those.”
“Yeah? You never told me that.”
Hope could see he was genuinely surprised. The anger had gone as quick as it came.
“I loved those muffins. I tried to get mom to make them, but she was horrified at the prospect of anything with bran in it.”
“She wouldn’t be horrified now, as it turns out.”
“True that. I miss the chocolate cookies,” he added.
“Then make some, or go buy one of Buster’s.”
“I tried, they came out flat. Buster bakes them for me now and again, when he’s in the mood, but that’s not often.”
His expression was like that of a confused little boy, but he didn’t pull it off. Buster was another friend who ran the café in Howling.
“You done?”
“I’m not coming with you on the Texan’s jet, Newman. If I want to come home, I’ll do it in my own time.”
“Actually, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
She followed him from the room, and down through reception. She handed the girl, who was still on her phone, the keys.
“You paid?”
“I have.”
The girl then waved Hope away, and started talking into her phone again.
“That’s called service with an FU,” Newman said, waving down another cab when they reached the street outside. He bundled Hope in, and followed.
I really need to stop this from happening , Hope thought, but wasn’t entirely sure how, or why she wasn’t fighting harder to do just that.