Chapter Eight

There was only one thing worse than waking and being unsure of where you were—waking in an unknown location and finding huge brown eyes staring at you.

Amy sat up abruptly. She’d slept hard without dreaming. Too bad she couldn’t have carried on that way for a few days. Emile sat on the coffee table holding her bullet journal. He’d shoved aside a stack of books, a tray of candles, and a brass dog to make room for himself, and he didn’t even try to hide that he’d been looking at her journal. In fact, he held it up.

“I like your little book. Is very beautiful—all the little pictures you have drawn of the stores in Beauford.”

She reached for the journal. He didn’t give any indication that he noticed she wanted him to hand it over. He closed it, laid it on his knee, but held on to it. His hand covered the entire book.

“You are very beautiful.”

Surprise shot through her. It seemed an eternity since anyone had told her she was beautiful. When was the last time? Maybe back before she had moved in with Cameron, when he was still trying. She hadn’t realized it had been so long, because being told she was beautiful wasn’t something that she needed, that mattered to her very much. Still, it was nice to hear, so it must have mattered some.

She didn’t acknowledge the compliment. If he could pretend he didn’t know she wanted her journal, she could pretend he hadn’t said she was beautiful.

“Do you always shove things to the side that are in your way?” she asked.

He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. My friends and my sister are important to me. I would never disregard them, even when they are sometimes not convenient. I try to remember that I am not always convenient.”

Oh, good cow. A deep thinker. Just what she needed today—a philosophical discussion with a hockey player.

Amy shook her head. “I was referring to the things on the coffee table that you shoved to the side so you could sit down. And the scarecrow on the hay bale earlier.”

“Ahh!” He threw back his head and laughed, displaying the whitest, most perfect teeth she’d ever seen. But wait. Not completely perfect. One of his bicuspids was the tiniest bit crooked. “Oui. In that way, maybe I do. They can be set right again.” He glanced at the journal. “Though all things cannot be set right. You should draw your beautiful self.”

“I can’t draw people.” If she could, she’d draw his mouth. “Only whimsical little doodles.” There was nothing whimsical about that mouth.

“You drew Eat Cake. That is where my sister is an apprentice baker. She makes very fine cakes. Cookies, too.”

Amy nodded. “I intended to go there.” She had thought it would be a fun stop for a midafternoon snack for Cameron and her. Cameron liked a midafternoon sweet snack—maybe a little too much.

“But you didn’t go to Gabriella’s shop?”

“No. Piece by Piece was as far as I got. And we both know how well that went.” She neatly folded the throw she had covered herself with and set it to the side.

He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs, and let the journal dangle between his knees. When she reached out and captured the book, he didn’t try to stop her or even take notice that she had taken it from him.

“I am very sorry this happened to you.”

“I appreciate that, and I appreciate how much you have helped me.”

“I haven’t helped you.” No one can help you, hung in the air. He might as well have said it, but Amy didn’t believe that.

“Not true.” She tried to sound breezy. “I might still be sitting on that hay bale.”

He shook his head. “You would have found your way off that hay bale. So, no. I haven’t really helped you. But I’m willing to.”

“Thank you. I suppose you read my list of how to fix this mess.”

He half closed his eyes and bounced his shoulders and head back and forth a bit. “Was hard not to read, especially the part about me.”

“You?” What was he talking about?

“The one that said, ‘Invite Emile out to dinner to thank him for being so nice, but make sure he knows it’s not a date.’”

“Oh, right.” She had written that down. “I do have another favor to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Will you take me out by the interstate? I need to get a room for the night.” If she was going to ask for favors, might as well go big. “And if it isn’t too much trouble, maybe pick me up in the morning and drop me off at the bank?”

He frowned and bit his bottom lip. “I thought maybe you’d like me to take you to the airport so you can go to your family in south Georgia.” He pronounced south Georgia very deliberately, enunciating each syllable.

Every muscle in her body tightened. “No. I can’t do that.”

“You do not get along with your family?”

“It’s not that. I just can’t go there.” And God help her, she could not. They would welcome her, of course. But they’d never trusted Cameron, and they’d been right. They would have to know eventually that she and Cameron had broken up. She could take that. People broke up all the time. But her family didn’t have to know that Cameron had abandoned her in a quilt store and sold her car, or that she had temporarily misplaced her belongings and her assets. That would be too much to endure. They wouldn’t say they’d told her so. In fact, they hadn’t told her so—not in so many words. But there would be no hiding that they weren’t surprised.

He looked at her for a long time with a look that told her his mind was busy processing and trying to analyze the situation. Apparently that’s what deep-thinking, philosophical goalies did.

He took her hand. “Ma belle, there is no need for embarrassment. There is no embarrassment with family. If this happened to my sister Gabriella, I would want her to come to me. I would comfort her and take care of her.”

“Really? And if this happened to you? Would you want to go to her? Or the rest of your family?”

His expression froze. “It would not—” He stopped short but not short enough.

“To you? Are you sure?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Certainly you did. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t leave town until I get my money back. Going to the bank is my first priority.”

“Not first. Your first priority is to get a place to stay tonight. I read the list.”

“I’m aware.”

He took a breath. “You can stay here tonight.”

“No.” Her answer was fast and firm. She’d never been surer of anything.

“Why not? I have seven bedrooms. You can choose the one you like. I am not asking you to my bed.” He spread that mouth into a droll little grin. “I am not a killer. I am a famous goaltender with two Stanley Cup rings. I have never been caught breaking the law.” His dark eyes flashed, all flirty-like. How did he even do that? “Look me up on the Internet. You’ll see that I’ve never been arrested.”

She let out a long breath. “I don’t have access to the Internet. Remember? No phone service. No computer. No tablet.” Two more things she needed to add to her list. “Besides don’t think I didn’t catch that you said you’d never been caught. You didn’t say you hadn’t broken the law.

“Come now. Surely you go faster than the speed limit from time to time.”

“No. I can’t walk that fast and I don’t have a car.”

He tossed his head and gave her a sympathetic look. “Still, I might have jumped into a snowbank naked during my rookie year as a junior, but I am not a serial killer. You’re safe here with me. You can sleep in Gabriella’s room. There are some clothes in there. She is taller than you and not as—” He cupped his hands in front of his chest to indicate breasts. “But still. You could find something. She would not mind.”

The thought of clean clothes was so appealing. It wasn’t that she felt particularly dirty despite the amount of time she’d spent hanging out on a hay bale this morning. But it was as though all the bad of the day had seeped into the fabric of her clothes, and if she could cast them off, things would seem better. She would have burned them if they weren’t her only worldly possessions.

No, that’s not true, she admonished herself. She had things; she just didn’t have them now.

Maybe she should stay here tonight. She wasn’t sure her $84.38 would buy her a room, even at a Comfort Inn. Even if it would, it was certain that no Comfort Inn was going to provide her with clothes, though they could probably be counted on for a toothbrush.

He must have read her mind about the toothbrush. “In Gabriella’s bathroom, there will be all the things you need for your bath and such.”

He had a point. She had nothing to fear from him, and someone with only $84.38 and a cell phone/paperweight between her and the rest of the world couldn’t afford pride.

“And if I am in your sister’s room, where would she sleep?”

“She does not live here. She has an apartment above the pastry shop in Beauford. But she stays here on occasion—sometimes after a game if it’s late.”

“Well, if I stayed here, I wouldn’t have to bother you to take me to the bank tomorrow.” It was only a few blocks away. “And soon as I get a new credit card and access to my accounts, I can be out of your hair. I’ll go first thing.”

Emile dropped his eyelids to half-mast. “Amy, are you certain that going to the bank will benefit you? Do you think you will be able to get a new card and access to your money?”

Amy had always been taught that it was tacky to talk about money, but she had to make Emile understand that she was not without resources.

“Emile. I had a personal organizing business called Apple Pie Order. I started small but I did well. Last year, I sold it to a large organizing company. I don’t pretend that I made as much as a professional athlete would make, but it was very lucrative.”

“How lucrative?”

“Five million. Since then, there have been investments. It has grown.”

Emile looked surprised but remained silent.

“I am not without resources. I have checking, savings, and investment accounts. I just can’t access them right now.”

“And you think going to the bank will solve this?”

“Of course.” Why wouldn’t it? “I just need to talk to someone face-to-face and explain it all.”

“You must consider that Cameron may have stolen all your money—as he stole your car.”

She wasn’t ready to consider that, though not because she didn’t think he was capable. He’d proven all too well what he was capable of. It was just unthinkable.

Emile ran his hand across his forehead, through his hair, and down the back of his neck. “D’accord. I must meet my friends Bryant and Jarrett at the gym later. But for now I am famished.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “Please. Let’s go down and get a bit of food at Eat In.” He named one of the restaurants on the building’s ground floor.

She knew from experience that a “bit of food” was going to cost more than her $84.38, but she’d return the favor and take him out soon.

When he paused to put the objects on the coffee table back in order, it struck her that she liked Emile. Maybe they would be friends.