A Long Way Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 6) Page 3

  “Hope—”

  “W-we…. That should not have happened.”

  “Agreed, but it did,” Newman said.

  “Well, forget it. Pretend it didn’t.” She looked desperate now, hands wringing, eyes avoiding his.

  “Not sure I can forget something that felt as good as that.” Newman believed in honesty—unless lying got him out of a sticky situation, then he was all over it.

  “What? No… it didn’t.”

  “In order to lie convincingly, you need to keep eye contact, Hope.”

  She snapped her teeth together, and as the elevator stopped, Newman didn’t pursue the subject. The hell of it was, he wanted to. In fact, all of a sudden, Hope Lawrence had just escalated from pain in his butt, to sexy, disturbing, and hell yes, arousing pain in his butt.

  Weird how things happen , he thought, taking her hand in his and dragging her through the hotel lobby.

  “Let me go.” She said the words softly, but her fingers were clawing at his hand for release. “Why are we going into the hotel boutique? I thought you wanted feeding?”

  “You need dry clothes.”

  He dragged her to a rack, then using one hand, he browsed through it, selecting a dress. He handed it to her.

  “Get some underwear, and then go in there and put them on. If they fit, I’ll buy them for you.”

  “You’re not buying me clothes,” she spluttered, clutching the dress. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Her eyes shot left and right. “Y-you can’t buy me underwear either!”

  “Yes, because you’re so selective,” he muttered, leading her to another rack. He took down a bra and looked at the size, then a pair of panties.

  “Go and try them on, and hurry. I’m hungry.”

  When she didn’t move, he turned her, placed a hand on her spine, and nudged her forward and into a cubicle, then pulled the curtain.

  “I’m not doing this!”

  “You’re shivering, and an offence to look at. Seriously, where the hell do you shop? Chez dumpster?” Newman leaned on a shelf that held shoes while he riled Hope up some more.

  “Everything all right, sir?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Newman said to the saleswoman, who was giving him the eye—at least she was until he turned and she got a look at his black eye. Then she scurried away.

  “You done in there?”

  “It’s too revealing. I don’t wear clothes that show this much of my skin. I must have hit my head last night to be even trying this stuff on. How did you know my underwear size, anyway?”

  As a child, Hope had rambled when she was nervous. It seemed she still did.

  He pulled the curtain back.

  “Well hell, who knew you actually had a body like that.” Christ, she was sexy. The dress stopped midthigh, and had long sleeves, and fitted everywhere it touched. It was a simple knit fabric in dark blue, because he’d thought anything too bright, stylish, and/or modern may be pushing it with Hope. She had lovely breasts, he realized, and a flat stomach and killer legs. The word mistake roared inside his head. He should have left her dressed like a bag lady. With all that glorious hair around her, she looked like a sexy rock chick, especially with those boots and the scowl on her face.

  “Jesus, Hope, you almost look human.” He made himself tease her, because if he actually said what was in his head, she’d run for the hills. One thing he knew about Hope Lawrence was that she may play the tough girl, but she wasn’t.

  She’d championed everyone who was slightly different, like her, and any animal that needed a home ended up at her place. She had a soft heart, it was just framed in steel.

  “I’m not wearing this! I’d rather get frostbite than actually walk about dressed like a runway model.”

  Newman swallowed his smile. “Actually, I don’t think a runway model would be seen dead in that. In fact, my mother would struggle to wear it, it’s so dowdy.”

  She looked down her body. “It’s not dowdy.”

  “Excellent, so wear it, and don’t get frostbite. You still have your shitkickers on, so stop fussing.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “There you go thinking again. Any chance I can see how the underwear fits, seeing as I’m paying for it?”

  She bared her teeth at him.

  Newman gathered up her clothes and left the cubicle, in case she was tempted to put them back on. He reached the counter and asked the lady to bag them. Hope arrived as he was pulling out his credit card.

  “I shouldn’t let you do this.”

  Her backpack was clasped in front of her, and she looked nervous. Newman felt something move inside him at the vulnerability that was clearly written all over her. Hope liked to be in control, and he’d just wrestled it from her. He was also certain that something more than him buying her clothes was riding her, and he was going to find out what.

  Howlers looked after each other. She may annoy him, and they were often like two rabid dogs circling each other, but she was still one of his people, which meant he watched out for her when she needed watching.

  “Let’s go, I need food.”

  “I don’t know why I let you do that?” she sounded confused. “I never let people buy me things. I also don’t let people tell me what to do.”

  “Why did you?” He nudged her through the door to the restaurant, and followed.

  “I was cold. Plus, there’s that thing you guys have.”

  “Thing?” He held up two fingers to the hostess to indicate they wanted a table.

  “You Howling men, you just take charge, and I forget to stop you sometimes. It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s called manners and courtesy, Hope, you should give it a shot sometime. Belligerence lost its cuteness many years ago.”

  He let his eyes run down the length of her spine. Who knew Loco Lawrence was so goddamned hot? Shaking his head, he wondered if the world had tilted slightly. Because he’d kissed her, and had lustful thoughts, and he’d known her for many years, and not once had he thought her anything but annoying and slightly crazy.

  “Don’t you own a handbag?” He watched as she unzipped the ugly camouflage backpack, pulled out her wallet, and stuffed in her clothes.

  She flipped him the bird and continued rummaging.

  “I have twenty dollars,” she said, opening her wallet. “So you can eat what you like, but if it’s more than that, you’ll have to do the dishes.”

  “How about you use that?” He pointed at a credit card.

  She looked suddenly shifty, and Newman, who was usually pretty quick to join the dots, said, “Because you’re maxed out, seeing as you’re unemployed?”

  “What? No!”

  “Liar.”

  She wouldn’t look at him, so instead he nudged her ahead to follow the waiter to their table.

  “What can I get you both to drink?” the young man said once they were seated.

  “Do you have chamomile and ginger tea?”

  Newman rolled his eyes as the waiter shook his head.

  “Perhaps jasmine then?”

  The waiter shook his head again.

  “Can’t you do anything like normal people?” Newman growled. “Drink tea, for pity’s sake. You know, milk, sugar, brews in a pot?”

  “I don’t like it because the bags are often bleached, and who drinks that stuff nowadays anyway?” she snapped back at him.

  “Normal people,” Newman said, sending the waiter an apologetic look. “You got any lemon and honey, bud?”

  The waiter nodded.

  “Throw a bit in a cup for her, will you.”

  “No worries.” The guy scratched on his pad, then sent Newman a smile.

  “How’s the other guy look?”

  “Missing two front teeth.”

  “Yeah? Nice work, man.” They slapped hands. “You guys ready to order food too?”

  “Whole wheat toast, thank you, with honey,” Hope said politely.

  “Sausage, bacon and eggs, toast, hash browns, a
nd the pancakes, thanks. Heavy on the maple syrup, too.”

  “You can’t eat all of that!”

  “No, I really can, and as I’m paying I can eat what the hell I like.”

  The waiter left smiling, and returned minutes later with their drinks. Newman dumped sugar in his coffee and drank it black. He tried not to blink too hard. His eye was throbbing, like he was sure Hope’s head was.

  “Neanderthal,” she muttered. “Who appreciates someone losing their teeth, and a black eye. Seriously?”

  “Another Neanderthal,” Newman said.

  “And wanting to drink and eat so my arteries are not lined with fat is not a fault.” She bristled.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those non-meat or anything eaters, are you? Carrot sticks, lettuce, and fresh air only?”

  She ignored him, and sipped her drink.

  “So spill about this limp dick Jay.”

  She continued to ignore him, and looked out the window.

  “Here’s my take on it,” he added. “I think you and this creep had a thing, but that you didn’t know he was after your job, which by the way he now has. What I don’t know is what he did to you. “

  Across from him, what little color Hope had in her face was leeching away, which told Newman he was on the mark.

  “You’re one of the smartest people I know, Hope. Tell me how he forced you out of Wildlife, and on the run.”

  “I’m not running.”

  “Oh, so you went into the bar because your life is peachy, did you? You ended up giving those guys an eyeful because everything is coming up roses in your world?”

  She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “I wanted a change.”

  “So the queen of clean, green, and healthy eating suddenly wants a career in chair dancing?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Come on, Hope. I’m a friend.” She gave him a look. “We come from the same town. That makes us look out for each other. You know how this works.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about this, Newman. You can’t fix it like you do other things. You and your posse can’t help me. So let it go.”

  “Your mother is a pretty kick-ass lawyer, for all she’s a royal butt pain.”

  This made her smile, the left side of her mouth rising slightly, and her eyes softened. She was beautiful, he realized, looking at her. Really goddamn sweet. She’d just hidden it behind the attitude and clothes for years, and he’d been too stupid to see it.

  “She can’t help. I just need to ride this out for now, then when it dies down I’ll go back to work.”

  “Come on, spill, Hope. You need to talk to someone about this, because knowing you like I do, I know that so far you wouldn’t have unloaded on anyone.” He saw the flare of hope then, the need to unburden herself. “Even if you don’t want my help, it may help you get a better perspective if we talk it through.”

  “Why do you want me to?” She cradled her mug between her hands. “I mean, we don’t really like each other, and yes, while I get the part about Howlers, I’ve never really been part of that.”

  Her words made him sad. Had he and the others excluded her without realizing that she wanted to be included? The thought unsettled him. Newman didn’t like hurting people.

  “I’m sorry if you felt excluded, Hope. That was never our intention.”

  She waved a hand at him.

  “That’s over, and I never wanted to be part of it anyway.”

  But she had, he realized to his shame.

  “So talk.”

  The waiter arrived with their food, and he wondered if she was just going to stay silent. If in fact he’d leave her and know nothing about what had her running scared.

  He transferred some bacon to her plate.

  “I don’t need this.”

  He ignored her and started to eat. Newman was a great negotiator; it was his strength. Usually he just needed to get in front of a person, and he could talk them round. Hope, however, wasn’t budging. So he went the indirect route to get her to talk. He’d converse until she told him what he wanted without realizing it.

  “I saw your mom before I left Howling. She was ripping Buster a new one for not getting a piece of gum off the path outside his shop. It got stuck to her shoe.”

  Hope’s shoulders tensed, and her fingers snapped the crust of the toast she was holding. “I bet.”

  “She told me that if I saw you I was to tell you it was time to come home.”

  She choked on her toast. After coughing and spluttering, she drank a few mouthfuls of her lemon and honey, then glared at him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “ I know, she sent me a letter.” She looked at him. “Who does that these days, sends letters? I mean, she’s a lawyer, are you telling me she can’t use e-mail.”

  “Was a lawyer.”

  “Whatever. The point is she hasn’t been retired all that long, I can’t imagine she didn’t use e-mail.”

  “She told Macy she was worried about you ending up in a cult,” Newman said.

  “What’s with you people always knowing each other’s business? Seriously! People can’t change a light bulb without interference in Howling.”

  Newman smiled at her disgust.

  “You know what living in a small town is like. If Mrs. Heath burns her raspberry cobbler, we all hear about it. You take the good with the bad.”

  “It’s a good cobbler, to be fair. None better that I’ve ever tried, and I’ve tried a few.”

  Hope was eating the bacon now. More like devouring, and Newman wondered when she’d last eaten.

  “But”—she raised her fork when Newman opened his mouth to continue—“it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy everyone knowing my business.”

  “Your mother likes to talk about you. That should make you happy.”

  “My mother likes to lecture about me, note the difference?”

  Newman conceded that she was probably right, but only silently. He watched as she ate more bacon, and then more toast. He then forked two pancakes onto her plate.

  “I don’t need that, or you feeding me.”

  “So, I’ve seen a lot of your pictures in magazines, they’re really good. When do you start work again?”

  She looked shifty once more, her eyes searching the room, as if to check no one was watching. Odd , Newman thought. Most people liked praise, yet she was clearly uncomfortable with his comments.

  “I’m taking a break?”

  “Okay, so that explains why you were in that bar with five random men doing an exotic dance.”

  She frowned.

  “Come clean, Hope. You know I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

  “This is not like third grade, pretty boy. You can’t bribe me with your mom’s chocolate cake.”

  “I miss that cake.” He sighed.

  “Where are your parents and why are they not baking for you?” Hope had a fierce frown that drew her brows together, and made her look like her mother. Newman wasn’t telling her that.

  “My father had a heart attack and had to change his diet, and Mom thinks chocolate cake, and anything that has sugar, butter, or is fried, is bad for us now. It’s a sad day when you go to your parents’ home to raid the fridge and you can only get a celery stick.”

  She snorted. Not a laugh, or a giggle, just a snort.

  “I’m sorry about your dad. Is he okay?”

  Even as an adult, Newman still tensed when someone mentioned his father. “Sure. He has a list of instructions, which Mom makes him obey. But he comes to my house to eat something bad now and again.” And to remind me how much I owe him. “They’re heading to my aunt’s because she’s had an operation.”

  “I wish my mom would travel.”

  “What happened to your dad?” Newman had never asked before, and now he thought about it, no one ever mentioned the man.

  She shrugged.

  “Dead or alive?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  Newman’s
sigh was loud. “It’s called conversation, Hope.”

  “You didn’t want to know about him before, why now?”

  “I never wanted to know before, now I do.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “I’m weird, when you dress like a thrift shop model? When you snap and snarl all the time if anyone wants to converse with you. And don’t get me started on your inability to understand the nuances of living in a community. Basic stuff like greeting people has always been beyond you.”

  “Bite me,” she muttered.

  Newman looked at the soft skin on the lobe of her ear, and thought it would be a nice place to gently sink his teeth.

  This has to stop.

  “So, your dad?”

  “Left when I was six.”

  “That has to be tough.”

  Hope shrugged, but he wasn’t fooled.

  “So did you keep in touch?”

  “I was six.”

  “Right, so he kept in touch then.”

  She shrugged again. “For a bit, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Newman went for another question. “So where are you going now?”

  “Back to my room to sleep.”

  “And after that?” Newman said with exaggerated politeness. “Because even you can’t sleep in your room 24/7.”

  She shrugged again, and he battled down his anger.

  “Tell me about limp dick Jay, or I’ll shadow you until you do.”

  They glared at each other across the table.

  “Ryan’s in London. His band has just scored an excellent gig as warm-up act for a major band. It could be his big break.”

  “I’m pleased for him, now spill.” Ryan was Hope’s big brother, who unlike his sister, had manners and for a time had hung out with Newman and his friends.

  “No.”

  “Fine, I have all day. The idiots I came here to help don’t want to implement anything I say, so I’m done trying. I now have two days left here twiddling my thumbs until my flight out. Trailing you around will soak up some time.”

  Newman forked in a mouthful of pancake, his eyes on Hope.

  “So, in the cab on the way home from your foray into exotic dancing, you told me you thought I was hot.”

  “I did not!” She was blushing now.