by Smith, C. P.
“Wit’ you.”
“Excuse me?” Nic barked out. He couldn’t have the one woman who’s piqued his interest in three years living in his daughter’s room.
“You got dat’ downstairs condo you workin’ on, yes?”
Rose watched as Nic thought about that and then smiled as she watched the inner workings of his mind. He was more than just worried about Hope being alone and she knew it. She saw the way his eyes had followed Hope around the bar the night before. He was interested in her as a woman, but too caught up in his own grief to see it, or his guilt about Chelsea wouldn’t allow him to act on it. She knew Nic, knew what kinda man he was, knew when something was his he’d move heaven and earth to take care of it, even if that person didn’t deserve it. His no account wife came to Rose as she waited for Nic to sort out his head. He’d worked his ass off for her, taken care of what was his, and she’d thrown it all away because she was a selfish cow. Nic deserved better than Kat, and Rose was gonna see to it he got better.
“Well?” Rose finally asked when he said nothing.
“Yeah, that would work,” Nic agreed, and couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it himself. She needed someone to look after her whether she wanted it or not, and with Hope downstairs, he could keep an eye on her and be there if something happened.
“Good, how you gonna convince her to move?”
Nic shrugged, threw back the shot that Henri had brought him, then stood. “I’m not gonna ask, I’m gonna tell her she’s moving.”
“Oodoggies, dat’ what I like, a man who takes charge.”
Nic shook his head at the old woman and grinned. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was trying to set him up with Hope the way she pushed him. Nic paused on that thought before leaving and turned back to Rose setting her straight.
“I’m only helpin’ her out. Don’t get any ideas,” Nic warned.
“Mon ami, only idea I have in my head is dat’ everyone I care ‘bout live life good.” Nic gave her a look that said he doubted that, but gave her a kiss on the cheek before he left.
Rose remained at the bar as Nic walked out, then she looked out over the old restaurant and saw families enjoying themselves, eating Big Daddy’s cookin’ and feeling life was good. She smiled when she thought about how far she’d come in getting’ Nic and Hope one-step closer to what they needed to heal. People pay good money to have doctors tell them what they are feeling, but she figured they could save themselves some money if they’d just remember that the answers to all life’s troubles begins and ends with love. Love of family, love for a good man or woman, that’s all anyone really needs. With love, anything is possible.
“What did I tell you about keeping your mouth shut?”
“I can’t just sit here while—”
“You will do as you’re told,” John bellowed.
“You’re filth and I won’t let either of you get away—”
“You will keep your mouth shut, or you’re dead do you understand?” John yanked Hope’s head back by her hair and then backhanded her across the face. The force of the blow sent her flying to the floor like a ragdoll forgotten by a child. As she lay stunned on the ground a foot connected with her ribs, and she felt the snap echo throughout her body. Hope gasped, trying to catch a breath through the fire that burned in her chest, as she stared at her husband and his brother. The pain was minor, compared to the pain in her heart, just knowing this was her family. Not done with her, John grabbed her by the back of the head, fisting her hair taut as pain shot through her scalp, then pulling his fist back he mumbled, “You brought this on yourself.”
Gasping for air, Hope sat up and looked around her sorry excuse for an apartment. She tried to clear her head from the reoccurring dream. The view didn’t help much; it was one-room with a small grimy kitchenette. The bed was old, the mattress older. She’d bought a plastic mattress cover to seal in whatever lived on the surface, and a used pair of sheets at the local Goodwill. No TV, one lamp, dirty cream-colored walls and a single dresser for her clothes. The bathroom had disgusted her and she’d scrubbed it for two days to get it clean enough to use but this dump of an apartment was all she had in the world and her new form of hell.
John invaded her dreams each night and he invaded her headspace when she was awake. She couldn’t escape him mentally even if she’d escaped him physically, and it was exhausting her. Something had to give.
Rising from the bed, Hope walked to the bathroom and began her daily routine. In her former life, she’d had to be up at the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for her husband. Now, out of spite for all the years she’d been a prisoner in her own home, she slept in. It was pushing nine o’clock and she didn’t have to be anywhere for hours, so she decided to get dressed and walk down to the bakery on the corner and enjoy a cup of bold French coffee and a pastry.
She tugged on a pair of her favorite jeans, a low cut V-neck t-shirt in soft lavender that reminded her of an Easter egg and her Nike Free Runs. Then she left her apartment and descended the stairs two-at-a-time thinking about the coffee that awaited her and the powdered sugar goodness of a beignet. When she opened the door to the apartment building and stepped outside, she came face to chest with Nic Beuve. He was leaning on the wall outside, as if he’d been waiting for her to come down. Dressed in dark jeans that hugged his thighs and a black T-shirt that announced he was “Cajun born and bred,” Hope sucked in a breath at the sight of him and tried to control her breathing. Nic Beuve, plain and simple, is the sexiest man she’d ever encountered, and she needed to be in his presence like she needed a hole in her head.
“Get packed, sugar,” Nic said by way of greeting.
“What?”
“Pack your things. You’re movin’ in with me.”
“Sorry?” Nic moved from the wall, grabbed her hand and pulled her back through the door of her apartment building, dragging her up the stairs.
“I got a place a few blocks from here. It’s eighty percent done, so no one is livin’ in it. You need a safer place to live and now you got it, so get packed.”
“I can’t move—”
“You can and you will, no arguments,” Nic ordered and kept dragging her up the steps.
“But—”
Nic stopped on the stairs and leaned down until he caught her eyes and had no chance to look away, asking, “Sugar, you like livin’ with rats?”
“No, of course not,”
“Then pack your bags.”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“What’s not a good idea is you livin’ in this piece of shit apartment building, it’s not safe and you know it.”
“Then I’ll look for another place.”
“No need, like I said, you’re movin’ in with me. You’ll have the whole floor to yourself.”
“But, I barely know you.”
“Goes both ways, Hope, I barely know you.” He had her there, and more to the point, she was probably more dangerous to him and his son than he was to her.
“Mr. Beuve—”
“Nic,” he corrected.
“Nic, I appreciate the offer but it’s out of the question.”
“Hope, it’s not. I’ve got security on the building; no one can get in or out without the code, so you’d be safe day and night.”
Hope bit her lips together trying to figure out how to get out of this without telling him Nicky and he weren’t safe with her around. Finding no way around it, she went with the truth.
“Nic,” Hope whispered, afraid to look him in the eyes, “My life is such that it wouldn’t be safe to be around me.”
“I got that yesterday,” Nic replied.
“Then you’ll understand when I say I can’t move in.”
“Hope, the condos are separate from each other, just like apartments. School will be out in less than a month and Nicky’s headed to my parents for the summer to be spoiled rotten. I’ve only got two more weeks with him before that happens.”
“It’s not just you
r son who shouldn’t be around me.”
“I’m a big boy I can take care of myself.”
“I can’t take that risk,” Hope replied and tried to move away from him.
“You gonna run your whole life?” Nic bit out.
“If I have to.”
“You have friends here who are willing to help.”
“Then I guess it’s time to move on. I can’t have friends; I can’t take the chance anyone gets hurt.”
Nic bit his tongue to keep from shouting at her. She was determined to play the martyr. The thought of her leaving, scared and alone, possibly in danger, pissed him off. She needed help; she needed people around her who cared. Taking in her small frame, the thought of anyone hurting Hope sent his heart racing and he was done playing around. As she turned to walk away from him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.
“I’m not lettin’ you go it alone another day. You’re done running and that’s final, now pack your bags.”
“Nic—” He cut her off, growling, “Pack your fuckin bags.” Hope’s eyes grew wide at his order and then she narrowed her eyes at him.
“NO, I’m not moving,” she shouted back and it felt good to yell. She put years of pent up feelings into it, for all the times she had to hold her tongue or be slapped for opening it. When Nic smiled at her and then threw his head back and laughed she didn’t’ know what to make of it. In fact, he laughed a little longer than she thought was necessary, but she had to admit, it was a tension breaker. When he pulled himself together, he threw his arm around her neck and led her down the hall to her apartment door.
“I like your spunk, sugar, but make no mistake, you’re not runnin’ anymore. So, pack your bags you’re coming with me.”
Chapter Seven
Manhandled her, that’s what he’d done. Told her what was gonna happen, and she’d just let him. Hope was pacing the living room of the condo Nic had taken her to, and she didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or catch the first train out of New Orleans. To say that her new living conditions were for the better was an understatement. She didn’t need this much space, three bedrooms and two baths, it was remodeled for a family. Nic said he was almost done with it but from what she could see there wasn’t much to do. It had brick walls, hand-honed wood floors, and top of the line appliances in stainless steel that went well with the marbled black counter tops. There was a couch in the living room, a TV, a coffee table and an end table, and a single bed in one of the bedrooms. He didn’t say much about where he’d gotten the furnishings, just that he’d had the extra furniture in storage and moved it in for her.
What she was trying to wrap her head around was the why of it. Why would Nic go to this much trouble for a stranger? Rose, Abby, Nic, even Big Daddy, all seemed to be concerned about her. Her first reaction was to be suspicious of them. She’d grown up in foster care and then married a man who thought communication began and ended with a fist. She’d never really had anyone care what happened to her, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. She knew there were good people in the world, the kind that would help a friend or neighbor. She supposed she’d just been lucky and stumbled upon a group of people who looked out for someone in need and she felt guilty. The problem was, she felt like she was using them. What little she knew of Nic and Rose, even Abby and Big Daddy, they were good people, all of them, and the crux of the matter was, she didn’t deserve their loyalty.
Panic welled up in her, and she started pacing again. If she were any kind of friend, any kind of decent person, she’d leave right now, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to do it. You’re tired of running Hope, and you know it. Just a few more weeks, enough to save up some money, she thought. Maybe God would let her stay a few more weeks.
With nothing else to do, and no energy to do it, she decided to take a bath in one of the exceptionally clean, thank you, God, bathrooms. The master bedroom had a walk-in shower and a big antique tub and the thought of sinking deep into warm water and falling asleep sounded like heaven. Entering the bathroom, she found shampoo, conditioner and bubble bath on the shelf of the stonewalled bathtub. Nic had done the tub surround in slate with small river rocks running through a third of the way down around the three walls as a border. The darkness of the rock set off the bright white tub as the focal point, and the antique faucets and claw feet on the tub mixed the old and the new seamlessly together.
There were towels on a warming rack just to the side of the bathtub and Hope let out a breath. She’d forgotten to pack her towels when Nic had rushed her to get her stuff. Leaning in and lowering the tub stopper to fill it with water, she then turned on the faucet, poured bubble bath into the streaming water, and the smell of jasmine filled the air as she stripped out of her clothes. Pulling her hair out of its ponytail, she remembered her brush was in her purse and her purse was on the counter in the kitchen. Grabbing one of the warm towels, she wrapped it around her body and headed down the hall. As she reached her purse, she heard a key in the front door and whipped around just as Nic entered the condo, bags in hand.
Hope froze in place, as Nic took in the sight of long blonde hair, shapely legs that looked smooth as silk, and a towel that barely covered Hope’s more than generous breasts. Neither said anything, just stood there staring at each other like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Hope watched as Nic scanned her body, his eyes growing darker, hungrier. He took a step towards her, and she came out of her frozen state squeaking out “I’m so sorry. I was taking a bath,” as she ran back down the hallway disappearing into the master bedroom.
Nic stood there for a long moment, his breath coming in deep and hard trying to force down his reaction. It had been too fucking long since he’d had a woman and seeing Hope standing there like that lit a fire in him.
Moving to the kitchen and unpacking the food he’d brought her, he pulled out the coffee pot and went to work making a pot all while the vision of Hope was seared into his brain. He pulled cups from the cabinet and then paused, he could hear the water in the tub splashing, and he groaned. In his mind’s eye, bubbles ran down her chest, clinging to what he was sure were light pink nipples. Taking a deep breath, he pulled a plate down and loaded it with beignets from the bakery down the street. He heard the sound of the tub draining and another vision of Hope standing naked, water running down her body as she grabbed a towel to dry off, and he closed his eyes and clenched his fist.
Nic turned when the coffee maker gurgled the last of the water through the filter and grabbed two cups, filling them. He pulled milk from the fridge, got sugar, put it in a bowl, and then placed them on the counter. Then he leaned back against the countertop, lowered his head, closed his eyes, and tried to will away the erection his thoughts had created.
The smell of jasmine had hit him before Hope did, and he wanted to say, “Fuck it,” grab her head and kiss her until she moaned in his mouth. But, he knew he shouldn’t, couldn’t. He needed to focus on Nicky, not on his own needs, and Hope was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation; she needed his help more than he needed her legs wrapped around his back.
Taking a deep breath, he turned his head as she walked in dressed in a loose T-shirt and shorts, and big socks covering her feet; she almost looked like a kid standing there. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Nic beat her to it and apologized.
“I should have knocked before I entered, sorry, it won’t happen again.” Hope barely met his eyes. She was mortified at having been caught in just a towel.
“It’s fine,” she laughed nervously.
Nic grinned a crooked grin, then, not being able to help himself mumbled “I’m not complaining, sugar, I just don’t want you uncomfortable your first day here.”
Hope rolled her eyes at his answer and he smiled. She looked at the counter and saw the sugar coated beignets and licked her lips. Nic’s eyes zeroed in on them and for a second wondered what she tasted like. Breaking his stare, he cleared his throat moving to the cups of coffee he’d poured.
<
br /> “You take milk or sugar in your coffee?”
“Both, two sugars. You didn’t have to do this, Nic, I was going to go out in a little while and get some lunch.”
“I was hungry, figured we both could use some food, it’s no big deal.”
“Yes, it is, and I’ll repay you. I saw those bags from the grocery store.”
“Keep your money, just a friend helping out a friend.”
“I can’t let you buy me groceries, Nic.”
“You gonna be stubborn about this, too?”
“Definitely,” Hope answered.
Nic grinned and shook his head; he didn’t doubt for a minute she’d put up a fight.
“Then you can invite me for dinner when you cook the food and we’ll be even.” Hope stared at Nic, and for the life of her couldn’t find a reason to say no. Nodding her head she reached across the counter and grabbed a beignet, bit into it, smearing white powdered sugar on her nose and then closed her eyes moaning at the taste.
Nic watched as she chewed, savoring the sweet pastry, and he tried to remember the last time he’d enjoyed anything as much as the site of Hope devouring a French pastry.
“Order up,” Hope called through the kitchen pass-thru and then rang the bell for good measure. Business had been brisk that night at The Bayou; tons of tourists came in after a day of sightseeing. Rose stuck her head in the opening just as Hope was about to turn, grinning.
“How you doin’ T-Hope.”
“I’m good, Rose. How about you?”
“I always good, Cher. Any’ting new wit’ you?”
Hope started to say yes, but the look in Rose’s eyes said she already knew. Crazy old woman probably put Nic up to it.
“Nothing new, Rose,” Hope answered and then watched the old woman’s face fall in disappointment. Hope almost laughed at the sight and figured it served her right. Nic’s place was beyond wonderful, but she didn’t want to get too comfortable there. It’s temporary she kept telling herself.
“I see. Well, I bettah’ get dis’ to da’ customer,” Rose groused and then grabbed the plate of Cajun fish, her lips puckered in frustration and when she was out of sight, Hope did laugh.