Hard as Rock

by Stephanie West

  As she continued down the sidewalk, movement captured her attention. It was the creepy tourist again. Meline picked up the pace, heading straight for her hotel. As she turned the corner, she glanced behind her to find him still following her at distance.

  Oh shit!

  Meline frantically glanced back and forth. Seeing another shop, she quickly darted across the street. She snagged the heavy wooden door as the creepy guy came around the corner, and then she hustled inside. She squinted in the dim light filtering through the windows and gaped at the bookshelves packed into every square inch of the musty old shop. Dusty volumes were stacked in the aisles and bowing the shelves they littered. Meline couldn’t find the shopkeeper as she ventured down one crowded row.

  He’s probably buried under one of these piles.

  This was not the refuge she was seeking. If anything, it looked like the perfect setting for the stalker to murder her in.

  “You look lost,” a deep voice commented from behind her.

  Meline screeched and spun around, almost stumbling into the bookcase nearby. She came face to face with the broadest chest she’d ever seen. A wall swathed in a trench coat and black suit had sprung up behind her. Part of her relaxed seeing it wasn’t the stalker, but then again, holy fuck this guy was huge. There was hardly enough room for both of them and all the books, with the way he spanned the narrow aisle. No doubt her stalker took one look at the giant entering the store and decided to give up the chase.

  She craned her neck up and her jaw dropped open seeing the man attached to the imposing body. He had the chin of a boxer and full thick lips. The features would’ve overwhelmed his face, making it seem very square if it weren’t for his high cheekbones and strong, sharp brow. She drew in an abrupt breath when her gaze met his. The man’s eyes were gray, but in the dim light they seemed to glow silver. His expression was assessing, almost penetrating, and she suddenly felt not just short next to his hulking size, but awkward to boot. It didn’t help the man’s suit probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. The gray pinstriped fedora he wore cocked forward on his head was a tad cliché. Too many men tried to pull that hat off and failed. And yet, somehow, he rocked it. A bit of his black hair peeked out beneath the brim, curling up at the tips. He was a mix of harsh, strangely handsome, and all-around unnerving.

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

  Her instincts were jumbled. Unexpectedly running into this daunting man in an entirely too creepy shop after the odd experience in the street was setting her on edge. On one hand, she wanted to suss out why she found him so compelling despite the circumstances, but on the other she debated making some excuse to flee. Meline saw the smile that started at the corner of his mouth and spread. It was slightly cocky, and she realized he noticed her gaping at him.

  Don’t just gawk. Stop being a freak and say something, idiot! she shouted at herself, frantically attempting to find her voice.

  “Did you see someone out there? No, never mind.” Meline fidgeted with her skirt, feeling foolish for being paranoid. Why would someone be following her? “I’m on vacation doing family research and seeing the sites since they were from here. I’ve never been to Quebec. Never been to Canada at all really. All this history has this strange vibe and it kinda has me jumpy. Do you ever feel that way?” she rambled.

  Oh God, just shut up now, she cursed as his grin broadened. Meline repressed smacking her forehead for being such a big dolt. Instead, she quickly clamped her mouth shut and flatly smiled, which undoubtedly looked as pathetic as she felt.

  “Well this shop has a lot of good books. If your family is from here, you’ll undoubtedly find something about them on one of these shelves,” he replied.

  She was so fixated on his accent and how deep his voice was that she almost didn’t hear what he said.

  “No,” she swiftly blurted after the awkward pause. Her sudden response was so loud her voice echoed in the old shop. “Um, I mean that would be a good idea if I could read French.”

  “Oh.” His thick brow quirked as he looked down at her bag, and she realized how dumb she looked in a French bookshop but couldn’t read French. “If you’d like, I can help you.”

  “That’s not necessary. It’s really nice of you to offer, but you don’t need to waste your time on me. You came here to do your own thing, and I would need more help than would be polite to saddle you with.”

  Yeah, you need help, you’re babbling again! She stopped abruptly.

  “Nonsense. Let’s see what they have to offer. My name’s Roc, by the way.”

  Rock, more like mountain.

  He held out his hand, and she stared at it, dumbfounded by how large it was. His fingers would easily touch if he wrapped both hands around her waist, and she wasn’t a small girl. The image of King Kong on the Empire State Building came to mind till Roc waved his fingers, capturing her attention. Meline focused and realized he was gesturing toward a desk along the far wall.

  Fucking hell. Pay attention, you’re staring again!

  “Okay, uh, well, thank you, Roc. I’m Meline.” She hadn’t planned this, but if she learned something new about her family, that would be cool.

  Her eyes widened as she followed behind him. Roc had to be a bodybuilder or something. That was the only thing that explained the way he filled out the coat. He was built like a freaking tank.

  “Pleased to meet you, Meline.”

  “So, Roc, what do you do?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her as she attempted to relax.

  “I’m basically a fine arts dealer. I travel, hunting down antiques.”

  “Oh.” Meline paused. “Really?” She gave him another once over.

  “Does that surprise you?” Roc chuckled as he glanced sideways at her.

  “Um, yeah, sort of.”

  “Did you think I was a football player or something?” He raised one brow.

  “Well.” Meline tucked her head, embarrassed that she’d made a snap judgment based on his size.

  That explains the fancy clothes. He’s probably here to research some glorious treasure he dug up in a place she could only dream of visiting. She could almost picture the intriguing man canvasing back-market stalls of colorful cities like Morocco or Venice, haggling with merchants.

  Smart and built. The combination made him even more daunting.

  “I’m just messing with you, doll. It’s okay. I know how big I am.” Roc cast her a sardonic smile.

  Meline had to repress a schoolgirl giggle at the way he called her doll. No one had ever called her that. It reminded her of something they’d say in the fifties.

  “What do you do when you’re not digging up the past?” he asked.

  “I’m a travel agent.”

  “I bet that’s fun.”

  “Sure.” She grimaced, picturing her bland cubicle.

  “That didn’t sound convincing.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s work.” She perused the shelf of books that time forgot.

  “Sorry, you’re on vacation, you probably don’t want to talk about work.”

  Yeah, that’s it. She nodded. Or his job was positively glamorous compared to hers.

  “So, are you interested in looking for someone in particular?” he asked with that smooth, deep voice.

  “Um, yeah, let’s see.”

  Any other moment and she could’ve rattled off a dozen of her ancestors’ names and details, but now she couldn’t think of a one. Meline hefted her shoulder bag. She tugged too hard on the zipper and it unzipped completely, spilling her notebook and research onto the floor.

  “Crap!” she said, flustered.

  Seriously. Get it together.

  Meline bent over to grab the papers that scattered everywhere, just as Roc did.

  “Ow,” she yelped when her forehead thunked against his.

  The man had a seriously hard head. She stumbled back and fell flat on her ass, her skirt nearly exposing her purple panties. She didn’t know whether to rub the spot on her forehead that s
marted or to yank down her skirt first.

  “Merde! I’m sorry,” Roc exclaimed. He straightened his hat with one hand, while extending the other to help her up.

  “No. It’s my fault.” Meline turned bright red as she took his hand then scrambled to get up and not look like a newborn colt attempting to stand for the first time.

  Jesus, really?! She wanted to find a hole and climb into it.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” His gaze raked over her, landing on her hips.

  “Yes.” She tried not to squeak, her body overreacting to his casual appraisal.

  Don’t get all worked up. He wasn’t checking you out.

  “Let me pick these up,” he offered.

  “Okay, thank you.”

  He glanced to where she still gripped his hand.

  Oh my god. Let go of the man. She turned redder as she instantly released him. Seriously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched by a man. Well, she hadn’t, certainly not a man like Roc. The last time she’d been with someone, it had been a chiropractor she met online that ended in unsatisfying third date sex.

  Convincing her stomach to stop doing somersaults as he picked up her papers was near impossible. There was just something about him that made her feel unbalanced, figuratively and literally. Her hand tingled where they’d touched. The man’s hands were warm and rough, like he did manual labor, though she doubted it from the way he dressed. Then again, he was so huge he probably hauled the antique furniture he bought all by himself. She could only imagine how ripped he was beneath that high-priced suit.

  Not helping! She was just making herself more flustered.

  “Thank you for your help but I think I’m going to just chalk up my losses and call it a day,” before I manage to injure you and embarrass myself further, she silently added as she shoved her papers in her bag.

  Meline took off for the door feeling like an utter fool.

  “Wait,” Roc called after her.

  She spun around to find him still holding half her research.

  Oh, holy hell. She rushed back and grabbed her papers, but he refused to release his grip on them.

  “I’m holding a benefit at Chateau Frontenac tonight. Come, be my guest. It’s the least I can do for knocking you over.”

  “That’s not really necessary.”

  “I’ll add your name to the list.” Roc released her papers.

  “Um, thanks. I’ll think about it.” Meline cast him an awkward smile before turning and heading for the door as fast as her feet could carry her.

  “I’ll see you at eight then,” he chuckled from behind her.

  Her heart skipped a beat and her cheeks heated further, hearing the rumbling sound. This had to be the most pathetic encounter she ever had with a perfect stranger, must less a man. The fact that he knew it by the way he snickered made it all the more embarrassing.

  She couldn’t get out of the building fast enough, only to realize once she made it through the doors that she hadn’t bothered to consider the stalker. Meline heaved a giant sigh of relief when she didn’t see him.

  “Because you’re imagining shit, you nut case,” she moaned.

  Meline hung her head, replaying everything as she hustled to her hotel. It wasn’t like she was incredibly smooth on a good day, but that performance was just shameful. She couldn’t believe he’d taken pity on her for being a klutzy head case and asked her to some party he was throwing at the chic old hotel.

  Like I’m going to risk a repeat of this fiasco. At least in the bookshop there was no one to witness her misery. If she took him up on his overly kind offer there’d be tons of people with front row seats to her nightmare. Uh, uh. That is so not happening.

  She reached her room and flopped on the bed, throwing one arm over her face.

  What is your problem? she lamented.

  Her cell rang and Meline jumped. She scrambled for the phone and answered it.

  “Hello!”

  “Hey,” Jen said on the other end.

  “Hey,” Meline sighed, relieved to hear her girlfriend.

  “Are you all right? You sounded surprised.”

  “No, I’m not all right,” she groaned in abject misery.

  “Well that answers the question about how your vacation’s going,” her friend replied, sounding sympathetic.

  “I’ve been a total nut from the moment I got here.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I told you how my ten-times great-grandfather wrote about meeting something that looked like the devil, right?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Jen said hesitantly.

  “Well, obviously his story has gone to my head. Since I arrived I keep thinking I’m being followed, spooking at damn shadows.” And it didn’t help she’d wandered at night when she had no business being out alone.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s no wonder, you have been spending a lot of time dwelling on dead people lately.”

  “I know. I know.” Meline nodded.

  “I know connecting to your roots was important to your parents, but don’t you think they’d also want you to enjoy yourself?”

  “Yes. I get that, and believe me, I brushed the nonsense off.” At least she’d tried.

  “I’m hearing a but there.”

  “But before I could pull my head together, I totally embarrassed myself with a man who was just trying to help me. I babbled, stared like an idiot, spilled my papers everywhere, butted heads with him, fell on my ass exposing my panties then ran like a chicken shit. Oh god, Jen, it was awful.”

  “You met a guy!” Jen squealed in glee.

  “Did you not hear a word I just said? I made a total fool of myself! No, that doesn’t even begin to describe it. It was like the nightmare where you wake up naked in public.”

  “Was he hot?”

  “Roc was enormous, but yeah, he was good looking in a rugged masculine way.” Meline smiled as she thought of him, then shook her head remembering the catastrophe.

  “Ooh, his name was Roc.”

  “Jen, I ran off like my hair was on fire.”

  “Oh. Well that’s a shame. And you said he was trying to help you?”

  “He found me gawking in a book shop and offered to help me find a book, since like a moron I admitted I couldn’t read French.”

  “So, he came to your rescue,” Jennifer gushed.

  “I was a babbling loon and he felt pity for me, Jen. You should’ve seen him. He was dressed in an obscenely expensive suit, talking about how he traveled the world buying and selling art. I know I don’t lead a glorious life, but I don’t need some rich playboy rubbing my nose in it, inviting me to fancy benefits out of pity.”

  “Wait just a minute. Are you telling me some rich man named Roc invited you to a party and you said no? Meline Lauber!”

  Meline closed her eyes and smacked her forehead. Jennifer was impossible. She was missing the whole point.

  “I know the face you’re making, Meline. I don’t care what kind of fool you made of yourself, you are going to that party.”

  “And what, trip over my own feet and fall face first into the buffet this time?!”

  “Donkey balls! First off, you’re the funniest biatch I know. Remember that time you tripped in the club?”

  “Ugh, yeah. I’m a total klutz.”

  “Well you jumped up and threw your hands in the air like you just completed the best gymnastic routine ever. After I finished snorting my mojito through my nose, I totally gave you a ten.”

  “I appreciate the assist, but my floor routine was probably a seven at best,” Meline chuckled.

  “Shut up. The point is you are funny and so quick with the snarky comebacks it’s like an art. And you’re smart. Look how fast you got your associate’s degree. And don’t get me started on how awesome you are. So, beautiful biatch, you’re going to put on that fancy dress we bought just for this trip, and you’re going to show that man what you’re made of,” Jen insisted.

  “Yeah, okay,” Meline laugh
ed at her friend’s pep talk. “I’m hanging up now. Thanks for lightening my mood. You know I love you, girl.” She didn’t know what she’d do without Jen. The girl had been a life saver over the last year.

  “All right, fine, but don’t disappoint me. I expect stories. Love ya.” Jennifer hung up.

  Meline stared at the suitcase holding her dress, debating what if, then shook her head. Yes, she was being ridiculous, but there was no way in hell she could go to that party. Just thinking about Roc twisted her in knots. God only knows what she’d do being around him, in public. She tugged her messenger bag onto the bed. Her time would be better spent planning what she’d do tomorrow. The phone pinged and she glanced down at the message.

  ‘Go to that party!!!’

  Meline snorted at her friend’s text.

  4

  Roc

  He’d watched Meline’s movements throughout the day, plotting his approach like he did with all his marks. When he saw her go into the old bookstore he knew it was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Roc put on his game face before going in, his goal in sight. That’s where everything went to shit and his attempt to keep things strictly business flew out the window.

  The idea was to gain her trust and get a look at her research. Except the instant he saw Meline he got distracted, like the night before. She looked so small and lost standing amidst the rows of books. The driving need to ease her derailed every other rational thought. And rather than making things better, he royally fucked it up. He didn’t think he’d come on too strong, but apparently he had, from the way Meline screeched in surprise, babbled, then grew shy and quiet, scrunching up her button nose. She was damn cute when she got flustered. He might’ve gotten somewhere with her if he hadn’t practically knocked her out, almost exposing his horns in the process. In the end it wasn’t a total shock when she turned tail and ran.

  “Sacrament!” Roc cursed, scrubbing a hand over his face as if that could wipe away the memory of the disastrous afternoon.

  He opened his eyes and glanced around the hotel dressing room. He was supposed to be changing into his costume for the masquerade already under way in the ballroom. That was a joke. The costume was what he wore the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. This event was his rare chance to be himself and mix with people. He should be happy, like the other times he held these soirées, instead he was worried whether or not one guest in particular would show.