Cash didn’t reply, mostly because he had nothing to say. Once this Chess got back into her room, she’d be out of his hair and no concern of his.
The lights flickered, and Joely threw her hands in the air. “Dear God, please don’t let the hydro go.” It flickered once more, and after a few seconds, Joely set down her mug. “I think we just dodged a bullet. At least I hope so. If the hydro goes, I’m bunking with Steve, and he’s nothing but a bag of bones. Not sure how much heat I’d get off him.”
Steve stuck his head through the order window and yelled that the burgers were done. Then he looked at Cash before his gaze moved pointedly to the door. “When he leaves, turn the sign. I’m headed to my room.”
Joely grabbed the takeout bags and wrapped up two slices of apple pie. She tossed in four bottles of water and rang up his order. Cash thanked her and headed for the door.
“How long do you suppose you’re here for?” she asked just as he reached the door. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. It would be a shame if you didn’t at least make it to your sister’s place.”
“I guess I’ll be playing it by ear and see what happens when the sun comes out.”
“You be careful if you do head out.”
Cash pushed his way out into snow and kept his head down as he made his way back to his room. It was hard going. The wind was strong and the drifts were already upward of two feet. He made it to the other side and balanced the large bag of food in one hand while opening the door with his other. The wind got hold of it and tore it from his grip. The damn thing crashed against the wall at about the same time as he heard a frightened scream.
It took a bit for his eyes to adjust and they moved from the empty bed to the woman standing over his duffel bag. Tears had paved a road through her makeup, and that shiner wasn’t waiting until morning. She was shaking and obviously scared, maybe a little confused.
* * *
She had about five hundred bucks in her hand. And all five hundred of them belonged to Cash.
Chapter Three
Chess froze.
She stared across the room at the stranger, a man who looked like he could more than handle himself. He was tall, with wide shoulders draped in old, weathered leather. His features were hidden by a hoodie and shadows, but his square jaw was set in a way that made her heart take off like a train chugging full steam ahead.
This man was serious, and he meant business.
Her mind screamed at her to leave, but there was no way to do that since he stood in front of the door. She took a step back, and her knees almost buckled. She caught herself in time and didn’t take her eyes off him.
She licked dried lips, her mind frantically searching for answers. Where was she? Who was he?
She remembered the man in the car, his leering eyes, sausage fingers up her dress, then clawing at her breasts. She remembered whiskey on his breath and his fist on her face, but this wasn’t that guy. Think. Snow and ice and bone-jarring cold. Wind cutting at her. Jerry and the grease on his shirt. And then nothing. Shivering, she exhaled and tried to make sense of the chaos in her head. It was hard because she was so damned tired and afraid she’d faint.
“What happened? Who are you?” she managed to whisper, though she wasn’t sure he heard her.
He set down a large paper bag and closed the door before shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it onto the bed. He turned toward her, pulled back the hood of his black zip-up, and looked her in the eye.
His presence ate up the room, and Chess found it hard to breathe.
His eyes were dark, and they glittered through the dim lighting. His nose looked like it had been broken at least once, and a scar ran through his right eyebrow. His hair was thick, the color of aged tobacco, and his mouth curled a bit as he looked at her. He was handsome in a way that would make any woman look twice, but it was the danger that clung to him that was the real kicker. It oozed from every pore, an aphrodisiac he wore like a champ.
“Why don’t you put that money back where you found it, and then we can have a conversation.” His voice was like the rest of him, deep and strong and assured. He spoke slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. As if they weren’t strangers. As if they were pals and he hadn’t just caught her stealing from him.
Chess looked down at her frozen fingers, clutched so tight around the paper bills, her knuckles were white. When had she fallen this low?
Something bubbled up inside her, and she realized it was shame. She was full of it and felt its red mark creep over her face. Carefully, she turned around and opened his bag before placing the money exactly where she’d found it, tucked away in the inside zipper compartment.
She took a moment to get herself together, and when she felt she could speak without falling apart, Chess turned back to him. The man had set out food on the dresser. Her mouth watered at the smell of it. Had she eaten today? Maybe?
She watched him with wary eyes as he continued unpacking the bag. He walked toward her and set down a wrapped burger and a container of fries on the dresser she stood by, and when he handed her a bottle of water, she hesitated.
“I’m not sleeping with you.” Chess looked up at him, wanting to be strong and hoping she sounded like it, but his eyes gave nothing away. The man was like stone.
“I’m not asking,” he replied, moving back a few paces, a hint of a smile touching his mouth. “Trust me, darlin’, you’re not my type.”
Chess stared at him dully. In her experience, when it came to sex for favors, most men didn’t give a crap about type.
“Are you gay?” she asked, watching him carefully.
He chuckled and slowly shook his head. “You’re not used to men who don’t want you. I get that. You’re a beautiful woman. So let me elaborate a bit. If this was another time and place and I hadn’t just caught you rifling through my duffel bag, and say you weren’t sporting bruises and a ripped dress, well then, maybe I’d do more than take a second look. But I don’t do complicated, I don’t have time for it. And from what I can tell, complicated is your best friend.” He nodded at the food. “Eat that, and then we’ll talk.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and ignored her completely as he made his way through his burger and fries. Like everything else he did, he ate methodically and slowly. He opted for a can of beer instead of water, and when he was done eating, he tossed the wrappers in the garbage and then turned his attention back to Chess.
She’d managed a couple of bites of the burger and a few fries, but her stomach roiled something fierce and she didn’t feel so good. She knew she needed to eat, so she forced down another french fry, but when it nearly made its way back up, she carefully wrapped what was left of her meal and sat on the lone chair in the room. It was that or fall flat on her face.
“I’m Cash Bodine,” he said slowly, as if weighing his words.
“Chess Somers.” She moistened her lips and took another swig of water. “Where are we?”
He looked surprised at her words. “This is my room. Yours is next door. You couldn’t get in. I guess you lost your key.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Right.” Her hand drifted up to her cheek, and she winced.
“What happened?” he asked.
“What always happens,” she said, more to herself than anything. “I trusted someone and landed in a pile of crap because of it.”
“Lady, you need to shortlist the people you trust.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Chess glanced up. “There was only one name left, and, well, as you can see, it didn’t exactly work out.” She waited for him to say something, but he remained silent, those dark eyes of his relentless in their intensity. “I should go.” Chess started to get to her feet, but a wave of dizziness had her head spinning so bad, she nearly slid to the floor.
Cash was on his feet in an instant.
“You don’t have a key, remember?”
Shit. Right.
Hot tears poked at her eyes, and Chess stared down at her tr
embling fingers.
“I can head over to the office and see if the guy there will give you an extra key.”
“No,” she replied, barely able to speak. “I already did that.”
“He doesn’t have an extra? He should.”
“Jerry said my mother took it last week.”
“Okay, but he should still have a master.”
She yanked her head up and shuddered, sick and tired of life and the bum deal she couldn’t seem to shake. “I’m sure he does. But the thing he wanted in return wasn’t something I was willing to give him, even if I look the type who does that sort of thing.” Her eyes flashed as fire erupted inside her. “You know, the complicated type who’d get down on her knees for an extra room key.”
Her voice broke as Chess sank back onto the chair. Her vision blurred, and the howling wind and ice against the window filled her ears. “Maybe I deserve this,” she whispered.
“No one deserves that.” He was there in front of her, on his knee, looking up at Chess.
She started to giggle. “There’s a whole town on the other side of that door who’d say you’re wrong. They’d say karma is a bitch and she sure looks good on Chess Somers.” Her giggles dried up, and she whispered, “They wouldn’t be wrong.”
For the longest time, there was nothing but the wind and the storm and the sound of her heart in her ears. When he spoke, she jumped, his voice like a physical touch.
“You need some rest. I’ve got an old sweatshirt and pants you can change into. They’ll be big, but you can roll up the waist. It will be a lot more comfortable than your coat and that dress.”
Embarrassed, Chess grabbed for the edge of her jacket and pulled it tighter, but Cash didn’t pay her any mind. He didn’t listen for her answer either. He handed her a faded gray sweatshirt along with a red-and-blue-plaid pair of sleep pants, then nodded toward the bathroom.
“You’re stuck here for the night, Chess. I’ll deal with the guy in the office tomorrow morning. If it wasn’t so bad out there, I’d put his ass in place right now, but the storm’s so bad, I can’t even see my truck, and it’s parked in front of my room.” His voice gentled, and she felt something inside her melt a little. It was what kindness sounded like.
It was a sound she’d long ago forgotten.
“Go and change, and you take the bed. I’m fine in the chair.”
Chess didn’t argue because she had no fight left in her. She got up, waited a few seconds until she was sure she wouldn’t keel over, and then took the clothes. When she saw her face in the mirror, she let out a sob that sounded so pathetic, she immediately shoved her fist into her mouth. She didn’t know how long she stood there, staring at the bruise on her swollen cheek and the black eye that would definitely look worse in the morning. There were scratches on her breasts, and bruises as well, one of them clearly showing the imprint of a man’s hand.
She yanked off the dress and threw it in the garbage. She told herself it could have been much worse. She could have been raped or left for dead. But as she climbed into bed and turned her back on the stranger named Cash, it didn’t matter. She felt like she’d reached the end.
Chess closed her eyes and shivered until the cold passed and she was warm. Until she heard Christmas music and hummed along to “Silent Night.” Until she smiled, relieved when her dad walked through the door and held her and told her everything was going to be okay.
“Why’d you leave us?” she asked, struggling to open her eyes as a wave of cold drifted over her. “Are you going to stay? Promise me you’ll stay. I’ll be good. I swear it.”
Her dad didn’t answer, not that time, or the next, or the next. When she stopped asking, Chess’s voice was hoarse, she was burning up with fever, and she wanted nothing more than to fade into the shadows and stay there forever.
But the angel with the dark eyes was back. He was relentless. He tried to force her to drink. He told her to stop fighting, and she hated him for it. She drank the water. Took the pills he offered. Then everything faded to black, and those shadows in the corner crept up the bed and settled over Chess like a coffin. She surrendered, glad the angel had gone, glad for the warmth, glad for the silence.
But the mind, it plays tricks, and she fell asleep clinging to a man she didn’t know, unaware and feverish. And for the first time in months, she slept like a baby.
Chapter Four
Cash strode into the office on the heels of a huge gust of wind and snow. He didn’t wipe his boots but kept moving forward, not stopping until he walked up to the guy behind the desk. His anger was palpable, and he barely kept it in check.
The man, if that was what you could call him, looked just as greasy and unappealing as the night before, and he’d not bothered to change into clean clothes. A name tag hung crookedly from his chest. Cash glanced at it.
“Hey, you can’t come back here.” Jerry licked his lips nervously and looked at his cell on the counter next to the computer.
“I need the key to room twenty-nine.”
Jerry scratched his head, recovered somewhat from Cash’s entrance. Maybe thinking he was safe. “That’s not your room, mister.”
“No.” Cash leaned forward, a lethal grin on his face. “It’s not.”
Jerry was nervous. A tic appeared beside his fleshy lips, and his voice rose at least an octave. “I can’t give it to you. We have rules.”
“Is that so?” Cash’s tone was conversational, but he made no effort to hide the anger inside him. “Those rules include propositioning a customer for sexual favors in exchange for letting her into her room?”
Jerry’s mouth fell open and his cheeks exploded in a ruddy patchwork of red that crept up from his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “Chess Somers is crazy. Everybody knows it. You can’t believe anything she says.”
Cash took a moment and clamped down on his temper, because if he didn’t, he’d smash his fist into Jerry’s nose and flatten him but good. The douchebag wasn’t worth it, and with Cash’s record, it would only get his ass tossed into jail again.
He looked the asshole straight in the eye because he wanted him to know he meant business. “I’ll make this real simple, Jerry. You give me the key, and I won’t hurt you.”
Jerry almost smiled, as if this was a game between the two of them. But he saw the cold, dark thing in Cash’s eyes and moved back a step or two.
“I already told her I don’t have another one. Her mother took the spare last week, and she hasn’t returned it.”
“Give me the master. And, Jerry? I’m not asking again.” When Cash took a step toward him, it was enough to spur the bastard into action. He shoved his way past Cash and disappeared into a small room, then returned with a key. He didn’t look up or meet Cash’s gaze, but then he was a coward, and Cash didn’t expect as much.
“I found a spare. You tell Chess to return it or we’ll have to charge her for it.”
Cash grabbed the key and turned around. He reached for the door, but before he pushed it open, he looked over his shoulder. “You leave her alone, understand? If you don’t, well, you and I are going to get acquainted.” He pushed out into the storm, his anger propelling him forward.
By the time he reached his room, Cash was shivering from the biting cold, and his face smarted from the ice pellets that hit his skin like bullets. He quietly let himself inside and stood there for a few moments, contemplating his situation. He was stuck here for another day, if not longer. The storm hadn’t let up through the night and showed no promise of dying down any time soon. The snow it dumped was impressive, and it had taken a lot to get through the parking lot to the office.
“Just great,” he murmured.
Nervous energy had him on edge. He wasn’t the kind of man to sit still for long, and the need to do something ate at him. He glanced out the window and, before he could change his mind, rifled through his bag for a thick cable-knit sweater, an extra pair of
long johns, and a scarf. He got dressed for the second time, and, before he slid on the gloves, Cash knelt beside the bed and touched Chess’s forehead.
She was still warm, but not burning up like the night before.
He studied her for a few seconds, wondering about those demons of hers. She obviously had daddy issues. She’d cried out for her father until she damn near lost her voice. From what he gathered, the guy had left his family. He clamped his jaw shut and then swore. There was no reason good enough for a man to walk out on his kid. He’d been there. His own father was a rat bastard who’d slunk away in the middle of the night, and then he’d been replaced by a monster.
It was why he’d decided long ago never to have kids or get involved with a woman who wanted them. No way would he ever chance putting that kind of hurt on a child.
Chess muttered something and snuggled deeper into the pillow. He’d held her in the night to keep her from thrashing around, and truthfully, the feel of her heat had scared him. He knew that if she took a turn, the chances of getting help were slim. But sometime between dusk and dawn, her fever had broken, and she’d clung to him, head buried into his neck, her breathing even. He wouldn’t have been able to extricate himself if he tried. Her grip was too strong. After a while, he’d finally relaxed enough to catch some shut-eye.
Cash got to his feet, confident she’d be asleep for a few more hours at least. He tucked the blanket under her chin and headed outside. Then made his way back to the office and asked Jerry for a shovel. The guy cleared his throat nervously, said he had something better, and gave him the key to the storage room where a snowblower sat waiting for him.
For the next four hours, Cash worked to clear as much snow from the walkway and parking lot as he could. Joely waved from the diner, and though Steve looked at him through the window, he puffed from his cigarette and shook his head as if thinking Cash was an idiot—already a few inches of snow had reclaimed the path he’d cut through the parking lot.
A Little Bit of Christmas Page 2
