by Piper Rayne
I place my hand up in the air and Jade high fives it. Sad that the only person who gets me in this room is the eight-year-old.
Chapter Thirteen
At seven pm on the dot, a grey SUV stops alongside the curb of my condo building downtown. The low hum of energy surrounding my body that seems to be ever present whenever he’s near, tells me it’s Roarke.
“See you Sunday, Nate,” I say to my doorman. “If I don’t return by Sunday night, find that man.”
I point to Roarke exiting his vehicle and ignoring the honking horns and taxi drivers flipping him off because he’s double parked.
Nate steadily walks across the foyer of the building and opens the door for him.
“Good evening,” he says to Roarke.
Roarke nods before his gaze falls on me. His teeth lock over his bottom lip and his gaze flies down my body lighting off sparks inside me like flint to steel. Nate lets the door close and moves to retrieve my bags, but Roarke beats him, snatching up the bags at my feet.
“I thought you’d have more,” he says, a smile tipping his lips up.
“Are you saying that you expect me to be high maintenance?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “You are Hannah Crowley.”
“Now who’s making assumptions?” I follow him out of the safety of my condo building. “Thank you, Nate. Please take down the license plate number should anything happen to me.”
Roarke glances over his shoulder, lightly shaking his head.
“You are sort of kidnapping me.”
He places my bags into the back of what I now see is a high-end Range Rover. Like the man would drive a Ford.
“If memory serves, you’re getting something for coming with me.” His hand moves up in the air, telling Nate to not open my door. Nate slinks back toward the building. He’s obviously used to arrogant men like Roarke who like to tell him how they want things to go.
“Have a good trip, Ms. Crowley,” he calls out before he re-enters the building.
“Thank you, Nate.”
Roarke opens the passenger door for me.
I climb inside and turn to address him. “I suppose you’re right, but I still think three nights is pushing the envelope of what can be considered a favor.” I place my purse on the floor near my feet, relax into the leather seat and reach for the seatbelt.
“As usual, we can agree to disagree.” The door shuts, and he rounds the front of the car, looking especially good in his three-piece suit while he continues to ignore the insulting names screamed at him from passing taxi drivers. He sits down in the driver’s seat, inserting the key in the ignition. “You ready?”
I nod, keeping my head buried in my phone. Good a time as any to organize my apps.
“Are you going to make me use a favor to get you to ditch your phone?” I can see from my peripheral vision that he doesn’t bother looking at me when he speaks but turns the wheel to enter Chicago traffic.
“When do you think we’ll arrive?”
The SUV stops two feet down the road.
“In about four hours. Sorry, I had a late business meeting and that’s why we’re leaving late. Just think though, it’s less time you have to be around me.”
For some reason, his words make it clear to me what a bitch I’m being. Yes, I’m here under the pressure of these favors, but he did secure the venue for me and I did agree to the favors in the first place. Clicking my phone screen off, I cross my legs and stare out at the sea of red taillights in front of us.
“It will probably take us an hour to get out of the city,” I say.
He looks at the mirrors, his hands on the steering wheel and then swiftly changes lanes. “Yeah, that’s why this isn’t ideal, but it won’t be half as bad as if we left at five.”
For the next ten minutes, Roarke weaves through the side streets of Chicago like a veteran cabbie. I won’t tell him, but his driving skills are impressive. If I’m truthful, they’re sexy and the truck’s not even a stick shift.
“Music?” I ask, pointing to the dial.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Anything in particular you feel like?”
He slams on the brakes, his arm swinging out over to my torso as my body shifts forward on the seat.
Cars whizz by in front of us. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Impressive mom skills you got there.” I wait for my seatbelt to loosen and reach for the dial on the radio.
“How do you know I wasn’t just trying to cop a feel?” He glances over at me and a tingle erupts in the pit of my belly.
“I don’t think you’re that daring at this point.” I scroll through the presets on the radio.
“Assumptions again. Don’t forget, I am hoping to seduce you, Hannah.”
Why is it that every time he says my name, it stirs something inside of me?
“I thought I was just a date to a wedding?”
“Everyone knows women are more willing to give it up at a wedding.”
I tilt my head and stare at him for a second. He keeps the act up for a good couple seconds before a laugh bellows out. His lips tip and his smile sends a warm sensation through my body.
“Did you just make a joke?” I ask with mock astonishment.
The car speeds up once we reach the freeway clear of the downtown traffic.
“Some people enjoy my sense of humor,” he says before checking the mirror and changing lanes.
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”
Roarke shakes his head at me and presses a radio preset button and classical musical streams through the car. Then he puts his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel and focuses on the road. He hums the tune, oblivious to me watching him.
We continue sailing down the freeway since rush hour is over, the only sound besides the tires running over the cement are oboes and violins. Roarke switches lanes to pass a slow driver in the left lane, effortlessly moving back into the fast lane.
So he’s one of those drivers, huh? Not that it surprises me. Never stops or slows, just whizzes back and forth. He’s the guy you hope to see pulled over a few miles ahead, though I will say his arrogant and cocky Mario Andretti driving style suits him.
“Okay, even I can’t pretend that long.” His long fingers press a dial on his steering wheel and the volume decreases.
Confused by the whole situation, I glance over and he’s got a shit eating grin on his face.
“What?”
“I just put that on because you keep making assumptions about me. I’d never listen to that shit out of choice. You want to know my music? This is what I listen to.” He switches from the radio over to Bluetooth, his phone lighting up in the center console signaling that it’s streaming.
“Regulate” by Warren G. begins playing.
I turn my head tilts his way and he raises his eyebrows. “Surprised?”
I nod toward his phone. “May I?”
“Please.” He picks up his phone and hands it over to me.
I scroll through his music and all that’s listed is nineties hip-hop. Snoop Dog, House of Pain, Salt-N-Pepa, LL Cool J. “Vanilla Ice?” I ask.
He shrugs and a pink tint warms his face. “Don’t even try to deny that you loved that song at one point in your life.”
I roll my eyes. He’ll never get me to admit that I knew the choreography of that dance video by heart and that my best friends and I used to perform it for each other.
“Are you going to stop typecasting me anytime soon?” He lowers the volume of the music and shoots over three lanes to head up the north exit ramp.
“I’d like to survive this trip.” My knuckles whiten on the handle of the door.
“Sorry, you’re distracting.”
We follow the signs to Milwaukee. “Wisconsin?”
He nods.
“Huh, never would have thought.”
“I figured.” He eases back in his seat, his hands resting on the bottom of the steering wheel as he slows our speed down.
I’m refl
ecting on his musical tastes when something dawns on me. “Why were you listening to the Dave Matthews Band that morning in your house if you’re a hip-hop fan?”
He doesn’t speak for a beat, but I continue to wait out his answer. Finally he shrugs and says, “I thought something like that would be more your speed.”
That’s actually kind of sweet.
When I don’t respond right away he asks, “Do you ever listen to hip-hop?”
“If it comes on the radio maybe.”
“I figured.”
“Who’s assuming now?” I tease.
He chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Note taken. I did assume you were more of a Backstreet Boys girl.”
Damn him for hitting it on the mark.
“Sorry, or was it N’Sync? Ninety-Eight Degrees?”
I fidget in my seat. “You had it right the first time. Your PI guy must be good.”
“I only hire the best.” He smirks the usual one that makes my mind conflict on whether I want to slap it or kiss it off his face. Lately, it’s been the latter as much as I try to deny my attraction to him.
“That’s one thing we have in common, I guess.”
“Listen, I don’t want to fill this weekend with conversation about how we know each other from the past, but I just want to say…if you’d come to me before Todd, I would have happily represented you.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about Todd or the circumstances that led me here.” I cross my legs and lean against the passenger window.
“I’m just saying, you have no idea how hard it was for me when I got the paperwork back from my PI guy. Your beauty and intelligence and strength radiated out of the pictures. I knew the hell he was putting you through. Then when I saw you at the first meeting.” He inhales deeply and pauses for a second. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep my composure. For the first time in my career, I wanted to fire my client.”
My shoulders lose all the tension from the previous mention of Todd’s name. “Why are you telling me this?” I almost whisper.
His hand reaches over, grabbing mine. “Because I’m not trying to torture you by making you do these favors. I’ve always followed my gut intuition and they’re leading me to you. Has been since the moment I saw you and especially after you opened your mouth that first time and threw a jab my way. There’s something between us worth exploring.”
He lets go of my hand and I miss the warmth of his skin immediately.
God, what is wrong with me?
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.
“I don’t want you to say anything. I just want you to be open to the possibility that the anger you have toward me could dissolve into something else.”
A breath falls from my lips. He’s already figured out one number to the safe I’ve locked myself in since my divorce. I’m not sure I can give him the opportunity to figure out the rest.
His phone rings over the Bluetooth through the small space of the interior and I’m thankful for the interruption.
He glances at the dashboard, where I see the word ‘Mom’ on the screen. With a groan, he clicks a button on the steering wheel.
“Hey, Mom, is this important? I’m busy.”
“Roarke, your sister is in a panic and she wants to call off the wedding!”
His gaze shifts to mine. “I’m driving. Let me pull over and call her.”
“She’s hyperventilating. She swears Wyatt is cheating on her. I don’t think that’s the case. I think she’s making excuses.” His mom sounds traumatized and I feel bad for overhearing what is clearly a family matter. “I swear my own problems with men have turned both of you into a mess of adults who can’t believe someone would love you for you.”
Again, he glances quickly to me at his side. I try to keep my back straight and eyes out the window like his mom didn’t just out his vulnerability to me.
“Mom? I have Hannah in the car.”
“Oh, shoot. I’m so stupid. How did I not realize that?” She pauses. “Hello, Hannah, I’m Edie, Roarke’s mom.”
I look to Roarke for permission to talk which pisses me off the minute I realize I did it.
“Hello, Mrs. Baldwin.”
“No, don’t you proper speak to me. It’s Edie.”
I laugh. “Okay, Edie it is. Feel free to continue your conversation. Don’t mind me.”
Roarke’s hand moves to the phone, but we pass by a cop sitting in the median and he drops it back down.
A rule follower. Interesting.
“I’m looking forward to meeting you,” Edie says.
“Mom, where is Allie now?”
“I’m looking forward to meeting you, too, Edie.” I lightly slap his shoulder for interrupting.
An amused smile crosses his lips.
“She’s at Daysie’s and you know that girl is just plain trouble. She won’t help Allie see Wyatt loves her. Probably take her out to that dive bar down off the highway to get half pissed instead. Please, Roarke.”
“Okay, we’re a little over three hours away. I’ll call her now, drop Hannah at the hotel, and then go to Daysie’s if I’m not able to reach her on the phone.”
“Oh, I’m such an idiot, I forgot to tell you.”
“What?” There’s an edge that Roarke has with his mom that I recognize from my own relationship with my mother.
“Well, Wyatt’s uncle was able to get leave and we gave him one of your rooms. I hope that’s okay. I don’t understand why you and Hannah wanted different rooms anyway.”
My eyes widen and my stomach churns. Could he have concocted this entire plan?
“Then you have a houseguest for the weekend. I’ll stay with you,” he says, not sounding pleased.
I guess not.
“Really? Okay…well… I’ll have to arrange some things.” Her voice is shaky and unsure and I’m wondering who she thinks I am to her son. “I’ll wash some sheets, I’ll run to the store now and get milk and what other health foods do you eat?”
“It’s okay Mom. I’ll make do.” Roarke shifts in his seat and I’m starting to realize he does this when he’s feeling uncomfortable. “I’ll be there soon. Let me go call, Allie.”
“Okay. Bye Hannah.”
“Bye Mrs…Edie.”
“Can’t wait to meet you and see if you’re as pretty as my son says. Now Roarke, drive responsibly especially once you get past the county line. You know Sheriff Wiltaker waits for out-of-towners.”
Roarke huffs out a laugh and his face morphs into a genuine smile. “I will, Mom. Bye.”
He clicks her off the line before she can finish saying goodbye.
“You don’t have to,” I say.
He turns to me with a questioning look.
“You don’t have to sleep at your mom’s,” I say, hardly believing the words that are coming out of my mouth myself.
“I promised you a hotel room to yourself and I don’t go back on my promises.”
His thumb presses the volume button on the steering wheel and the music volume raises. I guess that concludes our conversation. I sit there, staring at the tall trees and green landscape out the window wondering why I don’t want Roarke to be inconvenienced.
“Why don’t you want to spend the night at your mom’s?” I ask.
His jaw clenches. “She has a new boyfriend.”
From the dark mask that falls over his face, I decide to not ask anymore probing questions on that topic. Not like it’s my business anyway. After these last few favors are done, I’ll probably never speak to him again.
Funny thing is, even I don’t believe the lies I tell myself about the man beside me anymore.
Chapter Fourteen
It’s another hour before Roarke pulls off the highway. Other than me asking him if I could pick a song to mix up the rap and hip-hop we don’t talk about anything else. He obviously listens to this music a lot because he mouths the words to every damn song.
We pull up to a gas station and he unbuckles his seat belt.
“I’ll make it quick.” His phone is gripped in his hands. “If you want to go to the bathroom or get a snack or anything, I’ll just be a minute.”
I nod, pulling my purse out from by my feet and exiting the Range Rover. “Anything you want?”
He shakes his head, his mind a million miles away. “No, thank you.”
I leave polite Roarke in the SUV and head inside following the sign to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, I have a white plastic bag full of drinks, sanitizing wipes in case I have to venture into another gas station bathroom on our travels, and a few snacks for us before it dawns on me that Roarke might not want us to eat in his car.
I push open the door from the small gas station store and am met by a loud voice coming from inside Roarke’s SUV, only it’s not his. The phone is synced through the speakers of the car and I’m not sure he’s aware of how loud it is. I can hear every word his sister is saying and I’m not sure if I should interrupt or not.
“Roarke, you don’t understand. I know they were hers,” she says.
I can see that his forehead is pressed against the steering wheel like this conversation is taking all his energy to get through.
“Since when do you believe in happily ever afters?”
Another pause.
“Yes, I love him.”
“Trust? You and I both know there are few people you can trust in this world.”
“Who is this girl you’re bringing anyway?”
Only hearing the sister’s side of the conversation sucks. I really want to hear what his answer to that question was.
“You’re sleeping at Mom’s? What, is she a prude?” The disgust in her voice is obvious.
“Gentleman? I’d like to see what Olivia would say to you being a gentleman.”
I pretend I don’t care who Olivia is, but of course I log the name in the recesses of my mind for further examination later.
“You’re not my father.”
Roarke picks up his head and our eyes meet before I do anything other than stand there.
“You gotta go? What the hell?” his sister snips.
