“What, is he a hooker or something?” the other drunk brawler said, causing more donkey-like laughter.
Vic turned to the inebriated, snickering trio. “We’re leaving. Now.” He didn’t have any inflection in it, just started walking.
“Listen, asshole,” Blue Shirt said, grabbing a handful of jacket. “That bitch and your little friend were . . . ack!”
It was like a movie, Jake thought. Vic grabbed the guy’s wrist and, in a blur of motion, had him sucking pavement in about two seconds. When the friends moved in, he nailed one in the nuts and had the other flat on his back, wind knocked out of him. They were all flopping there, gaping, like fish on the bottom of a boat.
Vic turned back to them as if nothing had happened. “I should speak to hotel security,” he said quietly. “And may I suggest you getting to your room, and staying there? If nothing else, it would make my job easier.”
“Unfortunately, your job is going to be a little harder. I, um, just managed to get myself kicked out of this hotel,” Jake said, feeling embarrassed.
“All right,” Vic said, unfazed. “We can—”
“I have an idea,” Hailey interrupted. Then she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Okay. This is nuts, and this is a onetime-only thing. But for tonight . . .” She paused, taking another deep breath. “You can stay at my place.”
* * *
I can’t believe I’m doing this, Hailey thought as Jake and the bodyguard—Vic?—followed her up the stairs to the front door of Frost Bookstore and her home.
She’d never brought guys home, ever. She half expected Grandma Frost’s ghost to come out on the porch and start whaling on her with a broom. Of course, she’d never had a bodyguard before, either.
She unlocked the door, and looked at Vic. “Um . . . are you sure you want to stay here? I doubt anybody’s coming for him tonight. For one thing, nobody knows where he is, or where this is.”
“As far as you know,” Vic said, and she forced herself not to roll her eyes. “Besides, I’m on assignment. I’m here until he leaves town.”
Right. That was soon. Another weird little blip went across Hailey’s mind. Should she mind that he was going to leave by the end of the week? No. This was all for the bookstore. For her sisters.
“All right. I’ll, um, get Jake settled into my room, and then I’ll crash with one of my sisters.” She blanched. “Which reminds me. I’d better let them know that you’re here. Um, both of you.”
“I hate that we’re putting you out,” Jake said, and his face was full of genuine remorse. It warmed her, a little.
“No, no. This helps sell the story, anyway, right?” She winced when she saw Vic’s curious look at her words. “Um, let me get you settled into my room.”
Jake’s smile was quick, and he looked interested. His sky-blue eyes shone.
“No hanky-panky,” she cautioned him. “I don’t bring sex home.”
Jake’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline, and then he started chuckling, quickly smothering it with his hand when she shushed him. Vic stayed stoic. He must be a helluva bodyguard, she thought.
“Um, Mr. . . . Vic,” she said, wondering what she should do about the guy. “Did you want to bunk in with Jake?”
“If it’s all right with you and your sisters,” Vic said, in a low voice, “I’m going to camp here, on this couch. If anybody’s going to break in, they’re going to do it from this floor. At least your floors are already elevated. I’m going to do a quick check of your lowest doors and windows, and then I’ll just set up down here. If anybody comes in, I’ll know about it.”
She wondered if he was going to sleep. “Um . . . okay.”
He went back out the front door like a ghost. She led Jake up the first flight of stairs to the two bedrooms, hers and Cressida’s. The attic stairs led to Rachel’s room. “This is me,” she said, pointing to the right. “The bathroom’s right here, if you need it.”
“I’ll set my bag down and then get cleaned up,” he said. “Thanks, again, for this. For everything. I’m sorry I was such a jackass at the casino.”
“You were trying to be gallant,” she said, her stomach feeling a little quivery at the thought. Good grief, a guy protecting her. Part of it was ludicrous—she fought her own battles, and generally kicked ass, thanks very much—but part of it was just . . . sweet.
When was the last time a guy had gone out of his way to take care of her?
Never, she thought. And that was unsettling.
“I’ll . . . um, let my sisters know you guys are here,” she said, hopping up the stairs and knocking on Rachel’s door. “Rache? Rachel?”
“Hmrph.”
She opened the door. From the light of the hallway, she could barely make out her sister, sprawled on her bed.
“I, um, have some guys over.”
A slow roll. “Mmf?”
“Guys,” Hailey repeated. “Um . . . a guy I’m seeing . . . and his, um, bodyguard.”
Silence for a minute. “Wfr mummpher.”
Then a low snore.
Hailey smiled. Rachel was a heavy sleeper, especially when she’d been working especially hard. Which lately seemed like always. Hailey took advantage of using Rachel’s tiny bathroom while Jake used the one downstairs. She also borrowed one of Rachel’s nightshirts. Hailey never wore nightgowns, but she wasn’t going to sleep nude on her sister’s floor, for God’s sake. Rachel’s nightie was a little snug, but she made it work. Then she went over to Cressida’s door, knocking softly.
“Cress?”
Cressida was sitting at her desk, her headphones casually pulled down to her neck, her expression expectant. “Do we have guests?” Cressida asked, one eyebrow arching. “This is new. You don’t usually bring a guy home.”
“Well, this time, it’s two guys, actually,” she said, and then choked back a chuckle when Cressida’s mouth dropped open. “Not like that, goob. I’m letting one guy sleep in my room, and the other’s going to be camped out on the couch. They’re fine, they’re good guys,” Hailey quickly reassured her.
“I’m in my home, my space. It’s fine,” Cressida said. “We do have the occasional male customer come into the bookstore, you know.”
“When customers come in,” Hailey muttered, worry for her sister and the stress of the day making her irritable. “I just don’t want you to be scared, you know, because there are strangers.”
“That’s not how agoraphobia works, necessarily,” Cressida said, her voice prim. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”
“I’ll hustle them out of here early tomorrow, I promise,” Hailey said, feeling guilty. “I just couldn’t think of where else to bring them.”
“Are they in some kind of trouble?”
“Sort of.” She sighed. So much for hiding it. She should probably explain who it was. “Remember when you asked when I’d bring Jack Reese home to meet you guys?”
Now Cressida’s eyes opened wide. “Shut. Up!”
“I know.”
“You had better not hustle him out of the house!” Cressida said, leaping up and grabbing Hailey’s arm, hopping a little, like a kid. “Can I ask questions? Can I totally fangirl squee and get spoilers?”
“Okay, no,” Hailey said, laughing.
“And who’s the other guy? Miles? Simon?” Cressida was practically dancing with excitement.
“Actually, that’s Jake’s bodyguard.”
“No shit. Better and better!” Cressida did a little shimmy. “This is so cool!”
“Shh!” Hailey looked out the door, but Jake was already in her room, with the door mostly closed. “I’m just going to get Jake settled, then I’m going to sleep in here on your floor. That okay?”
Cressida’s eyebrows went higher. “Shut up, part two.”
“I’m serious.”
“Shut up, part three: the revenge.” Cressida started giggling.
“I am not having sex in this house,” Hailey said sharply, then abruptly wondered if her voice carried. It wasn’t like the wall
s were that thick. “I mean it.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Cressida said, with an eye roll. “Sure, if you want to come in, go ahead. I’ll have blankets and the foam roll-out if you want to use it. But if you don’t, that’s fine, too.”
“Thanks,” Hailey said, then gave Cressida a hug. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Bet your ass,” Cressida said, grinning.
* * *
Jake was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, out of respect . . . he normally slept in the world’s rattiest boxers, but he found himself strangely self-conscious. He was still aching from their kiss earlier, and where he’d hoped it would lead. He felt badly about everything that had transpired since, though, and wasn’t going to push his luck.
There was also the little fact that he was now in her bedroom. He didn’t feel badly enough about what had happened to pass up this gem of an opportunity.
He wanted her, without question. But he found himself wanting to know more about her as a person, whether he got to have sex with her or not.
He looked around the room. It was small, even compared to his hotel room. It was painted a rich pumpkin orange. The bed was full sized, and the bed frame was beat-up pine, but the bedding looked cool—lots of swirling colors, dark and mysterious and sort of like an Indian bazaar.
On the walls, she had posters of punk rockers and pinups surrounding her: Bettie Page, Dita Von Teese. Siouxsie Sioux with Robert Smith from The Cure, hiding a mischievous smile. The posters were taped up, pastiche-style, like a big collage. There were also postcards: masks from Carnival in Venice, pictures of Montmartre and the Moulin Rouge in Paris. The demon-catcher image from Supernatural, and quotes from Firefly.
“‘May have been the losing side,’” Jake read aloud, “‘Still not convinced it was the wrong one.’”
God, he liked this girl.
The real focal point of the room was the clothes, though. The closet doors had been removed. The clothes weren’t jammed in or anything, but there were a lot of them, obviously well cared for and in perfect order, which was more than could be said for the small “writing desk” thing that seemed more like a catchall for paper and pocket change and various detritus of the day.
The bedroom door opened, and he looked up. Then he stopped thinking, and breathing, for a long second.
Her hair was down, still wet from the shower. It spilled in maple ribbons over her shoulders, still wavy from the curls she’d kept it contained in earlier. Her face was naked, making her look younger, more vulnerable. Her full lips were a dusky raspberry color, naturally, and her indigo eyes were huge.
“Settled in all right?” she asked. “I’m going to go crash on my sister’s floor tonight. I’ve got Vic set up on the couch. I just wanted to, um, make sure you were okay, and talk about how we’re going to handle things tomorrow. Then I’ll go to bed.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m tired,” she said. “But otherwise, sure, I’m swell.”
“I really am sorry, Hailey. About everything.”
She smirked. “First a family emergency, then a psycho stalker. It’s like the universe is saying, ‘Don’t have sex,’ you know?”
His whole body gave an emphatic no in response to that statement.
“Maybe it’s just making us wait so we’ll appreciate it more when it actually happens,” he said softly. Because he felt in his soul that it would happen, force majeure be damned.
He watched a flush crawl up her naked face, and just a second of hunger in her gaze. She cleared her throat. “I’ll try to get up early so we can get you to the con for your first panel and to deal with . . . you know, all of that . . .” she said, with a vague wave of her hand. “All that” being the stalker issue, and security, he assumed.
He stretched out on the bed. “I like your room.”
She stiffened, stepping closer. “You didn’t snoop, did you?”
“No, I didn’t snoop,” he said, smirking. “But now I’m going to want to, you realize. Because obviously there’s something snoop-worthy.”
She grimaced, coming in and closing the door. “Keep it down, will you? My sisters are trying to sleep.” She growled, stepping closer. “And really, the only things you’re going to find are a few sex toys, and maybe some candy bars. So don’t even.”
He stretched out, and felt something under his head . . . under the pillow. “Oh, really? Sex toys, you say?” he asked, reaching under.
He didn’t even see her coming. She flew onto the bed, effectively tackling him. “That’s nothing you need to see,” she growled, snatching it away. But not before he could see what she held.
It was a notebook. “You keep a diary?” he asked, surprised.
“No,” she mumbled, stowing it under the bed. “I mean, yeah. It’s a journal. Kind of.”
“Thought you were a hell of a liar,” he teased, fascinated by seeing her truly flustered for the first time. “What is this really?”
She bit her full lower lip. “Story ideas,” she finally muttered.
He blinked, then smiled. “You’re a writer!”
“No,” she protested. “Well . . . not really.”
She was stretched out next to him, he realized . . . wearing a nightgown that clung to her curves. He felt his body tighten and forced himself to think about alien autopsies until he could get himself under control. She’d made it clear: no sex tonight.
There would be other nights, he comforted himself. Tonight was a fact-finding mission. He wanted to know everything he could about one Hailey Frost.
“What do you write? And when did you get started?”
She propped her head up on one elbow. “I like sci-fi and fantasy,” she said. “When I was younger, I thought up stories all the time—it’s a part of the con, or at least that’s what I was taught. You make a simple story, you nail the details, and you believe it so hard that it doesn’t feel like a lie.”
He nodded, mirroring her pose so he was looking into her face. Without her makeup, she looked vulnerable. Still beautiful, obviously. But also open.
“When I moved up here, Grandma Frost had all these books. I hadn’t been that big of a reader, but I couldn’t earn TV time until I’d read for an hour. And when I was grounded—which was often—reading was all she’d let me do. I got hooked before I knew it.” Her smile was gentle as she reminisced. “Then I found myself thinking of characters I’d play, if I were in a world like that. It sort of grew from there. I’ve never finished a whole book. I’ve barely completed a few short stories—don’t have the time. And I’ve never shown anyone what I write.”
“Maybe you’ll let me read something of yours one day,” he ventured.
She shot him a skeptical glance, some of her smartass armor coming back. “Really? You’re a reader?”
He felt stung, but played up an exaggerated expression of offense. “Hey! Don’t let the hot bod fool you. There’s a mind up here.”
“You read sci-fi and fantasy, I mean?” She looked intrigued.
He nodded. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Sure you are,” she said. “What are your favorite books, then?”
“I really like the Kingkiller series by Patrick Rothfuss,” he said, muttering, “and it’d be really great if he could, I don’t know, get to the third book.”
He was gratified when she beamed at him. “I know, right? He said he wrote all three of them, that it was just a matter of revising . . .”
“And if that was the case . . . jeez, man, why take so long?”
“I know!” She was laughing softly. “I mean, I don’t want to push—like Neil Gaiman would say, the man isn’t my bitch or anything—but I am dying to find out what happens.”
He smiled. “Is the fact that your family owns a bookstore the reason behind why you love reading?”
She shook her head. “The bookstore’s pretty new. We’ve only had it for a few years. We set it up after Grandma Frost died. It’s
a way we could make some income for my sister Cressida. It’s hard for her to find a job.”
Cressida—the one with the agoraphobia. “But the bookstore’s having trouble.”
“Rachel—my older sister—she’s the one who says we should pivot, make it more . . . niche, or whatever.” She sighed, propping her head up on one arm. “That’s why I came to you.”
“And here I thought it was because of my underwear model bod.”
“That was just a perk.” She nudged him with her shoulder.
“I’m sorry you guys have had it so rough,” he said, and was surprised by her bitter chuckle.
“If you think that’s rough . . . oh, my sweet summer child,” she said, her voice laughing, but her eyes warm and sad at the same time. “You’ve lived a lucky life.”
“I have,” he admitted.
They were lying there, not touching, just staring at each other. It was unnaturally quiet in the house—winter quiet, snowfall quiet, even though it wasn’t that cold out. It was like they were the only two people on Earth.
“I wasn’t planning on becoming an actor,” he heard himself say. “I thought I’d be—don’t laugh—a park ranger.”
She laughed anyway. “A park ranger?”
“What? I like nature. I like hiking,” he murmured, smiling back at her and turning onto his back. She nuzzled against him, resting her head in the curve of his neck. She was pressed against him, but he didn’t want to scare her away. “I could probably do okay on that Alone show—you know, the one where they drop people off in the middle of nowhere with just a camera, and then see how long they survive. I could probably make it a good month or so.”
He felt more than heard her chuckles, as she shook gently against him. “Okay, Nature Boy. What happened?”
“There was this girl.”
She laughed harder. “There’s always a girl.”
He stroked a lock of hair out of her face, then stroked her shoulder, softly, tentatively, seeing if she was okay with it. She made a soft sound of pleasure.
“She was on the drama team, and they were doing Romeo and Juliet, and there was talk of a lot of kissing. I wasn’t quite the brawny guy you see before you,” he added. “And what I didn’t know about girls could and probably did fill volumes. So I went for the play.”
One True Pairing: A Geek Girl Rom Com (Fandom Hearts) Page 15
