by T. M. Cromer
Hope laughed at his verbal jab. Royce not so much. He straightened in outrage from his place just beyond the front bumper.
“You kissed him? Him?”
“For Christ’s sake, you don’t need to make it sound like he’s a plague carrier.”
Coby snorted, ducked into his SUV and started the engine.
Royce was stuck glaring between the retreating tail lights and her.
“Him?”
“I think we’ve established that,” she snarked.
“I come here to tell you I love you. To pour my damn heart out, and you’ve moved on with Deputy Do-Right.”
“I didn’t move on,” she argued. However, Royce had worked himself up into a frenzy and failed to hear her.
“I fly three thousand miles to confess to being an ass, to beg you to give me a second chance, and you’ve been doing the dirty with him!”
“Just under twenty-nine hundred.”
“What?!”
“You didn’t fly three thousand miles. You flew just under twenty-nine hundred.”
“What the fuck difference does two hundred miles make?”
She nonchalantly popped open the box in her hands and selected an eclair. Hope took a few extra moments to study the pastry in her hand, before checking to make sure his angry gaze was fastened on her. With a deliberate smirk, she ran her tongue the length of the chocolate frosting and slowly fit the end of the eclair in her mouth. Watching his now slack-jawed countenance from beneath lowered lashes, she inched it out, squeezing ever-so-slightly so the cream filling oozed from the top. With a flick of her tongue, she lapped up the cream, moaning softly at the decadent flavor. The action held him enthralled.
She swallowed and asked, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”
“I was?”
“Mmhmm.” Hope once again licked the eclair.
“What was I saying?”
She cast her eyes to the hard ridge forming in his jeans and grinned. Walking to the front of her car, she hiked up her skirt and crawled up on the hood. Wicked excitement snaked through her veins as she leaned back on her elbows, allowing her chest to jut out. “I’m pretty sure you were saying you flew three thousand miles to tell me you loved me.”
He huffed out a breath. “I’m pretty sure I was, too.”
Royce ran his hands up the length of her thigh, pushing the material higher and catching a glimpse of her red, lace panties. Christ, between that lacy scrap of nothing and her pastry sucking show, he was ready to come in his jeans. By the naughty look she shot his direction, she knew it. He wasn’t over the fact that she’d kissed the pretty boy, but he decided to let it go for the moment.
Slowly, he reached forward to tug off the panties and tuck them in his jacket pocket. She lay there, open to him. He could see her desire in the form of moisture, gathering where his fingers itched to stroke. Snatching one of the eclairs from the box on the hood, he inserted a finger in the hole and withdrew some of the custard. Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted on a pant.
With a knowing grin, he trailed the custard across the lips of her opening. Dropping a kiss on the inside of her knee, he pushed her thighs farther apart. Wide enough to hook her calves over his broad shoulders and find a comfortable position for them both. “I’m starved. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
She snickered at the innuendo. “Is this where I say, ‘I’ve got something you can eat’ or am I supposed to blush and act like an innocent maiden?”
“Tough choice. It’s a little late to play the innocent maiden after you just made out with an eclair, but we can role play that one later tonight.”
Her throaty laugh caught him low in his stomach, making his dick harder, if possible. “In that case, ‘I’ve got something you can eat.’”
“Yes, you do.”
He put his lips to her core and kissed her. Tasting the custard and the flavor that was pure Hope. Her intake of breath, followed by her soft cry, had him circling her nub with his tongue and inserting two fingers into her moist heat.
He ran his long fingers in and out, careful to apply pressure to the walls of her vagina.
“Oh fuck!” she cried out as her orgasm closed in.
“That’s next on my agenda,” he chuckled and dove back in, licking harder while inserting a third finger to prepare for his entry.
Her walls contracted around his fingers, and he felt the pulsing of her womb. He wanted nothing more that to strip down and slam into her. To make her mindless with want as he took his fill. But idiot that he was, he left his box of condoms back in his bag at the hotel.
He gave in to one last taste before he gently lowered her legs and smoothed her skirt.
“My underwear?” She held out a hand, and he shook his head.
“Trophy.”
She rose up on her elbows and lifted a dark brow. “You are not keeping my favorite panties.”
“They’re my favorite panties, too. And yes, I am.” He narrowed his eyes. “Call it payment for kissing Deputy Dud.”
He noted she bit her lower lip in an effort to stem a laugh.
“Fine.”
“Fine.” Royce allowed a beat or two, then said, “Oh, and you’re throwing all your strawberry lip gloss in the trash. You’re only allowed cherry flavor from here on out.”
Her snort had him fighting back a smile. “Fine.”
“Fine. Now turn over. You need to get a spanking. You’ve been a bad girl, kissing other men while I’ve been gone.”
“Are you trying to tell me you haven’t been out with anyone or kissed another woman in the two months you’ve been gone?” she challenged.
“Six weeks and two days. And not a one. Turn over,” he growled.
Her breath quickened, and his cock pressed harder against the teeth of his zipper.
“Not a chance, Romeo.”
“I could make you.”
“You could end up with another trip to the hospital,” she threatened, eyes narrowed.
“Ah, there’s my feisty Italian woman.”
He hauled her to her feet and into his arms. As she wound her hands through his hair, he slowly lifted her skirt to run his fingers down the crack of her ass. She lifted a leg to hook on his hips and pressed closer toward his erection. While she was distracted, he smacked her bare ass. Her cry of indignation had him backing away, laughing.
“Now, Hope…” Hands raised up to ward her off, he sprinted around the left side of her car. She was hot on his heels. The gap widened between them, and he laughed in victory - until something squishy smashed into the back of his head.
He spun around, outraged. Another eclair nailed him high on his right cheekbone.
“Dammit, woman! You are wasting perfectly good pastries!”
“You can shove your pastry where the sun don’t shine you sonofab—”
“Kiss your mama with that mouth,” he asked, closing the distance between them.
“No, but I want to kiss you with it.” She smirked and grabbed his tie, dragging him closer still.
“Since you ask so nicely…” He lowered his head to hers.
Chapter 10
For the first time in close to two months, Hope looked forward to driving home again. Tonight she had a special dinner planned for Royce. Since he was due to head back to New York in the morning, they’d both decided they would rather spend time shut away from the outside world. She couldn’t pretend to be happy about his leaving so soon after he’d arrived, but she could deal, knowing that he loved her. They would figure out how to make it work long distance.
On her ride home, she thought about the great aunt somebody, who turned out to be Sophie Fiore. Hope had researched her during the interim of Royce’s trip home and his return to St. Helena. A thorough search of her mother’s attic had turned up an old diary. The rumor of love at first sight had been true.
It seemed Great Aunt Sophie’s lover, one Randolph Honeycutt, had come to California, just before the first World War. They’d met in San Francisco and fel
l in love over a cup of coffee at a small, out-of-the-way cafe. When news of the war broke out, Randolph enlisted, promising Sophie that when he returned, they would be married. Misfortune struck, and he was killed within the first week of setting foot on European soil. She grieved for him for years before succumbing to a bout of pneumonia that she’d contracted after she’d traveled North to visit an ailing friend, during one exceptionally cold winter.
Hope was happy to hear Sophie hadn’t committed suicide. However, it was a tragedy either way you looked at it. Although she was now a little more inclined to think in positive terms of her relationship, there was still an underlying fear of the Fiore Curse, as it had been dubbed. Four generations of ill luck had her worried for her own fate.
Halfway home, she thought about the wine she’d meant to grab for tonight’s meal. Dammit! Glancing in her rearview mirror, Hope slowed and pulled to the right, intending to make a three-point turn. She never saw the truck barreling down on her from the side road.
The impact snapped her head to the side, crashing into the driver’s window. Her world went black.
***
Where the hell was she? Royce checked his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time in fifty minutes. Calls to Hope went straight to her voicemail. Surely she hadn’t forgotten she intended to cook for him tonight? Feeling like a bit of a stalker, hanging on her front step, he made his way toward his rental car. It hurt that she would stand him up after the night they had. Maybe she rethought their involvement.
He was about to open the door to his vehicle when Deputy Dumbweed pulled up. Anger burned in his gut. The man had some nerve after his kissing comment last night. To move in so fast, while Hope was hurting over their separation, was a total dick move.
“Mr. Anderson.”
“Deputy.”
The look of compassion on the other man’s face struck him as odd. Something wasn’t right here.
“I drove here to tell you—”
“Tell me what? Hope changed her mind?” His temper got the best of him, and he slammed the door shut stalking to where Coby stood. “She’s not interested anymore? What? She can’t tell me that herself?”
“Royce.” His name, spoken in that tone, told a different story. One that had nothing to do with her brushing him off.
“Where is she? Tell me she’s all right.” Raw anguish beat its heavy wings inside his chest, suffocating him.
“I’ll take you to her.”
“Coby…” Royce swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Tell me.”
“An accident. It’s pretty bad. Her family is with her now.”
He was going to be sick. Vomit rushed up and out before he had a chance to move. He stared down at the once shiny shoes of the deputy and had to admit to himself that throwing up on a cop was bad form.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, man.”
“Get in the car, Royce,” Coby commanded as he withdrew a roll of paper towels from the front seat. He wiped off the excess vomit and joined Royce. “Buckle up.”
The beauty of being escorted to the hospital by an officer was that they were entitled to break the law without repercussions. Going seventy-five in a forty-five zone with lights and sirens wailing made people get the hell out of the way. Within minutes they were at the main entrance.
Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, Royce realized he was far too familiar with this particular hospital for the short amount of time he’d spent in this state.
“This way,” Coby directed.
He appreciated that the other man didn’t try to make small talk or assure him that everything would be fine. The direct, to-the-point attitude was exactly what he needed right now.
They rushed through the corridors until they were outside the surgery center. Tony, in his standard scrubs, was sporting a surgical cap and booties, with a mask hanging around his neck, speaking to the rest of his family.
Their eyes met, and Royce found a kernel of hope in the way Tony gave a small, reassuring nod. “She’s okay?”
“She will be. There were some minor broken bones, along with two fractured ribs. She also ruptured her spleen. We were able to repair the tear, without having to remove the organ. But she needs to be monitored to make sure internal bleeding doesn’t start up again.”
“Can I see her?” He knew his wants didn’t take precedence over that of the family, but he might lose his mind if he didn’t see she was alive and breathing for himself.
“She’s in recovery. I promise, the minute she’s able to have visitors, you all can see her,” Tony assured him gently.
His hands came up to scrub his scalp in frustration.
“Antonio.” Isabella Fiore spoke volumes in that one name.
“Fine. Royce, come with me.”
Tony swept through the double doors, and Royce double-timed it to catch up after bussing Isabella’s soft cheek in thanks.
No matter how he geared his mind to be prepared for how banged up she’d be, he wasn’t. Seeing her laying in that bed, sedated and bandaged, had him wanting to be sick again. He grasped her much smaller hand in his. With the other, he stroked her hair back, noticing a now sutured gash.
His concerned gaze shot to Tony.
“She’s a Fiore. She’s got a hard head,” Tony said, half smile in place. “The CT scan showed clear.”
He nodded and continued to gently smooth her hair away from her bruised face.
“I’m not sure if you can hear me, babe, but I’m here to tell ya, you had us all terrified. Don’t do that again, okay?” His voiced hitched, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t think this is an appropriate way to dodge a date with me.”
Slender fingers squeezed his. He stared at their joined hands, questioning what he felt and willing her to do it again. “I love you, Hope.”
Again, a slight movement of her hand in his. Like a bolt of lightning out of the blue, he knew she’d be all right. Knew they’d be all right.
His next words were more conversational in tone. “No offense to your brother or the staff here, but have I mentioned how much I hate this hospital?”
Tony snorted and slapped him on the back. “Come on. You aren’t supposed to be in here. They’ll be wheeling her into a private room soon as she wakes.”
“Wake soon, sleeping beauty.” Royce whispered against her lips.
***
Three days later, Hope was released from the St. Helena Memorial, and Royce was there to take her home. He breezed into her room, yellow daffodils tucked under one arm and a bakery box under the other.
She eyeballed the box and shot him a look of disbelief. “Dude, we are a long way from going there.”
“First, I’m hurt you think I only want you for one thing. Second, it’s a well-known fact that favorite foods can speed recovery,” he informed her, faux censure in his tone.
“Uh huh.” On a more serious note, she said, “You know you didn’t have to stay. I realize you have a job to get home to.”
Royce assisted her into the waiting wheelchair, careful of her battered ribs and incision. When she was settled, he squatted in front of her. They locked gazes, gunmetal gray and mocha. He said nothing, just continued to stare. Love, pure and bright, shone from his eyes. Any remaining doubts were put to rest, when he softly said, “I am home, Hope.”
“You’re not going back to New York?”
“Eventually.” Before disappointment had a chance to take hold, he continued with, “To pack my things. I’ll be working at the agency’s California branch, which will be opening as soon as I can get it up and running.”
If she could have flung herself in his arms at that moment, she would have. Instead she worked on not crying and regulating her breathing. Any large inhales or exhales hurt like a bitch.
“Know anyone looking for a roommate?” His eyes crinkled and his smile, when it came, was the most beautiful she’d ever witnessed.
“I might. But she’s a bit of a neat freak. She’ll break your arm if you mess up her kitchen.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
They sat grinning like idiots at each other, while the nurse cleared her throat in an attempt to gain their attention.
“Should we let her do her job?” she asked.
“Yeah, you should,” Tony piped in from where he leaned against the door frame.
Royce rose with a sigh and handed Hope the pastry box. As she inched the lid open to sneak a swipe of cream, he slapped his hand over hers, careful not to crush the carton.
“Those aren’t yours. They’re for Nurse Dani.”
She frowned her disbelief. “Dani? Why are you bringing eclairs to Dani?” Hope cast a hostile look in the direction of the blonde nurse Tony was teasing on the other side of the room.
“So she can share them with your brother,” he said with a wink.
“Okay, eww!”
His laugh incited hers, but it was short lived due to the discomfort it caused her.
“Let’s get you home,” Royce pushed her chair down the hall, toward the exit.
“Think they’ll notice we’re gone?”
“Those two? Doubtful.”
“So you think she’ll even need these eclairs?” Hope inched the lid open again, the temptation of the fresh goodies more than she could stand.
He whipped the box out of reach and deposited it on the nursing station counter as they passed.
“These are for Nurse Dani and Doctor Fiore,” he informed the employee there. “Please see they get them. Thank you.”
“They’d never have known if one was missing,” she grumbled.
“I have two more boxes at home.”
Hope perked up. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
Royce lifted her in his arms, cradling her gently. “You might have, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”
“I love you, Royce Anderson.”
“And I love you, Hope Trouble Fiore.”
“Really? You had to ruin it?”
His laughter echoed around the parking garage even as his mouth claimed hers.
