“No, you were.”
“Okay, so maybe it’s time I actually went and spoke with my old boss. Maybe if I lay it all out, she’ll believe me.”
“Will she?” Newman asked her.
Her sigh was answer enough.
“I don’t want it to be anything illegal.”
“Sure, and as both Cubby and Katie wouldn’t be happy if we did that either, we’ll avoid it where we can,” Jake said.
“So let’s think about this and then we’ll meet up. You want your mother on board, Hope?” Buster asked.
“No. I haven’t told her yet.”
“Understandable, but she’s smart and a lawyer, so maybe think about it.”
The others left, leaving Newman and Hope alone at the table. He watched as she slowly packed away her things, and knew she was thinking hard about what had been discussed.
“I just don’t know about this, Newman.”
“Sure, got that, and if you still feel that way after we formulate a plan, no problem. But hear them out, Hope. Just listen to their ideas, is all I ask.”
She nodded.
“It’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“Them saying that stuff about friends, and wanting to help me.”
She said it in an offhand tone, like it didn’t matter, but he wasn’t fooled. It mattered, and Newman knew that was because not many people had fought for Hope. Not many people had been in her corner. Her mother, he guessed, but in what capacity he had no idea. Her brother, definitely. Ryan had protected his baby sister. There had never been any doubts that the Lawrence siblings were close.
“I’ll carry that for you.” He took her backpack after she’d loaded it.
“I got it, thanks.”
“Sure, but I have it now.”
“Dammit, Newman!” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“What?”
“You know what. Now stop being a gentleman and give me my backpack.”
“It’s ingrained, Hope, just roll with it,” came a voice from the kitchen.
Hope stomped out of the Hoot with Newman on her heels.
“Where to?” he asked.
“I’m doing a shoot for Mac, so give me my laptop and I’ll go do it.”
“I have some time free, want some help?”
She half turned her body and gave him a look that would shrivel his balls, if he hadn’t been the recipient of just such a look from several of his lady friends before. She then gave up and stomped to the Roar. Newman followed, smiling.
“This sweater is winter weight and itchy as hell, so have mercy and hurry the hell up!”
