“I do my bit, Hope, so get off my case. I reckon you owe me breakfast after last night. Let’s go.”
“I don’t have time for breakfast.” Hope pulled the strap of her backpack over her shoulder. “See you round, Newman.”
“Nope.” He opened the door and grabbed her arm. Towing her he headed for the elevator, her bag now on his shoulder.
“Give me that back and let me go, or I’ll scream.”
“I carried you through here drunk last night. I doubt anyone’s going to care much if you scream this morning.”
“Y-you carried me?” The thought was a humiliating one.
“Yup, and everyone saw your boy panties.”
“They’re not boy panties,” Hope hissed as he urged her into the lift.
“Well they sure as hell are not girlie ones.”
“Not everyone is consumed with how they look.”
Hope was subjected to a look up and down her body. He then grabbed a handful of her skirt.
“That’s dripping wet and you’re shivering!”
“Well excuse me, I didn’t have a change.”
“You,” he said, backing her into the wall, “should be nicer to me, considering what I did last night. I could have left you in that place with those men.”
He caged her in with both hands braced on either side of her.
“I don’t do nice, you know that.” Hope felt the breath lodge in her throat as he leaned closer. She felt that little zing in her belly as he crowded her.
“You’re an adult, maybe it’s time you tried.”
The problem was she’d grown up with men like Newman. Men who had been raised to look after women, especially those they knew. Just because none of the people who had come into her life since she’d left Howling gave a damn about her, which was probably more her fault than theirs, it shouldn’t surprise her when others did. Leaving her in that bar would have gone against every belief in Newman’s body. Howling menfolk were ridiculously well-mannered. Hope was sure there were others outside Howling like that too, she just hadn’t come across that many.
Given the fact she had always annoyed Newman, he was right, she should be nicer.
“All right, I’m sorry… again. How many more times do I have to say it?”
“Another ten should do. How about adding, ‘thank you, Newman, you big strong hunk, for coming to my rescue.’” He was laughing at her now.
“Don’t push it.”
“Are you wearing my deodorant?”
He leaned in and sniffed.
“I didn’t have mine.” Lord, he smelled good. How was that possible, when he wore what she did?
“So you just used mine, and my brush, because I found a long black witch’s hair in it.”
“Stuff you, now move back. I can’t breathe with you all up in my face.”
He leaned closer, his chest brushing hers, and suddenly she couldn’t draw a breath in.
“I think the problem here is you’ve always secretly fancied me.”
“Ha.” Hope’s word came out a squeak. “Who even says fancy these days?”
