The Redeemed Groom, page 7
Sloane cursed.
She kept going, hating talking about it, but needing to. “I went to Marigold’s and we went to the police. We filed a report. They hauled Troy in and he denied it all. The hard part is that he’s an attorney; he knows the right things to say. He told them we were broken up and I was trying to make him look bad. He put this big act on about how women can just accuse men all the time and not have any repercussions. Essentially, it was his word against mine, and the judge—his buddy—dropped the charges.”
She pushed her fingers against her left temple, feeling a headache starting behind her eye just thinking about it. “Anyway, so we were clearly broken up, but then he started with the burner phone, calling and hanging up and breathing hard and stupid crap that you see in all the stalker movies. And the notes. I went to the police and they filed more reports, but he denied everything. I couldn’t prove it. But the last night, he killed Mr. Scuttles.” Now she started to ugly cry, thinking of her cute little cat and how much she loved him.
Sloane came to a screeching halt off to the side of the Interstate.
“What are you doing?”
He put the car in park and, without a word, pulled her into a hug. At first, she tried to resist, but he held her. “Shh, let it out. You’re safe.”
She didn’t know how she’d ended up at this point, in this car, with this man, but all she knew was that she did feel safe.
Chapter 12
They were five minutes outside of Vegas, and Hope was sleeping. Country western music was playing on the radio, and Sloane was thinking a million different thoughts about this girl and what she’d told him. It angered him that they lived in a system where women still couldn’t get the help they needed. He thought of Zane and about what he did with his group of ex-SEALs. He planned to call him at the next gas station.
He thought about how being with Hope had unleashed all of his creative juices, causing all these lyrics to run through his mind, and he felt guilty because a lot of those ideas stemmed from her pain. But wasn’t that what any good song was about—pain? He reasoned he’d gotten ideas about her earlier because … well, the truth was that he liked her. And he was falling for her a bit. The thought somewhat unsettled him. He’d never felt like this so quickly about a woman.
The other part of his brain worried about what to do. Would the loser, Troy, come after her? And would they find her grandfather? He hadn’t brought it up yet, but he wondered if she would let him go with her now. Things were changing between them, and he thought they were changing with how she felt, too.
All he knew at this point was that he was starving, and he figured she would probably be hungry when she got up. They hadn’t talked about sleeping arrangements. Or anything else, for that matter.
He drove down the Strip, thinking that he needed to stay someplace that was nice, but not in the press too much. So, the Wynn was out. He settled for the Paris.
As he was stopping in front of the hotel to check in, he hoped they would have a room she woke up. “Hey,” he said, and smiled at her.
She looked around, wiping her eyes. “Hey.”
“Are you okay if we stay here tonight?” He rubbed his eyes, feeling the ache behind them. “And please don’t give me grief about paying for rooms, because I really don’t want to stay in a crummy hotel tonight.”
With a tired smile, she let out a breath. “You’re not going to let me go my own way, are you?”
He was a bit amazed they were talking so frankly about it. “No, so do you want to get checked in with me and I’ll just have the valet park?”
She sighed, but grabbed her backpack. “I’ll come with you.”
Feeling like he’d won a small victory, he fist-pumped the air.
She let out a light laugh.
As he got out and went to the hotel with her, he put his hoodie up. He had major feelings about this town. He was supposed to do a big “ta-da” with Texas in less than a month here. Dang, his nerves were back.
As they were getting checked in, he turned to leave the register and heard a flash of a camera.
“Hey, Sloane Kent.” A random woman who looked like a tourist waved at him.
He turned away and took Hope’s hand, and they rushed through the hotel. “Dang it,” he said as they got onto the suite elevator, where they would have more discretion.
She looked worried, too, nibbling at her fingernails
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her other hand. Taking a chance, he pulled her into him.
Encouraging him, she leaned into his chest. “You don’t think he could find me, do you?”
“Do you want me to call my people and get some security?” he asked softly. “Please let me.”
Letting out a breath, she pulled her hand away from his and stared into his eyes. “I don’t know?”
He noticed that she was around five feet ten inches and was almost eye level with him. Tina was around five feet five inches, and he didn’t like that much.
She rubbed the top of her forehead. “I probably shouldn’t even be with you. I’m putting you at risk too.”
Holding her closer, he said, “I’m not afraid for me. Don’t worry about me.”
“I … I don’t want to draw more attention. I should probably go.” She tried to pull away.
“No.” Having her in his arms felt like home. He didn’t want to scare her off by hiring a bunch of security. “It’s okay. Let’s give it some time and we’ll figure it out.” The amazing part was that he did think they could figure anything out together.
The doors opened and they got out, moving to the suites. This whole adventure with this woman had been so intense and so different, so real. More real than anything he’d ever had in his life.
When they got to her room, she turned to him with a smile on her face. “I …” She pulled her hand away. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for all you’ve done for me.” Her eyes misted with emotion. “Thank you.”
“Wait.” He was confused. “This isn’t it, is it? I mean, I know I told you when we got to Vegas I would go my separate way, but is this it?” His heart hammered in his chest. “Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”
For a moment, he feared she would just say she was done. She let out a breath and shook her head, blinking. Gently, slowly, she reached up and touched the side of his face.
The feel of her hand running over his two days of stubble felt like heaven.
She smiled at him. “Thank you for everything, but I have to do this myself from here on out. I can’t rely on anyone. I can’t.”
He took her hand and pulled it to his heart. “I’m not just anyone anymore, am I?”
Lifting her eyebrows, Hope quirked up the side of her lip. “And who are you again?” she said in a teasing tone, tapping her chin.
He knew she was playing with him, and the center of his chest warmed. “The Mad Hatter, the guy with the thirteen children … I’m whoever you need me to be.” His tone was soft.
Her eyes fluttered, and then she did something he didn’t see coming—she leaned in and brushed her lips to his.
Chapter 13
Their lips touched, and everything she’d been feeling the past day—all the attraction, all the chemistry, all the zing—ratched up a notch.
His hands rested on her hips, pulling her to him, and she dropped her bags and linked her hands around his neck. Even though they’d been on a bus, he smelled so good, like soap. He deepened the kiss and Hope gave in to him; all she wanted was to be closer. Pushing her hands into his hair felt amazing. She could feel the hardness of his chest against her.
Sloane Kent. Sloane Kent. Sloane Kent. His name bubbled up into her mind. She’d never felt such attraction for any man, including Troy. It shocked her. She forced herself to pull back, and keenly felt the loss of his touch.
He blinked, then swallowed. “That was amazing.” He grinned, and she could see more lyrics on his face. Which was stupid. She couldn’t read his face; she barely knew him.
“I’m sorry.” Fumbling for her bags, she picked them up and pushed the hotel key into the slot. The light beeped and turned red. “Man.” She tried it again, to no avail.
Gently, he took the key from her, his eyes meeting hers, and she resisted the urge to kiss him for a second time. He pushed the key in and held it there for a moment, then pulled it out. The door opened.
Rushing through, she was surprised when he took a step in, holding the key to her, a smile still on his face. “You know I have a hundred song titles in my brain.”
She snatched the key and shoved him so he would go. “No, no, no. That kiss was not a song title.”
Taking a step back, he held the door for a moment longer. “Oh, yeah, it was.” He winked and took a step back, letting the door swing closed.
Hope stood frozen, and her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest. She turned and put her back against the door, sliding down to the floor. She put her hand to her lips.
Dang, it had been amazing.
Holy crap, what was she doing? She’d just kissed Sloane Kent. She knew if she looked in the mirror, she would be redder than a tomato. She squeezed her eyes shut. The worst part was, all she had really done was confuse both of them even more. No, no, no.
Pulling out her phone, she wanted to call Marigold and tell her everything. But she would sound ridiculous. She was being chased by a stalker ex-fiancé and a famous guy followed her on the bus, and now they were in Vegas, kissing? It sounded unreal, all of it. And she didn’t know how to explain it. Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could—perhaps, if she did, it would make the whole thing feel hollow.
She flopped down on the bed and stared out the window at the Strip beneath them. It was getting dark, and she was hungry. She wouldn’t try to find her grandfather tonight, but tomorrow she would.
Getting up, she opened her backpack and pulled out the letter with her grandfather’s address. She plugged it into her Google maps on her phone, and found it was about forty-five minutes away.
Unable to keep her focus, she touched her lips again. Sloane invaded her thoughts, the feel of him, the scent of him. She sucked in a breath. This could not be happening. Could it? Why would he even like her? Beyond the fact he had this “feeling” he should help her. She’d known really good people who liked to help people, but who jumps on a Greyhound bus and follows a girl in distress?
Confused more than ever, she went back to her phone and typed his name into Google. For the next half hour, she sorted through articles and media crap about him.
Of course the last woman he’d dated had been a redhead. Man, she hated redheads. It felt like they were just a typical showpiece in all the romance movies and books she’d read lately. Anyone could be a redhead, right? It occurred to her she was feeling jealous, but she pushed it away. She wasn’t jealous. She had nothing to be jealous of. Nothing was going on.
Mystified, she tried to figure out some ulterior motive Sloane would have for chasing her. She couldn’t figure one out.
A loud knock came through the door between their rooms, and she bolted to her feet, putting her hand to her head. Man, she was jumpy. Gingerly, she pulled the door open.
Sloane stood there, looking the same way she probably did—a bit flustered. His hair was mussed like he’d just gotten out of bed.
It annoyed her that the instant attraction she’d always felt for him had grown exponentially since the kiss. She saw the way his shirt stretched over his shoulders, and thought of the fact that one of his brothers was a Navy SEAL and two others were professional football players. She surmised that with shoulders like his, he could have been either of those, too.
The side of his lip twisted up. “Hey.”
Her heart kicked up a notch and she felt like her mouth was dry. “Hey.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair, but it fell into his eyes again. “I’m hungry and thought you might be, too.”
She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll just stay in my room and shower and relax before tomorrow.” Nervous was not the word for it—hyper crazy would be much more accurate.
He held up a hand. “Before you say no, I already ordered a couple of things from room service, and I won’t be able to eat it all. I thought you might want to save me from my own gluttony.”
Smiling, she decided she really did want to spend more time with him. She reluctantly nodded. “Fine, but only to save you from gluttony.”
He grinned at her. “Great.”
The desire to hang out with him seemed to grow by the minute. Nothing was simple anymore. Actually, nothing had ever been simple between them. “Great.”
There was a knock on her door.
“Oh.” He held up his hand. “I also took the liberty of having the concierge send some clothes up. Please pick a couple of outfits on me.”
She frowned. “What? No.”
Walking through the room, he eyed her with a pointed gaze. “Yes.”
Hope opened the door and watched as two racks of assorted clothes were brought into the room. The tiny middle-aged woman pushing the first rack had a huge smile on her face. “Are these clothes for you, sweetheart?”
Overwhelmed only began to describe how she felt.
Sloane sidled up next to her. “I knew you wouldn’t want to go out and shop, so I decided to bring the shopping to you.”
The lady pushing the clothes threw her hands up. “You’re Sloane Kent!” She rushed over and threw her arms around his waist. With her tiny size, the scene looked funny. “I love you, and I can’t wait for you to play here with Texas Waters.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Sloane looked uncomfortable, and the woman instantly let go of him. “Thanks.”
Hope watched the whole thing and thought about how this was really what Sloane’s life was like, being accosted by women all the time. It made her feel a bit jealous, which was stupid.
Sloane easily extracted himself. “Thank you.”
Before they could react, the lady had whipped out her camera and taken a picture.
“No.” Sloane scowled. “I didn’t approve that.”
Hope’s stomach flipped. So much for confidentiality at this place.
“Please don’t post that.” He reached for her phone.
The woman’s fingers were already flying over the keys. “Oops, I already did, sorry. But I’ll take it down if you want.”
Sloane rolled his eyes and turned to Hope. “Yes, take it down. Please.”
Hope knew he was trying to protect her. “It’s okay,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” he pointedly told the lady.
“It’s down,” the lady said quickly.
Sloane grunted and reached out to take Hope’s hand, pulling her to the window and out of earshot of the lady. “Please, just get a few outfits,” he whispered. “I was thinking that if you would let me, I could take you out for a stroll later.” He shrugged. “Since we’re going our own ways tomorrow.” He put his arm around her playfully, then released her.
Her heart rate took off. Dang, he was attractive. Conflicting thoughts raced through her mind.
He pulled her closer. She thought he might kiss her, but he didn’t. “Let me spoil you for one night, please.”
His eyes, those fierce green eyes, would break her. “No,” she said, beginning to shake her head.
He kissed the back of her hand. “Please.” He cocked his head to the side. “I mean, with the thirteen children later, I probably won’t have the money to do this.”
His quick wit made her laugh and her heart rate sped up. Dang it! How could he do this to her so quickly? She barely knew him. The truth of the matter was, she did want to spend time with him, and she figured that she would be leaving tomorrow. “Gah—fine,” she said throwing up her hands.
The happiest smile washed over his face. He winked at her and turned to the short woman, who was getting the racks all organized. “Please make sure she has five outfits, one of them pretty nice, dressy.” He cast an eager look at Hope. “Please wear the dressy one tonight.”
The lady turned and finger-gunned him. “You got it.”
Sloane turned for the door. “The food will be here in about an hour.”
Hope watched him go, and the idea of having dinner with him and then going for a stroll around the Strip made her giddy.
A little over an hour later, she knocked at his door; he’d texted her and told her dinner was ready. Currently, she wore a little black dress with red heels and an elegant red covering. The lady had helped her pick out more outfits and had actually been more helpful than Hope thought she would be.
When Sloane opened the doors he wore black pants, a dressy white shirt with a vest, and a gangster type of hat.
She giggled. It didn’t hurt he had trimmed his facial hair so he really did look like a male model.
Giving her a seductive look, his face cracked into a grin. “Welcome, not Greyhound bus girl.”
She couldn’t help but giggle louder. “Is that what I am—not Greyhound bus girl? Is that a song title? Because I don’t know if it will be a good one.”
He simply pulled her into his arms and gently held her, searching her eyes. “You’ll always be my Greyhound girl.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips to hers.
Time stood still, and she breathed in his fresh smell along with some delicious cologne and aftershave.
Manic butterflies filled her. It was crazy, but she had to admit she’d gotten used to being next to him during the past two days. On the bus, in the car, everywhere.
He kept his arms around her waist, and his eyes did a quick up-and-down sweep of her. He let out a low whistle. “Man, you look so good, all fancy.”
Again, she giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl.
He let her go when her stomach rumbled. “Let’s cure that grumbling tummy.”
She looked past him to the dining table in the room that was set up fancy—white tablecloth, a rose in a vase, fancy plates and silverware. The smell was delicious. Taking her hand, he gently tugged her to a different table to take the tops off of the hot plates.
