Restoring Hope (12 page)

“Yeah, that’s Roscoe.”

“How come he doesn’t come to the bar?”

“Spends his day’s fishin,’ some of the fish you cook at the bar he caught,” Nic explained.

Rose looked their direction as Nic was speaking and hollered, “Dere’ she is . . .
Cher
, look at you. Ain’t she da’ prettiest ting’ dis’ side of Mississippi, Nic?”

Rose had broken away from her friends as she spoke and grabbed Roscoe’s hand dragging him with her. When she’d gotten close enough, Rose grabbed Hope by the shoulders and gave her a big bear hug.

“T-Hope, meet my Roscoe.”

Hope smiled at the huge man, and he looked down at her and whistled. Then he grabbed her and crushed her to his body, squeezing the life out of her. He replied “Rosie you weren’t lying, this one looks like an angel fell down from heaven.”

Trying to breathe enough to say thank you, Roscoe finally pushed her back from him, and when he let go, she fell back a bit. Nic put his arm around her to steady her, and Rose smiled big when she saw it.

“It’s nice to meet you finally, Roscoe,” Hope replied, still in awe of the big man’s size.

“Heard nothin’ but good things about you darlin,’ good things indeed,” Roscoe smiled and Hope was surprised he didn’t have a Cajun accent, as well. There was a crash behind them, and as Hope turned to look she heard Rose yell, “Boy, I told you dis’ was Maman’s party, get back in da’ house wit’ your brothah’s.” She saw a young boy, maybe eight, with a plate of food running for the back door of the house laughing, and he bound up the steps with his plate of contraband food.

“Roscoe baby, go see what da’ hooligans are doin’ to my house.” Roscoe rolled his eyes, kissed his wife’s cheek and headed to the back door to check on the hooligans, chuckling as he went. No doubt, he knew their grandchildren were indeed causing havoc inside.

“Go get you some food and drink, it a partay’ live it up T-Hope,” Rose commanded and then pushed both Nic and her towards the table of food.

The crawfish was tender, the beer ice cold and it quenched her thirst, but when Hope and Nic sat to eat, the conversation was sparse. He tried to engage her about her past, but the less anyone knew about her, the better. The conversation finally moved to Nicky, and Nic was animated when he talked about his son. They laughed over his antics, and how he seemed to be noticing girls, and Hope advised him if a twelve-year-old girl was giving Nicky the cold shoulder, it meant she liked him.

Soon the band picked up the tempo with a snappy tune lead by a fiddler player who was snapping bowstrings left and right. Hope’s foot bounced to the melody as she watched couples dancing the two-step. Rose suddenly appeared behind her, talking to Nic in her big booming voice, ordering Nic, and it was nothing short of an order, when she shouted “What kinda man sit dere’ when he can see
‘tite ange
wanna dance. Get your sorry butt up and lead my girl ‘round da’ dance floor.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, I don’t really dance that well.” Nic grinned when he heard this and ignored her. He pulled her from her seat, dragged her to the dance floor, pulled her tight against him, and started to move.

“Just follow me, sugar,” Nic purred, his accent dripping with southern charm.

“Just so you know, I have two left feet,” Hope replied, sure she would embarrass herself.

Nic moved slowly with her as she watched her feet trying to learn the basic moves of the two-step. She soon had it down, and he picked up the pacing, leading her around the dance floor. One moment she was watching her feet, the next he was spinning her out, and then bringing her back to him, slamming Hope into his chest. Letting go for the first time in what seemed like years, she threw her head back and laughed as he tried to show her more technical moves. He threw her hands over his shoulders, and his own hands moved slowly down her side until he reached her hips, moving them seductively. Hope gave him a look of “watch it mister” and Nic just grinned and then wiggled his eyebrows up in down like a Lothario getting ready to attack. Moving her hips in a circular motion, she gasped when she encountered evidence he liked what he saw, and she stumbled back, her own arousal for the man with soulful eyes was getting out of control.

“I need water,” Hope breathed out, feeling her traitorous cheeks flame with heat, and passion she couldn’t give into.

Walking to their table, occupied by other friends of Rose’s and people Hope recognized from the bar, she grabbed her beer and took a long deep drink. She prayed it would calm her emotions before she made a huge mistake.

As a slower song began to play, Hope felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Henri standing there smiling down on her.

“I believe this dance belongs to me,” Henri crooned, as he looked her over, his eyes lingering on her back longer than Nic thought was necessary. Not caring if she’d just left his arms, running from the force of their mutual attraction, he grabbed her hand not wanting this man anywhere near her.

“Sorry, she already promised this dance to me.”

Drawing Hope away, he scowled at Henri and then led Hope back to the makeshift dance floor once again. As one of the musicians belted out a song about the Mississippi, a slow bluesy song that sounded familiar to Nic, a man slowly picked his guitar as the rest joined in. They created a symphony of sounds that mellowed Hope out as he pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her back, then grabbed her right hand and curled it into his chest as they began to sway to the slow song. He felt Hope’s breathing increase as she laid her head on his chest, and as tiny as she was, she fit him perfectly.

They didn’t speak as the words of longing flowed through the air. They just kept moving and swaying. She pulled her head back and looked up at him, and he watched as she licked her lips unconsciously, invitingly, and without reservation Nic started to lower his head to taste those pink lips. As he angled his head to brush her lips, an intake of her breath and the wide-eyed look on her face stopped him.

“Don’t worry, sugar, I won’t bite,” Nic whispered forgetting his vow not to get involved with this woman. But she’d been charming, though a little quiet until he got her on the dance floor, and then what he figured was the real Hope opened up to him. She was nothing short of irresistible and he wanted her. He was about to break his promise to himself and taste those cupid lips, when Hope pulled back, ducked her eyes and whispered “Nic, I can’t, I, I just can’t I’m sorry.”

He felt his jaw tighten when he realized he’d pushed her too far, but more importantly, he realized he’d lost his head. He had to keep his focus on Nicky, not his own needs. Taking a deep breath to control his raging hormones, he realized from his reaction to her, that it was just as well she had stopped him. He wasn’t sure if he’d kissed her he’d ever be able to stop.

Nodding he understood, he stepped back, took her hand and led her off the dance floor asking, “You ready to leave?”

“Yeah, let me get my purse,” Hope replied afraid to look at him.

Watching Hope walk to the table, he felt something inside him tighten. He wanted her more than any woman he’d wanted in a while, maybe more than he’d wanted Kat when they’d first met. But, his priority was Nicky, and the idea he could find any measure of happiness with this woman when his Chelsea was gone didn’t seem right.

With new resolve, he didn’t take her hand or wrap an arm around her waist as they said their goodbyes and left. The car ride was quiet; the walk to her door brief. And when he climbed into bed, he tried not to think about Hope as he tossed and turned, sleep eluding him like it had every night since Chelsea died. Only this time his regret and longing were for a pair of eyes the color of the sky, and hips a man could hold onto as he buried himself deep, exhausting himself in the ecstasy of her body. Then, slip into sleep, tangled in her warmth, and the knowledge that she was his.

Chapter Nine

Maman Rose paced, and Big Daddy watched as the old woman talked to herself. It had been building for a week now, her agitation. He’d seen T-Hope and Nic enjoy their time at the party the same as her. They’d eaten and laughed with each other, but then something changed on the dance floor. Near as he could tell T-Hope had put a stop to whatever had been brewing between them all night. Then they’d left suddenly, and the way Nic had been watching her all night, if they had been holding hands he’d have laid money down they’d have ended up in bed, but they hadn’t. Barely talking, both deep in thought, they’d left like strangers just sharing a ride.

The past week Hope has been too quiet. Doing her job but not interacting, just pulling away from everyone. She’d been working there three weeks, and some of her walls had come down as she’d joked with him, with Rose and all the staff. Now she was back to business as usual, and he had a bad feeling she had more than one foot out the door ready to leave.

“Dis’ won’t do,” Rose mumbled to herself, concerned that she’d lost control.

“Rosie what you mumblin’ ‘bout?”

“Nic’s ain’t been here in a week old man and Hope act like she do when she first come.”

“Den’ work your magic,
espesces de tete dure
.”

“
Mon Dieu,
what you tink’ I doin’ here? Hush you.”

Rose paced her mind scheming. She needed a way to get them in the same room ‘cause she had no doubt that they were avoiding each other even while living a floor apart. Looking around the room for any inspiration, she actually considered causing a grease fire when T-Hope was on duty so Nic could rush in and save Hope like a white knight. Chuckling at her foolish thoughts, her eyes landed on the softball league schedule.

“Big Daddy?” Rose shouted excited.

“Standin’ right here old woman why you shout?”

“Tell me you got a softball game soon.”

“
Oui,
tomorrow at one, why?”

“‘Cause Maman got idea yes she do.”

Seven days, seven fucking days he’d avoided her, tried not to think about her one floor below him. He’d also tried not to watch her leave from his second floor window, as he worked on designs for some wealthy couple that wanted to gut a historic home, destroying everything that made it unique. Now Hope was walking towards the softball diamond, wearing a T-shirt and shorts that fit her like a glove. Nic wanted to moan at the sight of her.

She’d covered her hair with a baseball cap and wore sunglasses, like she was in disguise, and part of him thought that was exactly the point. One of these days she needed to tell someone what she was hiding from or who.

Big Daddy had called, said they needed a catcher for their softball game and would he fill in. It didn’t once occur to him that Hope would come. He’d brought Nicky; he loved to watch Nic play. It was Kat’s day, but she was more than happy to let him go, said she would stop by and watch, as well, make a family day of it. He hadn’t commented it was easier to let her do what she wanted. He had no intention of ever going there again, he’d told her that in no uncertain terms. But, she was so full of her own perceived allure she figured she could bide her time, and he’d give in. Watching Hope walk towards him dressed down in shorts and a tee, he had a new definition for allure. Forget skintight dresses and spiked heels, this all-American girl look worked just fine.

He knew the minute Hope saw him sitting on the bench—she hesitated. He watched as she turned her head and said something to Big Daddy and when the man looked his direction, he knew she’d asked what he was doing here. He tried not to let that bother him, he had his own reasons for staying away, and she’d had her reasons for stopping the kiss—but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.