Falling for Hope Page 7
"You have a pretty high opinion of the Lord of the Underworld, don't you?" She raised an eyebrow, and was surprised when the butterfly flashed the demonic face on its back.
The tiny voice wouldn't let it go. "As a matter of fact…"
"You know what? I don't need this from you. I've got my own shit to deal with without a neurotic bug talking smack." She picked up a magazine and shooed the butterfly away before going inside her apartment. She was suddenly exhausted, and had some serious erotic dreams about her new otherworldly boyfriend to delve into.
Chapter 10
The first part of Hope’s week passed as only exciting time passes. Each minute spent with Gabriel made her chest swell, and butterflies erupt in her stomach. Regular butterflies, not the talking kind. She laughed with him more than she could remember, and made it a personal challenge to get him to flash his heart-stopping smile at her every chance she could. The time spent without him was filled with thoughts of Gabe and the next time she would get to see him.
Except she found herself dreading taking him to dinner with her parents this week. She wasn’t looking forward to the inquisition her mother would surely force on him. And the shrine. She wasn’t ready to explain the shrine to her new boyfriend. What in the world would he think when he realized that Hope played second fiddle to her dead sister?
Monday, she managed to corner her super-efficient, always busy boss behind the circulation desk with the petition.
“Mr. Callaway, I emailed you about this last week, but I want this garbage off my desk, so here you go.” She thrust the petition into his hands.
“Oh, those people and their petition?” He almost looked bored, and Hope felt relief trickle down her spine. She really wasn’t looking forward to an epic battle with the holier-than-thou, and his lack of concern was reassuring.
“Yes. I think procedure dictates this goes to the board, but you’re next in the chain of command.” She smiled brightly at him, hoping not to sound too much like a snotty brat. She honestly didn’t want to deal with this any more than necessary. She valued her rights as a citizen, and these guys, with their warped sense of values, were seriously messing with her pride. She realized they were only acting on their rights as well, but their rights were infringing on her rights, and the Catch-22 was annoying to say the least.
Mr. Callaway sighed, as if she had just handed him a boulder, and said, “I’ll submit it to the Board’s agenda. I just don’t understand some people.” He turned to walk away, then stopped and turned back to her. “You didn’t encourage them?”
“No, in fact, I stooped to arguing with them, before telling them I would pass along the request. I’m sorry, sir.”
“No. It’s alright. I’ll try to take care of it. Not looking forward to it, but I’ll deal with it.” He walked away at a fast clip, obviously on another mission to take care of serious library business.
Mr. Callaway really was a great boss. As long as everyone did their job, he was okay. Jenna worked the adult circulation desk, and had over heard the exchange. Her chair squeaked as she swiveled around in it.
“They were here last week too. Apparently there’s an adult literature panel as well.” The smirk on her face was unmistakable.
“Are you serious? What grounds do they have to dictate what consenting adults read? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Hope pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing back Orwellian thoughts.
“Haven’t seen you around much lately. What’s going on?” She put her chin on her hands, elbows rested on her knees, her posture one of attentiveness. Hope pulled up another chair and sat next to her friend to dish.
“I’ve met someone, and he’s been keeping me a little occupied.”
“Shut. Up. Is he nice?”
Hope knew the obvious question wouldn’t get asked, so she went ahead and volunteered the information.
“Yes. And he’s a total god. I can’t even begin to describe how amazing this man is, and I’ve only really known him a week.”
A look of concern furrowed Jenna’s brows. “How well have you gotten to know him?”
“Well enough.” Hope laughed at Jenna’s scandalized expression. “Not like that!” She play-slapped her friend, enjoying the playful banter. “We haven’t had sex or anything, but I so would. In a heartbeat.”
“Well, I’m happy for you. Anything to get your mother off your back, right?”
Hope stood to go back to her room of the library. “Absolutely. You know? She wants me to move back in with her so she can take care of me properly. As if.” Okay, now she was going overboard. She had a tendency to do that around Jenna, who was nearly ten years younger than her. She tried to act younger, to fit around her, and ended up sounding exactly like a sixteen-year-old. Hope looked at her watch. “Gotta go. Time to put on the Pocahontas costume.”
Wednesday, Gabe and Hope were cuddling on her couch, both reading. She was tickled that he was trying to immerse himself in her Paranormal Romance books, even though she could tell he wasn’t really enjoying them. He was next to her reading a Selena Blake novel about werewolves on her Kindle, seeming to relish the technology more than the actual book. He kept adjusting the settings and flipping the screen back and forth. In fact, she wasn’t sure if he was reading at all, or just playing. Hope herself was reading an Anne Rice novel she’d already read a half a dozen times, her insides growing warm, and working herself up to mauling the man next to her.
Realizing what was going on with her body, and knowing that Gabe had some old fashioned values about sex with her, she put the book down and derailed her thought processes.
“Gabe. I want to talk to you.”
He lowered the Kindle and looked at her expectantly. His golden-flecked eyes widened at her in question, and she repressed the urge to fondle his eyelashes. They were so long, it was sinful.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet my parents, yet.”
His eyebrows came together, and his mouth turned down at the corners. “Why?”
She struggled, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. She knew this was important to him, with his old-fashioned sensibilities. Meeting her parents was his obvious next step, as if they were living in the forties or something. “It’s just that…they’re going to embarrass me, and it’s too soon for you to see that.” She really wasn’t ready to talk about Melissa, yet.
She watched Gabe cross his arms in front of him, then reach one hand to his chin, stroking it. “You’re embarrassed by your family? Or me? Or you don’t want them to embarrass you? Or will they embarrass me?”
“I’m not at all embarrassed of you, Gabe.” She reached over to stroke his thigh. He stiffened under her touch. “It’s just that…it’s always a difficult evening for me, and I’m just not ready for you to see that side of my life. I want to keep everything perfect, and not dive into the weirdness of my family yet.”
“I don’t understand.” He was still rubbing his chin, but his eyes cast down. “I want to meet your family. They’re an extension of you.”
“That’s just it. I don’t want you to judge me by my family.” Trying to reassure him, she continued, “You’ll meet them, if we stay together. There’s no getting around the eventuality, but I’m just not ready for it to be tomorrow night.”
“If…” His eyes finally looked at hers, and she saw actual fear in his squinted golden orbs. The crinkles around them showed an age that didn’t match the rest of his body. Finally, they relaxed as Gabe shifted away slightly. “Alright. I’ll let you set the pace for this, but just know that I’m not happy. I really want to meet them as soon as humanly possible.”
“Why so impatient?”
Gabe raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s taken my entire life to meet you, and now that I know you, I want to know everything about you. Knowing your family is a step in that process. That’s all.” Now he was being evasive, but Hope wasn’t going to push it. He’d relented about dinner, she was going to be happy with that.
So he started in, asking her questions about her childhood, her parents, her school. She admitted to being in the band and choir, as well as the drama club, but when it slipped out she had teased her sister, calling her a Master Debater, he pounced.
“Tell me about your sister. Are you guys close?”
Here it was. She could tell him, or continue evading him on this front. She chose a happy medium.
“We were when we were kids, but as we got older, we sort of drifted apart, different interests.” She shrugged, then looked at him pleading. “I know this sounds weird, but I’m not ready to talk about Melissa yet. She died, and I’ll tell you all about it another time.” It seemed like they both had issues they weren’t ready to talk about. “We’ll have an ice cream party and dish everything. Both of us. I’m just not ready to go there, yet. I don’t talk much about her.” Jenna didn’t even know she had a sister. Not that Jenna was really close to her, she was just the closest thing to a friend Hope had.
Gabe’s eyes were understanding. “I know grief is a strong emotion. You tell me about her when you’re ready.”
She’d made it this far in her life not talking much about her sister, and her life of avoiding the inevitable conversations and explanations would probably be horrific to a psychiatrist. But she wasn’t talking to a psychiatrist, she was talking to Gabe, and he seemed to understand her reticence.
“Thank you.”
Hope just couldn’t deal with questions about her death, and her parents’ inability to deal with it. That was certainly a conversation she wasn’t willing to have right now. She knew she was being selfish here, but she had protected that part of her life for so long, that she wasn’t sure how to even deal with it. Now was not the time for dramatic self-revelations.
Thursday evening finally arrived, and Hope had vowed, as always, to make the best of the meal as she walked up the porch steps to her parents’ house.
She called out, “Hello!” as she walked in the door. Immediately, she noticed something was different as she walked into the living room. The air was filled with the lemon scent of furniture polish and everything gleamed. Her dad was still in his usual spot, but her mother was talking to someone in the kitchen. A deep unfamiliar voice answered her.
Trepidation settled in her stomach as she greeted her father, before making her way into the kitchen to check on her mother.
“Hope! Dear, I would like for you to meet Damien. He’s a nice man I met at the beauty parlor this morning.”
A tall, striking man came forward elegantly, and as Hope held her hand out, he brought it to his lips, kissing it.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since I heard about you, Hope.” His cool lips grazed her skin, sending a shiver coursing through her, as almost coal-black eyes never left her face. His lips were cold, icy almost. And a weird smokey smell filled her nostrils. Stunned, Hope could only nod in reply.
“Hope, will you put the salad on the table? I believe we’re just about ready to eat.” Her mother pushed a huge bowl of greens into her arms.
“Uh…sure.” She turned to go into the dining room, where to her chagrin, she saw they were eating by candle-light. Great. Her mother had planned a seduction at the Thursday night family dinner. Placing the salad on the table, she went ahead and put it next to her own plate. That’s all she would be able to eat tonight, she was sure. Hope was too furious to ingest anything of substance.
Lie about one boyfriend, and never be believed again. It was obvious her mother hadn’t paid any heed to her discussion of Gabe last week or two nights ago on the phone.
Her dad lumbered into the dining room, raised an eyebrow at the candles, and sat at the head of the table in his spot. Hope sank into her own seat, and her mother bustled in, leading Damien to another chair.
“Sit across from Hope. That way you two can see each other.” She looked at Hope. “Are the candles too tall? I’m afraid this was all I could find. And you’ll want to gaze into his eyes. They’re so dreamy…”
“Mom!” Hope hissed at her mother, hoping she would shut up. This was easily the most mortifying experience. Ever. She looked at Damien, and saw he was suppressing a grin. Hopefully, he had a sense of humor about all this.
Oh, who the hell cared? He was in on it, somehow. Mom had said she met him today at the beauty parlor? Who accepted an invitation to meet a stranger’s daughter? How freaking weird.
As her dad filled all the other plates and passed them around, Hope went ahead and filled her own plate with salad, circumventing her mother’s comments about her diet. She didn’t even look at the chicken and dressing casserole that went on all the other plates.
Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. “This is delicious. You aren’t having any?” Damien’s voice was a low rumble that warmed her insides, and in spite of herself, she couldn’t stop looking at him. He really was quite handsome. What were the odds? Two handsome men interested in her? She regretted not bringing Gabe, her parent’s oddities be damned. She could have just thrown him to the wolves, sink or swim style, and then she wouldn’t be in this utterly uncomfortable position.
“No, thank you. I’m trying a new gluten-free, dairy-free regimen.” She lied to avoid having to explain her mother thought she was a cow, while silently comparing the man across from her to the man she was dating. They were actually similar in the way they carried themselves, although Damien was darker. His skin was an olive-complexion, as if he were Greek or something, and his eyes were like pools of oil, so black and shiny. He was like the antithesis of Gabe, where Damien was dark and dangerously sexy, Gabe was light and airily innocent, with his golden brown eyes and shiny brunette hair.
The black eyes sparkled at her across the candle-lit table, as if he were laughing. She really hoped he could see through her mother’s transparent ploys and was actually laughing with her, instead of at her.
Awkward silence ensued, and Hope struggled to think of something to break it. Her dad shoveled foot into his mouth, completely oblivious to it all, and her mother kept tossing stern glances her way.
“So, you met my mom at the hair dresser’s?”
Damien wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. “Yes, I was getting a trim, and she was having her hair permed. She seemed in need of some conversation, so I obliged and she invited me to dinner to meet you.”
The way he said “you” seemed a little salacious, as if he were actually falling into this seduction game with her parents right next to both of them.
“Oh…and what do you do?”
He waved his hand in a non-committal gesture. “Market research. And you?”
“I’m a librarian at the City Library. In the children’s room.”
“Fascinating.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows and an interested expression, but his tone of voice didn’t quite match. Hope admitted to herself that he was an attractive man, but there was something a little insincere about his approach.
They struggled with small talk the rest of the meal, under the careful scrutiny of her mother. Hope couldn’t help but feel very Victorian in the entire scenario, with her parents acting as chaperones. Finally, the dinner was finished, and plates had been carried into the kitchen.
“I’m afraid I must make apologies and take my leave. Would you do me the honor of walking me out?” Damien addressed the last part to Hope, who grabbed her purse.
“I was just leaving too.” She kissed her parents on the cheek and followed Damien out to the porch, glad this evening was almost over, ignoring her mother’s joyous expression.
When the door was closed behind them, Hope ignored the fact there was probably a drinking glass pressed against the door for eavesdropping purposes, and reached for Damien’s sleeve.
He turned, a smile on his lips. “I’ve had a lovely evening, Hope. Can I see you tomorrow night?”
“That’s the thing. I had a…lovely time, too.” If as in lovely, she mea
nt she would rather have her eyeballs stabbed fourteen times. “But I’m seeing someone. My mother doesn’t believe me.”
Damien’s face fell, but he moved closer, stroking her arm. His fingertips were chilled, as his lips had been, and a dark, smokey smell enveloped her. “Is it serious? You and this man?”
She nodded. “Yes. I think so.”
“Well, then…” He still stroked her elbow, seeming reluctant to stop. Hope eventually moved away from him, and Damien shrugged nonchalantly. “It was worth a shot.” As elegant as he had been all night, he offered one last look at Hope before skipping down the steps and into the night. Hope swore if he’d had a hat, he would have doffed it at her.
Hope couldn’t stop thinking how odd it was that a seemingly attractive man was on the prowl for dates at beauty parlors and had actually accepted her mother’s invitation to meet her at dinner. As if the entire set-up wasn’t one of the strangest occurrences of her life, he’d actually seemed interested. The surrealness of the entire experience left her feeling dazed and a little out of sorts.
She thought it was odd that he didn’t seem to have a car, but didn’t think about it much. He’d been so odd, she really couldn’t spend time thinking of him. She’d much rather think about her date with Gabe tomorrow. He was picking her up for lunch.
Chapter 11
The next day, at the library, Hope couldn’t seem to get Damien off her mind. She honestly couldn’t decide what was worse about the night before: the fact her mother didn’t believe she had a boyfriend and tried to fix her up with some random stranger she’d met at the hair salon, or the fact that the random stranger was so damned strange. She still couldn’t put her finger on what exactly had bothered her about the man, except the smell that had pervaded her senses seemed to be lingering. She’d blown her nose all day long, trying to get the smell to go away, but she apparently just had it in her brain. It was a smell of burnt matches, or burning sulfur or something noxious like that. And she didn’t like it. When Gabe picked her up, it coupled with the taste in her mouth that she’d associated with him to form an altogether unpleasant sensation.