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I squeal when strong arms lift me off my feet.
“You just gonna stand there and let them get you, pretty girl?”
His voice is light, and I know it’s an attempt to help me calm down, but his hold is strong and unrelenting. He’s no happier about the sharks swimming toward me than I am.
When he turns me in his arms, I bury my nose in his neck, grateful he’s here with me.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, his lips pressed against my temple.
His scent envelops me as his long strides carry me away, and I’m reluctant to let go of him when he tugs open the door of a vehicle and settles me in the seat.
“I love your arms around me, baby, but if you don’t let go, they’re going to catch up.”
Reluctantly, my arms fall away. Flynn brushes his lips against mine before telling me to put on my seatbelt. He hurries around the front of the truck, jumping and putting it in drive before the first wave of paparazzi makes it around the corner.
Cameras flash as he speeds away from the curb, and I do my best to cover my face.
“I’m nobody,” I hiss, my emotions getting the best of me. “Why are they even bothering?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Remi. You’re not nothing. You’re everything.”
I don’t have the emotional wherewithal to take his words to heart.
“I’m going to lose my job.”
“I’ll talk to Paddy.”
“I don’t need any favors.” I cringe after hissing the words out.
This man just rescued me from a situation that could’ve turned very ugly since I had no place to go, and I repay him with attitude.
“I just—” I run my hands over my face, no doubt smearing the makeup I paid extra careful attention to this morning in anticipation of seeing him again. “I want to do things on my own.”
“Needing help sometimes doesn’t make you helpless.”
His eyes focus on the street ahead of him, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch on the steering wheel. Is he agitated that he has to say these things out loud or does he want to reach for me?
“I just thought I got away from that stupid life.”
“A rich girl—”
“I’m not rich,” I interrupt.
“A girl with rich, famous parents working in a rundown pub is a big deal to some.” He doesn’t look at me, and I’m thankful for the reprieve.
My lips quiver, tears burning the backs of my eyes and threatening to run over.
“Besides,” his handsome mouth pulls up in a grin, “how can they keep an eye on your bump if they don’t track you down.”
My lip curls in disgust. One, because even if I were pregnant, invading a person’s life the way they constantly do is rude. Two, don’t those idiots know that people can have sex and not get pregnant?
“There’s not going to be a bump.”
His truck rolls to a stop at a red light. His eyes drift to the rearview mirror first before they swing in my direction. His gaze starts on my stomach, making me grow warm, before drifting up to my face.
“Yet.”
If I were drinking or eating something, I’d choke.
I turn my head, breaking our eye contact. Saying things like that gives me hope, and that’s a dangerous, stupid thing to have where I’m concerned.
We drive around in silence for an eternity. It may only be fifteen minutes or so, but he doesn’t say a word as we navigate the streets of St. Louis. I haven’t ventured very far since starting my job. Taking every shift offered and begging for more doesn’t really leave much time for exploring. I can admit it’s a gorgeous city. The Gateway Arch was never on my list of must-see things, but it’s gorgeous from a distance.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask.
“Where do you want to go?” The teasing lilt to his husky voice doesn’t have his desired effect on me.
I roll my eyes and look out the side window. “Back to my hotel.”
He doesn’t speak as he drives around the block and heads back in that direction.
Knowing what I need to do, I pull my phone from my pocket and hit the contact for work.
“Sam?”
My boss sighs on the other end of the line. “Remington.”
“I ugh—”
“I’m sorry, Remington.”
“I understand.” I tell him goodbye and hang my head as I drop my phone in my lap.
Just like that, I’m back where I started when I first arrived in this city. Maybe now is the time to move on. I have a little saved, but without a job or prospects to find a new one, I know leaving isn’t smart.
“I’m going to have to go back to that shitty hotel,” I mutter, more to resolve myself to the fact than anything.
“Which hotel?”
“Riverview. It’s off Gravois Avenue.”
The truck lurches. “What? You stayed down there?”
