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“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. She sure is a looker, and from my experience, most men find a woman like her irresistible.” Joely shrugged. “Chess Somers is complicated. I know folks around here like to talk, and the talk about those two isn’t all that good. I mean, her and her mother. But something about Chess just tugs at my heart. I don’t know what it is. She can be high and mighty, no doubt about that. And like I say to Steve, if you’re living in a two-bit motel like this one, you can’t afford to be high and mighty. But there are times she comes in here and I catch something in those big eyes of hers, something real sad, like she’s given up.”
Cash didn’t reply, mostly because he had nothing to say. Once this Chess got back into her room, she’d be out of his hair and no concern of his.
The lights flickered, and Joely threw her hands in the air. “Dear God, please don’t let the hydro go.” It flickered once more, and after a few seconds, Joely set down her mug. “I think we just dodged a bullet. At least I hope so. If the hydro goes, I’m bunking with Steve, and he’s nothing but a bag of bones. Not sure how much heat I’d get off him.”
Steve stuck his head through the order window and yelled that the burgers were done. Then he looked at Cash before his gaze moved pointedly to the door. “When he leaves, turn the sign. I’m headed to my room.”
Joely grabbed the takeout bags and wrapped up two slices of apple pie. She tossed in four bottles of water and rang up his order. Cash thanked her and headed for the door.
“How long do you suppose you’re here for?” she asked just as he reached the door. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. It would be a shame if you didn’t at least make it to your sister’s place.”
“I guess I’ll be playing it by ear and see what happens when the sun comes out.”
“You be careful if you do head out.”
Cash pushed his way out into snow and kept his head down as he made his way back to his room. It was hard going. The wind was strong and the drifts were already upward of two feet. He made it to the other side and balanced the large bag of food in one hand while opening the door with his other. The wind got hold of it and tore it from his grip. The damn thing crashed against the wall at about the same time as he heard a frightened scream.
It took a bit for his eyes to adjust and they moved from the empty bed to the woman standing over his duffel bag. Tears had paved a road through her makeup, and that shiner wasn’t waiting until morning. She was shaking and obviously scared, maybe a little confused.
She had about five hundred bucks in her hand. And all five hundred of them belonged to Cash.
Chapter Three
Chess froze.
She stared across the room at the stranger, a man who looked like he could more than handle himself. He was tall, with wide shoulders draped in old, weathered leather. His features were hidden by a hoodie and shadows, but his square jaw was set in a way that made her heart take off like a train chugging full steam ahead.
This man was serious, and he meant business.
Her mind screamed at her to leave, but there was no way to do that since he stood in front of the door. She took a step back, and her knees almost buckled. She caught herself in time and didn’t take her eyes off him.
She licked dried lips, her mind frantically searching for answers. Where was she? Who was he?
She remembered the man in the car, his leering eyes, sausage fingers up her dress, then clawing at her breasts. She remembered whiskey on his breath and his fist on her face, but this wasn’t that guy. Think. Snow and ice and bone-jarring cold. Wind cutting at her. Jerry and the grease on his shirt. And then nothing. Shivering, she exhaled and tried to make sense of the chaos in her head. It was hard because she was so damned tired and afraid she’d faint.
“What happened? Who are you?” she managed to whisper, though she wasn’t sure he heard her.
He set down a large paper bag and closed the door before shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it onto the bed. He turned toward her, pulled back the hood of his black zip-up, and looked her in the eye.
His presence ate up the room, and Chess found it hard to breathe.
His eyes were dark, and they glittered through the dim lighting. His nose looked like it had been broken at least once, and a scar ran through his right eyebrow. His hair was thick, the color of aged tobacco, and his mouth curled a bit as he looked at her. He was handsome in a way that would make any woman look twice, but it was the danger that clung to him that was the real kicker. It oozed from every pore, an aphrodisiac he wore like a champ.
“Why don’t you put that money back where you found it, and then we can have a conversation.” His voice was like the rest of him, deep and strong and assured. He spoke slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. As if they weren’t strangers. As if they were pals and he hadn’t just caught her stealing from him.
Chess looked down at her frozen fingers, clutched so tight around the paper bills, her knuckles were white. When had she fallen this low?
Something bubbled up inside her, and she realized it was shame. She was full of it and felt its red mark creep over her face. Carefully, she turned around and opened his bag before placing the money exactly where she’d found it, tucked away in the inside zipper compartment.
She took a moment to get herself together, and when she felt she could speak without falling apart, Chess turned back to him. The man had set out food on the dresser. Her mouth watered at the smell of it. Had she eaten today? Maybe?
She watched him with wary eyes as he continued unpacking the bag. He walked toward her and set down a wrapped burger and a container of fries on the dresser she stood by, and when he handed her a bottle of water, she hesitated.
“I’m not sleeping with you.” Chess looked up at him, wanting to be strong and hoping she sounded like it, but his eyes gave nothing away. The man was like stone.
“I’m not asking,” he replied, moving back a few paces, a hint of a smile touching his mouth. “Trust me, darlin’, you’re not my type.”
Chess stared at him dully. In her experience, when it came to sex for favors, most men didn’t give a crap about type.
