When she risked a glance at his face, she saw that he was frowning. “Then you’re not over it,” he said softly.
She could tell he was talking about Jasper’s attack. “Of course I’m over it. I’m as over it as I’m going to get, anyway. I’ll just...never be able to participate in certain...things, that’s all.”
“Like…?”
“Dancing. Making out.” She cleared her throat as if there was more but she didn’t continue.
“And…?”
When she gave him a pointed look instead of answering, she could tell he understood that sex was also on the list, but he didn’t seem as put off as she expected.
“What if you had a police escort?” he asked. “What if I’d be there tonight to look after you? And what if I promised—gave you my word—that I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you? Would you be able to trust me? To unwind a bit? Maybe have a few drinks and make yourself accessible?”
Everyone loved Amarok. He commanded a great deal of respect in Hilltop. That he was offering to be her liaison with the community might make a big difference. Maybe, with his help, she could build a bridge...
“I think so,” she said, but she couldn’t help envisioning the dark, smoky atmosphere, the smell of alcohol and the close press of bodies on the dance floor, where it would be so easy to get groped. It made her nervous. She didn’t know anyone here, not really. She didn’t even know Amarok. And yet...she felt she could trust him. “Just...I didn’t have time to mess with getting my gun on the plane, so...you-you can’t leave me there alone. You have to keep your word.”
“I always keep my word,” he said. “I’ll be your designated driver, see that you get home safely.”
She bit her lip as she stared at all the hateful messages that’d been spray-painted on the walls.
“Go back to Boston.”
“Pretentious bitch.”
“You’re not gonna change our town.”
And those were the nice ones, the ones without so much profanity.
She drew a deep breath. “Then, sure. Why not? I can do it.”
A puzzled expression claimed his face. “You’re acting as if you’re about to step into a boxing ring where you’ll get your ass kicked. Is it going to be that difficult for you?”
She straightened her jacket. “No.”
“Great. Let’s go,” he said, but she stopped him.
“Wait. Do I look okay? I’ve been on a plane all day. Maybe I should find a mirror—”
“All you need to do is change. Do you have anything that makes you look more...approachable than that suit?”
She gazed down at her clothes. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, no one in Hilltop wears a suit—especially to the bar on a Friday night.”
Her mind raced through what she’d put in her suitcase: two more suits and a pair of sweats for when she was alone and hanging out at her bungalow. “I don’t have anything that might be appropriate,” she admitted.
“You don’t have a pair of jeans?”
“Not...not with me.”
He rolled his eyes as if he’d never met anyone quite so socially deficient. And he probably hadn’t. What’d happened to her at sixteen had ruined her ability to form meaningful connections with other people. Since she’d lost her best friends—in the worst possible way—she’d been afraid to get too close to anyone else for fear that person would somehow be taken from her too.
She didn’t care to suffer more loss. It was easier to devote herself to her work and find meaning and purpose there. So she didn’t have “friends”; she had “professional associates.” And she didn’t buy a lot of casual clothing—other than the sweats she wore when she was home alone—because she rarely went anywhere that required jeans and blouses.
“Then we’ll make do with what you’ve got,” he said. “But once we get inside, where it’s warm, at least lose the jacket.”
“Okay,” she said and followed him back to town.
Chapter 6
Amarok sat at the bar with Evelyn and bought her a drink. He wasn’t sure why he was trying to help her mitigate the hostility the folks in Hilltop felt toward her. He was pissed that she’d managed to get that monstrosity of a prison built so close to his town. But, from the news reports, he had a small inkling of what she’d been through in the past. He felt bad about that. And, if he was being honest, there was just...something about her—besides the fact that she was beautiful. When she quit acting so formal and let down her guard, just a little because it never went down much, it was almost as if he could see the sixteen year old girl who’d been so terribly hurt staring back at him...
That made him angry. Protective.