Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, pichon, YazminXD and Milarion Fairy Lover! I started a new job, so it took awhile to polish up this chapter.
Mr. Port had insisted she go back to sleep last night and asked her to consider his offer. Trudy had already taken his place when she woke up the next afternoon. The conversation the previous night kept rolling over and over in her head as the hospital discharged her.
She had crutches for her ankle that rubbled under her arms terribly, and a walking cast to use in a week. The nurse said to get dressed to go home and stepped out.
Trudy set her small suitcase on the chair and unzipped it. "The roads cleared this morning, don'tcha know, so Mr. Port had me pick up some clothes for you to get by with. I have as much fashion sense as a cow on Friday, so he looked online and told me what to pick up. You're as small as a mouse in the Arctic, but I think something in here should fit." She laid out a pair of jeans, black dress pants, and khakis, and then a red sweatshirt, ivory blouse, and purple sweater. And a sky blue parka. All of them bore name brands. Trudy stood back with her hands folded proudly and smiled. "He wasn't sure of your style, so we picked out a range."
She sat on the edge of the bed and fingered the silky cashmere sweater. "Trudy, it's very sweet that you went to this trouble, but I can't afford these, especially after this hospital bill."
"Gooseberry day, he wouldn't accept money. When Mr. Port hands you something, it's a gift. He'd take it like a chicken to a wolf if you tried to pay him. He gave me a cell phone when I first went on a plane so I could call if I had trouble coming home. I offered him money, and he got mighty offended, don'tcha know. He said if I thought he did things with strings attached, I could find another job."
She cocked her head. "Is he truly a good employer? Does he have a bad temper?"
With a shake of her head, she smiled. "He's never said a harsh word or yelled. He does have little tolerance for anyone who doesn't have a good heart, though. What makes you ask?"
Studying Trudy's expression, it became apparent that Mr. Port hadn't divulged the employment proposition. "Just wondering." She selected the sweater and jeans and went into the washroom on crutches to dress.
It was the first time she'd been back on her own feet since the accident and finally had an opportunity to see herself in the mirror. She gasped, utterly horrified. Everyone had seen her like this! A large dark purple bruise tattooed the middle of her forehead and had apparently drained down. Her nose appeared swollen, and her hazel eyes looked like she'd taken punches in a bar fight. "Trudy!"
Trudy whipped open the door. "What's wrong?"
"My face! No one told me I look like the living dead!" She gaped at her reflection.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you scared me." She laid a hand over her heart. "You've been in an accident is all, don'tcha know. The physician mentioned it's just bruising."
That was an understatement. Leaning closer to the mirror, she touched her black eye. "Tell me you brought makeup."
"Ya don't need it. You were in a car accident, and no one expects you to look like a high falutin' Queen of Sheba. I don't wear makeup myself."
She groaned.
"You're not worried what anybody thinks of how you look, are ya? I promise Mr. Port only sees what's inside of people and could give a snake's dinner what they look like." She grabbed the brush and went to work.
Trudy did have a point. He didn't seem to notice the bruises. A blush crept up her face remembering his backrub in the tub.
"Perhaps you should sit. You're looking flushed." Trudy almost seemed to be smiling to herself.
The nurse insisted it was hospital policy to take her in a wheelchair to the front doors. A dark blue car was parked in front of the doors, with the back windows tinted so no one could see inside. "Is this your ride?" the young nurse asked.
"Like a babe's pa-tooty," Trudy answered.
A bald man in his late thirties and about as large as Mr. Port got out of the driver's seat and came around. "Stevens, Ms. Hoplin," he introduced himself. Then he opened the back door.
The nurse wheeled the chair closer to the door until it was one step away from the car.
Trudy and Stevens helped her up and pivot into the dark car. She sat on the leather seat and swung her legs in. Stevens shut the door and loaded the crutches in the trunk while Trudy got into the front passenger seat. A dark pane of glass separated the front and back seats.
She frowned. Was this an old police car that it had a divider? Something in the other corner of the backseat moved. Her heart lurched into her throat. Then her eyes adjusted to the dimness. It was a person. Mr. Port sat beside her in the other corner, wearing all black again. She instantly turned her face toward the window on her right. He didn't need to see her looking like a Halloween zombie.
Stevens started driving.
"My apologies for not helping you in. How are you feeling?" The low rumble of his voice seemed so familiar and comforting now, sending warm shivers though her body and out to her fingertips.
"Better." She bit her lip; her face burned hot like it would spontaneously burst into flames. Silence dragged on. The intensity of his gaze on the back of her head was palpable across the seat.
"Did my proposition offend you?" A tinge of confusion tinted his voice.
She let her hair fall forward to shield the left side of her face and block his view. "No...I had access to a mirror this morning."
Strong fingers swept her hair back to tuck it behind her ear. "Do not hide from me. It's simply bruising."
His touch was electrifying. She couldn't stop her eyes from fluttering shut for an instant at the contact. When his fingers withdrew, she quietly released a shakey breath. A sideways glance showed his eye taking in her every move. Her pulse quickened.
He hit a button on the door, and the divider window rolled down a bit. "Stevens, please stop at a drug store on the way. Ms. Hoplin would like to get some makeup." He looked at her expectantly.
She blushed and nodded. How did he know?
"Yes, sir."
Then he rolled the window back up.
"I need to stop at the bank...oh." Her shoulders sagged. She had no identification.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
"No," she protested and held up a hand.
"Stevens and I were unable to find your purse this morning, so I took the liberty of reporting it missing to the local police. You'll have to call your bank and report everything missing." He caught her hand and pressed a $50 bill into it. "Take it," he ordered.
She lowered her hand and stared at the bill, remembering Trudy's words about offering to repay him. "Thank you for the clothes," she blurted to change the subject. "It wasn't necessary."
"You're welcome."
Embarrassment burned hot in her cheeks. "May I also use your phone to go on the Internet for a moment and make a call?"
He pulled out his cell and handed it to her.
She logged in to her medical insurance site and then looked up the number for the hospital. "Billing, please," she told the operator.
The representative answered and asked for her name.
"Emma Hoplin. I have my insurance information." She proceeded to give it.
"Would you like a credit on the account?" the woman asked in confusion.
"Sorry?"
"We have a $21,000 payment made this morning in cash."
She stared at the back of the passenger seat, her mind trying to wrap around the news. "Oh you did, did you?" Her eyes slowly swung around to him. He appeared to be looking out the window, oblivious to the conversation. Of course he wasn't, given their tight quarters. "Please send through the insurance and return the $21,000 as a check to Mr.-"
His head whipped around, and he looked irritated.
"I can't return that much money, ma'm. I can credit it..."
Her jaw clenched, and she looked back out the window before she lost her temper. The arrogance to just... "I'll call you back," she bit out. She jammed her thumb onto the hang up button and slid the phone across the seat to him. Then she tossed the money into his lap. Looking for a button to roll down the window, she started pressing whatever she encountered. Her own window cracked, the seat started warming, and the sunroof started to open. Only one button remained. She set a finger on it.
A large hand suddenly covered hers as he leaned across the seat. "Stop," he said calmly.
She jerked her hand away and glared at him as he sat back. "No! You stop! I'm not some thing you can buy or control! You throw clothes and money at me, and I'm supposed to be indebted so then I'll agree to work for you?" Seething didn't even begin to describe rage bubbling up inside.
The side of his pink lips that were visible tightened, and his eye narrowed. "I don't buy or control people. Even if you walk out that door right now and never return, I don't want the money back," he growled. "You landed at my door without even the clothes on your back because they were so torn up from us trying to get you out of your totaled car."
"Oh, I'm supposed to fall at your feet in gratitude?!"
What was visible of his face screwed up in disgust. "No."
"You can't stand it that someone is saying 'no' to you, to your money!" His job offer had to have an angle-she'd met and heard of his rich, secluded type before, and they always wanted sex.
His eye narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. Even his breathing picked up a little. He seemed ready to explode.
"I never asked you for help!"
"And you wouldn't because you're so afraid of a man trying to control you!" he shouted, his chest heaving.
Trudy rolled down the window and looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. "Is everything alright back there?" She glanced between them.
"Yes!" They both snapped, still glaring at each other.
"OK then," she whispered and rolled up the window quick.
The car rolled to a stop in a drug store parking lot.
He whipped off his seatbelt and leaned across the seat, capturing her face in his hands. His lips stopped just a breath away, as if suddenly remembering he wore the mask that prevented a kiss. His eye locked on her mouth, his hot pants mingling with hers.
Her lips parted, and she tried to lean forward when he hesitated.
But he pulled his head back a bit, although his eye didn't leave her mouth. "You aren't indebted, and it's not to persuade you to do my 'bidding,'" he whispered huskily. "I wanted to help you get back on your feet." Then his eye searched hers. He sat back and rolled down the divider a few inches. "Home, please, Stevens." His voice sounded flat. Then he rolled the divider back up and leaned his elbow on the door to run his hand over his mask, seemingly weary. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. The helicopter can take you home or to your parents' when we return."
She blinked. Was he ending their relationship...whatever it was?
"I'll have the money removed from your hospital bill. It will likely be several thousand dollars out of pocket even after insurance." He looked at her, giving a second chance to take the money. "Or it can be a loan until you get a car."
That's right, she had to buy a car too. Despite the minor panic attack at the debt racking up while jobless, she shook her head. "I can take care of myself."
"I never questioned that," he replied gently.
She sighed. Something ached inside at the thought of losing him. Had it truly been a misunderstanding? She didn't want to let him go. "Thank you for your hospitality," she replied quietly, staring down at her hands to hide the hurt. Swallowing hard, she raised her eyes to his.
He looked startled. And then crestfallen. He stared straight ahead, as if lost in thought, and remained silent for a few moments. "I didn't think about it that it could be interpreted as buying you. I understand why you want to go."
She frowned. "I thought you wanted me to go."
His head turned to look at her. The car came to a halt.
She looked out the window to see if they were at his home, signaling their goodbye. Her mouth fell open.
His home was a mansion. It stood three stories tall, and beautiful white pillars adorned the front door. A beautiful wrap-around porch surrounded the light brick house. Before she had much time to admire it, though, Stevens opened the door and held out a hand and her crutches. She stood and glanced back to see Mr. Port remaining in the car. "Goodbye, Mr. Port," she said quietly with so much regret. He probably didn't want to be seen in the daylight. He didn't respond, so she swallowed that lump and started her laborous path to the house.
"Ms. Hoplin?" Stevens fell into step with her. "Mr. Port said to carry you up the front steps."
She tensed. "No! I mean, no, thank you." Another four steps, where the crutches rubbed the underside of her arms raw, and she was scooped up. "Stevens," she protested. Her crutches clattered to the ground.
"I promised no harm would come to you here," a voice deeper than Steven's said. "Stevens, the crutches, please." He started carrying her toward the house.
"Mr. Port, you never come out in daylight," Trudy gasped.
Mr. Port looked straight ahead and didn't reply. Not much more of him was revealed in daylight with his mask and parka than in the dark. His eyelashes were almost black, though. He must have black or dark brown hair. His eye glowed icicle blue, a bit paler than she'd expected.
"Thank you," she whispered to his profile.
He didn't say anything for a moment and kept walking. "I'd never want you to go," he said, his voice quiet and sad. "Would you think about the job offer again?" He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if unused to being rejected but humble enough to take it with grace.
"I will. Would it be possible to go home and pack before going to Nana's?"
He nodded. "How about you rest for a bit? I need some sleep before I fly."
"You're taking me?" She couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. Her heart beat a little faster thinking of being in a small cockpit with him for a few hours.
"Not Stevens. It doesn't seem wise to lock you in a helicopter with someone you're nervous around. At least you feel free to yell at me."
She opened her mouth to protest but saw the corner of his mouth curl up. An invisible weight lifted from her shoulders that he wouldn't hold her misgivings against her. "You're teasing!"
He chuckled, a deep, happy rumble in his chest.
"I shouldn't have overreacted," she said seriously and set a hand on his hard chest through his open parka as she looked up at him.
"Apology accepted." His gentle eye gazed down on her, sparkling with happiness, and his teeth glinted in a smile.
Her heart melted-he didn't seem to realize the sun had come out to shine down on him.