Her Gentle Giant Page 5

  She hadn't seen any pictures in his house and she realized, suddenly, only the one mirror, for which she could hardly blame him.

  They found a few common areas to discuss, and the rest of the time, they ate in a somewhat companionable silence, and when she could, she snuck looks at the surprisingly untouched profile he presented to her. He must have been a beautiful man at one point. He still had a full head of black hair—although it was understandably thinner on the other side—piercing black eyes and a tanned complexion, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw line—or half of those, anyway.

  "Emmy! You know better than that!" she scolded when she noticed that her little girl, having had enough of her mac and cheese, was busy dropping pieces of it onto the floor. Arianne rose to go clean up the mess she'd undoubtedly caused, but she felt a hand on her arm that left almost before she noticed it.

  "There's no need to rush. I have a feeling there's someone's gaping maw right beneath where she's dropping them."

  She gave him a confused look.

  "Luci."

  "Ah."

  "If you don't mind, though, I'll correct her."

  Ari sat back in her chair. "Have at it."

  "Emmy, please don't do that. Luci doesn't need to eat human food."

  Her head whipped around and her daughter's eyes became glued to Hoyt's, and she wondered if Emmy was going to test him. Not that she was prone to tantrums or direct disobedience—she wasn't, thankfully, or living with her father would have been much worse—but she was a toddler and moody, at best.

  But not this time, apparently. Instead, the little imp stopped immediately, and they all clearly heard Luci's lamenting whine at the loss of the cheesy treats.

  When they'd helped him to clean up—even Emmy—Arianne thanked him profusely for the meal then headed toward the door. "We'll get out of your hair now. I'm sure you have much better things to do with your time."

  "I can't think of a one," he said in passing as he headed down the hallway to gather her things, which he then brought out to the car for her.

  "All I ever seem to be saying to you is 'thank you'."

  He smiled. "That just means you have manners, Arianne, which I greatly appreciate about you."

  "Thank you—ugh, again!"

  He even put Emmy into her car seat for her, while having to shoo Luci out of it the entire time, then he stood back a little, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, and watched her get into the car.

  "At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you again. You're a lifesaver."

  "Any time. I enjoyed it."

  She must've been feeling braver, because she teased, "I wouldn't have pegged you for having masochistic tendencies, Mr. Chandler."

  He grinned and returned with a wink, "You'd be right there, Mrs. Messier. I definitely come down on the opposite side of that equation."

  Her eyes widened into saucers at that, and he grinned.

  Hoyt waved good bye to them, with Luci at his side, feeling immediately a lot lonelier than he had in a very long time once they'd left.

  The next day was horrible. Everything she'd touched had gone to shit from morning to night. Emmy was cranky as all get out, and to top it all off, she'd gotten a call an hour or so ago, only to be told that she hadn't gotten the job, either. A job in a friggin' gas station and she couldn't get it! It was enough to drive her to drink, only she couldn't afford to do either of those things—drive or drink!

  The cupboards were getting barer and barer, and if it hadn't been for the fact that Hoyt had slipped the leftovers from their meal with him into the stuff he'd put into the trunk of the car for her, it was going to be another night of Ramen tonight, too, even for Emmy, which she hated much more than having to stomach it herself.

  And that wasn't all he'd given them—there were several extra bags he'd managed to slip into the slew of crap she'd brought with her, and they all contained groceries of varying types—canned veggies, dried pasta, tomato sauce, some broths, a couple of bags of baby carrots and other fresh veggies; there was even a cooler pack with frozen hamburger and chicken breasts.

  Emmy was already in bed, still getting over having been exhausted by Luci, apparently. Normally Arianne would have been in bed, too, but for some reason she didn't want to examine too closely, she didn't want to speak to him from her bedroom. She knew it was stupid, but she didn't. She hadn't even undressed yet.

  She found his number and called him.

  He picked up on the first ring. "Miss Arianne. To what do I owe this considerable and distinct pleasure?"

  As if he didn't know, but damn! His low, rumble of a voice sizzled along every nerve she would have sworn she no longer owned, waking them all up and causing them to riot!

  "Uh, I found the leftovers. Thank you."

  "You're very welcome," he returned warmly.

  She hesitated for a second, then said, "I found the other stuff you gave us, and thank you for that, too, but of course, I can't accept it."

  He didn't sound angry, but he did sound very unhappy to hear that. "Why not?"

  "Because you don't need to do that."

  "Does your daughter lie?"

  The question threw her off track. "What?"

  "Does Emmy lie?"

  "No. I hope not, anyway."

  "Then it's true that you guys are living hand to mouth on those horrible little sodium laden noodle packets?"

  "Well, she's not," Arianne corrected, before she realized what she was revealing.

  And he was too sharp not to pick up on it. "Well, if one of you is, that's one too many. I have a ton of food here; I keep my cupboards stocked. I'm not going to miss any of it, and I know you can make good use of it."

  "No, Hoyt. I want you to take it back."

  "I'm sorry, but I won't." Then he had a sudden thought and his eyes narrowed as he warned her in no uncertain tone, "And I had better not find those groceries on my porch at any time in the future, either, Arianne Messier, or you won't be sitting comfortably for a while."

  He heard her gasp and wasn't sure if it was in alarm or something much more intriguing, as far as he was concerned.

  How could he have known that it was exactly what she planned to do?

  "I'm not kidding. You do not want to test me on this. You'll lose, and you'll wish you'd done as I'd asked you."

  "What happened to 'I'll never hurt you'?" she whispered, and he heard the fear that was plain in that very valid question.

  Hoyt stretched his legs out in front of him, rubbing along the outside of the sore one. "I stand by that. I would never, ever hit you."

  "But you'd spank me," she pointed out.

  "Do you like that idea at all, Miss Arianne?" His tone was huskier than she'd ever heard it.

  Her "Nooo" was breathless, and it came out in a blatantly false manner.

  His "Don't lie to me, honey," was no less stern for having been whispered raggedly into her ear. "You'll get into much worse trouble than we've already been discussing, believe me."

  "I. It. I can't." She took a deep breath and said what she was thinking, "I can't possibly want that anymore."

  Hoyt was incredibly honored that she'd confess something like that to him on such short acquaintance.

  "Just so you know, to me, hitting you would be slapping you across the face or punching you or kicking you or any one of a number of things a man who considers himself to be a man would never, ever do to any woman, except perhaps in self-defense. Although, even then, there would have to be a better way to do that. But a spanking is a whole different animal entirely, Arianne."

  She was breathing more heavily, and again, he cursed the fact that he wasn't with her while they were having this conversation, and he couldn't tell if her response was inspired by fear or desire. He wanted to hold her on his lap while they talked like this, cradle her to him, not his phone.

  "Did someone hurt you, honey?" he couldn't stop himself from asking in a crooning tone, even though he knew he had no right to do so. "Someone who
's big, like I am, and made you scared because of it?"

  Another gasp—not of outrage, but of surprise, he thought. "I-I can't talk about it."

  He could hear the stress in her voice and was sorry to be the cause of it. "Sh-shh-shh. You don't have to if you don't want to. But you can believe me when I say that I would never touch you in a violent way. Ever. A spanking is discipline. A correction. It's never done violently, or even angrily, but with great care for the well-being of the person who's on the receiving end."

  "I don't want to talk about that, either."

  "Then I suggest that you just thank me for the food and use it to make something good for the two of you for dinner tomorrow. I was glad we'd talked about several of your favorite recipes last night, and I tried to give you the ingredients I remembered for them. Make one of those."

  They both enjoyed cooking, and that was one of the things they'd discussed over dinner.

  "Did you get the job?"

  He could hear her trying to answer him in the background, and when she finally did, her voice was full of tears. "N-no, I d-didn't."

  Hoyt was seconds away from jumping into his truck and driving over to hold her. It didn't have to be any more than that. He just wanted to comfort her.

  "Well, you'll get it next time, I'm sure." The thought that he'd had once before in regards to her employment situation but had dismissed from his mind as ridiculous came back with a vengeance, and he began to seriously consider it, although he said nothing to her. He needed to think on it a bit more before he did that, and there was every possibility she'd end up with a job before he decided whether or not it would work for her—for the both of them.

  "Thanks," she sniffed. "I'm sorry to cry all over you, especially when you've been so kind and generous, but it's just been an awful day."

  He wasn't sure there were very many people left in the world who would use those terms to describe him, but he certainly liked hearing them from her.

  "I wish I was there to dry your tears, darlin'. I might be big and intimidating, but like Luci, I know how to temper my strength, and I think you'd be very comfortable curled upon my chest or in my lap."

  Despite the residual fear she still had of him, that idea sounded marvelous to her at the moment. It would be great to have someone to lean on at times like this. Matt had certainly never been that for her in any way. "I know you do, or I would never have trusted you with Emmy."

  His words were soft as gossamer. "You can trust me with you, too, Arianne."

  "I-I don't think I can do that anymore, Hoyt."

  "Trust me, you mean?"

  "Trust anyone of the male persuasion."

  He grimaced at what that meant about her experiences with men. He was even more convinced that he'd been right about someone of his size hurting her, and he wanted to howl in rage. But he kept it together for her sake. She certainly didn't need to hear that from him. "I understand, I do, but I'm warning you—I'm going to work hard at proving you wrong."

  "No, Hoyt," she said as she blushed.

  "Yes, Arianne. I want you to feel as comfortable with me as your daughter already does."

  She didn't answer him. She didn't know what she could say to that.

  "Would you mind if I asked you an impertinent question? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

  "No?"

  He chuckled at her reticence. "Was it Mr. Messier who hurt you?"

  Hoyt heard her sigh, and then she said, in a very small voice, "I don't think I want to answer that."

  "No problem at all."

  "I'd better let you go. I'm monopolizing your time."

  He snorted. "Yeah, because I have so much else to do. I was just going to turn in from boredom."

  "You're not working on your book?"

  "I am, but it's slow going when you're hunting and pecking."

  She giggled, and he smiled so hard his face hurt. "Really? In this day and age?"

  "Are you laughing at me, Miss Arianne?" he teased.

  "Absolutely! I can't imagine that. I like typing, and I do it really quickly and with pretty good accuracy."

  "You do?" Another point in her favor, he realized.

  "Yeah. You have to get pretty quick at it at the bank." She yawned then and excused herself. "I'm sorry. I was headed to bed, too, but more because it's been one of those days and I'm afraid of what's going to go wrong next!"

  "Poor baby."

  He sounded wonderfully, sincerely sympathetic. She wasn't used to that from a man anymore. Matt's sympathy was always tinged with sarcasm—or blatantly full of it.

  "Well, why don't you head to bed, little lady? I'll call you tomorrow to check in on you, if you don't mind."

  "I don't," she answered quietly—and truthfully, which surprised her.

  "Good. Night, Arianne. Sleep well."

  "Thanks. I didn't usually sleep very well, but that's gotten better since we've been here."

  He wished he thought he'd ever be in the position of being able to wear her out and then hold her and stroke her as she fell asleep in his arms, even if he was able to get her to come to trust him. The second thought he had when she revealed that was to heap invectives on the head of the unseen, unknown Mr. Messier.

  "I'm glad to hear that."

  "Night, Hoyt."

  As she hung up on him, she could feel how slick she had gotten between her legs. It was startling but nice to know that she was still capable of reacting like that to a man, although she wasn't at all sure the man she should have been reacting to that way was Hoyt Chandler.

  Chapter 5

  She knew that he slept during the day, so, of course, she had to return the groceries.

  Ari was feeling very full of herself as the day progressed and he didn't call, and she figured he'd seen the light and she'd gotten away with what she'd done. There was no way he could have missed their presence—they were right where he'd put their meal that first night, but on the mat in front of his door instead of hers.

  It wasn't until she was just about to put Teensie to sleep that there was a knock at the door. It was on her list—once she'd gotten a job—to get one of those small webcams that she could set up to show her who was at the door, but for now, she had to settle for tugging back the curtain a bit. To find that he was staring right at her.

  Not her husband—the possibility of which was always what made her heart beat faster—but Hoyt. And he was carrying the bags of groceries.

  She stood in front of it for a long moment, staring at it and biting her lip. She really didn't want to let him in.

  At least she was still dressed—albeit she was in an old, worn pair of yoga pants and an equally disreputable t-shirt, very much wishing that she hadn't forgone her bra.

  "Arianne."

  Nothing.

  She knew that he knew she'd seen him.

  "Let me in, honey."

  Quiet, firm, and assertive, but not mad.

  "Ith it Mithter Chandler?" Emmy heard him knocking and got out of bed, jumping up and down with excitement as she stood next to her mother, who showed no such signs of excitement at seeing him.

  "I'm afraid so," her mother confirmed as she opened the door.

  "Arianne. I believe you left something at my house that belongs to you."

  "I did not," she asserted as forcefully as she could.

  Hoyt took a step toward her, both hating that she took several steps away from him, and using that fact to walk into the house and begin putting the well-travelled groceries away.

  That was until a little whirling dervish attacked him from behind and glommed onto his leg while giggling the entire time.

  Still facing away from her and not having looked down yet, he said, "Gee, I wonder who—or what—could have attached itself to me so firmly. Is it gum, perhaps?"

  "No!" She laughed at the silliness of his question.

  "Uh, a burr from a pricker bush?"

  Arianne was fairly sure that her daughter didn't even know what that was, but she laug
hed just the same.

  "No!"

  "Hmm. I know! It's a barnacle! Barnacle Teensie! Or is that a Teensie Barnacle, I wonder?" He reached around and detached her carefully to hold her above his head so she very nearly hit the ceiling. "I knew I was right!"

  "I'm not a barnacle!" she asserted through more giggles.

  He frowned up at her. "But I'm quite sure you are. You're just the little girl kind instead of the ocean kind. Same clingy tendencies. I'd recognize you anywhere!"

  "Someone was on her way to bed at one point," Arianne offered, feeling like a wicked stepmother who was ruining everyone's fun. But Emmy needed her sleep, just like she did.

  Hoyt was in the act of spinning her daughter around, but after looking at her, he stopped. "Well, then, that's where she belongs." He headed down the hall, peering into the bigger room first, which was hers, then moving on to Emmy's and depositing her gently on the bed.

  "Can Mithter Chandler—"

  "Why don't you just call me Unka Hoyt, baby girl?" he suggested.

  "—Unka Hoyt read me my bedtime storieth?"

  "Well, Teensie, we don't want to impose—"

  "I would love to!" Hoyt made himself comfortable on the bed, squooshing Emmy over and taking up the majority of it as the little girl lay her head on his arm and cuddled up to him while he held the first of the same three books she had to be read every single night. Blueberries for Sal was the first, then The Cat in the Hat, and lastly, Goodnight Moon.

  They were engrossed in each other, and Ari took the opportunity to sneak back into the kitchen to start putting what he'd already put away back into the bags he'd brought.

  At least until she heard a loud "Ahem" from behind her as she was in the act of retrieving the pasta from the cupboard where he'd just put it.

  "Put it back, Arianne."

  She was busted, and she knew it. "But—"

  He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her as if he was not just surprised to find that she had been disobeying him again, but that he was disappointed about it, too.

  So, she sighed and did as he asked.

  "The rest of it, too."