Promises Kept Page 7

  "Well, then, as long as you behave yourself, then I'll have no further reason to touch you, will I?" he replied.

  Luckily, she hadn't paid attention to the fact he had very carefully not promised her that he wouldn't touch her. He didn't like making promises he had absolutely no intention of keeping.

  He left her alone then and began to gather his own things, turning back to her when he realized that she wasn't doing the same thing.

  Anna just stooding there, realizing that that was as much of an agreement as she was going to get from him. She'd forgotten just how stubborn and autocratic he could be. Even in a situation like this, when he should have been kissing her feet and begging her to come with him, he instead had managed to make it into a situation where she would still – as always, it seemed – be required to acquiesce to his way of doing things, making many more demands than sacrifices.

  "Well, what are you waiting for? I want to get on the road." He reached out to cup her cheek with his hand, and was startled when she reared back away, as if she had not just been over his lap getting her fanny tanned or, before that, being cuddled and coddled just as tightly against him as he could manage.

  "That's touching," she said. "No touching."

  Anna blithely ignored the fierce frown that settled over his face, the deeply furrowed brow and lips in a dangerous downturn. But whether or not he liked her rule was none of her concern any more. She didn't want him manhandling her as if nothing had happened between them. She flat out wouldn't have it, and he could like that or lump it. It was no skin off her nose anyway, as long as he kept those ham hands of his to himself until the wedding was over and she could return home.

  As she moved around the house, filling two big suitcases with everything she thought she might need, Topher, sensing something was up, began to weave himself in and out of her legs doing his damndest to trip her.

  "Topher! Get out of the way! If I fall on you, you're dead meat!"

  A worrisome problem struck her, and she made her way to the living room to dump it in his lap. Since he was the one who was essentially forcing her to go with him, using emotional blackmail instead of physical force, it was his duty, as far as she was concerned, to resolve all problems – to her complete satisfaction.

  "You have a problem," she began, and he looked up from the TV just long enough to give her a jaundiced look. "What are you going to do about Topher?"

  Remy was amazed by the level of jealous rage that filled him at the idea that she was dating someone, anyone… but especially someone named "Topher". Wasn't that just "gopher" with a "t"? "Well, my first thought is to deck him for every laying a hand on you—"

  He knew he'd misspoken at the truly horrified look on her face. "You'd punch my cat? What did he ever do to you?"

  Dawning washed over him, along with a sanity saving wave of relief. She was talking about her cat. That was much, much better than what he had assumed. Although he had already envisioned the satisfaction he would get out of beating the other man into a bloody pulp for having the audacity to so much as look at her… but he was feeling much better now.

  "Nothing, sorry. I misunderstood just exactly what a 'Topher' was. Sounds like some kind of crunchy granola version of 'tofu'."

  Toph, as if on cue, sauntered into the room and hopped up on Remy's lap as if he had every conceivable right to do so. Remy stroked the long, soft fur on his back. The cat immediately began purring ecstatically and shed enough black fur onto Remy's white t-shirt that he easily could have built another cat that looked just like him.

  "I should warn you about him."

  Remy looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, his hand halted in the act of rubbing the drooling cat's ears much harder than Anna would ever even think of doing.

  "He's totally gay. He adores men. You now have a friend for life, and I have been demoted to a rank somewhere above dogs but below mice."

  Remy chuckled, continuing to stroke the cat, who looked positively orgasmic. Any time he stopped patting him, the cat reached out a paw to tap him on the wrist, as if admonishing him for abandoning a sacred duty. "Well, we could board him," Remy suggested.

  "Not around here, not during vacation season, anyway. Besides, I don't want to leave him in a strange place for nearly two months. And the cost of boarding for that long would be astronomical."

  "I'd cover that," Remy stated flatly, not wanting any argument from her about it.

  "Yes, you would," she agreed wholeheartedly, "since this is your boondoggle. But it's still an incredible expense."

  He was amazed at her easy acquiescence, but suggested, "Do you have a friend that lives close enough to cat sit, or could we hire one?"

  Anna was frowning, watching her slutty cat orgasm all over Remy's hand. She had to admit, she knew the feeling though. She'd been there, done that more times than she could count. Mentally shaking herself out of a reverie that was only adding to her already alarmingly wet panties, she said, "I don't like either idea. It leaves him mostly alone in this house for too long a time."

  "Then why don't we just take him with us? Unless you'd like me to fly him down?"

  In truth, Anna didn't like those ideas, either. She'd heard too many horror stories about pets in the belly of a plane, which was non-pressurized to boot, to be comfortable putting him there. Besides, who would pick him up on the other end? Even if Libby agreed, which she was sure to, he'd be living in a strange house with a stranger until she got there.

  "So, by process of elimination, we're taking him with us. Next problem."

  "You're okay with that?" Anna asked suspiciously. Remy's family had never been big on pets.

  His heavy gaze fell on her like a touch. "Honey, I'd share a car with you and a one-eyed Episcopalian kangaroo if I needed to." Besides, it would save him the hassle of having to come back to fetch the cat at the end of the summer. The grand plan wasn't just to get Anna there for the wedding, but for keeps.

  Luckily, the rented SUV had a large enough area in the back that they were able to set the critter up in a small room of his own, complete with water, compact litter box, a bed with an old familiar sweater of hers, and a gate across the back to keep him from wandering up to them. Not that he was smart enough to be grateful for the accommodations. Anna brought his carrier with her, so that he could more easily accompany them into the hotel when they stopped at night.

  There was still ample room for all of her stuff, which Remy was amazed and grateful at the same time that she managed to get into only two suitcases.

  She asked Mrs. Trumble to keep an eye on the place, explaining that she was going down to Texas for a friend's wedding, and she got an earful of what the old woman thought of her "boyfriend". Any man that Anna invited into her home that wasn't wearing a tool belt or a uniform automatically became her boyfriend.

  Anna just smiled and nodded, not bothering to correct the older woman, and not offering any more information lest it turn into an hour long conversation.

  Finally, she stood in front of the passenger's side door, running through a mental list verifying that she had everything. "Checkbook. Debit and credit cards. Pocketbook, wallet, driver's license. Meds, clothes, undies, toiletries, makeup kit—"

  Although he had to admit that she had gotten ready to go in record time, Remy was itching to leave. "If you forgot it, we'll buy it on the way," he said, coming around the front of the car to open her door for her.

  Ahhhhh, she'd forgotten the niceties of having a — usually — gallant man to do all of those gentlemanly things that so few men still did. She had been spoiled by him in that way while they were together. He hated shopping of any sort — said he was allergic to it — but he had provided her curb service when she went, perfectly happy to drive her anywhere she wanted and pick her up right outside the door as soon as she called him and let him know she was on her way out.

  She had known, through all six abominable winters, that if Remy had been with her she would never have even been allowed to so much as look at a shove
l or even brush off her car. She had to admit, she'd missed some of the advantages of owning a man.

  Although she allowed herself to be herded into her seat, she nonetheless said, "That doesn't help me much if I've forgotten my bank card."

  "I have more than enough to get whatever you want," he growled, starting the car.

  "And you're going to keep it. I'll let you pay for the car stuff and the hotels, but I'll pay for everything else myself, thank you very much."

  Remy was about to begin to argue with her, but his thought was preempted by a long, mournful yowl from the back of the car.

  "Don't forget we have to swing by the vet's."

  "How am I going to forget that? We'll be lucky if we get there before my ear drums pop," Remy remarked sarcastically.

  A quick trip into her vet's yielded a pill that would relax Topher a bit. Not drug him out, but just relax him enough that hopefully they would not be serenaded by him all the way to Texas. She also grabbed a copy of his shots record, as was required by most states now when traveling.

  When they were actually on I95, after she guided him there using the secret, much less trafficked roads only natives knew about, he returned to what he had been going to say before Topher so rudely interrupted him, as she fiddled with the stereo, hooking up her IPod so she could listen to what she liked on this God forsaken trip.

  "I don't want you paying for anything on this trip. There's no need for it."

  As the melancholy strains of "I'll Say Goodbye to Love" by the Carpenters filled the car, she merely looked at him beatifically and began to sing. It wasn't a point she was willing to argue with him about, especially not right now. He could continue with his delusions that she was going to take any money from him as long as he liked. She knew that she needed to maintain as much autonomy as she could.

  Chapter VII

  Having said his peace about finances, he used the volume control on the steering wheel to turn the music down, then came out with an item that had been on his mind since he'd seen her last night. "You've lost weight." It was almost, but not quite, an accusation.

  Anna considered ignoring him. After all, what did she care about what he thought about her looks? He wasn't anyone to her any more other than her best friend's brother. He'd seen to that himself.

  Instead, she gazed out the window and said in tone that was far less independent than she'd hoped for. "I know."

  "You warned the cat that you'd flatten him if you fell on him, but I kinda doubt that, you're such a lightweight now. Aren't you eating?"

  She'd always had a healthy appetite and he'd enjoyed that. Any of what few entertainment dollars he'd been able to eek out of his alarmingly meager budget had been spent on them going out to eat, and that was perfectly fine with him since — unlike a lot of women he'd dated — she actually ate the meal he bought for her. And sometimes she scarfed a piece of what he'd ordered, too, when she thought he wasn't looking. She'd actually growled at him and tried to stab him with a fork when he tried to steal a bite of a sticky bun she'd gotten at one of their favorite restaurants. He thought he probably still had the scars on the back of his hand.

  Her answers to his attempts at conversation were dissatisfactory, two word affairs as she stared out the window, obviously preferring to be anywhere but in these cramped confines with him.

  "I'm eating."

  "Well, you're not eating enough, then. How much weight have you lost, anyway? You're rail thin, girl, and that's not healthy."

  Anan kept her lips stubbornly closed, wishing he would just drop it. But that wasn't Remy, especially once he sank his teeth into something like this.

  "Anna? I asked you a question. How much weight have you lost?"

  All of a sudden she snapped, turning to hiss at him, "Are you sure you really want to know, Remy? Do you want to know that I barely ate a thing for about three months after I left, and that I had to spend a week in the hospital for exhaustion before I could start my new job? Do you really want to know some of the consequences I bore after you so callously ejected me from your life? That I lost thirty pounds and most of my hair and got a case of pneumonia that I barely recovered from? Is that what you want to hear now? Because you sure as hell didn't want to hear anything about me then!"

  He stopped the car – just pulled it as far off the shoulder as he could to be safe – and hauled her against him, completely ignoring her protestations that he had agreed not to touch her and just holding her quietly as cars rushed by them until she broke down and cried, each gut-wrenching sob ripping another hole in his heart.

  "I'm so sorry," he murmured over and over again, knowing it was poor solace against the devastation he had caused in her life.

  Thirty pounds! He would have said that she didn't have even five pounds to spare on her small frame. She must've been positively skeletal. He knew it couldn't have been healthy for her to have lost that much weight so quickly. No wonder she got pneumonia; her ability to fight off infection must have been severely compromised.

  And she'd lost her glorious hair, too. That explained the short cut now. When he thought of how badly he'd hurt her, he was devastated. He silently vowed to spend the rest of their lives making it up to her.

  Eventually, when she seemed stronger and the storm had passed, he let her sit up, saying quietly, "I can't do anything to rectify the past. But I want you to eat three full meals a day, which I pay for. No skipping a meal."

  At least that got a watery snort out of her, of sorts, and had her lifting her head to glare at him. "New rule: no new rules."

  After he pulled them back out into traffic, he gave her that look, saying unintentionally huskily, "Who is it in our relationship that makes the rules, Anna?"

  They had had this discussion before, more than once, to the detriment of her rear. But things had changed since then and she answered with an ease that battered at his heart almost as badly as her previous revelation had, "That's an easy one: me. Because you and I don't have a relationship any more, Remy."

  That wasn't at all what he wanted to hear, and he took a moment before responding. "You heard me. Three squares a day, Anna Nicolette."

  There had been a time when his use of her first and middle names would have had her jumping to do as he bid, but not any more. Instead, she just turned her head away and resumed staring out the window.

  It was on the tip of Remy's tongue to reinforce his statement in a more physical manner, but he reconsidered and just let it go for now. He'd told her the rul, and he damned well expected that she was going to obey it. If she didn't, she was going to find herself subject to the same style of discipline as she had before, and as she'd already gotten a taste of that morning.

  * * * * *

  Despite their somewhat rocky start on the roadtrip, they settled more easily than Anna would have preferred into their previous affable camaraderie. Their tastes in music were much the same, so there was no fighting about what they listened to, although he leaned a bit more towards country than she did. Thanks to her Mom, she grew up with most of the same music as he had and her favorite playlists had always been full of songs they both new, although she listened to and included a few other genres as well, like the Carpenters' soft rock, or the soundtracks to some romantic films.

  When they got sick of music, they listened to talk radio and immediately returned to their old, familiar arguments about politics, Remy being the generally more conservative type and Anna leaning much further towards the left. But there wasn't now — nor had there ever been — any kind of animosity behind their debates, no matter how loud they got.

  They stopped and got a hotel room much earlier than Anna had expected, considering that Remy was the type who liked to be there yesterday. He wasn't much for dawdling, although Anna forced him to take regular breaks, if only so she could use the facilities and check on her cat, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his drug-induced state.

  Anna wished she could be that relaxed, but it just wasn't going to happen. She was too wound up a
nd wary around Remy to relax, too hurt to ever trust him again. The emotional wounds he'd given her would never completely heal, especially not with his close proximity.

  It was damned intimate spending so much time in even the more luxurious surroundings of that big SUV, and Anna didn't like that aspect of things one bit. He was entirely too close to her, and her body had a long memory when it came to how he could conjure an orgasm in her with pretty much just a look. At least she wouldn't have to put up with him at night. That was some comfort.

  She followed him into the office of a hotel that was nicer than she'd thought he'd pick, ignoring his questioning glance entirely.

  "I need a room with two beds, please," he said to the desk clerk.

  "Not friggin' likely," Anna thought, coming to stand next to him. "Excuse me, but would you change that to two rooms, please? I'd like mine to have a queen sized bed."

  The poor girl looked at her and then at the way Remy was glaring at her and then back to her, which she'd deemed in a matter of seconds to be a much safer harbor. "Two separate rooms?" she reiterated.

  "Yes."

  "And will there be separate bills?"

  "Hell no. He's paying for them both."

  Remy was beginning to realize that he should have emphasized to her before they left exactly what he expected the sleeping arrangements to be. Even though she'd agreed to go with him, he would still much have preferred being in the same room with her, if only to make sure she didn't split in the middle of the night.

  But he paid for both rooms, grudgingly, after making sure that they were side by side. With the way most hotels were made today – with toilet paper and spit, from his personal experience – he doubted she could be quiet enough, especially with the cat to deal with, to get out of the hotel without alerting him.

  He slept pretty lightly anyway, and if he had to, he grimaced to himself, he'd stay up all night every night until they got home to make sure she stayed put.