by Joanne Rock
“I hope that day comes,” she said, more serious than she meant to be.
“We do, too,” Pete said as they all became quiet.
Erin frowned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be a downer. Hand me a beer?”
“Gladly. Nice moves up there, by the way. We never knew you could dance like that.”
“Yeah, me, either.”
She accepted another beer and helped herself to some wings.
“Carry on, then,” she said, waving them on like a queen to her subjects. That succeeded in lightening the mood again.
“Hey, we thought of something that could help with your memory,” Leroy said.
“Yeah. What?”
“You said the doctors told you that things from your life before could help bring your memory back, right? We have a lot of stories we could tell.”
“Those stories are probably things she’d rather leave forgotten,” Pete said with a grin.
Erin smiled. It was good to be around friends who could joke with her about her memory loss. It balanced out the absolute terror and grief that had been frequent, though less so these days.
“I’m game. Take your best shot.”
“Well, there was this time when Riley came running out from that fire at the old folks’ home, carrying the older gentleman, buck naked and thrown over her shoulder,” Pete offered with a wry smile. “They got him on the gurney and he wouldn’t let the medics take him away until he asked her out on a date.”
Erin’s jaw dropped. “That did not happen.”
She liked how they called her by her last name. She felt more like a “Riley” than an “Erin” anyway, in spite of her sexy clothes.
“Oh, it really did. And you said yes.”
The guys made a few lewd comments and laughter picked up, and Derek put a hand on her arm.
“You were being kind. You brought him dinner a couple of nights when he was in the hospital and watched TV with him. That was your date. He passed away a few months later, and his family sent you a thank-you for your visits.”
Erin swallowed hard and nodded.
“There was also the time we told you everyone was dressing up for duty on Halloween and you showed up at the station as Princess Leia. The alarm rang almost as soon as you arrived. You had to change in the truck, which you did, without batting an eye, I’ll add. Though you fought the whole fire wearing the braids. I have to find the picture that made it into the paper,” Pete said nostalgically.
Even Erin had to laugh at that. She lifted her hand to her hair, now boy-short as it grew in after being cut and shaved for surgeries. She couldn’t remember it long, but in most of the pictures she saw, she wore either ponytails or braids. She wasn’t sure if she’d grow it long again. Having it short was convenient, especially for summer. Her sister said it framed her face better, and made her eyes look bigger.
“You always swore like a sailor. More quarters in the jar for pizza night from you than anyone.”
Erin appreciated them filling in gaps for her, but the stories felt as if they were about someone else. She was just getting to know these people whom she had known for years. Men and women who had trusted her with their lives.
She wanted to have it all back, her history with these people. Her whole life. It wasn’t likely; the doctors said the longer she didn’t recall anything, the less chance that she would.
She put her beer on the table as her eyes burned.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” she said, pretending to bend to fix the strap on her shoe while she got hold of her emotions.
Apparently, they did this often, getting together for sports or food. Erin couldn’t remember, but it did feel normal. Normal was nice.
When she rose, they were already talking about other things—sports and upcoming vacations. She took a chair near the wall and munched on her wings.
As she licked some of the sauce from her fingers, she stopped and looked up, feeling as if she was being watched. And she was.
Bo Myers sat across the room, alone at his table, his eyes glued to her as if she were the only one there. His eyes rooted her to the spot and sent licks of heat scattering over her skin. She lost track of everything and almost tumbled her plate to the floor, catching it before it fell.
He was the local fire marshal. She’d met with him a few times since the accident. He’d been there when she’d woken up in the hospital.
He was an intense, somewhat intimidating man in every way—tall, brooding and powerful—with a serious face and eyes that meant business. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him smile. Irrationally, she always wanted to touch his hair. Bristly on top, but soft, she imagined. As if he had just rolled out of bed or gotten caught in a strong wind.
His magnetic eyes were, right now, focused on the finger she had been sucking some of the wing sauce from. She removed it from between her lips and grabbed a napkin.
The guys told her that Bo had been one of their crew before he’d moved on to being an investigator. It was hard to imagine. He was terse, quiet, and not at all like the rest of the group.
There was no question that he affected her differently than the other guys. They were all handsome, fit, and yet she felt nothing but some vague friendliness toward all of them. As if they were her brothers, or at least friends.
Bo, whom she hardly knew at all, had been taking center stage in her dreams lately—in a mostly naked way. The way he was looking at her now was almost as if he were angry, or as if he were undressing her. She wasn’t sure which, or which she wanted it to be.
“I think it’s time for me to go,” she said too brightly. She stood, pushing her plate to the side.
The guys barely noticed, and after a round of goodbyes, she decided to walk home. Her house was only a mile away and she needed the fresh air. And to get away from Bo Myers. But as she walked to the door, she made the mistake of looking back. His gaze met hers across the room, sending a shiver down her spine.
Then, as she reached for the door, he got up and headed directly toward her.
* * *
BO WASN’T SURE why he was following Erin as she left. She didn’t want his company. He should definitely keep his distance, as he had been doing. A clear, professional distance that ate away at him a bit each day.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept except due to sheer exhaustion. He’d come here tonight to remedy that with a few drinks. Maybe more than a few. He didn’t know she’d be here, and if he had, he would have avoided the bar completely. There were plenty more in Syracuse.
He thought he was seeing things when she’d gotten up on that bar—or rather when she’d been hoisted up by a guy with his hands on her ass. Her dancing had nearly killed him. It was so unlike her—except in private. She’d danced for him plenty of times—only for him.
The Erin he’d known would have died before dancing on a bar like that. Dana did it all the time. It was part of her personality, to be wild. Flirtatious. No one took it seriously—if they did, they’d have to deal with Scott.
But Erin, no way. It was all he could do not to drag her down off the bar, but what she did wasn’t his business anymore. Unfortunately, his body didn’t agree. When she’d started licking the barbecue sauce from her fingers, he’d stiffened and had to wait until he could stand up again.
He’d watched how she laughed and smiled with her crew, not noticing their covert glances at her curves and movements. She’d been one of them,
one of the guys—but not now. They touched her more often than they did before. Casual, supportive touches, but still. Things were already changing.
Bo noticed, because he couldn’t touch her at all.
As he caught up with her, she stilled, looking right and left as if seeking an escape. That irritated him. He’d never done anything to hurt her. Quite the opposite.
“Riley,” he said, feeling like a teenager who was talking to the beautiful girl he wanted, but he had nothing prepared to say.
He blinked, his head buzzing. Maybe he should have skipped that last Scotch.
“How are you?” he managed to ask.
Erin always had a way of looking at him. Her clear green eyes would darken to a mossy-jade, and she would seem to completely absorb him with that gaze. For a second, he’d caught that look again when their eyes met across the room. Bo felt that connection, strong as ever. He wanted to think what they’d had was too strong for the explosion, or her amnesia, to wipe out.
But now she looked at him like a stranger. There was a gleam of panic in her expression, as well. Why?
“Hello, Marshal. I’m good. Thanks. Actually, um, I was just leaving.” Her tone was distant, polite. Eager to go.
She was the woman he knew—in her movements, her expressions—but in many ways she was oddly unfamiliar.
He knew what every inch of her smelled like, tasted like. He knew everything she liked in bed and out, and the memories of it had haunted him for months. The thought of touching her made his heart slam harder in his chest.
They’d broken up a month before her accident, and in that time, he’d missed her deeply.
What was there to say, really? He’d asked her to make a choice, and she had. It wasn’t him. Everything hadn’t been right between them, he knew that. They both had secrets, both held back. When he wanted more, she wasn’t willing to give it.
That was that.
The day of the explosion was one of the worst moments of his life.
But she was alive. Here in front of him, staring at him as though she very much wanted him to leave her alone.
To her, he was just another jerk in a bar. Or not even that. Anger boiled inside him, not at her, but at the situation. How many times, and in how many ways, could he lose this woman?
“’Night, Marshal.” She slipped out the door into the evening without another word.
Bo took a long breath and returned to his table and sat, throwing back the last of the Scotch he’d ordered, cursing under his breath as he tossed a few bills on the table. He told himself to let her walk away.
“Everything okay, Bo?”
It was Hank, one of the crew. Bo had worked with them for five years after leaving the New York State Police, with his eye on the job he had now as an investigator. It was his ultimate goal—the only thing he ever wanted, except for Erin. He had to forget about her, especially when he was investigating her case.
Not that it was getting anywhere. She was the only witness to what had happened, and she couldn’t remember a thing. It had been arson, though they had very little evidence to pursue. Whoever had set the fire had known what they were doing. Bo worried that they’d do it again if he couldn’t catch them, but he had four other cases waiting on his desk.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
He dismissed Hank, heading for the door. He didn’t feel like sitting around making small talk, and he could get drunk in his own living room.
It was a warm June night, and he walked out into the parking lot where the faint smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Picnic tables lined a patch of worn grass that ran down the side of the lot, where folks could hang out or smoke. Or find a few minutes alone, away from the crowded bar.
He looked for Erin, hoping she hadn’t driven after how much she’d been drinking. He heard a noise, and spotted her at the edge of the lot. She was sitting at one of the tables.
“Erin?”
She turned, startled. “Oh, hi. Again.”
“What are you doing?”
He saw her shrug in silhouette. “Just getting some air. Seeing how many constellations I can remember and wondering for the one millionth time why I can tell you exactly where the Big Dipper is but I can’t tell you anything really important.”
He nodded. “Well, you know the doctors said—”
“I know what they said,” she cut him off. “It was more of a rhetorical question.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Why are you out here?”
“I was leaving, but I’m glad to catch you before you left. You know, back in the bar...the dancing. That probably wasn’t a great idea.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“You might go back to the job, or at least to the department, someday. You don’t want to change the way the guys see you, and believe me, they’re looking at you differently these days.”
She shrugged a second time.
“I don’t care. And it’s really none of your business.”
She’d gotten up from the table, intended to walk past him. He caught her arm gently, stopping her. He left it there for a beat, then dropped his hold.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Joe’s family. They want you investigated. Including any past reports or problems.”
“Why?”
“They’re grieving, looking for explanations.”
“So they think they can pin his death on me?”
“They can’t, and their accusations are unfounded, we know that. But it would be advisable to keep, well, a lower profile, I suppose. Until things are settled.”
Now he was talking stupid, too. It was the truth about Joe’s family, but none of this would impact the investigation. They had no grounds, medical or otherwise, to think that Erin was at fault.
Bo was telling her what he needed to tell her. For his own reasons. It might not be right, but that was something different altogether.
“Screw that,” she said flatly, trying to step around him.
The night air lifted her scent. It surrounded him, mixing with the sweet evening aromas of fresh grass and recent rain. Though distracted, he reached out, stopping her again. He knew he shouldn’t.
“So now what? What next?” he asked.
They were close. She looked up at him, and the irritation in her face melted into something else. Bo didn’t know if it was his imagination or wishful thinking, but heat arced between them the way it had back in the bar.
The way it always had.
“I don’t understand this,” she said, stuttering a bit, unsure. Rattled.
“What don’t you understand?”
“Why I― What this thing is with you.”
“What thing would that be, exactly?”
“Why I feel...when we... I don’t know you. I don’t even think I like you much,” she said, shaking her head. “But when I look at you, I...”
She remembered. Or some part of her did.
He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb.
Bo’s heartbeat was racing, too. He should walk away, call a cab and leave. He should let this be.
But he wasn’t going to.
“I think I know what you mean. I feel it, too,” he said, his voice a whisper.
Her eyes widened, and without warning she turned her cheek into his palm. The light rub of her skin on his set his blood on fire, and sense evaporated. Everything was lost to the night except being close to he
r, finally. Bo wanted to be closer.
He put his hand at the back of her neck, bringing her forward until she bumped up against him. Then they were kissing, and it was the first time he could breathe in months.
He thought it would be a quick, gentle kiss, but need came on so hot and sudden it knocked all the sense out of him. Her arms wrapped around him, and she was pressing into him as she always had, as hungry as he was.
Bo pulled her in tighter, parting her lips and kissing her as passionately as he could. Still it wasn’t enough.
She was breathing hard as he slipped his hand along the small of her back, up under the edge of her shirt. Her skin was cool from the night air.
He explored her throat before working his way up to her lips again, but she pulled away, as if suddenly realizing what was happening. At the same time, voices rose in the lot behind them.
Bo couldn’t think straight. He reached for her again.
“Erin, don’t—”
She pushed past him and ran down the sidewalk.
He stared after her, cursed under his breath, some little thread of clarity returning.
What had he just done?
If his place in the investigation had been iffy before, he’d just made it a lot worse. No one knew about his previous relationship with Erin—they’d seen each other in off-hours, never telling anyone. If the department found out now, well, things could get complicated. At best, they’d take him off the case. At worst...well, he didn’t want to think about it.
They could think he was covering for her. They could think he was ethically compromised in any number of ways.
As he strode through the lot, reaching for his phone with slightly shaking hands, he couldn’t help one thought that kept going around in the back of his head as her scent and taste still lingered. No matter what happened, it had been worth it.
Copyright © 2014 by Samantha Hunter
ISBN-13: 9781460323939