Legend_A Rockstar Romance

by Ellie Danes

  Then there was a sickening dive, my memory plunging into a dark sea of blurred images. I fought it, swam for my life, but all I could remember was waking up in a small clinic in Topeka. Days had passed with no explanation.

  The overworked doctor there had shrugged it off as a bender and sent me on my way. No wallet, no money, and no idea what I had done. I had been hitchhiking toward New Mexico ever since, still hoping it would all come back to me. I needed to be able to tell them something when I got back to base. If my story didn't hold, the only explanation would be I went AWOL, and that meant I was in line for a court martial.

  "Need a little time to look at the menu?" a soft voice asked.

  Big brown eyes looked down at me, widening a little as I met her curious gaze. The young waitress was maybe a few years younger than me, around twenty-five years old, I guessed, but her eyes threw me off. Her expression was innocent and hopeful at the same time as being resigned and cautious.

  Maybe it was the fact that her long brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. Then it struck me; she was pretty. Too pretty to be stuck working at an old diner off the interstate.

  "How's the coffee?" I asked. My voice came out gruff, the words catching in my throat.

  "Strong," she said.

  I cleared my throat. "Then I'll have it with cream and sugar."

  She nodded and stepped back, clearly relieved to get some distance from me. "Blonde with sand," she called to the older waitress.

  "Sand?" My voice was still an awkward croak.

  The young waitress edged toward the counter. "Sugar," she explained.

  "Thanks, ah… Bree." I read her name tag before she turned away.

  "Sure. I'll just give you a minute with the menu." Bree handed me the cup of coffee and then retreated behind the counter. I could tell by the fluttering looks she was giving me that I had made a bad impression.

  I sipped the hot coffee. It was strong but anything was better than the jet-fuel they served at the base. I waited for the caffeine to hit my system and clear my head but nothing could make sense of my jumbled impressions. What had I done for the last few days?

  I reached into my pocket again and pulled out the bent photograph. I still didn't recognize the girl, a child, really. She stood shivering against a blank white wall, facing the camera with a frightened but defiant look. The composition was so sterile, so uncaring. Who would take a picture like that?

  I turned it over and read the scribble on the back for the hundredth time: Maggie.

  It was written in an adult's handwriting. A quick jot with no other details. No age, no date, no sense that the little girl was anything else but an object. She had a name but nothing else.

  It worried me, and my hand trembled as I held the photograph and looked at Maggie's face again.

  "Want to hear the specials?" the waitress, Bree, asked.

  She slid a dish of creamer and sugar onto my table and refilled my forgotten coffee mug. I tried to fold up the photograph but Bree glanced at it. When I looked up, she met my eyes with a troubled look.

  "Your daughter?" Bree asked. She peeked at the photograph again and noted the stark composition. Her pretty mouth frowned.

  "Do I have enough for a burger?" I asked, nodding at the pile of crumpled dollar bills.

  Bree blinked rapidly before moving her gaze. Sidestepping her question made her even more uneasy around me. I couldn't blame her, but it still bothered me.

  I fumbled the photograph back into my pocket as Bree considered the measly total of my money. I could tell by the way she shifted from foot to foot that I had made her nervous and the photograph had only compounded the young waitress' suspicions.

  "How do you like your burgers?" Bree asked.

  I reached for my coffee mug, and she skittered back a step. "Rare," I said.

  "Burn one on the hoof," Bree called to the kitchen.

  She walked away from my booth slowly, as if afraid to startle me. At the corner of the counter, she shot me a wary glance that had the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had definitely made pretty Bree nervous. She had to be used to all types, working in a diner this close to the interstate, but I could tell she sensed there was something off about me.

  I drank my coffee fast, even though it was hot, and watched as Bree tried to make casual conversation with the older waitress. Her big brown eyes kept returning to me, and when I caught her, she jolted.

  Luckily, a friendly group of factory workers from across the street came into the diner. Bree smiled at them, and as much as I wanted to see that warm smile again, I headed for the door. It was definitely time to move on. One more weird exchange with me and I was sure Bree would call the cops.

  I left the pile of crumpled bills on my table and jogged down the front steps. When my boots hit the gravel parking lot, I heard the bell jangle over the diner door. Bree bounced down the steps after me, and I stopped cold.

  "You want that burger to go?" she asked.

  I turned around and winced as she tensed up. "Sorry, gotta go," I said.

  "You dropped this." Bree held out the folded photograph. She was careful not to look at it and held it out as far as her arm would reach. "I figured it's important."

  "She's not my daughter." I don't know why I felt the need to explain to Bree. How could I when I didn't know anything myself?

  Bree shrugged. "But you're worried about her."

  I shoved the photograph deep into my pocket and said nothing. The pretty waitress was right. I was worried about the little girl in the stark photograph, but I couldn't remember the reasons behind my concern. All I knew was I had to get back to base and hope there were some answers there.

  Bree glanced around the parking lot. "You're hitching, aren't you?"

  "I won't bug your customers," I told her. "I don't mind walking a bit."

  "Then you better come eat that burger. They're better when they're hot," Bree said.

  The older waitress rapped on the diner window. She had just put my plate down at my booth, but the frown wasn't over my food getting cold. Bree waved to tell her that everything was all right, but the older woman clearly did not believe her. She rapped on the glass again and motioned for Bree to come back inside.

  "We can get you a ride," Bree said. She gestured for me to follow her. "At least eat the food you bought."

  I shook my head. "That's all the money I have."

  Bree looked me up and down, taking in my scuffed boots and rumpled clothes. "Rough couple of days?"

  The laugh surprised us both. "You could say that."

  She planted her hands on her slim hips. "Look, I know you're military. I can see your dog tags. People around here support our soldiers, and I'm not about to let you go wandering off without even eating."

  "I'm not your problem," I said.

  Bree narrowed her eyes at me. "It's not like the place is full in there. No one's gonna care if you sit in that booth all day. Come on. There are free refills on coffee."

  My stomach rumbled loud enough for us both to hear, and I knew I was being stupid. Bree gestured toward the diner doors again and this time I followed her. The view from behind was worth it as she went up the steps, all slim swaying hips in that short waitress dress.

  "If we don't find you a ride, I'll make sure you have a place to stay," Bree said as she opened the door. "Where are you heading anyway?"

  "New Mexico. Naval base." I caught the door and held it open for her.

  She gave me a cautious smile. "See? You don't work in a place like this without learning how to read people."

  I followed Bree inside and wished she could really read me. I needed someone to help sort out where I'd been and what I'd done.

  Chapter Two

  Bree

  I kept expecting to see his booth empty. After the mysterious man came back to finish his burger, I gave him 5:1 odds of sticking around. Not that I minded, he was certainly easy on the eyes. There was just something off about him, a worrying blankness that entered his eyes every now a
nd then.

  "I'm not much for blonds but I wouldn't push those wide shoulders away," Janice, my co-worker, said.

  I elbowed the older waitress. "Stop."

  Janice bumped me with her hip. "I see you looking over there. Big, blond, blue eyes, nothing wrong with any of that."

  I hoped to god he couldn't hear her over the clatter of the dinner rush. He'd stayed through the afternoon and showed no signs of moving. A few of the truckers on their regular route had offered to give my friend a lift, but he had politely said no.

  "I don't know why he's sticking around," I told Janice.

  "Don't be an idiot," Janice said. "You gave him those big doe eyes. And then you gave him a burger platter. Strays tend to stick around if you feed them and show them a little love."

  "He's not a stray. I think he's a SEAL."

  Janice licked her lips. "A SEAL, eh? I could get on board with that."

  "Stop!" I swatted at her before grabbing two hot plates of fried chicken for the booth at the back.

  Janice's suggestive eyebrow-waggling and the stranger's hunky good looks aside, I had an uneasy feeling about him. Sure, it was tinged with attraction and excitement—we didn't get a lot of guys that looked like him in our little diner—but I couldn't afford to get involved with anyone. Not even a sexy stranger who was obviously down-on-his-luck and probably needed my help.

  Especially not a sexy stranger. I had waited this long to give myself to the right man and I wasn’t going to be tempted to lower my standards.

  I dropped off the fried chicken and forced myself to stop at his booth. "All good?" I asked him. "More coffee?"

  He glanced up. "One more for the road. Thanks, Bree."

  My name on his lips gave me a shiver of delight. Then I saw the dark shadows under his eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

  He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "I'm fine."

  "No," I said. "I'm switching you to decaf and finding you a place for the night."

  He scowled up at me. "My name's Nathan, by the way. If you're going to waste your pity on me, you might as well know my name."

  I straightened my shoulders and looked down my nose at him. "Pity? How about you say 'thank you' when someone's just trying to be nice, Nathan."

  He smiled at that. "Thank you."

  I shrugged, relaxing again. "Plus, you're helping us clear out the kitchen. Speaking of that, I'm bringing you a piece of pie. Janice made too many apple pies; don't want the last slices to go to waste."

  On the way back behind the counter, I considered the locals I knew at the diner. None of them would be willing to bunk a perfect stranger, and I quickly realized I was out of options. Either I set Nathan up in a motel and paid for it myself or he'd have to come home with me.

  The thought of his tall frame sprawled out on my saggy couch jumped to mind. He looked about 6' 3", almost a foot taller than me, and I couldn't imagine him fitting on my sad, secondhand furniture.

  I could, however, imagine him stretched out across my bed. The sudden fantasy brought a blush of heat to my cheeks. I’d never had a man in my apartment, much less on my bed. It was all Janice's fault for putting dirty ideas in my head.

  Janice cooed over my shoulder as she looked at Nathan again. "I'm telling you, I wouldn't mind a slice of that."

  I grabbed one of the leftover slices of apple pie and tried to ignore her. She'd been my last-ditch idea for a place where Nathan could crash, but even I couldn't submit a stranger to my lascivious co-worker.

  "Wait, what about coffee?" Janice asked as I rounded the counter again.

  "Decaf for him and draw one in the dark for me," I called over my shoulder.

  "In the dark?" Nathan asked when I reached his booth.

  My breath caught, wondering how much else he had heard. "What? Oh, I like my coffee black," I explained.

  I put the slice of pie down on his table and slid into the booth across from him. "So, it must have been some bender, huh?"

  Nathan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "How can you tell?"

  I shrugged. "Seen it before. Plus, you're real fuzzy on the details of where you've been the last few days and why you're not on your base. Having trouble remembering?"

  "I'm not a black-out drunk, I swear," he said.

  "I know." I leaned back and wondered how I was so sure. Nathan might have been off but something about him assured me he was usually a straight arrow.

  He picked up his fork and then put it down again. "Well, I should get out of your hair."

  I shook my head. "Nah. I'm hanging up my apron in a minute. My apartment's not too far away, and I have a couch you can sleep on."

  "Is that a good idea?" Nathan asked.

  My eyes dropped from his five o’clock shadow to his chiseled chest and felt a burst of heat low in my belly. "You tell me," I said.

  He sat up straight and looked me dead in the eye. "I'm not a bad man, Bree."

  "I know. You're just tired. And I can help." I slipped out of the booth and untied my apron. "I'll meet you in the side parking lot."

  He grabbed my wrist. "Why?"

  I gulped at the jolt I felt from his touch. Then I tugged my wrist free and smoothed down my waitress uniform. "Let's just say I could use a little good karma."

  * * * * *

  I stepped out into the cool evening, expecting to see an empty parking lot. How desperate had I sounded? Coming off a bender or not, there was no way a man like Nathan would be interested in me. Yes, I really was just trying to be nice, but to him I probably looked like a small-town girl dying for any kind of excitement.

  "So, where are you from?" Nathan appeared behind me.

  I pretended like I hadn't just jumped a foot in the air. "What? Oh, what makes you think I'm not from around here?"

  He smiled and opened my car door for me. "Just a hunch."

  I slid into the driver's seat and waited for him to get in and shut his door. We both cringed as my old rusted car rattled to life.

  "I'm from Tennessee," I said.

  He sensed I didn't want to elaborate. "Opposite corner of the nation from me. I grew up in Tacoma, Washington. From a long line of Navy men."

  I drove the short route to my apartment complex. "Navy? And you went into the Navy SEALs?"

  Nathan gave a short laugh. "You following in your parents' footsteps?"

  There was a dull throb of grief in my chest. "My parents were both musicians."

  He glanced at me under the passing streetlights. "Were? I'm sorry."

  I waved away his apology and gave him one of my own as I pulled into my apartment complex parking lot. "It doesn't look like much. Really, I know it looks pretty dismal, but my apartment is clean."

  "I'm used to barracks," Nathan reminded me.

  Still, my hand trembled slightly as I unlocked my second-story apartment door. I flicked on the lights and winced at the sight of my small and sparse home. I was sure Nathan would notice the furniture was all secondhand. Maybe it was too dim. I could only afford a few old lamps, one of which stood on a stack of apple crates in lieu of a table.

  "The customers at the diner aren't what you'd call big tippers," I said. "But I did just get new pillows and blankets. They were on sale at the big box store down the way."

  Nathan's eyes traveled over my tiny living room and the small galley kitchen behind an open counter. One lonely placemat, a single coffee mug, and an open paperback practically screamed 'I'm single and live alone.'

  "I like it. Comfortable," he said. Nathan shrugged off his coat.

  "Are you bleeding?" I squeaked.

  He glanced down at the dried blood on his sleeve. A fresh stain was starting to spread. "I was. Must have bumped it on something."

  "Sit down." I pushed him onto one of my mismatched stools. "I've got a first aid kit in the bathroom."

  When I came back, Nathan had rolled his sleeve up to reveal a long jagged cut. He tugged at his t-shirt, trying to reveal the section of scab that had broken open, but it wasn't working.
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  "You'll have to take your shirt off," I said.

  "I can handle it," Nathan said.

  "What, do you think I'm the kind of girl who faints at the sight of blood?" I asked.

  I immediately regretted my choice of words as he peeled his shirt off and my head spun. I tried to keep my eyes on Nathan's dog tags but the contours of his body were too hard and too fascinating. My eyes trailed over his strong chest and down to the chiseled muscles of his stomach. As if he could feel my eyes, Nathan flexed and shifted in his seat.

  "What's your boyfriend going to think?" he asked in a gruff voice.

  "Boyfriend?" The word came out vague and breathless. All I could think about was testing the solid flesh of his biceps with my fingertips. Or teeth. My cheeks burned with a red-hot blush.

  Nathan tipped my chin so my eyes finally met his again. "I haven't seen much of Wichita but I'm assuming the men around here aren't blind. You're telling me you're not dating anyone?"

  "Oh, what? No." I busied myself with the first aid kit in hopes it would bring my overheated thoughts back to a manageable temperature. "I mean, a couple of guys have asked me out. I went bowling once. But, no, I'm not a big fan of dating, and I don't have a boyfriend."

  "I don't blame you if the best option was bowling," Nathan said.

  "Very funny," I said. "I think I should probably clean this cut up a little. This might hurt."

  Nathan didn't flinch, he didn't so much as blink, instead he caught the swinging end of my ponytail. He rubbed the end between his thumb and fingers.

  I was the one squirming. There was so much heat radiating off his half-naked body that I felt the urge to peel off layers as well. His arm was relaxed underneath my administrations, but the muscles were still heavy and hard. Nathan was more intimidating without his shirt on. There was no doubt in my mind he could overpower me, but I found that idea exciting.

  I cleared my throat and reached for a packet of sterile gauze. "What about you? No girlfriend wondering where you've been for days? Or was a woman the reason for your whole bender in the first place?"