Legend_A Rockstar Romance

by Ellie Danes

  I put a hand on Nathan's arm before he could start growling. "Actually, we're wondering about a few items someone might have sold you recently."

  The clerk arched an eyebrow at Nathan. "Let me guess. Went on a bender and what? Lost them in a poker game or got mugged?"

  "Poker game," Nathan muttered.

  I ignored him and stayed focused on charming the clerk. "We're not looking for your sympathy. We just want to track down what happened."

  The clerk sighed but finally smiled at me. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

  He pulled out his files and spread them out on the counter. I could already tell it had been a slow week and that Nathan was most likely not the owner of the porcelain mouse collection that had been sold to the pawn shop on the day he was injured.

  "Did anyone try to sell something and get turned away?" I asked the clerk, pointing to the day in his files.

  He shrugged. "I wasn't here that day."

  I gave the older man my best batting eyelashes and even a sniffle. "He wasn't mugged, you know. Someone hit him with a car and left him in a ditch outside of town."

  The clerk frowned. "Fine. I'll call my assistant. He's supposed to be coming in soon anyhow."

  The young man arrived five minutes later with an unfortunate haircut and a worried frown. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

  Nathan stepped forward. "Has anyone tried to sell you anything you thought was stolen these last couple of days?" he asked the young man.

  He ruffled the bad haircut, making it worse, and then said, "It's been quiet. I haven't had to turn anyone away since someone tried to sell their AA chips two weeks ago."

  "Wow," I said. "How much money did they want for them?"

  "Not money. He wanted an engagement ring. Didn't have the heart to tell him Lucy won't marry a drunk." The young man tried to smooth down his hair. "Speaking of engagement rings, we have a great selection. Let me show you one I thought of as soon as I saw you."

  "Better luck next time," Nathan growled. He grabbed my hand and hauled me toward the door.

  "Thanks anyway," I called over my shoulder.

  If Nathan hadn't been pulling me along awkwardly next to him, I never would have noticed the small glass case near the door. I wrenched my arm free from his grip and went back to take a second look.

  "You aren't seriously shopping right now, are you?" Nathan asked.

  "No. Look! Any of those look familiar?" I asked, pointing at the case.

  It was filled with keys of all shapes and sizes. Someone had sorted them by type, and there was an entire row that looked exactly like the key found in Nathan's pocket.

  "Excuse me, sir? What kind of keys are these?" I called back to the clerk.

  He went back to reading his paper as his assistant rounded the counter and hurried to help me. "The little ones? Those are mostly decorative. A few might have opened up fancy cigar boxes or something back in the day but the locks are long gone."

  "You really know your stuff," I told the young man. "Any chance you could help us identify a key?"

  "Sure." He smoothed down his hair again. "If you tell me what the story is between you two. I mean, if he's not buying you an engagement ring, does that mean you're single?"

  Nathan stopped the hopeful young flirt with one stone cold look. "What kind of key is this?"

  "Oh, that? That's a safety deposit box key. But, like, from an older bank. They still use them." He backed slowly away from Nathan and headed back to the counter.

  "Do you know which one?" Nathan asked.

  The young man shrugged. "All I know is that one side usually has the box number on it and the other side either has the name or the insignia of the bank."

  "Thanks again," I called.

  We got back into my car without saying a word. Nathan sat in the passenger seat twirling the key between his fingers.

  "See? That went better, right?" I asked.

  "Yeah, especially the part where the young assistant decided to either sell us an engagement ring or ask you on a date," Nathan said.

  "Jealous?"

  He let a smile slip through his gruff look. "I'm just not ready to lose my little detective yet."

  "Then let's go find the next clue," I said as I started the car.

  Chapter Seven

  Nathan

  I wanted to keep going, and Bree seemed to be enjoying herself. She liked tracing the thin trail of where I had been and was encouraged by what little information we had found. It was easy for her, fun even, but I felt differently.

  Each time we talked to someone, I waited, tense, knowing that soon someone would recognize me. I had a feeling when someone did, I wouldn't get a warm reception. I had no idea how, but every instinct in my body told me I had gone down a bad path.

  Maybe it was better if I didn't remember.

  Every time we started driving, I considered asking Bree to head for New Mexico. I hadn't remembered anything, but the bad feeling was growing. I knew I deserved a court martial at the very least, and I started to think that was better than remembering what I had done.

  "Nathan?" Bree's voice had gone quiet, and I realized she had been trying to get my attention for some time.

  "Didn't we see a bank over by the gas station when we first pulled into Topeka?" I asked.

  "It's dark. The banks are closed. I was thinking maybe we should find a place for the night." Bree stopped at an intersection and turned to study me. "The doctor said that getting some rest and avoiding stress might help your memories come back."

  I nodded, and Bree turned the car back down the main drag. She stopped and got us a bag of burgers.

  "There's a motel, under the neon flamingo," I pointed out.

  "Ah, no thanks," Bree said.

  "Wagon wheel?" I asked.

  Bree looked at the next seedy motel and shook her head. "I want to get some sleep, not a disease."

  "Why would a motel in Topeka, Kansas have an ocean theme?" I asked.

  The motel in question had a seashell neon sign. A blue wave motif had been painted across the exterior and splashed across the room doors. The bright lobby featured a gaudy mermaid fountain and a large fish mobile.

  "At least it looks clean." Bree pulled in and parked near the motel office. "The paint's fresh and the pool is clean. So, at least we know the manager here is still trying."

  The manager turned out to be a very bubbly woman with bright red hair. "Like Ariel, from the movie," she said when I complimented her color.

  "I love mermaids," Bree said.

  "Then you have to get the whirlpool suite. It's all set up like an enchanted grotto," the manager said. "Perfect for a romantic getaway."

  Bree shot me a questioning look. "We, ah, actually just work together. Do you want your own room?" she asked me.

  I shook my head, and the manager gave a knowing smile. What she didn't know was that my wallet was long gone, and I had no money.

  Bree turned down the grotto suite, much to the manager's disappointment. Still she smiled and winked at us as we headed to our room.

  "There's only one bed," Bree said as she opened the motel room door. "I'll go back and talk to the manager."

  "It's all right," I said. "I can sleep on the floor."

  While I found extra blankets and made a bed roll on the floor, Bree laid out our fast food dinner on the small table by the motel window. When I joined her, we ate in silence for a few minutes before I couldn't stand it.

  "Thanks for dinner," I said. "I'm sorry you keep having to pay for everything."

  Bree shrugged and looked over the table. "You're a cheap date."

  "I might not know what happened to me, but I do remember my bank account number and password," I told her. "I'll do an online transfer tomorrow when we're checking out the banks."

  The thought of our next clue perked Bree up a bit. "We should probably go over what we know so far. That's what they do in the detective shows, right?"

  I shrugged and grabbed a second burger. "It's a short conversat
ion but I'm in. What exactly do you know about me?"

  Bree's eyes slid to the bed and the tops of her cheeks reddened. "I know you hitchhiked into my town with nothing but some crumpled up dollar bills, the photograph, and that key."

  "I thought the doctor at the clinic would have been more helpful," I said.

  "Should we go to the police?" Bree asked.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at her suggestion. "No. The doc said they didn't know anything either."

  "Well," Bree said. "We know you were in some sort of car accident and then dumped outside of Topeka. Luckily, you weren’t seriously injured. The doctor did say your memories could return at any time."

  "I wouldn't count on it," I said.

  "What? Seashells and mermaids don't relax you?" Bree teased.

  "The truth would relax me," I lied. I wanted to know what happened but I was starting to believe more and more that the truth was worse than not knowing. I shook my head. "I have to know what I did."

  "Well, we know that key fits a safety deposit box. And an old one that still uses a key like that can't be that hard to track down," Bree said.

  I tossed the little key on the motel table and got up to rummage through the dresser drawers. Underneath the Gideon's Bible was an old phone book. "Who needs the Internet?" I asked Bree.

  "What I need is a magnifying glass." Bree peered at the key. "The number is easy enough to remember but someone went to a lot of trouble to scrape off the other side."

  My gut clenched. What if I was trying to hide something from myself? I shook off the feeling. No matter what was in that safety deposit box, good or bad, I had to know the truth. I couldn't go on with my life as if nothing had happened.

  I plucked the key out of Bree's hand and held it up to the dim motel lamp. "What's left doesn't look like an insignia. Maybe those are letters. God, I don't know. Where's all that CSI crap when you need it?"

  I dropped the key back onto the table and sat down to finish my burger.

  Bree fished the key out of a puddle of ketchup and wiped it clean. "Wait, I have an idea. I saw them do it on a television show once."

  She ran over to the bedside table where I had found the bible and the phone book. Bree grabbed the flimsy pad of motel stationary and the matching blue pencil. She sat back down and slipped the key under the first sheet of paper. Then she scribbled across it over and over again until a tracing appeared.

  "If I do it a little harder, the original, deeper engraving should show up," Bree said.

  The tip of the blue pencil snapped off, but it was enough. In the midst of the other scratches were the letters T, S, B.

  I ran my finger down the bank listings in the phone book. "The Topeka Springs Bank," I said.

  "We did it!" Bree celebrated with a handful of ketchup-drenched French fries.

  "Don't get too excited yet," I told her. “There are three different branches here in Topeka. We'll have to visit them all."

  "Come on. You can't tell me that doesn't make you happy." Bree smiled at me.

  I could have told her my suspicions. I should have told her how sure I was that I had done something bad. It was just a feeling but Bree deserved to know. How much deeper could I let her get?

  The accident, the safety deposit box, and the photograph of the scared little girl. None of it was good. Why couldn't Bree see that?

  She was just excited to be out in the world, away from her dead-end diner job. Bree was so naive. I couldn't deny that she had helped me tremendously, but she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  The best thing would have been to leave then and there. I should have told her about the hunch I had before it was too late. But Bree's smile was irresistible.

  I scooted my chair around the table. "I'm happy you got extra napkins. You have ketchup all over your mouth."

  I used my thumb to wipe off the red smear from the corner of her mouth. Then I made a second pass, just to feel the petal-softness of Bree's full lips. She turned her face toward me, and I had to taste her.

  "Thank you," Bree whispered, pulling back from the kiss.

  "For what?"

  She smiled, her delicious lips just inches from mine. "For letting me tag along on your adventure. It's not every day a waitress from Wichita gets to follow clues and question doctors and pawn shop owners."

  Her brown eyes were shining, and I had to tug at her ever-present ponytail. Bree's long dark hair fell around her shoulders, a thick silk curtain. I gave in to the temptation to run my fingers through it and watched her eyes darken with pleasure.

  "You finally letting your hair down?" I teased.

  "Admit it," she said in a husky voice. "You're excited, too."

  I nodded, brushing another soft kiss across her lips. "For different reasons."

  The only peace I had found for days was just inches away, and I wanted more. I pushed back my chair and yanked Bree into my lap. She fell into my arms, laughing, and then offered up those delicious lips again.

  My tongue traced her lips and teased deeper into the kiss. Bree melted against me, letting my hands rove over her. When I reached down to her thighs, Bree stiffened. I knew she was shy but I needed more. I needed to touch her. With another long kiss to distract her, I shifted her weight and spread one of her legs over mine.

  I slipped one hand down the front of her jeans, letting my light touch elicit tasty little gasps from her. Bree moaned into my kiss as I eased one finger inside her, feeling her honeyed warmth.

  Bree gasped and her hand flew down to where mine was buried deep inside her jeans. I didn’t move as she squirmed against my finger and then moaned at the ripples of pleasure she felt.

  “You are so tight.” My voice was raspy, hardening with lust.

  “I’ve never, I’ve never,” Bree shuddered with ecstasy as I slipped my finger out and then back in. “I’ve never had a man do that to me before.”

  All worries about the past few days disappeared. My head buzzed. Was Bree a virgin?

  I slipped my finger back and forth in her tightness again. I told myself that if Bree were a virgin she would stop me soon. Instead, Bree arched her back, offering more, and I couldn't refuse. I lifted her up, and we barely made it to the motel bed before I felt a surge of hard passion. Bree's open innocence was sexier than any other seduction I had ever known.

  I tugged her jeans off her long legs and then kissed my way back up to her panting mouth. She wrapped her arms around me, her hips rocking up to meet me with a shy, clumsy need. I gave in to her desire, trying to move as slowly as I could.

  Bree murmured against my neck, “please, just take it. I want to be free. Finally.”

  I pushed forward and felt her hymen give way. Then I froze.

  Bree was a virgin, all of two seconds ago, and I was her first lover. I felt a wave of darkness. Not only had I lost my memory, gone AWOL, and done god knows what, now I had robbed a sweet, innocent waitress of her virginity.

  Then Bree rocked her hips against me and everything was gone: no more missing memories, no more desperate road trip, no more beach-themed motel. It was just her and my building passion for the beautiful, reckless waitress. I gave into Bree and she met me passion for passion until we finally crashed together into a deep and satisfied sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Bree

  I expected Nathan to be gone when I got out of the shower. The motel might have been cheap but the water pressure was great, and though I wanted to linger under the steamy water, I thought it best to face my abandonment as soon as possible.

  I had given Nathan my virginity, without asking if he wanted it. And then we’d slept, naked and tangled in the cheap motel sheets. I had found it very hard to work my way free that morning. After I did, I'd rushed to the bathroom and jumped in the shower before the water was even hot to avoid my own face. How could I be falling for a messed-up man I had just met?

  There was no reason why Nathan shouldn't steal what little cash I had left and take my car. I was such
an easy mark. Naïve and a virgin on top of it. Other than clumsy, inexperienced sex, all I had to offer him was my own naive ideas.

  Sure, Nathan was down and out, but when he got his life back together, he would be way out of my league. Navy SEAL, body like a goddamn superhero, and an actual life to get back to. What was he doing wasting his time with some leftover waitress from Wichita?

  I turned off the shower and vowed not to cry. I knew from the get-go that Nathan was not a long-term man. Just slightly more than a one-night stand, but less than a fling. I didn't know how to categorize him at all.

  Except he was the man that had taken my virginity.

  I opened the bathroom door, expecting to see an empty motel room. So, when Nathan appeared with a large cup of coffee, I almost screamed.

  "I think I remember you take your coffee black. At least that's what I think your diner lingo meant," he said.

  I took the coffee cup, trying to hold up my towel and control my trembling fingers all at the same time. "Yeah, thanks."

  "What's with you?" Nathan asked. "Didn't you sleep well?"

  My cheeks blazed with heat as I remembered the way we had fallen into bed together the night before. I had been so thoroughly, deliciously relaxed that I hadn't even bothered to take off my socks and had slept in them all night long.

  Nathan smiled at my blush. "I slept great myself."

  "You look like you're ready to go. I can be ready in ten minutes," I said.

  "Great. I'll meet you at your car." Nathan gave me one last, lingering look before he slipped out the motel room door.

  I leaned on the bathroom doorframe and tried to gather my scattered thoughts. Not only was Nathan still sticking around, but he seemed genuinely happy to be with me.

  Don't be stupid, Bree. There's no way your luck can change that much.

  I tugged on the jeans that Nathan had peeled off me the night before and dug into my small suitcase for a clean shirt. I had a hunch it wasn't the shower and fresh clothes that were making me feel so good. It took every ounce of focus I could muster not to get excited.