by BJ Wane
Other than his and Harper’s names, the only other information she had pulled up on her phone before it died was that of Mercy Hospice. She’d found a website for the long-term hospice facility, but nothing about the photos or information had broken through her lapsed memory. She’d experienced the same failure of filling in her blank memory banks after perusing her author website but did find a list of her titles, a few of which the library did not offer in paperback, only digital. The two books she’d read so far had sounded familiar enough she knew the endings, but again, nothing jarred loose other details of her writing career.
Stepping outside, the warm afternoon sun helped dispel the cold chills of unease still plaguing her as she left the library. Frustrated and tired of living in fear of the unknown, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, she struggled with what to do next. As she walked toward her car parked up the street, the redhead coming her way paused with a smile and nodded at Skye’s books.
“I just finished my first book by that author and loved it, especially the surprise ending.”
Skye started to thank her for the compliment then bit her tongue so as not to give away her identity as the author. Since her bio in the books didn’t include a picture, she figured she had valued her privacy as much before her amnesia as she did now.
“Good to know. I’m looking forward to reading these. Thanks.”
The woman cocked her head, in no hurry to keep going. “I’ve only lived here a few months, but it doesn’t take long to get to know the year-round residents in a town this small. Are you passing through or visiting the nearby tourist attractions?”
Stick to the truth as much as possible. Somehow, she recognized that advice, maybe from researching suspense plots. “I was passing through then decided to camp at the campground for a few days and play tourist. I love the town.”
“Yeah, me too. Coming from Houston, it surprised me how fast I adjusted.” Thrusting out a hand, she introduce herself. “Poppy Flynn, manager of the Bar S Sheep Ranch.”
“Skye Marshall.” She shook her hand, having no idea where the last name came from that popped out as she sought to keep her real identity safe. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. I’ve gotta run. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks.”
Skye waited until Poppy dashed into the library then went to her car, settled behind the wheel, and leaned her head back. Closing her eyes, she wished she were free to become friendlier with people she met around town. Maybe she should try making another trip into Boise. She’d caved to that temptation three days ago only to return to the campsite empty-handed, without answers.
After withdrawing the last of her available finances, wondering where she’d spent all the money she’d supposedly made from writing, she’d stopped in an Internet café for an hour, again seeking any mention of Alex’s death. After yet another search that turned up nothing, she’d gotten up the nerve to drive by the house she’d fled from in fearful uncertainty. Cold chills had snaked down her spine just sitting in her car looking at the seemingly peaceful home with its blue trim around the curtain-drawn windows. She’d thought of the woman who had claimed to be her close friend and shivered, either from fear for her or of her, Skye didn’t know which.
Boise was an average size city where suspicious deaths weren’t a daily happening. That was one of those random facts she was sure of that would just pop into her head. Tidbits about herself and her past were still there, like her love of blueberries and toiling in a garden. She could remember graduating from high school with honors but none of her friends or family, or if she’d attended college afterward.
Skye decided she’d sat there moping long enough. She got out of her car again and crossed the street to the deli with the big window sign advertising the teriyaki chicken club special of the day. Even though it was past lunchtime, there was a short line in front of the counter and half the booths lining the sides and a few tables were occupied.
After picking up her sandwich and paying at the end of the counter, she turned, intending to take it with her when Poppy, the woman she’d just met, entered the deli. Poppy waved then held up a finger before saying a few words to a blonde occupying one of the booths.
Skye met her as she headed toward the counter, saying, “Hi, again.”
Poppy grinned in greeting. “Hey there. I see Lisa and I aren’t the only ones here for a late lunch, early dinner. Why don’t you join us?”
She wanted to accept, longing to spend a little time with other people instead of continuing to shy away from getting too close to anyone, but found it hard to let go of staying cautious. “I don’t want to intrude,” she responded, the excuse sounding lame even to her.
“You’re not, or I wouldn’t have invited you. Lisa is another new transplant to the area, and our guys co-own a spread about thirty minutes from town. Now that we’ve moved in with them, she and I are neighbors. The guys are going to be late getting back from looking for some stray cattle, so we decided to grab something together. Hang on, let me pick up our order, and I’ll introduce you.”
Poppy dashed up to the counter before Skye could say anything, leaving her to either accept or make a rude departure. The thought of eating alone again conjured up the loneliness of the past week despite the full campsite and trips into town. What could spending an hour with two friendly strangers hurt?
Poppy’s return saved her from coming up with an answer. “Follow me,” she tossed out, breezing by without pausing.
Skye slid in next to Poppy when she scooted over, grateful they didn’t leave her to sit alone on one side of the table, facing them.
“How do you like the area, Skye?” Lisa asked, following Poppy’s introduction.
“It’s nice, so is the town, and meeting new people.” She hoped neither would probe for more answers, but Lisa squashed that wish with her next inquiry.
“Are you vacationing alone?”
“More like getting away for a break than vacationing, then I decided to take in some local sightseeing. I don’t plan on staying long.” Taking a sip of raspberry tea, she enjoyed the sweet flavor as much as the fresh vegetables and seasoned deli chicken, not realizing her slip until Poppy pointed it out.
“So, you’re from around here?”
Damn. She didn’t want to reveal she only lived thirty miles away in Boise, as it wouldn’t make sense for her to stay at a campground this close to home. She racked her brain for someplace else to appease them. “Helena,” she tossed out, figuring the Montana capital was about a day’s drive. “I’m not sure where I’ll go next,” she added, hopefully forestalling further probing into her fictional itinerary. This was why she’d been reluctant to engage with others.
“Lisa moved here from Phoenix, as far as my move from Houston. The drastic climate and landscape changes took some getting used to, but now I love it here,” Poppy said around a bite of coleslaw.
“More like we love the guys we’ve hooked up with since arriving,” Lisa put in, her green eyes shining with a contentment Skye envied.
She tried to recall a happy moment with her now-deceased husband and got a sharp pain across her forehead for her effort. Wincing, she reached for her tea again, replying, “That’s nice. You’re lucky.”
“No significant other for you?”
Skye shook her head at Poppy’s question. “Nope, and that’s fine.” Which was true. The last thing she needed was to get involved with someone when she couldn’t even remember who she was. After taking her last bite, she gathered up her trash. “Thank you for letting me join you. I enjoyed meeting you.”
Lisa lifted a hand in farewell. “You, too. If you haven’t already, explore the mining town along the river. They have great root beer floats at the soda shop.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Returning to the campgrounds, the last thing Skye wanted to do was sit on the camp chair she’d purchased when she checked out the town’s equivalent of a Walmart to buy a pillow and light blanket for sleeping in her
car. She liked reading, but not for hours on end, and by the time she parked, the urge to keep moving prompted her to go for a long hike exploring one of the nearby trails. She was up for any activity that would distract her from feeling sorry for herself.
Entering the woods on the path nearest her car, she inhaled a deep lungful of scented pine and welcomed the cooler interior of the dense trees. The jeans and casual pullover tops she’d grabbed before running away were coming in handy for living off the grid even though she much preferred the comforts of indoor amenities. Given her questionable sense of direction once she found herself deep into the thick forest, she doubted she’d done much rugged outdoor activity that the other campers seemed to enjoy.
At least an hour must have passed when she came across a flowing stream and saw a doe and her fawn getting a drink. It was such a calming sight, she paused at the edge of the trees so as not to startle them. The last tension eased from her tight muscles as she listened to the rush of water, birds trilling, and squirrels and who knew what other critters scampering among the trees. Once the deer left, she found a grassy spot, sat down, removed her shoes, and rolled up her pant legs.
“Holy crap!” Skye exclaimed the moment she stuck her feet in the water, never expecting it to be so cold. To amuse herself, she lifted them out then dipped back in, over and over until her lower legs and feet were pink and she’d grown accustomed to the chill. With the last rays of the descending sun beating down on her shoulders, she set about splashing like a kid, hard enough for drops of cool water to hit her face, replacing the damp sheen of perspiration her long trek had produced.
Skye was having so much fun acting silly, giggling like a teenage girl, she didn’t hear the approach of a horse until an amused voice interrupted her reprieve.
“We meet again, sweetheart.”
With a startled gasp and annoying return of tension, she jumped up and spun around, staring at the man sitting astride a beautiful tan mare, leaning forward on one corded forearm braced on the pommel. A brown Stetson shielded his eyes but not his dark-shadowed jawline, a sexy contrast to the sandy blond hair curling around his tanned neck. Between his comment and what she’d seen of him the night he’d taken her by surprise, she guessed who he was.
“So we do. I’m not your sweetheart,” she answered tartly, finding the generic endearment as irksome as the interruption of her first relaxing moments since rousing to a dead man and memory loss.
His heart-tripping grin widened and did something to her insides despite her annoyance. “I call all the girls sweetheart.”
That flippant reply grated as much as his intrusion on her fun. Combining her irritation with the uncomfortable sexual awareness this man’s presence stirred to life put her right back on edge. Gritting her teeth, Skye narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a girl.”
He straightened and nudged his hat up, revealing his slow, nipple-tingling, pussy-dampening bright blue scan up and down her body as he drawled, “I have to disagree there, sweetheart.”
Conscious of her round curves that were a far cry from the slender appeal most men preferred, Skye squared her shoulders and ignored her body’s heated reaction and pitter-pattering heartbeat. “Look, mister…”
“No, sweetheart, you look. You’re trespassing on my land again. Since I don’t see a mount or ATV, how did you get here?”
Of all the friggin’ luck. Lately, Skye didn’t think it was even worth getting up in the mornings. Since there was no way she wanted this man knowing where she was staying, she stopped short of full disclosure, an evasion she’d perfected this past week.
“Sorry. I’ve been hiking for a while and didn’t realize I crossed your invisible lines again. I’ll go.” She sat down and started unrolling her jean legs only to pause as he dismounted. Tall and lean didn’t mean skinny, she observed, eyeing the way his thighs bulged and his sinewy forearms below the rolled up sleeves of his denim shirt rippled. Her pulse jumped into her throat when he strode toward her. With something close to panic, she snatched up her shoes and pushed to her feet. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him as he reached her, his height and nearness warming her blood, a sure threat to maintaining her composure.
“If you’re in some kind of trouble, I may be able to help. Clayton Trebek.”
He held out his hand and, given her reaction, Skye worried touching him would ignite a volcanic rush of lust and tempt her to fall for that deep-timbred offer. Taking a step away, she shook her head and made a show of keeping her balance while getting her shoes back on as she forced a light tone and said, “No, no trouble. It’s just my luck to always find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Clayton surprised the heck out of her when he stooped down and tied her sneakers as soon as she slipped them on and put both feet down. “Last time you were headed home, yet you’re still here.”
When he rose, she shivered from his intense probing stare so close to her face she feared he could see right through her lie. “I have to go,” she whispered, cursing the tremor in her voice and the ease with which he could mix her up in numerous ways. If he noticed she had omitted giving him her name in return and ignored his statement, it didn’t show in the bland look he gave her.
“Yes, I suppose you do,” he murmured, his tone almost seductive. Tipping his hat, he moved out of her way, letting her walk by him. “My offer stands if you ever find yourself on the Rolling Hills Ranch again, sweetheart.”
The deliberate use of that word worked to straighten Skye’s backbone again, and she stomped into the woods without another word or glance in his direction.
****
Fate, karma, or whatever other nonsense others might label the way Clayton kept running across the same woman didn’t trouble him as much as her obvious evasions to simple inquiries. Watching her disappear down the trail into the woods tempted him to follow at a discreet distance. Although not as good as Dakota at sneaking around, given her preoccupied nervousness, he doubted she would realize he was on her tail. It was probably a good thing that particular path was too narrow and dense to travel on horseback.
He wanted to help the woman as much as he’d enjoy stripping her of those loose jeans and exploring her lush curves. Her expressive, big brown eyes revealed apprehension every time she shifted her gaze away from his direct look or question, but her soft lips tightened, and her jaw clenched when he said something to annoy her, like calling her sweetheart. Even without the obvious mannerisms signaling she was dodging trouble, she came across as someone who could benefit from a few hours of pleasurable, uncomplicated, stress-reducing sex. He knew women, oftentimes better than they did themselves, and was good at commanding their attention, taking over their senses, and doling out what they needed. The more she kept crossing his path, the more she intrigued him and made him itch to learn the secrets of her mind as well as her delectable body.
Clayton pivoted, took up Sienna’s reins, and mounted the only female he loved other than Miss Betty, wishing he had time to track the woman who didn’t even want him to know her name. He’d never experienced such a compulsion to pursue one woman before, not when he could avail himself of a smorgasbord of females either eager to please him as a Dom or to go out on a social date that might or might not include a night or two of vanilla sex. He didn’t need or require every bed partner to offer him sexual submission, he just preferred total control when they were down to bare skin. Since he enjoyed both sides of the coin, he rarely found himself without options for companionship with the opposite sex.
Too bad time was one commodity he was short on right now. Between his steady case load and the extra work on the ranch requiring he put in more hours helping Dakota, there were times they struggled to open Spurs on Friday and Saturday nights. If the three of them didn’t enjoy the reprieve from their daily jobs so much, needing that outlet to unwind at the end of each week, they never would have bought out their friend, the previous owner, when he moved. Following a bitter divorce, Randy Daniels had sent a notice to his club
’s Masters, telling them his intention to shut down unless one of them could take over. He hadn’t trusted turning the club over to strangers after divesting so much time, money, and energy into the place. His huge success boasted an excellent reputation for a safe, sane, and consensual outlet for those interested in the lifestyle, and Clayton, Dakota, and Shawn were the only ones who had come forward with an offer.
They didn’t regret tacking on the investment to their other obligations, but with several cowhands away delivering cattle to meat processors, there were always days like today when Dakota needed Clayton and Shawn to take off work early and help track a missing new mother and her calf. They found the pair unharmed, miles from the herd, and were riding back to the stables when he’d picked up the faint feminine laughter filtering through the trees. Shawn and Dakota had been discussing their entries in the upcoming rodeo benefitting Big Brothers Big Sisters, and he’d taken advantage of their inattention to appease his curiosity.
Clayton figured they would notice his absence and wasn’t surprised to meet them backtracking to look for him as he emerged from the woods.
“You could have said you were splitting from us,” Dakota growled.
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to deal with a very pretty trespasser playing in the stream without you,” he returned with a shit-eating grin, nonplussed by his friend’s complaint. Dakota had lightened up since Poppy had successfully recovered from a bone marrow transplant and moved in with him, but that didn’t mean he’d ditched his attitude completely.
Shawn frowned. “She had to have walked or ridden to that stream if she was nearby.”
Clayton nudged Sienna to join them, and they resumed riding. “No mount, and she wasn’t open to sharing anything about herself.” He left off his previous chance encounter with the woman and seeing her in town. No sense in giving them any ammunition to use in their determination for him to join them in ending his bachelor days.
Casting him an amused glance, Shawn said, “And you failed to sweet talk her into spilling her life story? Maybe you’re losing your touch in your old age.”