by BJ Wane
“We’ll celebrate with you when you return,” Gayla said. “I’ll run by the bakery at lunch.”
“Works for me. Thanks, both of you.” They were aware of Clayton’s own loss at the hands of a young drunk driver.
The sun was shining high and warm by the time Clayton left his office and went to his Bronco still parked out back. He saw the back end of Skye’s car as she pulled out and was surprised to find himself a few car lengths behind her on the way into Boise. They went in different directions once they reached the larger city’s limits, with her veering toward the more residential areas as he drove downtown to the courthouse. If he weren’t on such a tight schedule, he’d cave to the temptation to follow her and justify it by telling himself he was acting out of concern.
Instead, Clayton switched gears and concentrated on his case, putting Skye and her secrets on the back burner for now.
Chapter Seven
Skye drove toward the Walmart she remembered passing when fleeing the house she had shared with her husband, still cursing the letdown feeling she experienced upon waking up alone. She couldn’t afford to let the lingering pleasure from last night mean anything more than a fond memory of a one-night stand. As long as her past remained a blank slate, she couldn’t think too far ahead at her future or waste time wishing for unattainable fantasies.
One thing she could do, she had decided as she’d rolled out of bed earlier, was to quit leaving her fate up to the return of her memory. The only way she would ever be free to plan a future was to fill in the gaps of missing pieces that would explain what happened to her marriage and her husband. To that end, she had showered, taking her time to enjoy the privacy of bathing without a lot of voices and activity going on outside the small cubicle, like at the campground, and to relive those hours of Clayton’s rough, satisfying possession of her body and mind.
Her nipples and pussy still throbbed with a pleasant, dull ache this morning, reminders of the decadence that had robbed her of coherent thought for a while. Even though she faced another day of uncertainty over unanswered questions, that short reprieve from her dilemma had done wonders for her despondency by reminding her of all her life had to offer if she was brave enough to get it back. Shoring up her determination to do just that, she had hurried to dress in white shorts and a pale pink tank top, looking forward to the warm, summer day, hoping her new resolve to find answers yielded at least some results.
Since Clayton had pulled a disappearing act this morning, she could only assume he’d been of like mind, appreciative of those pleasure-filled hours but ready to move on without an awkward goodbye marring their satisfaction. She brushed aside the pang of regret cramping her abdomen when she’d first discovered he’d gone while she’d still been sleeping. The possibility she might have been complicit in Alex’s death was enough to keep any man from getting involved with her. Even though he had insisted he could help, Clayton hadn’t a clue what he’d volunteered to tackle. As much as she appreciated his offer and the thought behind it, she doubted he would stick around long if she were to unburden the whole, mixed-up tale on him and wouldn’t put him on the spot by doing so.
Whenever she found herself pining for more of his focused attention, she could always remind herself of the number of times Clayton had ignored her wishes by calling her sweetheart last night. That ought to turn her off whenever she couldn’t keep from thinking about him, wanting him, or wondering if he’d already turned to someone else. No, no, no, that doesn’t bother me. Telling herself the tight band around her chest at that thought meant nothing didn’t ease the constriction. But, as she parked and got out she shoved aside her concern that she was already in over her head with strong feelings for the man. She needed to solve her more pressing problem before she could figure out what to do, if anything, about an unreciprocated growing attraction.
After purchasing a new phone charger, she plugged her cell in using the car lighter jack then drove to the Mercy Hospice. She planned to start seeking answers at the hospital for the dying, her need to learn whose care she was paying for lying like a dead weight on her chest. Spending the last ten days alone had given Skye an inkling of what life would be like without family or close friends and now she yearned to reconnect with whoever she had forgotten before it was too late.
Her stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies as she parked and got out of her car, running her clammy palms on her shorts. Walking inside, she debated the best way to ask about a loved one she couldn’t remember without sending up red flags among the staff, but, as she approached the front desk, the friendly receptionist solved that problem for her.
“Skye, how good to see you. We were worried when you didn’t make it in last week. Is everything okay?”
Skye looked at the younger woman’s name tag and returned her smile. “Yes, Angie, everything is fine. I had some unexpected things to deal with and couldn’t get away.” And wasn’t that the truth?
She spotted a board behind Angie that listed patient names and room numbers. Scrolling down, she paused at Mona Anderson, guessing that was her relative since it was the only name the same as hers on her driver’s license. She still couldn’t figure out why the name Marshall had popped up in her head when she’d introduced herself to Lisa and Poppy. She would have thought Alex’s last name would come to mind first, yet another hint her marriage had been on the rocks.
Luck stayed with her when Angie said, “Don’t feel bad. Your mother is the same, so she didn’t miss you, I’m sorry to say. We all realize how hard visitations are for family members when their loved one reaches the last stages of Alzheimer’s.”
Her throat tightened at the word mother, forcing Skye to blink against the sudden tears turning her eyes misty. “Yes,” she murmured. “It’s difficult, but I still want to come when I can. Thank you.” Somehow, she knew that was true, that she wanted to be there for her mother while she still lived. She hesitated again, looking through the glass on the double doors to her right that appeared to lead to the patient’s rooms, then sucked in a deep breath and went through them.
No one was behind the nurse’s station as she walked down the hall reading the name plates next to the doors. When she reached 211, her mother’s room, she slipped inside, her gaze landing on the woman lying in the fetal position on the bed, her gray-streaked black hair pulled back from her narrow face in a braid. Without warning, blinding pain encompassed her head along with a barrage of memories. With a soft, startled cry, she stumbled to the chair next to the bed and collapsed onto it, putting her head in her shaking hands.
“Momma,” she sobbed, clinging to the memories as if they were a lifeline. The two of them at the zoo, shopping for a prom dress, baking cookies, playing cards, and watching movies. There was a house she didn’t recognize right away, a shelf next to the fireplace with all of her books displayed, a bedroom with frilly pink curtains and stuffed animals in every corner even though she didn’t live there.
Skye worked to get herself under control, confused by the sudden return of parts of her life with her mother while other relationships, like with her husband, remained blank. Swiping a hand over her tear-streaked face, she looked up, her gaze clinging to her only relative. She now recalled Marshall had been her mother’s maiden name, the only thing Mona had revealed about her family, often telling her all they needed was the two of them. Up until now, Skye had agreed. But God, it would be nice to have a sibling or grandparent to help shoulder the heartbreak of losing her mom.
Reaching out a shaking hand, she brushed her mother’s pale cheek, feeling more like the parent right now than the child. “Hey, Mom. I don’t suppose you can tell me what went wrong with my marriage.” The frail shell of a woman never moved, and Skye wondered how long she and Alex were married, and if her mother had been lucid enough to meet him.
Still so many unanswered questions, but she found a certain amount of comfort sitting here with the first person she could remember with clarity. If this horrible experience taught her anything, it wa
s how very precious memories are. She might not ever have her mother back, but at least she could pull up the good times with her again.
The door opened behind her, and she went rigid with shock at hearing Harper’s strident voice interrupting her reunion with her mother.
“Oh my God, I just heard you were here. I’ve been so worried!”
Skye stood and pivoted, bracing herself as Harper threw her arms around her. Uncomfortable with the display of affection from someone she didn’t trust, Skye gently disengaged herself and moved back, catching a flash of irritation crossing the other woman’s face before she hid it behind a concerned expression.
“Where have you been, and why haven’t you answered your phone?” she demanded to know.
Skye took umbrage at her tone and her intrusion. “You tell me why there’s been no word about Alex’s death, and what you’re doing here.”
Harper swore and shook her head. “I work here, remember? And I’ve been hiding his body until we talked. I couldn’t let you go to prison when you were just defending yourself, especially since I’m the one who bought you that gun. I take it you’ve recovered and remember what happened?”
“No, still nothing about that day, or Alex and our marriage.” Harper’s explanation did nothing to quell Skye’s suspicion of her. In fact, it raised it higher as she questioned how Harper could move such a big man by herself. The urge to flee again struck her hard, and she put several feet between her and Harper as she headed toward the door. “I have to go.”
“Wait!” Anger and panic infused Harper’s voice as she followed her out. “We need to talk. Damn it, Skye, you can’t leave again without helping me understand. What am I supposed to do with him?” she hissed.
Whirling with her hand on the doorknob, Skye’s frayed nerves got the better of her. “I never told you to cover for me, and I don’t think I shot him. Someone else was in that house.”
Harper paled and reached for her, but Skye sidestepped her hand. “If there was, he or she was gone when I arrived. The only person I saw was you, which was why I assumed Alex got physical again. That’s why I got you the gun in the first place. Do you remember that?”
No, she didn’t, but living with an abusive spouse could account for her distrust and unease the moment she’d regained consciousness. “I don’t remember anything about him, our marriage, or even you yet. When I do, I’ll call you, but I gotta go now.” Regardless of her returning memories surrounding her mother, Sky was still confused and desperate for answers about what happened in her home two weeks ago. For some unexplainable reason, she wasn’t ready to trust her fate to this woman, regardless of her loyal friendship claims.
“Damn it, Skye!” Harper exclaimed with a panic-stricken expression. “I befriended you the first day you admitted your mother here, and we’ve been close ever since. I introduced you to Alex and feel terrible he turned so obsessive. I never knew him to act like that with anyone else. That’s why I’ve gone to such lengths to shield you. Don’t run out on me again.”
Skye noticed her uniform and name tag that labeled her an aide here at the hospice, so her explanation made a lot of sense, but her only clear thought after all these revelations was how much she wanted to return to Mountain Bend and submit to Clayton’s control again. The only reprieve she’d accomplished from this whole ordeal had been those hours last night when he’d driven her to the exalted heights of ecstasy that had left her body sated and her mind numb until coming here.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, guilt settling like a lead weight cramping her abdomen. “I need time. I promise I’ll call.” She dashed out into the hall, relieved to see two other employees behind the nurses’ counter. Before either could say anything that would delay her departure, Skye lifted a hand and kept moving toward the exit. “See you next week.”
Skye didn’t breathe easy until she was in her car, driving out of the parking lot. Once she reached the main road out of Boise her eyes watered again, and she blinked to keep the tears from falling and blurring her vision. The emotional roller-coaster she’d been riding today had taken its toll, left her shaken and floundering in a sea of indecision and suspicion. She didn’t understand why she didn’t trust Harper, or why she could recall part of her past but not all, and she didn’t have a clue on where to go from here.
Frustration warred with despondency on the way back to the small town she’d dubbed her home away from home. As she neared Mountain Bend, her thoughts jumped to the man who seemed to have taken her under his wing in more ways than one. Should she take Clayton’s constant interference since the night he’d found her sleeping on his property as a sign she could trust him, or continue to play it safe and consider those times happy coincidences that had diverted her attention from her troubles for a short time and put him out of her mind?
Last night had felt so good, in more ways than just the sexual release. The time she’d spent with him at Spurs had been the first evening in almost two weeks she hadn’t spent alone, fretting over whether she’d killed her husband and what had occurred between them to push her that far. Clayton’s arrival at the door following her upsetting dream and the two hours he’d spent taking her to heights of pleasure she never imagined possible had enabled her to get several hours of peaceful sleep before facing another day of uncertainty.
Skye arrived back in Mountain Bend with her emotions still in tatters from the afternoon’s revelations and debating on whether to seek Clayton’s help when she spotted him in front of his office conversing with the sheriff. Her gaze clung to his tall form and rugged profile shadowed by his Stetson, her pulse jumping as she noticed how good he looked in a sport coat paired with jeans that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and thickness of his thigh muscles. She’d wanted him when he had found her at the stream on his property, despite her annoyance at his interruption, and again at the club when he’d insisted on giving her a tour. But neither time compared to the slow heat infusing her body as she turned down the alley to park behind the city building, conscious of how both men’s attention was now riveted on her.
By the time Skye parked in the rear and got out of her car, unable to suppress the ache for Clayton’s focused attention again, he was exiting the back door, having gone through the inside lower level to meet her. The bright blue slit of his eyes under his hat sharpened as he gazed at her, his jaw tightening, her heart thudding when he strode forward to greet her.
****
As soon as Clayton saw Skye’s ravaged face, every muscle in his body went taut, his first thought, enough. It was time he learned more about her, what trouble was dogging her, and helped her with it so he could get back to enjoying his carefree, single status. He didn’t know how others handled the constant interrupting thoughts surrounding one woman, the low hum of arousal that popped up every time they recalled a few hours of sex, or the plaguing worry over their significant other’s welfare. His entire day had been spent dealing with those uncharacteristic responses to the time he’d spent with Skye last night, and that just wouldn’t do.
Striding forward, he decided he had enough time to give her something else to think about other than whatever had caused that devastated look before they headed to the Watering Hole. His plan to invite her for dinner with Shawn, Lisa, Dakota, and Poppy hadn’t included touching her again as his motive was to get her to trust the girls enough to confide in them, releasing him to focus his attention elsewhere. But he could no more turn away from her shattered appearance than he could resist Miss Betty’s homemade cherry pie. Worse, he didn’t want to any more than he’d ever desired to skip their foster mother’s cooking, no matter what she fixed.
So much for his well-laid plans.
“Are you going to tell me what happened today to put that look on your face?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
She opened her mouth then snapped it shut again as indecision crossed her face.
“Don’t ever play poker, sweetheart. You’d lose your shirt.” Without waiting for her to say any
thing, he tugged her toward the door.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as he spun her around and pinned her against the wall as soon as they entered the building.
Leaning against her back, he fisted her hair and held her head still, replying, “The same as last night – giving you something else to think about for now.”
“Oh,” she replied on a soft sigh of acceptance and relief that eased the tension in her shoulders.
The sun shone into the entry from the open door, bathing them in a swath of light as he used his other hand to loosen her shorts and yank them down. Palming one buttock, he chuckled in her ear.
“Is that all you have to say?”
She tried shaking her head, and, when she couldn’t, he felt her shudder against his body. “For now,” she managed to get out before he swatted her ass and apparently robbed her of breath.
Clayton slid his hand between her cheeks then dipped his finger inside her pussy to find her wet and needy. “Liked that, did you?” Without giving her time to answer, he withdrew and plunged deeper, driving her to her toes with a gasp then pulling back and going for her clit. “Come for me, Skye,” he demanded, milking the swollen bud between thumb and forefinger.
A sob tore from her throat as she gushed over his hand, shuffling her feet apart and making it easier for him. “Oh, God. Yesss!”
Tight contractions followed her whispered exclamation, her slick muscles squeezing his fingers while he continued to pump her clit. Ignoring the discomfort of his erection pressing against his zipper, he concentrated on getting her off, working her pussy through another orgasm after the first ebbed. When the second wave of contractions changed to small flutters, he slowly withdrew from her trembling body and released her hair to wrap an arm around her waist and hold her close.