by Cindy Miles
But arranging flowers by day and tangling with the only man who has ever seen her real self by night isn’t enough to silence the mysterious panic that fuels Alexa’s dark dreams. When Nate brings home a book written by an inmate, one describing an unspeakable crime, the shackles binding Alexa’s own lost memories begin to shatter. And as the devastating truth comes to light, she realizes that Nate holds the key to unlocking her past, as well as her heart.
Special Excerpt:
There was nothing for her here. Her mother had been right. Now she was stuck, prolonging the agony until Ellie got back.
Scowling, she pulled a pen from her purse and, pulling a napkin from the metal dispenser on the table, started to sketch. After she’d inked the first few curves of the waitress’ face, she realized with a start that this was the most art that she’d done in a year.
Pausing, Alexa forked up a bite of the pie and scooped it into her mouth. The pure sweetness gave her a jolt, and when she squinted, looked around the small diner, the greyness of her previous thoughts turned to Technicolor brightness and everything suddenly clicked, a sense of rightness.
Maybe she was right where she was supposed to be. For now, anyway.
Grinning to herself, Alexa turned back to her drawing. She finished the sketch of the waitress, then moved on to an elderly woman in a long tie-dyed skirt who sat at the front counter, knitting something large and bright green. She outlined the sign for Estelle’s Blooms, visible through the large window of the diner that had yellowed slightly as the years had passed.
Lifting her head, she let her gaze roam the room, searching for her next target. Her eyes landed on a man about her own age, maybe a few years older, and when he lifted his head and looked at her right back, nodding once in acknowledgement, she felt the punch of attraction like a fist in the gut.
He nodded once more, just the slightest jerk of his head, then returned his attention to his meal, but Alexa was left with a surge of adrenaline.
Wow. She’d never felt that kind of instant… want before.
She was overcome with the urge to capture it in the only way she knew how.
Stealing surreptitious glances, she pulled a new napkin toward her and began to draw.
The man was seated, of course, but looked like he’d be tall when standing. He looked like he normally filled out his clothing pretty well too, but had recently lost more weight than he could afford to. It stretched the skin a little too tightly over his cheekbones, emphasizing the sharpness of steel grey eyes.
He wore a uniform, navy blue and looking a little bit tired, just like the man. He’d unbuttoned the top two fastenings of the shirt, and had clearly run his fingers through hair that was brown in some lights, and had threads of red in another.
Despite the slight gauntness of his face, he seemed to fill a lot of space. Between that and the uniform, Alexa assumed that he was a prison guard.
As she feverishly sketched, she wondered why on earth she found that so incredibly fascinating.
She continued to draw, stealing glances as he ate what looked to be beans and rice rolled into a tortilla. When her fingers stopped moving, the image done, she found that she herself was starving, and attacked the remains of her pie with a hunger that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
She was swallowing the last bite when the napkin with her drawing suddenly moved, sliding across the table. Slapping a hand down to hold it in place, she jerked her head up and found those dark grey eyes regarding her with cool amusement.
“If you sell that, do I get a cut?”
“Excuse me?” Angry at the intrusion, more than a little embarrassed at being caught, Alexa felt her cheeks flush.
“Relax. I’m just kidding.” The man’s lips curved up just a hint, the beginnings of a smile. Looking her over carefully, he nodded. “Nice T-shirt.”
“Hmm?” Still not sure if she was irritated or not, Alexa looked down at her outfit. Ripped blue jeans, Converse sneakers that had seen better days, and a well-worn T-shirt. The shirt showed the well-known movie poster image from the old cult classic Jaws, but in place of the shark was a fluffy little kitten. “Um… thanks.”
She wasn’t entirely sure if he was making fun of her or not. Now that she was no longer waitressing, she could revert back to what she’d always worn while painting, which, to her mother’s dismay, meant jeans and shirts like these—she had an entire collection of them, with a particular fondness with ones for cats. Once in a while she’d even put a blue streak in her hair, just because it felt good.
Or at least, she used to. As she looked up at the stranger and saw that he seemed sincere, she thought that she just might be feeling the urge again.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” The man gave her that little smile again—it was almost as if he’d forgotten how to do a full one, the muscles there but atrophied. His body turned as if to go, and Alexa suddenly found herself pressing the napkin drawing into his hand.
“Here,” she blurted, her face flushing again. “You can have it.”
Something flickered in his eyes, as though he was puzzled by her actions—no, by being shown some small kindness. It made Alexa’s heart ache.
But then he folded the napkin up neatly and tucked it into his shirt pocket. When he looked at her again and this time managed what she’d judge was at least half of a smile, she was pretty sure that the attraction she was feeling was reciprocated.
“Thank you.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but didn’t, and Alexa found herself disappointed. Just this little bit of flirting—okay, of almost flirting—had made her feel alive. Still, she couldn’t help but smile to herself when he rubbed his hand over the pocket where he’d placed her drawing.
She thought he might ask for her number—and she knew she’d give it to him, never mind that romance had been the last thing on her mind for what seemed like forever. That it should probably remain that way until she got back to life as she knew it.
But he didn’t ask. He just smiled that strange, sad little smile and walked away—the second time that day that Alexa felt like she’d reached out to someone and they’d left.
Then he was gone, and she didn’t even know his name.
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About the Author
Cindy Miles grew up on the Vernon River in coastal Georgia. A best-selling author and a full-time writer, she lives and continues to be inspired by the Gothic Revival and Georgian architecture, the moss-draped squares, ancient cobbles and surrounding coastal marshes of Savannah.
Visit her online at www.cindy-miles.com, on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
Copyright Information
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2015 by Cindy Miles
Cover Image by Graham Oliver
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
eISBN: 978-1-937776-97-8