Deja You

by Sandoval, Lynda

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  “Ah, that was part of the deal, too.”

  “Right. No more talking.”

  A pause. “’Night, Erin.”

  “Good night.”

  She tried—really tried—to fall asleep. Tried to buzz the movie dialogue out of her brain. Tried to forget. It hadn’t worked. By the time the credits rolled, Erin sort of wanted to die. Not literally. That was one of those oft-used flippant comments she tried to never think or say, if only out of respect for her friends who hadn’t had the chance. But everything about her trauma, everything she’d hoped to get in check, had ripped open again, a fresh, uncleaned wound.

  Her back still to Nate, she’d started pretending to sleep about forty-five minutes earlier. The last thing she wanted was a compare-and-contrast conversation about the two versions of this godawful, heartbreaking movie.

  The television clicked off, then she heard Nate rustling in his own bed. “Erin?” he asked, softly.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and remained still.

  Obviously buying her pathetic attempt at fake sleep, Nate doused the bedside lamp. The last thing she heard was his sigh as he punched his pillow and settled in.

  The self-lambasting started almost immediately.

  She should’ve told him good-night. Asked him if he still loved his movie after having seen it a million times. She should’ve gone the give route with this guy, instead of take, take, take.

  How hard would it have been to extend a hand of friendship, the way he had?

  This wasn’t all about her, after all.

  She wasn’t generally so selfish.

  Oh well. It wasn’t as if he expected her to act like a normal, sane woman after the crazy evening they’d shared. She might as well leave it alone. After tomorrow, they’d go their separate ways forever. This night of a thousand embarrassments would fade with time until she was nothing but an anecdote he shared with his guy friends during those “what not to do” conversations.

  Realistically, in the movie of her life, Nate the Savior was an extra.

  Walk on. Walk off. No lines.

  Her bloodcurdling scream ripped him from sleep. Nate tore out of his bed and smacked on the lamp, blinking into the glaring light. His glance shot from one side of the room to the other, looking for the intruder, the attacker.

  Empty.

  Relief flowed through him as he slowly realized the enigmatic woman sharing his hotel room was simply in the throes of a wicked nightmare.

  Somehow, not surprising.

  He blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He yearned to awaken her, but he didn’t want her to think he was breaching boundaries, crossing over to her side of the room.

  And yet, the nightmare still had her in its talons.

  He held back, watching as her scream devolved to panting, then moved into racking sobs and nearly incoherent babble. It sounded like she was saying, “Why me?” or “Why not me?” Or maybe “Whiny?”—not that any of it made sense. Beneath the top sheet—she’d kicked off all the other covers—she curled into a fetal ball, rocking as she cried.

  He couldn’t take this.

  She’d just have to forgive his intrusion.

  Sitting carefully on the edge of her bed, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Erin,” he whispered.

  Nothing.

  He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Erin.”

  She sucked in a huge gulp of air as she battled to a sitting position, hair wild, eyes disoriented as she searched the unfamiliar surroundings. “K-kev?”

  Kev? He shook his head. “It’s me, Nate.”

  “Oh.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair, averting her gaze. “Oh. Shoot.”

  “You were having a nightmare.”

  “Yeah, I uh…I have them sometimes.” Blotches of color rose to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Again.” She leaned forward for the disheveled covers, pulling them up to her chest and tucking them firmly beneath her arms.

  “I didn’t wake you for an apology.” He waited until she looked up at him, her luminous eyes troubled, but so strong. God, something about this woman touched him, right where he lived. “Are you okay?”

  The pause seemed interminable.

  She pulled her quivering bottom lip in between her teeth. “I don’t know. Actually, no.”

  He lifted his arms and let them drop. “Please talk to me. It’s torture watching you go through this when I don’t even know what this is.”

  “It’s complicated, that’s all.” She pushed all ten fingers into the front of her hair and held them there for a few moments. “Too complicated for strangers.”

  Is that what they were? He didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He took a risk, reaching forward to grab her hand.

  “Look at it this way. I’m an uninvolved party. Use me as a sounding board. There has to be something I can do.” He watched for several long moments while she stared down at the bed coverings.

  Her throat tightened with a swallow, once, then again. When she finally spoke, her words managed to sound both stiff and broken. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s ancient history, really. But, will you…” She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “What?” he prompted. “Will I what?”

  Her sidelong glance was humiliated and apologetic. “Just lie here with me?”

  Surprise riddled through him.

  Her complexion blazed red. “I know it seems weird, but…”

  “No, it’s—” Of all the requests in the world, that wasn’t the one he’d imagined he’d hear. Ever. It actually stunned him silent.

  “Please?” she whispered, a wobbly sound.

  Don’t be an idiot, his brain warned. Do not get in bed with this woman. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m not sure of anything. Except that I don’t feel like being alone right now.” Fumbling and formal, they moved side by side on the bed, her beneath the covers, him on top. For a few agonizing moments, they remained that way. Staring at the ceiling. Like corpses.

  How could this possibly be helping her?

  She swallowed. Moistened her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. “It’s okay. You can, um, get in.”

  He turned toward her. “Erin, I don’t know—”

  “I just need to feel someone close, that’s all. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  More’s the pity. He studied her lovely, if heartbroken, profile for several moments, then moved beneath the covers. The XXL T-shirt he’d bought her covered most of her, but her firm, shapely legs felt smooth and soft against him. Exquisite torture, this good guy stuff. His danger signals wailed louder.

  Erin cleared her throat. “May I…ugh, this is absurd…may I put my head on your shoulder?”

  “Of course.”

  She rose up, then stopped, looking down at him through wide eyes. “Oh, God. Never mind. This was an idiotic idea. I never should’ve put you in this pos—”

  “Shh.” He slid his arm beneath her shoulders and urged her head onto his shoulder, smelling the strawberry scent of her hair. “It’s okay. Friends, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Just try to get some sleep.” He reached over and snapped the lamp off, enclosing them in the safety of darkness once again.

  He felt her nod, closed his eyes.

  After a moment, she whispered, “Nate?”

  He opened one eye. “Mmm-hmm?”

  “You’re a good guy. Your mom should be proud.”

  “She is. But thank you for saying so.” He smiled into the inky night and snuggled her closer. They might be strangers, and their meeting unconventional, but damned if she didn’t feel absolutely perfect in his arms.

  Chapter 4

  The idea came to her in a burst.

  A ridiculous idea, but one she couldn’t let go of. She hadn’t been able to sleep, the feeling of being cradled by a man so absolutely foreign. But not bad. Not bad at all. She lay there in the darkness
pressed against Nate’s shoulder, smelling the clean, soapy manliness of his skin, and trying to make sense of the myriad thoughts swirling through her head.

  Kevin.

  Her life.

  The accident.

  Nate.

  She thought about Brody Austin, and how he’d been able to overcome his emotional wounds from their horrible prom night. Since he’d returned to Troublesome Gulch, Erin had always rationalized that he was much braver than she, able to suck it up and take a leap into the scary unknown. No net. No anything.

  Maybe, in reality, having the guts to return had simply been his first step.

  One step that had led to another, and another, and another, until he’d fought his way out of the darkness into the joy that epitomized his new life. What was that old saying? The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step?

  She could take that single step.

  Right now. Tonight. With Nate.

  If she were brave enough.

  Her heart pounded just considering the absurd idea percolating inside her addled brain. Since she’d only been with Kevin, she’d obviously never indulged in a one-night stand. But, even in theory, it totally wasn’t her thing.

  That’s what made this idea so…

  Still, if she didn’t make some sort of an effort soon, she would surely die without ever loving again. Without ever having sex again, and that idea made her sad.

  This possible tryst with Nate didn’t need to be mind-blowing. Neither of them needed to impress the other. It would be more like ripping off a Band-Aid, at least for her. The quicker, the better. Just get it done.

  Surely Nate would be willing. What guy wouldn’t want a little no-strings sex? For a brief moment, hope bubbled inside her. Then, Pop! Pop! Pop! Gone.

  Forget it. She was an idiot.

  People didn’t do this sort of thing. They didn’t even contemplate it. Did they?

  She adjusted her head on Nate’s shoulder, studying his strong profile, admiring the sweep of dark lashes on his cheeks, watching his sculpted chest rise and fall with deep, restful breaths.

  Weird, yes, but it wouldn’t be horrible. She found him genuinely attractive—a fact that stunned her. She hadn’t even looked twice at a guy since Kevin.

  Could she do it?

  Tentatively, she reached her fingers up and traced his squared jawline which bore a hint of stubble, not at all unattractive. A sudden urge to feel its roughness against the smooth skin of her face and neck overtook her. She’d ignored her own sexuality for so long, and suddenly it reared up, demanding attention.

  Now.

  Nate stirred. She froze.

  For several long moments, she didn’t even draw a breath. But he didn’t wake up, thank God.

  She eased the pent-up breath out through her lips and continued her exploration. Gentle as butterfly wings, she moved her fingers down to his smooth chest, testing her resolve. Could she touch another man? Even for therapeutic reasons? Laying her palm against his warm skin, she smoothed it lightly down his sculpted abs, surprised by the ferocity of the yearning swirling deep within her, in a place she’d believed long dead.

  Her hand traced his six-pack. One-two. Three-four. Five-six, and so close to the danger zone. She yearned to touch him there, too—

  Quick as a viper, Nate’s palm wrapped around her wrist.

  She sucked in air.

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice alert, despite being gravelly with sleep.

  “I…” She paused, forced a swallow. What could she say? I’m trying to figure out if I could stand to make love with you? Now that was a world-class pickup line.

  “Erin.”

  Now or never. Answer the man.

  It’ll be okay, Brody had told her. But it would never be okay if she kept on doing exactly what she’d been doing for the past decade-plus.

  One night.

  One hurdle crossed.

  That’s all she needed.

  Nate wanted to help her. He’d said so himself.

  “Erin,” Nate said again, a bit more adamantly. “I asked you what you’re doing.”

  “I was, ah, touching you.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  She shored up all her courage. “Well, the thing is, I’ve been thinking. And I want you to make love to me.”

  Dead.

  Freakin’.

  Silence.

  After what seemed like interminable nothingness, during which all she could hear was the percussion of her pulse, Nate reached over and flicked on the lamp. It was worse, seeing him in the light after just having voiced her insane suggestion.

  Apparently, he was equally stunned. His eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

  “I said—” deep breath…courage “—I want to make love. With you. Now.”

  Nate stared at her as though she were insane, then released a sound that was half laugh, half gasp. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Where is this coming from? An hour ago, you called us strangers.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Is this some sort of a game?”

  Anger tinged his words, and her throat tightened. She hadn’t expected anger. “No. No. It’s just—I can explain—”

  “Yeah, you’d better explain.”

  Self-conscious to the max, she moistened her lips. This was, arguably, the most mortifying moment of her life. “Look, we’re both adults. I went through something…sort of traumatic today.” Her glance slid toward the digital clock. “Yesterday, actually. And I just need to feel alive, Nate.”

  Another disbelieving stare. “You want to make love with a so-called total stranger to feel alive?”

  “No strings,” she said, recalling his words. Maybe he thought she was trying to trap him. “I promise.” She reached out tentatively and ran her fingers through his hair, relieved to see the expression in his eyes darken with desire.

  She could see him fighting it off, and the desire turned to disgust. “No strings.” He huffed. “That’s what you think I’m worried about?”

  “Well, I—”

  His body stiffened. “And here I thought we’d started to get to know each other.”

  “We have,” she rushed to say, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look at him directly. “That’s why I thought—”

  “That I’d be your perfect candidate?” He whipped back the covers and stood, eyes flashing. “Guess what, Erin? I’m not the kind of guy to go in for an easy lay because it’s offered. If that’s what you were looking for, I could’ve left you at the bar.”

  “I didn’t want—” She sat up, tugging at the bottom of her T-shirt. “That’s not it. God!” She put her face in her hands. “Never mind,” came her muffled words. “It was a stupid proposition. Forget I ever said anything.”

  She’d never been more embarrassed.

  With a sigh, Nate sat tentatively on the edge of her bed. “What is going on with you? Who are you?”

  “I’m nobody.” She couldn’t keep the bereft tone from her words. “I’m a sham.”

  He reached out and stroked her hair. “Not true.”

  “No, it is.” She tried to focus, to ignore how his touch made her feel. “Want to know something ridiculous?”

  He waited.

  “I haven’t made love with anyone for more than eleven years,” she whispered, her voice laced with shame. “I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

  He blinked twice. “By choice?”

  She hiked one shoulder. “I guess. No. I don’t know.”

  “Then why? Surely you’ve had interest. You’re a beautiful woman.”

  “I’m not beautiful. Besides, it’s a long story.”

  He propped himself back on two pillows and crossed his arms. “I’ve got nothing but time. After your shocking suggestion, I guarantee I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep. So we might as well talk.”

  She blew out her frustration. Tucked her hair behind her ears. “I was engaged,”
she said, in a monotone. “My fiancé died. Some people can recover from trauma, others struggle. End of story.”

  The pause stretched out, riddled with his attempts to absorb all this and her sadness, to find the right words when none existed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally, his tone husky.

  She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Me, too.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “With my whole heart and soul.”

  “Come here.” Nate pulled her into his arms and cradled her head against his shoulder, smoothing his palm down her back. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to make love to you under normal circumstances. You’re sexy. Sweet.”

  “Celibate.”

  He ignored that. “But, Erin, despite the fact that I’m not a one-night-stand guy, I don’t even have protection. I don’t carry that kind of stuff ‘just in case.’ That’s not the way I live.”

  She lifted her head to glance up at him. “Which is what makes the whole thing perfect.”

  He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

  “I’m safe, Nate. I can’t get pregnant, and I haven’t been with anyone in so long, I’m a virtual virgin.”

  He shook his head at her self-deprecation. “What about me? What do you know about me?”

  Her gaze slanted to the side. “I know you don’t carry protection ‘just in case.’ I know you’re an exceptional man, a caring man. You took me from a potentially catastrophic situation when there was nothing whatsoever in it for you. I know you’d tell me if I was in any danger at all.”

  He mulled over that. “True. For the record, I do get tested, and I’m safe. But that’s not the point.”

  “What’s the point then?”

  “Lovemaking is special, Erin. It’s not something you tick off your To-Do List.”

  Man, he nailed that on the head. What he didn’t understand was, sometimes you just had to tackle that damned list. She groaned. “Okay, I want to make love with you. Does that help?”

  “Not exactly. It might, if you were the least bit convincing.”

  She shouldered away from him. “Look. I haven’t wanted any man so much as near me for more than a decade, and then you come along and I get all these crazy ideas. It’s not like I’ve been propositioning every guy who comes along.”