Reid's Deliverance

by Nina Crespo

  “Shh. You’re okay.” She smoothed his brow.

  He calmed.

  She started to head back to the kitchen.

  Half-awake, he frowned and clutched her hand. Lauren tilted forward. She planted her hand near his shoulder and flattened the other on his chest.

  “No.” He rasped out. “Don’t go.”

  “It’s all right. I’m here.” She eased back.

  His grip tightened, and he wouldn’t let go.

  Now what? She stretched out beside him and rested her head on the crook of her arm. The steady rhythm of his heart beat into her palm. His breathing slowed. In a few minutes, he’d relax. She’d move to the sofa and keep an eye on him.

  She’d envisioned spending the night looking through boxes. The loft would have to wait. Not a bad idea. All the excitement had left her drained. Waking up to a new day would energize her for the task. Before getting started, she’d sit on the porch with a cup of coffee. A childhood recollection from the cabin curled into the present. She used to sit on the kitchen counter and watch her father set up the coffeemaker. When it finished brewing, he’d pour straight coffee in a mug for him. The next had coffee with cream for her mother. The last he’d prepare for her, warm milk with a touch of coffee and sugar. She’d felt like a grown-up. Her mother would halfheartedly admonish him for giving it to her. A kiss would lighten her mother’s mood. Love, happiness, her parents’ smiles, the warmth of the mug in her hand. It was if she could feel it again.

  Lauren drifted awake snuggled against heated skin. Her cheek and palm rested on his chest. Her leg covered both of his on top of the blanket. His hand curved to her hip, holding her in place. He snored softly. Reality slapped her fully alert. What was wrong with her? Why in the world would she practically crawl on top of a stranger? She moved her leg.

  He exhaled sharply.

  Lauren leaned back. Damn. Even with small traces of mud on his face, he still nailed the hot, ruffled, just-woke-up look.

  His heavy-lidded gaze narrowed on her mouth.

  Move! Kissing a half-naked guy she’d found on the steps. Insane. Irresponsible. His lips brushed hers. Irresistible. The burn of desire kindled. Following his lead, she lay on top of him. His erection pushed through the blanket. He cupped her ass and she molded against him. Slow hip movements accelerated to a sensual, tortuous grind. Thrusting. Circling. Mimicking all she could have if layers of cloth didn’t separate them.

  Her moans blended with his groan. “Lauren, I need you.”

  Cold logic burned through passion. She rolled away and stood. “Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

  * * * *

  Disorientation and a hard-on challenged his brain function. “My name is Reid.” They were about to have sex. Hadn’t they done the name exchange already? He sat up and waited for the logic to fill in. Where were they? How had they met? A sense more than a memory trickled in. He needed her. But why? A vision emerged. Lauren’s arms looped around him. Her legs wrapped low on his waist while he pumped into her. Her passionate cries urging him on as her pussy clutched around him. An exhale sat hijacked in his chest. “Where did we meet?”

  “Technically, we didn’t.” She frowned. “Don’t you remember?”

  Voices whispered in his mind. He couldn’t make out the words. “No.”

  “I found you unconscious on the steps outside.”

  A vision whirled in, stumbling out of the trees. Rain cooling a fiery sensation on his arm. Relief in spotting the cabin. Willing his legs to move forward. The image disappeared. Whispers merged into white noise. His head started to pound. He closed his eyes. “The last thing I remember is coming out of the woods.”

  She sank down on the sofa. “Could you have been attacked?”

  Someone getting the drop on him? Not likely. But what else could explain feeling like some angry motherfucker had kicked him in the head? “No. I don’t think that happened.”

  “Well, what did?”

  What was going on? Had someone drugged him? “I told you. I don’t know.”

  Her shoulders snapped straight. Some of the compassion leaked from her gaze. “You know my name. You asked for my help. I have every right to ask questions.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just as frustrated about not having answers.” When he’d awakened with her soft luscious curves pressed against him, it had felt like heaven. Then it had come crashing down to this. He didn’t want her anger. He wanted her under him with a drive he couldn’t comprehend. More frustration pushed air from his chest. Reid stood and wrapped the blanket around his waist. “Everything is fuzzy, and this damn headache isn’t helping.” Images hung on the fringes of his mind. More images of them having sex mocked him. He raked his fingers through his hair, scraping hard over his scalp.

  “Any double vision or nausea?”

  “No. Just a headache.” And a huge, gaping hole of nothing instead of memories. Correction. He remembered her just fine. Sleeping with Lauren didn’t read like some cock-inspired fantasy. Sex that fucking hot, how could she not remember? Unless she hadn’t enjoyed it. That didn’t jibe with the visions, recollections, or whatever pinging around in his head, though. He went to the French doors. The storm raged under a black sky.

  She stood. “I’ll get you some aspirin.”

  Without even thinking, he tracked her movement by sound. At the same time, he checked the room for potential weapons. He estimated the number of steps to the front door. Why? He didn’t feel threatened. At least not by her. Danger. A cold chill sliced through him. Where? Who? Were they out there waiting for him? Why come to her if he faced a threat?

  “Here.” She handed him two pills and a glass of water. “I brought this, too.” She slipped a gray T-shirt from the crook of her arm. “It’s one of my sleep shirts. It’s seen better days, but I think it will fit you. I washed your jeans. They’re in the dryer. It’ll be awhile before they’re ready.”

  Reid downed the pills. He traded the glass for the shirt. Her boyfriend’s? Better than nothing. As if in disagreement, his stomach sounded off with a growl.

  “Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich?” She worried her lower lip as if in thought. “I think that’s the best I can do.”

  He couldn’t take his gaze from her mouth. He also couldn’t stop himself from conjuring up how well her firm, round ass had fit in his hands a minute ago in front of the fireplace. She’d felt soft and warm and tasted sweet when he’d kissed her. “Grape jelly.”

  Her brow crinkled. “What?”

  “That’s what you had. Wasn’t it?”

  “How do you know?”

  He reached out and stopped. Dirt streaked his hands. He pointed. “You have some on your shirt.”

  She looked down and her cheeks stained pink. “Peanut butter and jelly. It’s my go-to food when I need to think.”

  “What did you decide to do with me?”

  Questions clouded her beautiful green eyes. “I haven’t. Who knows?” Her smile erased some of the doubt. “The magical powers of peanut butter and jelly could help you.”

  “Only if you have regular peanut butter. Not chunky or any of those other weird combos.”

  “Of course.” She feigned shock. “When it comes to the art of PB and J, I’m a purist.”

  A chuckle shot from within his chest. It felt good. So did the back and forth between them. It seemed…right. “Do you mind if I take a shower first?”

  “Down the hall, second door on the right.”

  Guest bathroom’s on the left. The echo bouncing in his mind came with an image of her naked and pointing the way. His cock started to rise. “I’ll be right back.” He hustled out of the room. If he’d stood there any longer, he would have tented the blanket like some horny perv.

  In the bathroom, he stood under the hot spray. What could explain it? He knew her body all the way down to the tiny scar on the back of her thigh. Lauren had no clue about him. It didn’t come across as a game or an act. She honestly didn’t remember him any more than he k
new how he’d gotten there. Or maybe from her point of view, their encounter hadn’t made the same impact. Ouch. So why show up on her doorstep if trouble followed him? Damn it! He slapped his palm against the tile. Tingles of discomfort shot up his arm. He ignored it. A sore arm didn’t rate on his list of problems.

  A few minutes later, dressed in the T-shirt and a towel, he joined Lauren. She placed a saucer with a triple-decker sandwich on the counter in front of him. “Did the aspirin help?”

  “Some.” He took a healthy bite.

  “Let me know if it doesn’t. I’ll see if I have something else.” She sucked peanut butter from her thumb.

  Reid’s gut tightened. The innocence in her expression stalled a full-on erection. “Could I have a glass of water?”

  “Sure.” She poured a glass from a pitcher in the fridge and set it next to the saucer. “Did anything come up yet?” Her expression froze. “I can’t believe I forgot. This could be the key to everything.” She hurried to the fireplace mantle. “I found a piece of paper in your pocket. Some of the numbers are washed away, but maybe you know the rest.”

  He accepted the paper along with a sheathed boot knife.

  Her expression grew hopeful. “Could it be a phone number? Your wife’s or maybe a friend’s.”

  “I’m not married.” Having a wife would make Lauren a sidepiece and him a bastard. He may be a lot of things but bastard didn’t resonate. Friends. He had to have one or two. He focused intently on the number. Not a name or a place emerged. The sandwich turned to the equivalent of ash in his mouth. “I don’t know who I should call.”

  “It’s okay.” She grasped his forearm and gave him a reassuring smile. “Do you want to call the police? I’m sure someone is worried about you. They’ll probably contact them.”

  Tension gathered in his shoulders. Not a wise move. “No one I know is looking for me. Don’t ask me how, but I know that. The police won’t have anything.”

  Sheets of wind splattering on the windows held her attention. “I’m sure their hands are full. Flash floods happen when the weather is like this.” She circled a dishcloth over a spot on the counter. “I can make up the guest bedroom.”

  Reid stood and resisted stepping into her space. If only he could hold her in his arms like he wanted. Reassure her about taking a risk. “I don’t know why I came here or how I know you. But I swear…” He offered her the sheathed knife. “You’re safe with me.

  Her gaze met his with no hints of doubt. “I know. Keep the knife. I trust you.”

  “All right.” He laid the knife on the counter. Tightness rolled from his shoulders. “You don’t have to fix up the room. I’m fine out here on the couch.” The instinct to have her tucked away in a room overwhelmed him. Not to dampen sexual motivation but for protection. Here, he’d have a view of all the doors. Kitchen knives and fireplace tools would provide weapons if he needed them.

  “I’ll get you a pillow.”

  She retrieved it and placed it on the couch. “See you in the morning.” Lauren went to the bedroom. The lock to her door clicked into place.

  Good girl. She took chances but kept her guard up. Reid waited for her to settle down for the night. Then, silent in his bare feet, he crept through the cabin. Two bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall. An upstairs loft had boxes. He checked the locks on the windows and propped kitchen chairs against the doors. The chef’s knife from the butcher block slid nicely under his pillow as a backup. He’d sleep on the floor near the fireplace tools.

  Calm settled with the self-assurance he could provide protection. Anxiety over the unknown kept him awake. Did he have a cabin or a campsite nearby? Had he noticed Lauren somewhere and found her attractive? The images of her could have manifested as a fantasy. But what combination of events would have led him to seek her out?

  Don’t go to the police, and trust his gut. That made sense, too. Unanswered questions about his identity would raise suspicion. Worse, land him in a holding cell.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Tomorrow he’d hike around and search for answers. For now, he had to look after Lauren and keep her trust.

  Chapter 8

  One hair band, that’s all she needed. Lauren rifled through her smaller bag. At home they showed up everywhere. She found them in the freezer, inside her favorite shoes, multiplying like rabbits under the bed. Didn’t she pack at least one? Forget about it. She knotted her hair into a ponytail. Lack of sleep had fried her patience. She couldn’t shut him out. Counting sheep last night had turned into an image of Reid doing a striptease. She’d dreamed about them finishing what they’d started with that kiss. From the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t complain. A sexual encounter with a super-hot, mysterious stranger read like something out of a novel.

  She couldn’t sleep with him. A decision like that qualified as desperate, crazy, or reckless. He knew her name, whereas she had no clue about him. Worry, anxiety, suspicion—why weren’t any of those warning bells sounding off? She’d even agreed not to call the police. Was it because in some ways he reminded her of her dad? He had the same strong, confident bearing like a soldier. She had agonized over going through her father’s possessions before she’d arrived. Her friends also claimed she had major issues over what had happened with her parents. Was this some weird transference in attempt to deal with the loss?

  Bowls rattled in the kitchen. The scent of brewing coffee wafted into the bedroom.

  Maybe he’d solved his dilemma and he’d remembered who to call. She’d lend him her phone. Drop him off where ever he wanted on her way to the store in Mazree. They’d part ways, and she’d have a good story to share over wine with her friends. Disappointment pinged. She shrugged it off. She had a Good Samaritan role to play. Nothing more. She went to the dresser and found lip balm in her purse. Shadows hung under her eyes. Great. She tugged the hem of her T-shirt over the waistband of her jeans. Last night she’d resembled a drowned rat. Not to mention the jelly stains on her shirt. Today, she looked washed out. Lauren dug out her makeup bag. A little foundation, blush, eyeliner, and a touch of lip tint. Nothing much. It wasn’t like she needed to impress him. Right. As she approached the kitchen, she stumbled.

  Damn. Who knew jeans and a snug T-shirt could look so good?

  “Good morning.” Reid held up a full coffee carafe. “How do you like it?”

  Under, over, up against the wall. Any way that would put her in contact with his hard pecs and abs. That is, if she was interested. “Good morning.” She took a mug from the cabinet. “Thanks, but I’ll fix a cup. You don’t have to wait on me.”

  “I want to.” He slipped the mug from her hand. Sunlight streaming into the kitchen highlighted flecks of green in his hazel eyes. The scents of soap and shampoo surrounded her. He’d taken advantage of the small essentials kit she’d put in the bathroom. Up close, the smooth angles of his face tempted her to touch.

  “Cream and a teaspoon of sugar.”

  Reid poured two cups. He added sugar to both and a healthy teaspoon of creamer into one of them. “Enough?”

  She arched her brow.

  Chuckling, he tipped the container and stirred. “Message received.” He handed her the mug.

  It tasted perfect. “Thank you.”

  “Sit. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

  A placemat with a folded paper napkin waited.

  “I wanted to prepare you something hot, but you’re short on supplies.” He placed a bowl of Cheerios and a carton of milk in front of her. A gorgeous guy serving her food. Wow. She could get used to this. Stick to the plan. Lauren poked the spoon into the cereal. “Any luck?”

  “If you’re asking if I’ve remembered something, no.” He sat at the table and released a heavy exhale. Grimness dimmed his eyes. “I’m going to take a look around. Hopefully something will wake me up.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The offer had rolled out before she could catch it. The boxes upstairs wouldn’t unpack themselves. Still, tappi
ng out and leaving him to face an uncertain future alone didn’t sit well.

  Lauren set down her spoon. “Yes. Where do you think we should start?”

  * * * *

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Lauren tightened the sleeves of the sweatshirt she’d tied around her waist. Light hiking boots, coats of bug spray, and sunscreen completed the ensemble of jeans and T-shirt. She joined Reid at the bottom of the stairs where she’d found him. He’d fashioned her rain poncho into a makeshift pack. The four bottles of water and granola bars wouldn’t allow them to go far.

  Reid surveyed the woods surrounding the cabin. Broken branches and limbs littered the backyard. He pointed. “I remember coming from that direction.”

  “South?”

  “Yeah. South.” A smile of approval tipped up his mouth.

  She and her father used to hike together. He’d taught her how to read the sun and how to navigate with a compass.

  “Here.” He gave her one of the tall, thick branches in his grasp. “You can use this as a walking stick.”

  They slipped through the pines that loomed above like guardians. Wetness left from the rain warmed in the heat. Farther in, it grew more humid. She started to sweat. The ground sloped downward as they moved in and out of the shadows. Mud, sticks, and damp leaves shifted under her feet.

  Reid pushed aside broken branches. “How well do you know the area?”

  “I haven’t been out here in a while. I do know that there isn’t much in this direction. The main road is to the north. The pond is east.”

  “So if I came in from this way, I would have hiked, not driven. Not an easy task without the proper clothing or equipment. How far are the other cabins in this area?”

  She stepped over moss-covered roots pushing up from the ground. “About ten to fifteen miles away. Same direction as the pond.”

  The terrain shifted upward. She relied heavily on the walking stick for balance. Her thighs burned more than they did in spin class.

  He helped her over a stair-like rock formation. Lauren stepped down and slipped. “Whoa!” She fell against him.