Unforgettable You (Starlight Hill Series Book 4)

by Bell, Heatherly

“I thought I could handle it. But I’m drowning here. I got too far behind and it’s impossible to catch up!”

  “Okay. Calm down. Let’s think about this. What does your dad say?”

  Sophia’s eyes brimmed with tears. “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “He’s going to find out sooner or later. You have to tell him.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. I don’t want to break my father’s heart!”

  “Listen, it’s been a while since I was in school but so what if it takes you longer to graduate?” He had a feeling he understood the rest of the problem.

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Why?” he pressed.

  “Because I hate it! Okay? I hate Berkeley. I don’t care if I am smart, what if what I love to do is run a restaurant? And hey, look at that, my dad already has one.”

  “Got it. For the record, it does take a smart person like you to run a successful restaurant. So you need to tell your dad.”

  “But I can’t.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t? He’ll get over it. You can’t live your life to please your dad.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “But I don’t want to let him down.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your dad thinks you can do no wrong.”

  “And he’s about to find out how wrong he’s been about me.”

  “No, you’re about to find out that he wants you to be happy. And if running his restaurant is what you want, I’m sure he’d be good with that.”

  “You think?” The hope in her eyes kicked him in the gut.

  “You need to tell him how you feel.”

  They were both silent for a few minutes. He understood fear. In the desert there had been no point in not accepting that fear would be part of the daily equation. But more than most people Scott understood what it was like to know you’d let someone down.

  “How do you do it?” Sophia asked softly.

  “Do what?”

  “Help everyone with their problems. Always have a solution.”

  Survivor’s guilt. Hero complex. All those psychobabble terms had been thrown at him when he’d spent some time in counseling right after Jake’s death. Like they were trying to throw something up on the wall and see if it would stick. And he’d called bullshit. He refused to be labeled and packaged and put on an assembly line.

  In the end maybe that’s what had killed Jake. He guessed they might never know.

  “I don’t help everyone.” The words were hard to spit out, given how he’d failed Jake.

  “At least you try.”

  He wondered what Jake would think of that.

  ***

  Diana spent a good portion of her afternoon in Mrs. St. Michaels’ apartment unit, listening to her many wild stories about tenants. It was amazing what people thought they could get away with and more so that they were sometimes even successful.

  “I kicked them out because they wouldn’t pay rent for months. So what do they do? They take the damned commode with them! Now, I ask you what the hell do they want with a toilet and no house?”

  “I don’t know,” Diana answered.

  “Spite, that’s what it is. Pure spite. Most of them had blown through their deposit anyway and didn’t have a prayer in hell of getting it back. And you can’t squeeze water out of a stone so other than putting them on the Tenants from Hell list, there’s not a whole lot I can do.”

  Diana took a deep breath. She’d read through the ‘book’ Mrs. St. Michaels had written. It was one disjointed compilation of unfinished chapters. Some of the chapters read like diary entries, and others like the somewhat crazed manifesto of a frustrated landlord.

  “What I think we need here is a little organization.”

  “Sure. How about if I make you lunch while you organize?”

  “Uh, but—” Diana was about to say that she had no real idea of Mrs. St. Michaels vision for the book, but she had already walked into the kitchen and was digging in her cupboards.

  Diana called upon every story craft outline she’d ever studied and created a mock outline for her landlord. Then she broke it up into possible chapters. By the time she was done with lunch and had explained all her ideas to Mrs. St. Michaels, Diana was reminded of how much she knew about shaping a story. Good to know it would be helpful to someone.

  “You know, this is pretty good.” Mrs. St. Michaels looked over the outline. “You’re a very nice girl, Diana. Thank you for helping me.”

  “Thanks.” Now to convince the rest of the town that she wasn’t a hussy.

  Baby steps, Diana. Baby steps.

  “Actually, it was kind of fun.”

  Mrs. St. Michaels patted Diana’s hand. “I’m glad you’re having fun. A few days ago you looked like someone who’d just lost their best friend.”

  Had she? Even if Diana hadn’t told anyone but Scott about the packages, something about Mrs. St. Michaels inspired a bit of truth-telling. Maybe it was the fact that she’d let Diana read her Landlord manifesto. “I got a few packages at Gran’s house. A bathrobe, some flannel PJ’s. I got the hint. Wear more clothes when you’re in a fire.”

  Mrs. St. Michaels made a face. “Not like you planned it. I read in the paper it was one of those damned firecrackers caused it. Imagine. In the middle of the biggest drought in decades.”

  She’d read that as well. “The worst of it was a note I got from someone who thought maybe I’d planned to meet her husband. Signed anonymous, of course.”

  “Probably from Hattie. She thinks everyone is after her husband. Very insecure, that one.” Mrs. St. Michaels waved a hand dismissively. “So all I have to do is follow this outline, and it will be a book by the time I’m done?”

  “A first draft, anyway. And then I’ll look at it again, edit, and give you some more ideas.” Diana glanced at the clock, and stood. It was time to go. She still needed to get Gran to the doctor later.

  And she had the early shift at the bakery again tomorrow so she’d need to be asleep by eight o’clock, when most young people were just getting started. Gen had called to say that Sophia was going to be in to relieve her the rest of the week. She’d apologized for the lack of her training, but Diana had actually learned enough on that first day to get by. Sophia had filled in the rest.

  She was an interesting girl, Sophia, and looking at her felt like time traveling a few years back to Diana’s younger self. She’d done what she wanted to do with her life, even if now she didn’t have everything she’d hoped to show for it. Still, the decision was hers to live with and she couldn’t conjure up an ounce of regret. Not anymore.

  No regrets. Also part of her new motto.

  ***

  Scott had a hell of a long forty-eight, which had included too much sitting around playing poker, washing the truck and responding to a total of two calls. One car accident with minor injuries, and one small car engine fire on the outskirts of town which had all their Spidey senses tingling. The resultant spread to the dry brush nearby had almost gone out of control.

  Back at the station he flipped on the TV to the twenty-four hour news feed and witnessed more wildfire footage. He wanted to drop everything right now and drive up to volunteer his services. Wallace could do without him for a day or two.

  With that in mind, he somehow made his way to Gen’s bakery instead. He couldn’t even begin to disguise the reason why. It was early still, just past eight o’clock a.m. and Diana would still be there. And he wanted to see her again. It wasn’t smart or maybe even the right thing to do. As it turned out, he still struggled with doing the right thing—at least when it came to staying away from a girl who yanked his chain with such expert precision.

  He strode in the door and for a few minutes simply observed her, reaching in the glass case and filling a box with donuts and rolls.

  Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail as she smiled and chatted with Ed even after he’d asked her three times when Gen would be back. She was obviously serious about winning
over every person in town. Then she glanced in his direction, caught his gaze and heat flickered across her face. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. Don’t forget she’s leaving at the end of summer. Back to her life in Los Angeles. Small towns definitely weren’t for everyone. He frequently reminded himself of that fact.

  “Hey,” he said when Ed had gone.

  “Hi. Just get off work?”

  He nodded and glanced around the empty shop. “Slow morning?”

  A few different emotions flashed across her face. One of them he didn’t much care for—hurt?

  “I think some people are choosing to get their breakfast at the diner while Gen’s out ill. And it always gets busier once Sophia comes in.”

  He’d have thought she’d won over half the town by now. Or maybe it was just him. “Do you want me to go kick their collective asses?”

  She laughed. “No. But thanks.”

  “Seriously. I could drag them in here.”

  She gave him a smirk.

  “Sit with me. Take a break.”

  “You have to buy something. Coffee?”

  “Coffee it is. I’ll make sure to tell Gen what a great salesperson you are.”

  She rang him up and poured the coffee in a large ceramic mug. It had the face of a Dalmatian dog on one side.

  “Cute.”

  “Perfect for you. I found some mugs at the thrift shop and I thought Gen would love them.”

  He accepted the mug and moved towards one of the tables. “How is she by the way?”

  “I thought you could tell me.”

  “I haven’t talked to Wallace for a couple of days. Do you think she has the flu or what? Nothing’s ever kept her away from the bakery for longer than a day or two.”

  “No. It’s not the flu,” she said and then like she’d been caught saying too much, “I don’t think.”

  Right. She didn’t want to tell him, though why he couldn’t begin to imagine. She sat down in the chair across from his, so he got up and moved his chair next to hers. His thigh was pressed up against hers.

  She smiled and didn’t move away.

  “You like working here?”

  “I told you. I need the money, and there aren’t exactly jobs falling out of trees around here.”

  “It’s just a stop for you.”

  “Yeah. And honestly? It is kind of fun. Now that I see what goes into the cinnamon rolls, it’s easier to stop at one.”

  “But you should go back to writing eventually.”

  “Why?” One finger wound itself around a lock of her hair.

  “It’s what you do.”

  “In order to be a writer you actually have to write words. Sentences and whole paragraphs. Pages. I haven’t done too well with that lately.”

  “You can’t give up. Won’t let you.”

  She’d recently asked him if he was doing everything he wanted to with his life, and he’d taken the egotistical way out. Pretended he’d achieved all he wanted and from here on out it was all gravy. Liar. He still had so much to do, and time could be running out. How much longer before he had too much to lose like all the other guys?

  Something in his gut told him it was already too late.

  “You believe in me? But you haven’t even read my stuff.”

  “I might point out that you haven’t let me, but that’s not the issue. You’re in competition with only one person, Diana. You.”

  “And I’m not exactly kicking my own ass here.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right.” She smiled and put a hand on his leg and when it slid up to his thigh he got quiet. “Are you coming by tonight?”

  “I have dinner with the family, my mom’s place. You want to come?”

  She blinked. “No, that’s okay. I promised Gran I’d have dinner with her. But why don’t you come by after dinner?”

  Another booty call? Not that he was complaining. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to tell you. You been watching the wildfire coverage?”

  She grimaced. “Of course. One firefighter died. So scary.”

  “That almost never happens.”

  “Right.” She locked eyes with him, and he would have sworn she read his mind. “Wait. You’re not thinking—”

  “I’ve been waiting for them to call up our squad but it occurred to me I could just drive up there on my own.”

  “Just—drive there?”

  “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

  “But you’re needed here. What about your rotation at the firehouse?”

  “I’ve got the next four days off. Normally, I’d be working with Wallace’s crew but he can do without me. I’m going to talk to him about it tonight.”

  She shifted away from him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I wanted you to know where I’d be.”

  “No.” She stood up. “You wanted me to worry. You want to be a hero, that’s your choice. You know what? I refuse to worry!”

  “Wait a minute. I didn’t—”

  “The hell you didn’t. I don’t want to be ‘that girl.’ The one who begs you not to go.”

  “Hey, I don’t—”

  “Listen, everyone makes choices every day of their lives. To run into harm’s way for whatever honorable reason. To do their job. But you’re looking to put yourself in danger before you’re called in. I don’t get it.”

  He thought about Jake. He’d also made a choice. A selfish choice. A choice Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive. “They need help.”

  “And they’re getting it. They’ll call up your squad when you’re needed. Until then, if you go there, you’re doing it out of some misguided need to be a hero.”

  Hell, no one had ever talked to him that way. He grabbed her wrist. “Wait a damn

  minute—”

  She shook him off, and he let go. “I’ve got to get back to work. Here comes Mrs. Anderson.”

  He opened the door to Mrs. Anderson. “Morning.”

  “Hello, young man. How are you this fine morning?”

  “Super.” He slid what he hoped was a pissy look to Diana, then left the shop.

  If he’d just gone out of town and not told her a word, would he be any better off or would she think he was ignoring her?

  Would he ever understand women?

  Scott drove over to mom’s house later that same day. He’d tell Wallace his plans tonight so he could make adjustments to his crew. Knowing his brothers, they wouldn’t try and talk him out of it. By now they realized it was wasted breath. He’d do whatever the hell he wanted and they couldn’t stop him.

  Besides, he was way past the days when he’d go off halfcocked and jump in without thinking. He’d given this a lot of thought, and was sick of waiting. He didn’t blame any of the guys in his squad. Benny was married and all those foster kids depended on him and his wife. But Scott was a single man, completely unattached. No ex-wife counting on his support. No kids. Unlike rookie, he didn’t even have a parent to help support. His mother was taken care of for life. Billy had done that single-handedly even before Giancarlo had been part of the picture.

  The time to sacrifice, if he was ever going to do it again, was now or never. And damn if he wasn’t ready.

  Diana didn’t need him. Even with the long odds that he wouldn’t be back, she’d be all right. Whether she realized it or not, she was one of the strongest women he’d ever met. He only wished she’d get that she had to live her life on her own terms, unconcerned about what anyone else believed about her.

  But she’d get there.

  The smells of pot roast and fresh baked bread filled his mother’s kitchen. He went straight there, hungry as a dog in heat. Mom and Gen were in the kitchen and greeted him. He kissed Mom on the cheek, ruffled Gen’s hair and swept a roll into his mouth where it proceeded to melt. Damn his sister-in-law could bake.

  “Scott! Out of the kitchen. We’re not ready yet.” His mother swatted his shoulder.

  �
��Funny, that tasted ready.” He licked his lips and tried for a second one.

  Gen slapped his hand. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Scott rolled his eyes at Gen.

  Oddly, she blushed. “We’re the same age.”

  “Then stop being a Roll Nazi.”

  “I take it you’re hungry?” Mom asked from next to the Dutch oven.

  “Always.”

  “You won’t have to wait much longer.”

  “Great,” he said, giving up. These women guarded food like it was gold at Fort Knox. “Anyone seen Sophia?”

  “She’s outside.” Mom nudged her chin in the direction of the patio.

  Scott found her on the deck, her fingers flying on her phone.

  “Hey.” He closed the sliding glass door for more privacy. “Did you decide what to do?”

  She glanced up, her eyes shining with the same fierceness he’d seen the previous night. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

  “Good.” Hell, it was just a good a night as any. Not like she was going to ruin a special occasion or anything. “When? After dinner?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Need my help or support?”

  “No, but thanks. I’m going to do this myself. I’ve got to. It’s my life, isn’t it?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  Sophia fixed him with a probing gaze. “Want to tell me what’s going on with you and Diana?”

  “What makes you think something’s going on?”

  “Because when I mentioned you the other day, she got all squirrelly and shifty and acted like she’d been caught in the middle of screwing you.”

  “Shit, don’t use that word. Please.”

  “Oh my God, it’s true!” She squealed. “You two are doing the nasty.”

  “Don’t use that word either.”

  Sophia cocked her head to the side. “I don’t hear any denials.”

  “It’s not any of your business.”

  “I don’t see why it’s any big secret. She’s great. I like her.”

  He did too, far too much. “Yeah, she is pretty great.”

  “So…?”

  He was not about to explain his friends-with-benefits situation to his younger sister. Not now. Or ever. Sophia was waiting for something, anything from him. And realistically, he’d asked her to spill her guts. But he couldn’t tell her anything about Diana, mostly because he wasn’t sure what he understood about whatever the hell was going on between them.