by Jax Hunter
Julie pulled cartons of Chinese food from the bag that had just been delivered to the room, setting them on the coffee table. Nic had convinced her to go skiing and they’d spent the day after Christmas on the bunny slopes with a bazillion other people.
Nic itched to ski the hardest slopes. But, if Julie had ever been on skis before, it wasn’t evident. So he stayed with her as she learned the basics, encouraging her and longing to lose himself in physical exertion.
“So how does a paramedic from Boston afford a hotel room like this in Lake Tahoe?”
“He doesn’t.” Nic plucked a handful of noodles from the nearest carton and, head tipped back, lowered them to his mouth. “My mom’s uncle was with the Tenth Mountain Division during World War II. He actually helped establish some of the ski areas here. This hotel room is actually a timeshare. It’s part of his estate.”
“Nice uncle. A little more than kin, and less than kind.” Julie snapped her mouth shut and frowned. “What did I just say?” Her brown eyes showed bewilderment and she tugged her lower lip between her teeth.
Nic grinned. “Um, I think it was Hamlet.”
“Oh.” She nodded as if he’d just explained it. She arched an eyebrow at him when he popped a hunk of chicken into his mouth. “There are forks, you know.”
He almost choked on the chicken. When he was able to speak he replied, “That wouldn’t be as much fun.” Another fit of coughing took over and Julie slapped him on the back with gusto. “You’re not supposed to...” Another cough, another smack, “slap people on the back when they’re choking.”
“Really? What are you supposed to do, doctor?”
“Just encourage them to keep coughing.”
She winked at him. “That wouldn’t be as much fun.”
Nic lounged on the couch, his legs stretched out, feet on the coffee table, watching hockey, drinking a beer. Content. Stomach full, almost tired from a day on the almost slopes, and hockey on TV. It didn’t get better than that.
Or so he told himself. Several times. If Joey were...
Ambushed. Damn. Waves of despair slammed his chest.
The Julie issue was no easier to ignore. He steadfastly pushed away thoughts of pulling her down on his lap and…
“So, Paramedic Nic from Boston, tell me about your job. Do you work for a fire department or an ambulance service?” Julie pulled her feet up onto the couch, balancing her mug of cocoa on her knees. One slurp left her with a marshmallow mustache.
Damn if he didn’t want to kiss the mustache from her lips. On a blown-out breath, he focused on the conversation. “No, I actually live here in California, just outside Merced. I’m a PJ.”
“Really.”
The way she said it made him feel like he’d told her he was an escaped murderer. “You know what a PJ is?”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” She put her legs down and set her cup on the coffee table.
She was defensive again. Nic backpedaled. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to know.”
“Because I don’t know my name? Is that why? I know all the names of the presidents and all the state capitals. I’m not stupid. I just can’t remember who I am.”
Borderline hysteria. She stood quickly and walked to the window.
Nic threw his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, Julie. Back up. The only reason I didn’t expect you to know what a PJ was, is that very few people do, okay?”
“Oh. Sorry.” Julie crossed back to the couch and timidly sat down, again pulling her knees to her chest. “So, you’re a PJ.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “Parajumpers, pararescue, the Air Force elite Special Forces.” She paused, then opened her eyes wide, surprised by remembering. Then she went on. “I almost had to date a PJ once.”
“Had to?” Nic began to relax, stretching his legs out.
Julie smiled. “I had a friend who was determined to bag a PJ, swore they were the best in bed. She probably knew, too. Anyway, she nagged me for almost a year before I convinced her that under no circumstances would I ever date a military guy. No offense.”
Nic had to laugh. She was so serious. “None taken.”
“It’s weird that I remember that, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not an expert on amnesia. What was your friend’s name?”
“Cindy... Greene. Great! We can call all the Cindy Greenes in the world and see if any of them know me.”
“We’ll ask if they know a girl named Julie who doesn’t like military guys.”
“You said you weren’t offended.”
“I’m not. You want a refill?” At her nod, Nic took her cup and his to the kitchen. He poured the steaming water into the cups, as Julie spoke from the living room.
“So, do you have Jolly Green Giant feet on your butt?”
Nic jumped back as hot water sloshed onto the floor. Usually that question came on the dance floor with a chick’s hands moving down on your ass. It was usually followed by a request to see it. That never stopped being embarrassing. Every PJ he knew had that same tattoo. It was pararescue tradition.
“Yes. I do.”
Just the facts, ma’am.
Nic set a full cup of hot chocolate, brimming with marshmallows, in front of Julie. If she’d been paying attention, she’d have seen his tattoo when he made the mad dash for safety after she joined him in the shower.
Julie looked up at him with the can-I-see-it question written all over her face. Her eyes twinkled and her lips curved in a sensual smile.
“Don’t go there.”
Julie stared at him for a moment. Then the look changed and she burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, flyboy, I won’t. I didn’t believe her anyway.”
“What?” The way she jumped from one conversation to another left him baffled. He usually didn’t have trouble keeping up. Crap. He found himself wondering if it was the amnesia or if she did that all the time.
“About PJs being the best in bed. I didn’t believe her.”
“But no offense meant, right?”
“Right.” She was still laughing. “So are they…best in bed, I mean?”
“How should I know?”
“Well, flyboy, I’m still not interested...”
Nic started to protest, but Julie flew into a rant.
“I’ve had quite enough of you macho guys. I spent two of the best years of my life with the perfect man. Aussie, good looking—he flew hot air balloons. I would have spent my life with him. But it turned out he had a honey in every city he flew. I learned absolutely nothing in high school.”
Nic squirmed. Way more information than he wanted. But there was the Aussie he’d wondered about. And she remembered more and more of her past, though she didn’t realize it.
On she went.
“I just want a simple relationship with a simple guy-next-door nerd. No more he-man guys for me, even if they are airmen with smoldering brown eyes.”
“Uh...”
Who? Him? Smoldering brown eyes? What the heck did that mean? But she wasn’t going to explain. Maybe that was a good thing. She was off on another subject, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened.
“So, how long’s your vacation?”
Nic couldn’t switch gears that fast.
“Huh?”
She looked at him like he was a moron, couldn’t keep up. “How. Long. Is. Your.Vacation?” “A month total.”
“Ooh, and how does one of America’s finest get a whole month off?”
Damn it.
“Not by choice, I assure you.” Nic grabbed his cup from the table and strode to the kitchen to wash it.
Julie followed.
“I’ve cried on your shoulder, tough guy. You wanna cry on mine?”
That macho-guy tirade was crying on his shoulder? It felt more like her haranguing him. But, even so, his problems were his and his alone.
“Not particularly.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind...” Julie put her cup in the sink and went back out to the living room. Before he’d fin
ished drying the cups, though, she came back.
“C’mon,” Julie said and reached for his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Slate grey clouds layered the twilight sky. Christmas lights twinkled in the stillness, the only sound the crunch of snow below their feet. Their breath crystallized into fog. Julie slipped her mittened hand into Nic’s. There was nothing even suggestive about it. It was sweet, childlike. Something deep inside him began to melt.
Nic wasn’t sure he liked the feeling.
“For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch.”
“What?” Nic stopped walking and stared at her. She only stopped because he had her hand in his.
“What’s wrong?” She looked a bit panicked.
“You’re quoting Shakespeare again.”
“What?” It was obvious she didn’t even know she’d spoken.
“Never mind.”
Once across the next street, Julie grinned and tugged Nic toward the slide in the center of a small park. When he hesitated, she broke loose and skipped over to make her way up the ladder. Once seated up top, she grinned and slid. Down the slide and out into the snow at the bottom, laughing like a goof.
“Your turn,” she said as she held out her hand so he could pull her up. Once she was standing, she put her hands on her hips and tipped her head. “Your turn,” she said again.
Her blonde hair peeked out from under the cap he’d made her wear, her eyes danced with abandon. Snowflakes melted on her cheeks and Nic nearly leaned down to taste one.
When he didn’t respond, she bent down and scooped a handful of snow, letting it fly in his face.
If he moved, he was doomed. If he touched her, or grabbed her, or wrestled her to the ground, it was all over. So, he stood, snow on his face, holding his breath.
But she had no such reservations. She drew close, stood on tip-toe and kissed the snow from his chin. Her expression held nothing sultry, yet her innocence was even more distracting.
“Knock it off, Julie,” Nic said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”
When they got back to the room, Julie took her coat off and hung it on the hook. Then she went to the bedroom and closed the door.
This was ridiculous. Julie, once again, moved in the middle of the night to sleep on the floor beside the couch. If he took the bed and gave her the couch, though, she’d likely crawl into the bed with him. That definitely was not a good idea. He wasn’t sure she was even awake when she came to him. Now, she slept soundly.
Nic wasn’t so lucky.
Chapter Five