by Keri Ford
He pushed off the post and walked over the room. His gaze glanced to her as he moved. It was like being circled by a shark. A mere look sent a string of tingles meshed with a bolt of anxiety along her spine. “I remember Violet and Cindy pretty well from high school, but not you.”
Funny, because in tenth grade, she could have recited off his class schedule. She supposed him not remembering her at all was the proof she needed to know he didn’t secretly desire her from across a room. Not that she really believed it was possible. Eriksen didn’t strike her as a man who would sit on the sidelines. No, if he saw something he wanted, he would go after it and just take it.
He pushed his hands in his pockets. “Cindy said you were a year younger than them?”
She nodded. In honesty, what senior star and heartthrob even noticed younger classmen? There he was, a senior in high school, and she a wall-hugging tenth grader a foot shorter than everyone around her. Still didn’t stop the wanting or desiring to have been seen.
He picked up a piece of scrap pipe she’d cut off and turned it over. “I saw your name on the paperwork when the three of you filled it out for the lease on the building. I thought you were a cousin to the Lange family and moved here or something. I didn’t realize you were their sister.” There was a large inhale of his that drew her attention.
She glanced in time to catch the slight widening of his eyes and somewhat nervous shifting of his weight between his feet as he put the piece back down. She was often swallowed in the shadow of her dad and brothers. Being the only female, she should have stood out. At least statistically speaking, but since she wore their hand-me-downs in high school and put effort into disappearing, she was often forgotten about.
It was survival skills. Hers and for the safety of others. Her Ken doll had flashed her a dashing smile, and her brother pretended to break his poor plastic legs. It had been the beginning of a long line of threats to boyfriends who never existed. Even if boys had been there, she never would have brought any of them home, not that anyone she went to school with would have the nerve to face her family anyway. Where her best friend, Violet, had a secret boyfriend for years who went above and beyond to see her behind their parents’ back, Lanie had been a little too good at never being seen while she banged her own drum.
Eriksen still studied her. “Did you play any sports?”
She couldn’t stop the loud laugh, which drew a raised brow and parted lips from him. She cleared her throat and glanced away. “No.”
“Join any school clubs? BETA, FBLA? What about student council?”
Not her, but he was in all those things. “No.” She wanted to ask why and was working up the courage for it. She counted all the way to two when a phone chime interrupted her.
He immediately pulled the phone from the clip on his belt.
She grabbed at her chance to leave and found herself full of words. “I’m heading out. Violet is in the front, and Cindy should be here in a minute. Have a nice night.”
He pressed a button, ending the chime, and put it back on his hip with a clip. “That’s all right. I’ll walk you out.”
“Oh. Um. Okay. I just need to round up my stuff first.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“I’ve got it.”
“So no sports or clubs. What did you do in school?”
“Studied.” This felt a little like a third degree. What could he possibly want? And how was she supposed to think in front of him? She could barely think when he wasn’t around and on her mind.
His gaze hadn’t left hers and he just looked so good. His hair was windswept, a side effect, she supposed, to being a pilot. She’d seen their helicopters a month ago while helping Violet, and the things actually had windows on them that could be opened. His black hair looked like fingers had been raked through it, and she wanted to set hers on the path. He made parts of her feel alive and energized and also heavy and achy. Even if she wasn’t crazy ashamed for deserting him that night on the sandbar, just looking at him was enough to tie her tongue.
He walked around a scrap pile of junk. He squinted as he studied the mound of leftover parts. “What are you working on here? It’s big. Base to a table?”
She covered her mouth to hide her smile. She hated to tell him that was nothing but trash. Well, it could become something later, but that depended on Violet’s imagination. “That’s a pile of extra parts.”
She bit her lip, hoping she had not embarrassed him. Or maybe they were embarrassing themselves if he thought a pile of trash was their artwork.
He winced and cleared his throat. “It looks like it could be something neat.”
She couldn’t tell if he was just making crap up on the spot or if he was sincere. That was a problem with him. When he stood around, she could barely tell up from down.
His phone chimed again, saving her from further humiliation. He pulled his phone from his belt and made a face at it. “This is Hank. I have to answer when the boss man calls.”
“All right. I’ll see you around.”
She didn’t waste a single second and made a beeline for the door, pretending like she didn’t hear him when he called out a request for her to wait. The door closed him inside, and she sucked in the spring air, seeking mental clarity. She sent Violet a text letting her know she was off, Eriksen was in the bay, and Violet would know what to do about the rest. Not that she had to worry about leaving Eriksen inside. He was in business with Hank, who technically owned the building and by a nonofficial extension, Eriksen got a say in what happened in the building. So did Violet’s new husband, Jacob.
Lanie started to her truck, but a few trash bags at the back corner of the building stopped her. Now where did they come from? She grabbed the bags and headed for the Dumpster. She tossed them in the large bin but missed a small one. She bent to pick it up, and when she did, the soapstone used for marking on metal in her shirt pocket clattered to the pavement. In her hurry to escape the tongue-tying man inside, she had forgotten to unload her pockets. Squatted in front of the metal Dumpster with her writing utensil in hand, an old habit tickled in her fingertips.
Could she still even do it? Energy surged as she set the tip of the hard chalk to the metal Dumpster. The blunt edge made the task more challenging, but the curving lines came right back to her. She swished over the edges, turning at the top and curving around underneath. She adjusted her squat and applied the final swoops, then the waves to complete the fan of the mermaid tail diving back into the water. She eyed her work. It was rough, but not bad considering she hadn’t drawn that in, gosh, ten years?
The scraping thud of the back door opened and she hurried off, not wanting to be stopped by Eriksen again. She walked straight ahead instead of going the other way to the parking lot. She would have to circle around the block and walk by the storefronts to get to where her truck was, but to get away from him and the jumbling of her insides he caused was worth it.
He just messed her up. Even knowing he rattled her nerves like a bag of cats looking for an exit, his presence wasn’t enough to overshadow the warmth pooling in her chest over drawing her mermaid tail. She hadn’t done that, or the secret good deed to warrant the drawing, since she’d been on her own during her senior year of high school.
Maybe it was time to bring her old secret-good-deeds scheme out of retirement.
Chapter Two
The mystery of Lanie Lange continued, and Eriksen could rip his hair out with the frustration. Her wide eyes and long hair escaping her welding cap hung with him after she disappeared outside. She had black smudges across her freckled cheeks and a mouth made for tracing with his fingers and then tongue. He’d been attracted to Lanie since the first time he saw her last year when he moved back to Happily. She was a beautiful woman. Any man would be a fool to not find her attractive.
Once he got close and talked with her, it changed everything he knew—which was precious little to begin with. If only he could have followed her out the door and gotten something
to tip him off for how he knew the woman, but Hank went on and on in his ear.
Eriksen pinched the bridge of his nose as his boss launched into a flight schedule for the week. Hank’s assistant had already sent the details to Eriksen’s calendar, including a number of reminders for each task. Eriksen had never missed an arrival or departure. When it came to flying Hank Rault around, it was often millions of dollars on the line. That wasn’t something to fuck up for being late. Hence the overkill of frequent alarms buzzing from his phone.
For why Hank was going this extra mile tripped Eriksen’s flags. Problem was he wouldn’t know a damn thing until Hank was ready to spill it. So this long-ass conversation was a waste considering Eriksen had finally managed to corner Lanie for a chat. It gave him a chance to absorb the ring of her voice that seemed to echo in his head and keep him awake at night. The timing had just worked out. He’d driven by their store a dozen times looking for an opportunity to drop in on her to catch her alone.
He’d already tried talking to her in their group of friends, but Lanie could give lessons to ninjas on how to slip away. That meant getting lucky and catching her somewhere, and he finally had. Only Violet’s car had been parked on the street outside their store and Lanie’s pickup in the small lot along the side. He’d whipped an illegal U-turn and slipped into a spot. Finally he could get answers.
Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did he know her beyond their brief acquaintance? Before reading up on their business, he couldn’t have said a single thing about Lanie, but the moment he saw her, there was something. Then she spoke, and all the unlocks within him turned halfway with a deep recognition. Without a doubt, somehow, Eriksen knew he’d met Lanie Lange before this past fall. He raked his hands through his hair. But how?
“Eriksen?” Hank prompted in a way that Eriksen had probably missed a question.
“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, four o’clock in Chicago, to bring you to Happily.”
Hank didn’t immediately respond, but the papers that had been shuffling in the background stopped. “You sound distracted.”
“I do?”
Hank chuckled. “I asked how the test flights were going, and you confirmed tomorrow’s schedule.”
“Sorry, but yes, they’re going well.” Eriksen pressed his palm to his forehead and tried to focus. “Jacob and I have looked at routes, information we’ve dug up on the town, and scouted the best options. We have several paths marked for different tours.”
Hank was quiet for a long moment. “I was boring you with details you already know.”
Admitting he was going on for no reason? That wasn’t like Hank, and so Eriksen pushed his own shit to the side for a moment. “Any reason for rambling?”
“Nothing major.” With a clearing of Hank’s throat, that line of conversation was dead. “Any reason for your distraction?”
Besides the five-foot-one blonde, hair down to her elbows and eyes bluer than any ocean he’d ever flown over, Eriksen was good. If only he could pin down why he knew her. A man couldn’t forget a woman like her. It wasn’t possible to just forget she existed, so surely that must mean he’d never met her. That was the sensible thought.
And yet, there was something there. Without a doubt she knew what it was. He could just tell. He’d watched her enough to know she wasn’t shy. She laughed and told jokes with Jacob, Hank when he was in town too. Jacob and Violet’s twins were always talking about something funny or great their Aunt Lanie did. Anytime he got close though, she’d clear her throat and slip away like she couldn’t speak. It was only him she treated this way. Like she was specifically avoiding him. There was no other conclusion than she was hiding something, and he was determined to find out. “Nothing major.”
“Liar.”
Eriksen snorted. “Yeah, you too.”
Hank’s silence passed through the line for a couple of beats. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Eriksen disconnected and made a mental note to ask Jacob, the third part of their business in Happily, North Carolina, about Hank’s behavior. For now, Eriksen pushed against the door to go outside. She was likely gone, but he couldn’t stop the hope. He stepped out to find her squatting by the Dumpster. He never in a million years would have thought a woman covered head to toe in heavy clothes and marred by grease would be such a turn-on.
Her oversized long sleeves protected her skin from flying sparks and bits of hot metal while welding. The relaxed-fit jeans should be fire-retardant to keep her legs safe as well. Brown work boots, gloves hanging out a back pocket. Even her long hair was tucked up somewhere. He’d seen her in a dress at Jacob’s wedding and once before. Every other time it had been like this. This image of her stirred him. It was the possibilities of what lay beneath.
He started to call out, but… she leaned closer to the front corner of the Dumpster, and was she drawing? One arm was lifted, moving, and yeah, he was pretty sure she was drawing or writing something.
Lanie Lange had a graffiti secret? He was losing his opportunity to figure out the history between them, but this could also be a clue to what the woman was about. He dipped back in the building, causing the door to rumble again, and he silently cursed the sound. He peeked as she pushed off her knees and swiftly walked away. Not one look back as she hurried off. He waited until she was around the corner and he checked out what she’d been up to.
A chalklike drawing marred the Dumpster where she had been. He squinted at it, trying to puzzle out what the crude sketch could be. A whale tail? He touched the flared end, accidentally smudging the scratchy white line. Not permanent, but he drew his finger away before ruining it further. More and more curious. He snapped a picture of it to study further later.
He had so many questions about her. Questions he didn’t even know how to ask. He couldn’t shake the bone-deep sensation that he knew her, but before moving home last year, he didn’t even know she was alive. Happily was a small town. Their high school had a few hundred students, and she had managed to evade him. Or he’d forgotten something.
Was that even possible?
He scrubbed over his face, feeling crazier by the second. He walked it through his mind so many of times. He couldn’t possibly know someone he never met before, could he? The connection she stirred was an unexplainable pull. Sure, he had probably seen her around high school. She had graduated three years behind him, but they would have occasionally passed in the halls. Happily High was a small school by every imaginable expectation. Flipping through old yearbooks and staring at her pictures inside had done nothing to pull up a memory.
Besides, if it was just passing her in the halls at school, how come he didn’t feel this way when he met other classmates? There was a regular indifference or basic curiosity with everyone else in town he’d ran into for the first time since school. None triggered on him like Lanie Lange.
He’d questioned her friends, Cindy and Violet, to pick up clues but got nothing. Just hearing or thinking her name conjured up a foggy space in his mind that was too thick to see through. His phone buzzed on his hip. No use sitting on the mystery of her more today. He pulled his phone away to see what was coming up on his schedule, but it was another text from his ex-wife. Ignoring her call hadn’t worked, so she went to another text message asking him to come home.
Eriksen deleted it without responding. It seemed no matter how often he told her, she wouldn’t accept they were not getting back together. He didn’t know how to get it through her head.
Moving out of their apartment hadn’t done it.
Moving to another state hadn’t either.
Maybe if she had wanted him this much when they were still married, they wouldn’t have broken apart. Hell, maybe if she had put this much effort into keeping him instead of signing the divorce papers with a smile? The only issue was she had a case of wanting what she couldn’t have. Soon as he went back, her interest would disappear faster than his chopper blades could spin dust off the concrete.
He no sooner clipped his b
elt on when another text from her came through, this one tacked on a “please.” He deleted that as well.
Realizing he ran for the air at every opportunity to get away from her had been the big clue that what they had wasn’t going to last. Divorce hadn’t ever been in the plans. They were supposed to have the fairy tale romance and life. That’s what she and everyone else had always claimed. She’d literally saved his life when a boat crashed into theirs and had thrown them all in the water. He should have died, but she’d dragged him to shore. It was their finding-each-other shtick everyone thought was so fucking adorable.
The back door of the unloading bay cranked open again, and he spun to find Cindy poking her head out, frown forming as she saw him. “Hey. I heard you were back here.”
“Lanie texted on me when she ran?”
Cindy chuckled as she walked his way. “Yeah.”
He sighed and stared back at the quick drawing. “I got her talking to me this time, but Hank called and she took her opportunity to run out the back door.”
Cindy eased closer. “So now you’re bent down at the garbage contemplating… sadness?”
He gestured at the drawing. “Know what that is? She drew it just before she left.”
Cindy’s brow creased deeper as she leaned forward. She shook her head. “No idea.”
“More secrets. How can you stand it?”
She lifted a shoulder and gaze slid away. “To be honest, I didn’t know she had them until you showed up.”
“Sorry.”
She simply grinned at him. “I’ll be working late tonight. There’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll be home this evening if you want to try again.”