“Uh—wow. You really can cook? Is that from scratch?” He moved closer and looked over her shoulder. The nearness made the hair on her arms tingle.
“Yes. I didn’t even need a recipe. I must have made it before. You like pizza right?”
“What kind of person doesn’t like pizza?” He laughed.
She spread the sauce over the dough and added the toppings while he poured them both some water.
“You met Amanda.”
She stopped and looked over to where he sat at the small, circular kitchen table. “Yes. She stopped by with all of these groceries. You look alike.”
“I look like a girl?”
She laughed and used her arm to itch her nose before replying, “No. You have the same smile, same eyes. You’re both very generous and kind.”
She saw the way he shrugged the compliment off, blushing slightly. He seemed as incapable of keeping still as she had felt earlier that morning. She supposed he was usually so busy that this was rare for him, to be home, have someone in his home. Or maybe not. He might have people over . . . women . . . all the time. He walked to the set of cabinets by the sink, opened them and pulled out plates while she slipped the pizza into the oven. Her stomach rumbled, and she hoped it hadn’t been as loud as it felt.
“Hungry?” He smirked.
This time, she blushed. “I didn’t eat much today,” she admitted, washing her hands. His brows immediately knit in concern.
“Alessa, you have to eat. You’re still recovering. Is there anything you like that I could get that Amanda didn’t?”
She dried her hands before she turned to speak to him, hoping her words wouldn’t be ungrateful. “I’m recovering fine. I don’t need you to worry about every little thing. I shouldn’t even be here, taking up your time and putting you to all of this extra work,” she rambled, hating the way her pitch got higher with each word she spoke.
He set the utensils on the table and came to stand in front of her. He seemed uncertain as to what to do with his hands, but finally settled on shoving them in his pockets. “Alessa, I want you here. This isn’t . . . you’re not just a patient. I worry about you because I care about you.”
“Why? You hardly know me. How can I be more?”
He took a deep breath, pulled one hand out of his pocket and took hers, ran his thumb over her hand slowly. “The minute I looked into your eyes, I felt like I knew you. I feel connected to you in a way I can’t fully explain yet, but it matters. You matter. I didn’t bring you here just because you had nowhere else to go. I brought you because I couldn’t imagine not seeing you again.”
He said all of the right things, so why did her throat feel like it was blocked? Why was her heart racing, and why did she feel tears threatening? She looked up, away from where his thumb continued to caress her hand. His gaze was so sincere it knocked the lump from her throat.
“I thought it was just me. That felt like that. Like this.”
He shook his head and moved a step closer. Their bodies were close to touching. Her stomach tilted or maybe it was the room. Without thinking, she put her hand on his T-shirt covered chest. His hand came to the side of her face, cupped her cheek while he kept her other hand in his. It was slow motion, the way his head leaned down, his face inched closer, the way his breath, sweet and warm, washed over her until his lips were almost touching hers.
It might have been her who closed the distance between them in the end, but it was both of them who fell into the kiss. His arms wrapped around her, protective and strong, as she wound one arm around his neck and kept the other firmly on his heartbeat. It was gentle, sweet, and over too soon. He pulled his head back, but kept his arms around her, sending a new round of tingles through her when he kissed the tip of her nose.
She had no idea what to say so she just grinned at him. Then, feeling brave, she went up on tiptoe and wrapped both of her arms tightly around his neck. When his arms tightened around her, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace. After a moment, they released each other and stepped back. Looking at each other, not saying a word, he blushed slightly, which made her giggle and feel better. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to do next.
“The pizza should be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t we go sit in the living room?” He took her hand and led the way, sat with his leg touching hers on the couch, their bodies angled toward each other. “I’m going to stay home tomorrow.”
“Josh. You can’t change your life for me. You have a job. Won’t you get in trouble just for having me here?” she asked. She wondered about that since this morning and worried he was doing too much for her.
“I might, to be honest. But sometimes there are things in your life that you feel or know and when you ignore them . . . Well, I know all too well the downfalls of ignoring your gut feeling, your instincts. I won’t do that with you. There’s something between us. Something real and that’s what matters to me,” he answered, running a hand down her hair, which she was certain was a mess.
“But you have a life. That I’ve disrupted.”
“Please don’t say that. In the three days I’ve known you, I’ve felt happier than I have in far too long. Seeing you, being with you is like a gift I hadn’t known I wanted. And I want to keep you safe.”
She tilted her head slightly, concerned by the tone of his voice. “From?”
“Someone did this to you. Until we know who, we need to be careful. There were some police officers that came to talk to you today. I got a bad vibe. Like maybe they weren’t who they said they were.”
She tried to keep the worry from showing in her face, but she knew it laced through her words. “Who do you think they were?”
“I don’t know. Officers came by the night you were admitted, but it wasn’t these two. I told them I’d sent you to a shelter.”
She turned her body and clasped her hands together in an effort to keep them from shaking. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you. You could already be in trouble at work, and now it sounds like I may be putting your safety in jeopardy,” she said without meeting his stare.
“Let me worry about my job and my own safety, for that matter. Your main priority is to get better.” He took her hand as if he couldn’t help but touch her.
“I tried Googling my name.”
He laughed and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Are you famous?”
“No, actually. I don’t even have a Facebook page.”
“Me neither.” He smiled, then arched his brow. “You looked. You looked to see if I had one? To find out all of my secrets?”
She liked the way his voice sounded when he was teasing her. She smiled, squeezed his hand. “It’s rather odd of people to put secrets on a public profile page, isn’t it?”
“It’s a bit contradictory, yeah. I just don’t have anyone I need to keep in touch with.”
“No secrets to share?”
“Not online. But with you, yes.” He sighed heavily as if whatever secret he had was too much to bear. “I was married.”
Her heart sank to her feet. She felt it plummet straight down like a kid on a waterslide. She pulled her hand from his. “I . . . you . . . you’re married?”
“No. I was married. I’m widowed actually.” His voice was firm as he took her hand again, held it in his. She felt the heat rise up her neck and color her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a while ago now. Almost three years. I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad. Just to be honest.”
His eyes were clear, direct on hers, and she wondered if he was ever anything but honest. He was so good and pure. He won’t hurt me. He won’t lie to me. The pain in her head slammed her with such a force she choked on her own breath.
“You lousy piece of trash. Did you really think I would marry you? That I would let you destroy me? Answer me! Do you actually think you’re good enough to be my wife, you pathetic, lazy, lying—” His fist flew and it was the last sound that
registered until she was lying on the floor looking up at him, his rage a living thing, almost a being unto itself.
She used her arms—though they felt weak—to try to move back, move away from him. “I wasn’t going to destroy you. Please. I won’t tell anyone. I thought you loved me,” she whimpered.
“Who could love you?”
“Alessa? Honey, look at me.” Josh’s voice, warm but tight with concern broke through her thoughts and the cloud of pain. Cold, tiny goose bumps danced up her arms. Josh touched her face, turned it toward his.
“I’m okay. My head. It just comes on like that. And I have these flashes. Like little movies that don’t seem real.” Well, that doesn’t make me sound crazy at all, does it?
“Is it you? The man who hurt you?”
She moved to stand, and he released her. She pressed the heel of her hands into her eyes. She didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to talk about it or remember. “I don’t know. It’s fuzzy. And scary.”
He stood as well and pulled her into his arms. “I will protect you. I promise. Whatever happened to you, you aren’t alone.”
His words brought such a wave of relief she felt guilty. Josh, with his sweet sister and his kindness, didn’t need to get in the middle of whatever was trapped inside of her. But somehow, she didn’t have the energy to push him away or to fight her growing need for him.
The timer sounded on the stove, making her jump.
He soothed her with a hand on her back and a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Why don’t we eat? I can’t wait to see if you can cook,” he said lightly.
“If it turns out I can’t, what will you do?” She smiled.
He shrugged and took her hand, led her toward the kitchen. “Placate you and order pizza when you go to bed.”
The laugh soothed her frantic heart, and the pain ebbed farther into the background. Don’t think about that. Just have dinner. With Josh. For right this minute, you are safe. And cared for, no matter what you remember. She only hoped it wouldn’t change when she finally did recall everything.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Josh woke early, without the help of his alarm. Pulling on a faded, hooded sweatshirt and a pair of track pants, he left his bed unmade and went to make coffee. The house felt quiet but different knowing Alessa slept in the next bedroom. Walking past the slightly ajar door, he looked in and saw her curled into herself, the blankets swallowing her so just the top of her face and her wild mass of hair showed. His pulse scrambled just looking at her, and he smiled. Laura had always gone on about soul mates, particularly in the last six months of her life. She had become almost frantic with the notion, convinced she was being punished because she had known, deep in her soul, that she wasn’t Josh’s soul mate. It still made his heart ache to think of how hard he had tried to convince her that he was, that they were each other’s. Alessa gave a deep, shuddery breath and turned onto her back.
Moving from the doorway, he went to make coffee for both of them and maybe some breakfast, too. Once Laura died, he gave up the notion of finding the one, along with most of his faith. Still, he pondered, as he pulled open the fridge, grabbed the eggs and milk, he couldn’t deny from the moment he met Alessa, he had the overwhelming feeling she was meant to be part of his life. That he was meant to be part of hers. It was too early in the morning to decide whether or not that made them soul mates.
It felt strange not to be watching the coffee drip, begging for enough to fill a cup before he had to run out of the house. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted days off. He cracked some eggs into a bowl and thought of the things they should get done today, especially since he had the time. They. We’re hardly a ‘they’ yet. Yet. He couldn’t stop the smile or the warmth that pushed at him from inside when he heard her soft footsteps come toward the kitchen. As much as Alessa feared her memory coming back, Josh was looking forward to putting the pieces of who she was together. I couldn’t feel this and have it be for nothing. She came to his side just as he turned to look at her.
“Hi,” she murmured.
He put the eggs down and put his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Good morning.” He liked the feel of her arms around his waist. He liked the feel of her—probably too much.
“Can I help?”
“Nope. You made dinner last night. I’ve got this.”
She stepped to the cabinets, comfortable in his home, and took out two cups. He turned the pan on to warm and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee she extended.
“Thanks.”
“You made it.”
He laughed. Even with all of the darkness, she was light. It had been the exact opposite with Laura. Stop comparing them. It seemed almost impossible to do. He hadn’t even thought of letting a woman close to him since Laura passed. He had filled every single second with work and thinking about work, unwilling to open his heart.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Good. I keep thinking I’ll have dreams about what happened, and then wake up and remember everything.”
“It’ll come. We need to do a few things today. Some errands and I’d like to look into some precautions. Those two cops rubbed me the wrong way.”
The eggs sizzled when he poured them in. Perhaps he should have let her cook. She took some bread from the basket on the countertop and popped it into the toaster. He realized at that moment he didn’t like the countertop. “It’s too light.”
“What?” she asked.
“Sorry. Nothing. I was just thinking I don’t really like the countertop.” He pushed the eggs around and hoped they didn’t burn.
“And you just realized this now? How long have you lived here?” she questioned, her expression clearly amused.
“About two years. Just over. I guess . . . I didn’t pay much attention to anything when I moved in. It was a place to live. To start over.”
Her lips firmed, erasing any laughter he had seen in her eyes. “When your wife died.”
He turned the heat down, held his hand out for one of the plates, which she passed him, and set it beside the stove. He didn’t want to talk about Laura. Certainly not with Alessa. But his past with Laura defined who he was today. If he wanted a future with Alessa, he couldn’t sweep away everything he was—everything he’d become. But it doesn’t have to all be today. She’s not ready for your past when she doesn’t know her own.
“Yes. Her name was Laura. When she died, I moved here to start over. I stopped seeing anything. The only thing I allowed into my mind, my heart, was work. Until you.”
He heard her slight, fast intake of breath as he scooped eggs onto the plate. She was already buttering the toast when he turned off the stove. Don’t push so hard. Taking a less audible breath of his own, he turned to her, a plate of eggs in his hand. One step at a time.
“They’re not burnt.”
Her eyes looked slightly misty, but her lips turned up in a smile as she put the toast on the other plate, and they went to the table. They sat, close enough together to share both plates and ate their breakfast within the quiet. The sun shone through the sliding doors of the small patio that extended off of the kitchen. It felt like forever since Josh had seen, felt, the sun. It felt good to sit through a meal, to sit with someone in a comfortable silence. He hadn’t even realized he was lonely. I wasn’t. I was empty. Hollow. It was somewhat startling to realize he felt neither of those things now.
“I’d like to go to my PO Box today,” Alessa began, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I don’t know why I don’t have an address listed on my driver’s license.”
“That’s a good idea. We’ll check there, and then I’d like to check in at the Police Station. One, to see if they have the names of the officers that came to the hospital and two, to see if anyone has filed a missing person’s report.”
“No one has.” She stood and took both plates to the counter.
“How can you be sure?”
“I just . . . know.”
He drained
his coffee, debated pouring another cup and decided not to. Rising, he took both of their cups to the dishwasher. With her hands braced on the edge of the counter, she stared out at the sun through the small window over the sink. Her profile was striking. With an elegant jawline, full lips, and long, dark lashes, she was naturally beautiful. The bruising around her eye was clearing up, as was the cut that hadn’t needed stitching on the underside of her jaw.
Before he gave it any thought, he ran his finger down the graceful curve of her neck. She shuddered slightly and turned to him. His fingers found their way to the nape of her neck and into the soft strands of her hair. She closed her eyes—those dark lashes on soft skin. She stepped to him before he could pull her near. He kissed her forehead, holding his lips there while he felt her breath move in and out, while his breathing kept time with hers. Her arms wound around his waist, and she leaned on him. The weight of her pushing against him made him feel lighter than he had in years. He tightened his arms around her and rested his head on the top of hers.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered.
She leaned back, looked up at him with those eyes that made him feel alive. His heart beat harder when she whispered back, “Neither are you.”
* * * *
Josh was glad the rain held off as they drove to the Post Office on the other side of town. Crampton, New York was about forty-five minutes from downtown. Close enough to head in for a nice evening, but far enough away from the hectic pace and wall-to-wall people. To Josh, it was a perfect mix. He and Amanda were born in Crampton. His sister and parents lived within fifteen minutes of his house. He hadn’t made a conscious decision to always live close to them, but it never occurred to him to move away.
Laura briefly fell in love with the idea of moving to New York, but when he told her he would consider it if they really thought it through, she’d become so enraged at his inflexibility the discussion was tabled. He liked where he lived and wondered how different his own typical childhood was from Alessa’s. He glanced over to see her watching the homes fly by through the passenger seat window. Her face was relaxed, soft, almost peaceful, like when she slept.
Dangerous Love Page 9
