Amelia

by Marie, Bernadette

  The evening should prove to be eventful.

  Sam waited in his truck outside the steak house. He’d arrived ten minutes early and he saw her truck drive in ten minutes late.

  Amelia Monroe was one to do things on her terms.

  He stepped out of the truck and headed toward her before she turned off the engine. He was reaching for her door when she flung it open, narrowly missing his hand.

  “Oops. Did I get ya?” She stepped out and shut the door with her hip.

  She had changed into a pair of jeans which rode low on her hips and as she walked a step in front of him to clear the back end of the truck he noticed she had a tattoo peeking out of the waistband. Her fitted T-shirt hid the top part.

  “So have you ever eaten here before?” She asked as he caught up to her.

  “No. Just saw it on the way in yesterday.”

  “I hope they have some good beer. I need a drink.”

  He opened the door for her to pass through. “When I think of having a drink I think of something a little harder than beer.”

  “Not me. Beer is good.”

  The hostess sat them in a corner booth. She took the side that faced the door.

  In all his years of representing people, he’d learned to read them. She was cautious. If her back was to the door, she’d forever be turning to see who was coming after her.

  Their waiter came to the table as soon as they sat down.

  “I’ll have a Blue Moon,” she quickly ordered.

  “I’ll have the same,” Sam added. He watched her casually pick up her menu and scan over it. “How was your afternoon? Did Penelope calm down?”

  “She finally fell asleep about an hour before I left.” She set her menu down and looked at him. “I usually run out of tears in an hour. This one produces them by the bucket.”

  He smiled. “Loss affects people differently.”

  “I suppose.” She picked up her menu again.

  “How are you doing?”

  She set the menu down again and leaned in on her elbows. “The guy screwed me over completely. I married a married family man and the moment I found out I dumped his ass. And before the divorce papers are filed, he’s got another wife. I’m not mourning the loss of my marriage, like Penelope and Vivian are. I’m mourning the loss of two good years I can’t get back. But I’ll make up for them. You can count on that.” She sat back against the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “The world lost a good soldier though. He could aim a gun, disarm a bomb, and his number of saves outnumbers his kills. I hope they recognize that, even if he was a dick.”

  He didn’t mean to chuckle, but he had. He liked her feistiness.

  The waiter returned and collected their order. There was no surprise to him when she ordered her steak medium rare, but more on the mooing side.

  When their beers arrived, with the customary orange slice balanced on the rim, she took the orange and squeezed it into the beer, then floated it inside.

  Sam took his orange off and set it to the side.

  “You tossing that?” She made a motion to the discarded orange.

  “Yes.”

  “Mind?” She reached for it and did the same thing with his orange as she’d done with hers.

  “So how did you meet Adam?”

  Amelia took a sip of her beer and then set it down. An enormous smile crossed her lips.

  “I kicked his ass.”

  The answer wasn’t what he’d expected as he took a sip of his beer. It was all he could do not to spit it back out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s how we met. I’m a martial artist. Third degree black belt. I was helping my instructor, a sixth degree grand master, teach a self-defense class on base for the wives of soldiers. My thought was it would help them protect themselves from their husbands. These guys are trained men that women can’t stand up to. They go through shit you’ll never see. Sometimes they snap. A woman has to be prepared.

  “Well, he’d volunteered to be an attacker. He had a cocky grin on his face from the first moment he looked at me. He came at me to attack and I laid him flat. Sucker was a goner. He fell in love with me the moment his vision cleared and he could breathe again.”

  Sam was beginning to understand the allure to her.

  He didn’t particularly like aggressive women. He’d never been too successful when it came to them responding to his more sensitive side. It wasn’t hard to assume that Amelia would be the same. She’d eat him up and spit him out.

  “How long did you date before you got married?”

  She snorted a laugh and then sipped her beer. “I had him in bed by the second day of training. He came back to visit me a week later, when he got back to town. We eloped in Vegas two weeks after that.”

  “Never a clue that something was up with him?”

  “Not a one. But he was trained to keep secrets and execute maneuvers that no one saw coming. It carried over into his personal life.”

  “I take it you’re going to be the calm one in my office.”

  “Oh, I’ll be calm. This isn’t my fault. It’s none of our faults. I can’t imagine why he felt he needed to do this to people.”

  The waiter delivered their dinner and Amelia picked up her fork and knife and started digging in.

  Sam couldn’t help but watch and admire. Oh, the last few women he’d taken out were so dainty. He liked this aggressiveness to everything—even dinner.

  It was hard to remind himself that she’d buried her husband that morning.

  She took a bite of steak and pointed at him with her fork. “What do you know about the other two?”

  “I’m not sure I should share my knowledge.”

  She shrugged. “I get it. Client stuff.”

  “Yes. Client stuff.”

  She took another bite. “This is what kills me.” She swallowed. “I’m nothing like either of them. Vivian looks like the perfect little house wife. Penelope, though I’m sure she’s a sweet girl, I don’t think she has a brain in her head.”

  “Maybe together you made the perfect woman.” He was afraid the moment it came out it was going to go the wrong way.

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “So when you’re not kicking the asses of soldiers, what do you do?”

  “For a living?” she asked as she took another bite of steak.

  He nodded.

  “I teach martial arts three days a week. The rest of the time I’m a personal trainer.”

  “As in you work in a gym and build bodies?”

  She laughed as she took a sip from her beer. “Yeah, I train bodies.”

  “Do you compete?”

  “No. You will not find me strutting along in some clear heels showing off and being judged.”

  He liked her even more now and he wondered who would ever stand up to this woman and judge her?

  “So where is home to you?”

  “Now I live in Georgia, but originally I’m from Oklahoma City.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s kinda what got me in bed with Adam in the first place. We had a hometown connection. Or home area connection that is.”

  “I see.”

  “Are you originally from Oklahoma too?”

  “Yes,” he said as he took a drink of his beer.

  “Hmmm, looks like we connect too.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he nearly choked on his drink.

  She laughed.

  “Sorry. I’m a bit forward.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. I just…”

  “Didn’t expect to be hit on by a woman who just attended the funeral of her husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well,” she lifted her glass in a toast. “I hope he finds an angel to hit on. This angel has moved on.”

  “You don’t feel bad?”

  “Sure I do. But in two years I’ve only spent maybe thirteen months with my husband here and there. I filed for divorce three months ago. He was deployed for most
of that. It’s not like he was a constant in my life.”

  He understood that, which in itself confused him. Why did he want to understand it?

  But when he looked at her he couldn’t help himself. There was a lot to this woman and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was man enough to find out all about her.

  Amelia continued her assault on her steak, washing down every other bite with her beer. When the waiter came back to the table she ordered another beer and a meal to go.

  “That girl is going to wake up and be ravenous,” she said as she finished her beer, ordered another, and the waiter set the other in front of her.

  “I don’t get it. Why do you want to take care of her? You don’t owe her anything.”

  “She deserves some respect. I don’t think she’s used to getting any.”

  He rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table. “You’re a good judge of character, aren’t you?”

  “Always thought I was, until Adam.” She filled her fork with a bit of potato and then held it as though she was having second thoughts about the bite. Finally she took the bite and quickly rinsed it down with the beer. Then she pushed her plate away and rested her arms on the table.

  “You know, I’m not even going to second guess Adam. He was a fine soldier. One of the best I’ve ever worked with. And damn, he was fine in bed.”

  Sam could feel the heat in his cheeks, but he tried to keep composed.

  Amelia tapped her fingers on the table. “He was a good man. He just really screwed up when it came to women.”

  “You could say that.”

  “And hell, if I fell that hard for him, I don’t blame Penelope for doing it too. He was one fine man to look at.”

  Hearing her talk about him, Sam was beginning to feel extremely unmasculine altogether.

  Amelia sat back in her seat. “Something tells me Penelope needs a friend, and quite frankly I’m in the market for a few myself. We have some common bond. I’ll give her a fair chance.”

  Sam smiled. He probably looked awkward and nerdy, but at this moment he just didn’t care. “I like you. You make me look at things differently. I’m supposed to be objective, as a lawyer, but I don’t see things like you do.”

  “My life is going to go on and so is hers. Hell, I’d be friends with Vivian too, but I’m sure that ship will sail after Monday.”

  He swallowed hard. He was sure it would too. Sometimes is sucked knowing all the secrets.

  Amelia leaned in on her arms again and moved closer toward Sam across the table.

  “So, lawyer man. Tell me about you. What makes you tick?”

  At that very moment the answer was her. He was wrapped up in this woman. She was like no one he’d ever met, nor could he imagine he’d meet someone like her again. Certainly they broke the mold after they made her.

  Sam bit down on his lip. “There isn’t much to tell. I draw up wills, help set up trust funds, supervise estates. Every once in a while I handle a divorce.”

  “Can you run?”

  Sam narrowed his gaze on her. “Run?”

  “Yeah. Do you own some running shoes?”

  He had to think. They were tucked in his closet, back behind the vacuum cleaner, which he should probably drag out and use too. “Yeah, I have a pair.”

  “What do you say you meet me for a run tomorrow? There’s a lake just about twenty minutes from my hotel. My guess is it’s about half way between your place and mine.”

  “The lake at Derby Park?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, I think that’s the one. Has a dinosaur on the playground?”

  “That would be it.”

  The waiter set the take out box on the table and the check rested atop the box. She was quick to snatch it up and start fishing her credit card from her small wallet purse.

  Sam went for his wallet in his pocket and she waved him off. “I got this. You get breakfast tomorrow.”

  He eased back in his seat. “O-kay.”

  She handed the card to the waiter and then turned her eyes back on him. “I make you uneasy don’t I?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve never met a woman like you.”

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that. I won’t bite you. I promise.”

  He nodded like an idiot and she smiled wider, leaning in closer over the table.

  “I only bite if you ask me to,” she said with a wink and then sat back when the waiter brought the credit card slip and a pen.

  Amelia tucked the credit card back into her purse and stood, grabbing the food box off the table. “Seven o’clock. I’ll meet you at the lake.”

  Sam just nodded as she walked out of the restaurant. God he was in serious trouble. He couldn’t run.

  Chapter Three

  Amelia opened the door to the room quietly, but there had been no need. Penelope was sitting propped up on the bed watching TV.

  “I brought you something to eat.”

  Penelope crinkled up her nose. “Thank you. I’m not feeling too well right now.”

  Amelia nodded. “I’ll tuck it in the mini-fridge and you can eat it later if you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  She walked over to the small fridge and set the box inside. With a glance at the clock she realized it was only nine o’clock and she was exhausted. Usually she could keep going until eleven or later, but today had drained her. Although, that quirky little lawyer man was quite enjoyable.

  Then the thought hit her. He probably thought she was some kind of crazy slut asking him to dinner like that.

  When had anyone’s opinion of her ever mattered? She kicked off her shoes and headed toward the small bathroom.

  Adam wasn’t her husband. Nope, she couldn’t even consider him that. They’d rolled in the sack and had one hell of a good time. The cheap gold band on her finger was as worthless as the marriage had been. Besides, she’d divorced him. His death signed that paper. It was okay to look at other men. He’d obviously not taken their vows seriously.

  But it ached in her chest. Why wasn’t she worthy of a man who would treat her like a woman? Just because she was stronger than most men—that made them fear her or want to take advantage of her?

  Screw that. No one was going to get into her head like that. Adam Monroe was the messed up one. Not her. She turned on the water to the shower and let it warm.

  There were some very cute qualities to Sam Jackson.

  She picked up the brush on the counter and pulled it through her hair. Cute? When did she ever think cute was a quality? Dear Lord, she was losing her freaking mind.

  Tomorrow she was going to get to the lake an hour earlier than Sam and run until she passed out. And then she’d run him around that lake, if he in fact could run.

  Maybe she’d then get it through her thick skull that she was in Parson’s Gulch because her husband wasn’t an upstanding man—and dead. And maybe, just maybe, she’d realize this wasn’t where she wanted to stay and that Sam Jackson had only been a nice distraction on what could have been—should have been—the worst day of her life.

  Just as she lifted the hem of her shirt to pull it off, there was a knock at the door.

  “Can I come in? I don’t feel good.” Penelope’s voice shook as she spoke.

  Amelia quickly opened the door and Penelope rushed through and straight to the toilet where she threw up whatever she might have eaten for breakfast, because Amelia was sure she hadn’t had lunch.

  She winced at the sound and walked out into the main room.

  Great. Not only was she sharing her room, which she hadn’t planned on, but now her co-wife roommate was sick. This was seriously proving to be the worst week of her life.

  Penelope stumbled out of the bathroom, a washcloth pressed to her mouth. Her face was pale and her eyes watered.

  “Are you okay?” Amelia thought the question was as dumb as it sounded. No, she wasn’t alright, but she’d had to ask.

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Penelope walked back to her bed and lay do
wn. “I’m sorry to be such a problem.”

  “It’s fine. We’re all having an off week.”

  Penelope didn’t have a retort, she only moaned.

  “I’ll leave the door unlocked in case you need in,” Amelia said as she hurried back to the bathroom to partake in what would be, more than likely, just a lukewarm shower.

  The rest of the night had been fairly quiet. Amelia was sure that Penelope might have gotten up one time during the night to get sick, but she hadn’t awakened her, so Amelia counted it as good.

  The Oklahoma sun had already risen by the time she made it to the lake at six o’clock. And it was already hot. The thought crossed her mind that she didn’t really belong anywhere anymore. Oklahoma might have been her home, and Georgia where she’d set down her own roots, but maybe it was time for a change. Did it get blistering hot in Montana? Winters might be brutal, but that’s what long underwear and coats were for. But six in the morning and eighty-nine degrees wasn’t going to cut it much longer. By two in the afternoon the July heat would be well into the hundreds. What fun was that?

  Amelia tightened up the hot pink laces on her neon yellow running shoes and started around the lake.

  Sam rested the two Starbucks cups on the hood of his truck and then leaned up against the vehicle. She’d said seven, right? It was six-fifty in the morning and she was already half way around the lake. Maybe she’d be too tired to run again, or so he hoped. That was some of the thought behind the cups of coffee. He’d never usually spend that kind of money on the drink, but he was desperately trying to persuade her to not make him run.

  Yesterday, sure he thought he might get in a lap, but when he was winded after having moved the vacuum to find the shoes, he thought better of it.

  Ten minutes later she was headed toward him, her hand cupped around the back of her head as she sucked in the heat of the morning.

  Her sunglasses shielded her eyes, but the smile did something to him he wasn’t sure he should admit, even to himself.

  The body which was exposed around running shorts and a tank top was pure muscle. There were defining lines each time she took a step. She could crush him with just a well pointed finger to his chest, that he was sure of.

  “You look a bit too cozy for a run,” she joked as she neared him.