Accidental Shield: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Yum!” I set the cat food on the floor, climb up on a stool, and open the pink pastry box he sets down. I’m so ready for this I don’t even laugh at how crude he talks about...well, everything.

  The heavenly smell hits me right in the feelies. Deep fried and sugar-coated, these fat Hawaiian doughnut balls are sweet perfection. Unable to hold out longer, I grab one and take a nice big bite.

  Aw, yeah.

  “Juice or coffee?” Flint asks.

  I shake my head and keep on chewing. Like I’d even dream of letting anything else compete with the doughy goodness filling my mouth.

  “Water?” he asks. “Easy, babe, don’t choke.”

  I nod.

  Even though I know they’re a gazillion calories, I scarf down two malasadas before drinking the glass of iced water he slides over. “Wow, that was scrumptious! Can’t remember the last time I had one.” I laugh at myself. “I know, what else is new?”

  “Give it time,” he says quietly. “It’ll all come back. Cash says there’s no cure like patience.”

  “I hope so, but right now, I think I’m going to take a shower and get dressed.”

  “Need any help?”

  Oh, God. Did he just say...

  I do a double take. My cheeks light up. He didn’t mean that the way my body wants to take it, I’m sure. Right?

  He’s a hard man to read. He bends down to pick up Savanny’s empty dishes, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “I’ll be fine.” I climb off the stool and head for the bedroom, then the bathroom. This awkward shame flicks through my blood.

  It’s not like I can blame him if he wants to wait. I wouldn’t exactly want to jump a girl either if she couldn’t remember our own wedding, much less our last time in bed.

  A minute later, there’s a knock on the door. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest again with more excitement than the donut caused.

  Whew. Am I reading this all wrong?

  “Brought you some clean clothes,” he says matter-of-factly.

  Taking a deep breath, I open the door. “Oh, I knew I forgot something. Thanks!”

  “Figured it was easier for me to get them than for you to go searching,” he says, handing me a stack of neatly folded clothes.

  For a second, our eyes meet. There’s a hot, electric, stingy vibration in my skin right before we jerk away.

  Just awesome. So much for making things less awkward.

  “Um, thanks, Flint,” I mumble again, shutting the door a little too fast.

  God.

  Pulling myself back together, I decide on a bath rather than a shower, hoping a nice soak will help ease the lingering soreness in my muscles.

  I need to relax. Right now, I’m too keyed up thinking about showering with Flint.

  Maybe my brain can’t remember that joy, but I think my body does.

  It’s not hard to imagine his huge, hulking body pinning me down.

  The same corded muscle he used to banish my nightmares so tenderly last night could also do wicked things. The same calm blue eyes that seem so gentle could turn fierce in an instant. And that smart mouth of his...holy hell.

  My knees tremble, imagining him stamping fire-kisses across my body. His lips, his tongue, his stubble with just the right scratchy goodness heading straight for my—

  Yeah. No. We’re not going there.

  Not when I’m in the thick of ninety-nine other problems. There’s no room for a handsome beast-man devouring me more greedily than I swallowed up those malasadas.

  The long soak in the tub helps clear my head and put out the blaze between my legs.

  After it, I put on the island wear dress hanging on the door. It’s dark blue with big yellow hibiscuses scattered across it. Then, minding the butterfly stitches at my temple, I dry my hair and pull it back in a ponytail. Searching the drawers doesn’t turn up a single hair binder.

  Weird. You’d think I’d have a few laying around. But maybe ponytails aren’t my style?

  Leaving my hair hanging loose, I leave the bathroom. A sense of longing hits me when I glance at the bed that’s been made.

  Tired again. Ugh.

  I hope this crap gets better. It’d be nice to spend a full day without napping more than the cat. Deciding to fight it awhile, I go hunting for Flint and find him outside.

  He’s sitting at a small table with his laptop.

  A yawn hits hard, and I can’t hold it back.

  “Have a seat,” he says. “You look dog-tired. Don’t fight it. Cash says sleep’s the best medicine.”

  “If that’s the verdict, I should be in perfect health by now,” I say, plopping down on one of the comfy lounge chairs. “I’m just tired of this, but I can’t seem to stay awake.”

  “Just close your eyes for a little while,” he says. “I’ll be here.”

  “Flint, I don’t want to—”

  “Val. You, sleep, now.” Those blue eyes are so full of it, but they’re also kind.

  “Fine. But later, you start talking in complete sentences, okay?”

  He grunts loudly. Full caveman style.

  I can’t help but laugh, and somehow, laughter just takes more out of me.

  Fine, Mr. Sea Glass. I’ll play along.

  I close my eyes and tell myself I’ll just relax for a few minutes.

  * * *

  When I wake up, there’s a light throw blanket covering me from head to toe.

  I tuck it under my chin and close my eyes again, just for a few minutes, waiting for the last dregs of drowsiness to pass. Maybe it’s my memory, trying to shine through like headlights through a thick, soupy fog.

  There’s something right on the edge of my mind.

  Something significant.

  The accident again?

  It’s this quiet, needling urgency. Like my brain needs to work now to fend off disaster.

  I reach up and press my palms to my temples, fighting this dread sinking weight in my belly.

  “Val?”

  I open my eyes. Flint stands next to my chair with a glass of tea.

  “Yeah, just waking up. I’m fine.” Savanny is still sleeping on my legs and I don’t want to disturb him, so I carefully fold back the blanket and take the glass.

  “You sure?” His gaze cuts through me.

  There’s no point in hiding it. I’m very not fine.

  After a couple long refreshing sips, I ask, “The accident...were you there with me?”

  “No,” he says slowly, tilting his head. “I was tied up.”

  It’s still there. That hint of something heavy.

  I feel like the steady, resonate slap of the ocean washing ashore in the distance just makes it stronger. It has to do with water. Lots of water.

  “What was I doing out there, anyway? You said it was a boat. Do I work with boats? Or shipping? Do I spend a lot of time on the water?” I feel like I’m searching, grasping for another memory nugget, but I can’t quite find it.

  He takes the glass from me, thankfully.

  My hands are shaking. I look down and see goosebumps covering my arms.

  Holy hell. Why would a few easy questions do this?

  “You getting another inkling?” he asks.

  “I don’t know, actually.” I press a hand to my forehead. “Almost.”

  I shake my head. Frustrated and a little scared.

  “Easy, babe. You do too much thinking before you’re ready and it’ll just get you pissed all over again.”

  “I know. I just...I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like that annoying little blue circle thing on the computer or TV when something’s trying to load. That’s my grey matter. Searching, but not finding a connection. Everything just spins.”

  “Don’t let it spin. Clear your head.”

  “I’m trying, Flint. My mind kinda has its own plan.” Sigh. I have to know more. “It might help if you’d drop a few hints. Like...where do I work? I mean, do I have a career? A passion for something? Protecting something, maybe? It�
�s strange, but I feel like it’s important. Something to do with the ocean. I don’t know. Fish? Coral? Turtles?”

  None of that clicks, but it’s close. I know it is.

  The urge to lend a helping hand has never been stronger. But to who, or what?

  He’s staring at me oddly. It makes my heart skip a beat. Air doesn’t want to stay in my lungs. I have to suck it in hard, consciously breathing.

  Then he sits down on the chair beside me and takes my hand. “You’re working yourself into a tizzy, Val. I know it’s shit, I know you’re freaked, I know it must be frustrating as hell just waiting around for your head to get sorted. But, babe, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

  “But why won’t you tell me something? One little clue, Flint.” The tears finally come, burning my face. “It’s scaring me to death. Not knowing. The way you seem so...I don’t know, indifferent?”

  “No. That’s not even half of it,” he growls. “I’m just trying like fuck to make sure you don’t wind up hurt again. Maybe you’re right about me holding some cards close to my chest. I’m just doing what Cash said. You want the truth?”

  “Please. I’d like that a lot,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.

  For a second, the shine in his eyes disappears as he looks down. But when his gaze comes back to me, his eyes are brighter than ever, drunk on determination.

  He holds the tall glass to my lips. “Take a sip. Let me think.”

  So I do, taking a drink. I don’t think it’s just mango tea that eases my fears, but they slowly subside.

  It’s driving me insane.

  I can’t tell why he’s acting this way—if he’s acting any kind of way at all.

  I can’t be sure of anything when I barely remember my own freaking husband.

  How do I know he’s acting off? How can I be sure?

  “Sorry. I just wish I knew something,” I say.

  “It’s turtles,” he tells me.

  “Huh?” I stop mid-sip, the glass pressed to my lips. “What do you mean—”

  “Turtles, honey. You know, big-ass flippers, shiny honking shells, protected under state law and probably some Federal shit. Not the ninja kind. You ran a sea turtle tour, best one on the island.”

  Whoa.

  It’s hard to avoid spitting tea everywhere.

  “Are you serious? Sea turtles?” It’s hard to wrap my head around it.

  “Yeah.” He grins, his eyes twinkling. “By day, you were turtle lady extraordinaire. By night, you were planning your farm. You wanted land someday. Part of the reason we moved up here, where there’s still some cheaper land that’ll probably be sold off in the next five or ten years once the older folks get sick of farming. Cheap by Hawaii standards, anyway, which really means a goddamn fortune.”

  I let that sink in, but it just doesn’t seem to fit. “A farmer? Me and you?”

  He nods. “Mostly your idea...but it’s not like I’ve got a whole hell of a lot to do all day. I always told you I’d help get you set up. Coffee farmin’, Val. It’s harder here on Oahu when most of it happens on the Big Island. But you love a challenge. You had big dreams about growing your own beans, setting up a roastery, the works.”

  There’s a happy, almost mischievous glint in his eyes, one that makes me smile. “You’re teasing me now. Just trying to make me feel better.”

  He lifts a brow. “Is it working?”

  Wow. I’m starting to get why he’s an easy man to fall in love with.

  I can just see it now, working myself to the bone irrigating plants and pouring over coffee cherries to figure out the perfect ripeness while he makes wisecracks all day. But it couldn’t hurt a coffee farm having some serious muscle around, and he’s got plenty of that.

  “Honestly?” I roll the hand he’s holding so our palms touch, threading my fingers through his. “Yeah. It helped. If this is two truths and a lie or something, don’t tell me. Let me dream.”

  Flint grins, lifts my hand to his mouth, and...

  Oh, there it is. Those lips I’ve imagined for what feels like forever finally gracing my skin with their presence.

  Yes, it’s just my hand.

  Yes, it’s sudden and unexpected.

  Yes, I know I’m overreacting.

  But it doesn’t change the fact that Flint’s oh-so-proper kiss feels even better than anything I imagined. It’s a rush.

  A deliciously sweet, sexy kick that turns my face deliriously pink.

  Savanny stands up, yawns, and stretches his long legs before sitting down again, licking his chops. The gold pendant on his collar shimmers in the sunlight.

  “Turtles.” I grin as Flint lets my hand gently fall away. “Crazy. I would’ve guessed it’d be birds.”

  “Birds?”

  “Yeah, like the one on Savanny’s collar. Unless you put it there?”

  Frowning, he reaches over and fingers the medallion.

  “That’s a night heron,” I say.

  “Yeah?” He unclasps the collar to get a better look.

  “Sure is. It’s even got the ruby eye.”

  I start wondering why it’s yet another detail that seems new to him, but his phone rings before I can ask.

  He pulls it out of his pocket, glancing down. “Cash. I have to take this.”

  An odd shiver tickles my spine as he walks away. No doubt about it, there’s more going on here.

  Flint was just trying to make me feel better, and he did, but the weirdness with the heron pendant is like a cold splash of water to the face.

  What’s going on here? My heartbeat picks up again.

  That dread sensation I had earlier returns. I don’t know what to think.

  Is there something he doesn’t want me remembering about my old life?

  Something I’m not supposed to know?

  He enters the house, and my breathing turns shallow again. My eyes follow him through the window as I stand, watching him pace, wondering what kind of man I’ve really married.

  Danger blares in the back of my mind.

  It’s like he doesn’t want me to hear whatever he’s saying with Cash. Why not, though, if it’s really about my health?

  And why has it just been us here this whole time? I was in a bad accident.

  Don’t I have any family? Parents or siblings or besties who’d care?

  The breeze billowing off the ocean picks up, turning downright chilly. And it’s got nothing on the freeze that hits my brain, stuck on one scary thought.

  What’s Flint hiding?

  4

  Secrets On a Stick (Flint)

  “Hold on,” I tell Cash as I enter the house, making him wait until I’m in the dining room.

  I can see Valerie out the window, but I make sure she can’t hear me before I press the phone to my ear. “Listen, I—fuck it. I have to tell her the truth, Cash.”

  “Are you crazy? You can’t!” he spits back.

  “Like hell I can’t,” I growl. “You didn’t see her face a minute ago. The chick turned as white as Casper the frigging ghost and had to hold her head like it was hurting. Bad.”

  Guilt tugs on my heartstrings again, playing this bitter fucking tune I can’t stand.

  “Why? What was the trigger?” Cash sounds concerned. Just not concerned enough to help me out of this hell he put me in.

  “Nothing. That’s the thing. She just woke up from a nap.” Flustered, I run a hand through my hair, annoyed at the pain in my own head. “This lying shit gets a hundred times more complicated than you know. Right down to fucking cat food. Do you know how many different kinds of cat food there are?”

  “Come now, you’re being—”

  “I do, now,” I interrupt. “Bought one can of every kind because I’ve never owned a cat and have no clue what kind of chow they eat. Then I damn near scared a Boy Scout so bad he almost pissed his pants. All because he was selling popcorn to her when I pulled up, thinking he’d dropped by for Val.”

  Did I mention guilt? It’s not a strong enough wor
d for that crap.

  If karma’s real, I’m coming back as a sea cucumber.

  “What, you left the house with Valerie alone? Where’d you go?” Cash sounds amused. I’m not having it.

  “To buy fucking cat food, Einstein! And more pain meds because you won’t give her something stronger than that over-the-counter pill candy. I was all out between Bryce’s banged up knee last week from surfing and this girl tossing them back like Tic Tacs every few hours.”

  Just talking about it makes my own head feel like a hammer. Snarling, I pace the room, pinching the bridge of my nose, shaking my head.

  “Damn it, Cash, this isn’t working,” I growl. “You can’t just plop some chick smack-dab in my house and say she’s always lived here. Or that I’ve been her ball and chain for fuck only knows how long. It’s not that easy.”

  “We knew that when we started,” he says, so calmly I could reach through the phone and slug him. “It’s fine. She’s remembering little details, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right. A few more pieces every day. Give her time. Eventually, it’ll all come flooding back,” Cash says with a muffled sigh.

  “That’s what worries me. Remembering scares the hell out of her. So does not knowing. I had to make up a load of bull about what she did before the blow to her noggin. You should’ve seen her face.”

  I had. Turtles and coffee farming.

  Goddammit.

  I’m a former SEAL, not some kind of folk singer. I couldn’t think of anything better.

  The metal tag gripped in my other hand has me saying, “She remembered the cat’s name.”

  “Lovely. Is it Chester Cheetah?”

  I grind my teeth. “No, jackass. It’s Savanny. Just like the Savannah breed.”

  “Clever.” I can almost picture Cash’s wry smirk. “Anything more useful?”

  “No. We’re not that lucky.”

  “That’s how it goes with brain trauma and memory loss, I’m afraid. One thing at a time. Little bits here and there. I’m prescribing you a big fat dose of patience, Flint.”

  Prescription, my ass. I’ve got his ticket right here, coiled up in a fist I want to throw at the nearest wall.