“Thank you.”
The nurse opened the curtain and nearly ran into a man. “Scott! Are you here to see our patient? Here she is, alive and well. Thanks to you, I hear. This man right here is one of our finest.”
“She might need these,” the fuzzy looking man with the deep voice said.
Her glasses! The nurse handed them over to her, and Diana slipped them on. She glanced up to thank the kind man and— her heart slammed against her ribs.
Holy patron saint of firefighters, would you take a look at this one? He’s gorgeous.
And yes, dark brown hair curled ever so slightly at the neckline, disheveled in the right way… in other words not purposely and with a lot of gel, and dark green curiously probing and intent eyes that— oh. No.
Would this horrible day ever end?
He sure looked like a grown-up version of Scott Turlock. Buck wild, rough and tough Scott Turlock. She hadn’t seen him in twelve years, since the horrible summer of her sixteenth hellish year. With any luck, he wouldn’t remember her. What good fortune that her teenage crush had now seen far more of her than dates who paid for dinner first. And now, the look on his face— all easy and relaxed, like he carried women dressed in lingerie around all the time. No doubt he did. His hard body was one tight coil of masculine grace.
She, on the other hand, was nearly naked and cowering under a blanket. “You were the firefighter who carried me out?”
“Yep.”
“T-thank you,” Diana managed. For the first time, she noticed that he carried what looked like a bundle of clothes. She didn’t dare hope, but only stared at his hands.
“Brought you some clothes.” He placed them on the edge of her bed and stuck his hands in his navy blue cargo pants pockets. “They’re Julie’s. She’s one of the firefighters and she thought you might want to borrow them.”
She met his eyes. Still curious, still intent and alert, but no hint of recognition in them. So far, so good. He didn’t seem to remember her at all. She might possibly salvage something of this night. “They tell me no one got hurt.”
“True.”
“What about…the damage?”
“Smoke and water mainly. You’ll have to find another place to stay.” He shifted to his other leg, looking uncomfortable. “And probably need to replace most everything you had in that room.”
Bad news, but not totally unexpected. At least he was being honest with her. “Yeah. I figured.”
She unfolded the clothes, trying not to look at him. He might be older now, taller, larger, but he was still exactly how she remembered him. Every teenage girl’s fantasy. Now every woman’s fantasy. Whenever she’d been around Scott, the air seemed to snap and crackle between them. The air, twelve years older now, was still snapping and crackling away.
Holding the clothes to her chest, she lifted her gaze. Damn him, he was studying her. Probably trying to place her.
“Okay, look. Not that it’s any of your business but I like wearing nice things to bed. I’m a writer and I was looking for a little inspiration. So basically, I was working. In case you were wondering.” The rather humiliating answer was actually the truth. Not that he would believe her or anything.
He grinned, and hot damn he still had a killer smile. Boyish and mischievous. “I wasn’t wondering.”
She melted a little bit because that smile had always been so… intoxicating. “Then what are you staring at?” Please, please don’t remember me. Not now. Give me at least a chance to put on some real clothes and maybe get a new life first.
He cocked his head. “How do you feel? You okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ve had all the tests and they all say I’m good to go. They keep saying they’re about to sign my release papers, only that was about four hours ago.” She’d lost track of time, but one look at the large clock on the pasty white wall and she could see it would soon be five a.m. Gran would be getting up soon.
“Paper work. It takes time. Do you need a ride somewhere?”
No way. That would only give him more time to remember. “I couldn’t bother you with that. No thanks. You’ve done enough.”
“You have someone picking you up then?”
“No, but maybe I could call a cab.”
One eyebrow rose. “Have you ever been to Starlight Hill before? Because we don’t have cabs.”
Right. The town wasn’t exactly a metropolis. “I’ll figure something out.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m here.”
No one else had offered, and she literally had no one else to call. “Sure. Let me change.” He didn’t move so she brought up the blanket to her chin as a hint. “I’m not going to do it in front of you.”
“Didn’t think so.” He stepped behind the curtain, swishing it closed. “So how have you been, Diana?”
Oh God. Diana slapped her forehead and shut her eyes. He did remember her. Of course he would, because this was going right along with the kind of spectacular year she’d been enjoying. “Um, fine? Except for the fire.”
Liar. You’re running, and that’s never a good way to start over.
The jeans were a size eight, the size she used to wear before she’d gained five pounds in the last month, worrying about her life and eating way too many tortilla chips. Not that a man who looked like he bench pressed in his sleep would know what it was like to be addicted to chips. Diana groaned.
“Is everything okay in there? Do you need help?” How nice. Sounded like he was chuckling.
“No!” She sucked in a big breath and closed the top button. Thought maybe she felt her kidney quiver in pain. Then she struggled to snap on the one size too small bra, and put on the t-shirt he’d brought. She wiped her lenses clean with the edge of the t-shirt, slipped them back on and opened the curtain. Damn. This was an old prescription, but he was still as good looking. Sun-kissed brown hair, intent deep green eyes. Strong jawline, chiseled chest by every indication of the way he filled out that SHFD t-shirt.
The boy had grown up well.
“If you can just take me back to the motel, I’ll get my car and drive over to my grandmother’s.”
He rocked back on his heels. “Mrs. Paulsen.”
“Yes.” It was a small town, and what she remembered about Starlight Hill during the long summers she’d visited Gran was one big nosy group of people all up in everyone’s business. She’d been mostly left out of all that because as a summer visitor she never fit in with the rest of the kids, Scott included.
“My sister-in-law used to live next door to her. She still drops by once or twice a week to check up on her.”
Aw, that was nice. “I should thank her.”
“Gen doesn’t need any thanks. She just does it because she’s—Gen.” He smiled bigger this time, revealing a single dimple. “Listen, I only need a minute to check on a couple of the other tenants anyway, so I’ll go see how much longer on your paper work.”
He turned to go, giving Diana a chance to check out his backside. He looked just as good from the back as from the front.
The nurse might have caught Diana staring, because she smiled knowingly and nodded. “That’s our Scott, the last of the Turlock boys. Single. Plus he’s not dating anyone if you’re interested.”
“No, no, I’m not. But I would like to know—is it safe to go home with him?” The sixteen-year-old boy she remembered was wild and dangerous. Two of the most attractive qualities to her sixteen-year-old idiot self. But that was a long time ago and she wanted to believe that wild and dangerous no longer held the same attraction.
“You’re going home with him?” The nurse gave a big smile.
“I mean, he’s giving me a ride back to my car. He seems okay to me. Harmless. Right?”
The formerly friendly nurse took on a snooty look and pursed her lips. “He’s only a war hero. I do believe you can trust him for a ride.”
Scott. A war hero? What else had she missed in the last twelve years?
Chapter 2
After taking t
he truck back to the station and finishing up with his shift, Scott had gone back home for a quick shower and change and taken Julie’s spare clothes to the hospital. He didn’t exactly want to be the one to tell Diana, but most of her possessions were probably toast. He’d managed to salvage her glasses and car keys and wipe them clean of the soot. Smoke damage was a bitch, and what hadn’t been ruined by smoke the water would have finished off.
No sooner had Scott arrived at the hospital and heard someone mention Diana’s name that he connected the dots. She seemed about as stuck up as he remembered her. Even if she had to be feeling vulnerable, she gave him a snooty look he didn’t appreciate it. Stubborn too, not wanting a ride from him when she clearly had no one else to turn to. Her eyes were sharp, assessing and intelligent and always left him feeling…lacking.
Now, he opened the passenger door to his truck and held out a hand, which she refused. Didn’t exactly surprise him. No doubt his teenage self had probably tried to steal a kiss once and been slapped silly. He’d always liked a damn challenge and that’s exactly what she’d always been to him. Different. Always had her head stuck in a book, even at the lake. Acted like she was too good to hang out with the rest of the kids, including him.
He waited for her to climb inside and then shut the door. She had nothing with her but a plastic hospital bag where he assumed she carried the previous night’s…er, clothing.
“How long you in town?” It only made sense to make polite conversation.
A quick glance in her direction and he caught her staring out the window. “However long it takes to convince my mother not to put my Gran in a home.”
“But why would Mrs. Paulsen need to go in a home? Isn’t that for really elderly people?”
“She is elderly. Haven’t any of you noticed that she never leaves the house?”
“That can’t be true.” On the other hand, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Mrs. Paulsen at the supermarket, or the gas station. Did she drive any longer? Both he and Wallace did odd jobs around her house whenever it needed repairs, and Gen always brought her groceries. But surely Mrs. Paulsen left the house.
“It is true. Anyway, I’m here to take care of her now.”
Well, hell. He’d hoped the hostility might not reach across the years, but with women he understood memories were long. And twisted. He only wished he could remember what he’d done so he could at least figure out if he’d been right or wrong. They arrived at the motel, not a happy looking scene at the moment. It looked the way most places did after a fire. Desolate. Ruined.
Her breath hitched, and she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “It looks much worse in broad daylight.” She climbed out of the truck and stood in front of her motel room.
Scott walked up behind her. “We contained the fire before it spread too far. I know it doesn’t look like it to you now, but it could have been much worse.”
“You guys got here fast, that’s why.” She bit at a fingernail. “What do you think caused it?”
“We won’t know exactly what caused the fire until after the inspection.” He had his suspicions. Even two weeks past the Fourth, the occasional random firecracker could be heard going off in town. They were illegal, but that didn’t stop some idiots.
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, hand a little shaky. Sometimes the danger that a person had escaped tended to hit them much later. Often with the force of a tsunami. He understood the feeling all too well.
“Watch out what you wish for.”
Sounded like she was talking to herself. Before he could ask her what she meant, because hey, she’d said that out loud, they both heard the theme from ‘Cops’ coming from somewhere near a bush.
Diana dropped to the ground. “My phone!”
He squatted to join her in searching, finding it first, underneath a Daisy bush. Probably kicked outside in the chaos. “Here.”
Diana touched it reverently. “My whole life is in here.”
“Hey, you salvaged something. Phone, glasses and car keys.” Look on the bright side, his brother Billy always said. This was a stretch. “Your ID is probably in there somewhere. In a couple of days you’ll hear back from the fire inspector.”
Her eyes rose to meet his and she gave him an honest appraisal, as if she’d only now noticed he was a man. For a moment, he considered asking her out to dinner or coffee. But she’d turn him down, no doubt, for whatever it was he’d done all those years ago.
“Thanks for saving my life, Scott Turlock.”
Not like he hadn’t heard those words before, but hearing Diana say them sparked a tiny ember inside him. “I’m just doing my job.”
He watched her get in her sedan and drive down the street, still wondering what he’d done to piss her off.
***
By Sunday, Diana had settled into her old bedroom at Gran’s house. Sure, it gave new meaning to cozy but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She had nothing now. Well, she had her glasses. Her phone, car and her car keys. Poor Gran had been horrified to hear of the fire, and loudly declared that she’d apply for sainthood for Scott Turlock with the Roman Catholic Church. Apparently Scott wasn’t Catholic but Gran didn’t think it would matter.
Diana stretched under the covers, drawn in by the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the house.
Actually, it was a blast from the past to be surrounded by posters of ‘NSync’ and the Backstreet Boys in the bedroom she’d shared on summer visits with Mandy, two twin beds side by side. Twelve-year-olds weren’t known for their superior taste in music so she wasn’t going to beat herself up about that. And, she obviously still liked pink, even if she’d long outgrown the white lace eyelets all over her twin canopy princess bed. The bedroom remained a shrine to Diana and Mandy and all those lazy summer days of the past. She missed them too.
There was something deeply reassuring about the fact that Gran hadn’t changed anything about this room.
Because some people were steady and unchanging rocks of strength, and that was what Diana needed right now.
And she’d prove that Mom was wrong, and Gran didn’t need to be moved into a nursing home at all. Even if Gran agreed to move tomorrow, it might take months to get her moved out. Diana noticed Gran’s collecting had grown to new levels. There were stacks of magazines and books lining the hallway and walls—good thing the fire hadn’t been here or the place would have gone up like a Roman candle.
Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. Mandy, no doubt calling to complain about Mom. Diana being gone meant that for now Mandy had no buffer between her and Mom.
Diana rubbed one eye. “What?”
“It’s been two days and she asked me what I thought of the new Vera Wang collection. Please come back before she buys my wedding dress when I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
“Now you get to see what I’ve had to put up with.” Mom’s obsession with wedding dresses had been bad luck for Diana and Bradley from day one.
She’d dated Bradley for six months when Mom had brought a wedding dress home for Diana to try on ‘just in case’. And then, of course, there was the fact that Bradley had met Tiffany at Mom’s wedding boutique, Getting Hitched.
“You’re the older sister. You get married first,” Mandy said.
“Listen, she already has my measurements.”
“Do you have anything for me to read yet, see if I catch any mistakes? Remember, it’s not about part A going into slot B,” Mandy said, the resident expert on sexy books.
“Are you kidding me? It’s a sign. The fire took everything I’d been working on. It was all crap, anyway.”
“It’s not a sign. Don’t you want to prove to Bradley he was wrong about you? Don’t you want to get published?”
Diana sighed. What she really wanted was to be able to write her young adult stories. Or maybe just to be able to enjoy writing again would be nice, and stop seeing it as a chore and a duty. “Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”
Plus this bedroom was not c
onducive to sexy thoughts. She stared at the photo of her favorite Backstreet Boy. Nope. What she needed was some new photos in here. Maybe one of the actor who played Thor.
“I know what you need! You need a date. Correction: you need to get laid. Nailed to the wall. As in headboard-banging sex.”
Oh sigh. That sounded awesome. “What I really need is another job. I can’t work for mom anymore. Not after Tiffany and Bradley. And I’m so sick of hearing all the Bridezillas go on and on about their special day. The dress is never good enough for them. It always needs alterations, a longer train or a shorter train. The veil, the hat, the shoes! It’s all so depressing.”
“I know. Yesterday Missy Yodder came in and changed her mind again. We’d already ordered the dress so we had to scramble. So how’s Gran doing?”
“She’s sharp. Sure, she’s a little frailer than the last time we saw her but she’s still Gran. Still strong. No worries.” Diana hung up and dragged herself out of bed. She stumbled into the kitchen where Gran was already at the stove.
“Good morning! The coffee’s on. And I’ve got bacon, sausage, eggs and pancakes.”
“Should you be cooking?” Diana reached into the cupboard for a mug and poured herself some coffee.
“I don’t know, dear, should you be breathing?”
“Gran—”
Gran held up a spatula. “Young lady, I’ve been cooking since Roosevelt was president. I’m not going to stop now. Especially since I love to eat. The two go hand in hand.”
Diana poured milk in her coffee and stirred. “All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time to let someone else cook for you. Like me. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Nice? It sounds like Jackie Onassis. And there’s no need. I don’t even bake anymore since that darling Genevieve does it for me. Brings me all her day old stuff and it’s just as good.”
Gran would have an excuse for everything. Diana had to get Gran out of the house, all part of the plan to show Mom that all was well. “I thought we’d take a drive to Napa later today.”
Unforgettable You (Starlight Hill Series Book 4) Page 2
