Unforgettable You (Starlight Hill Series Book 4)

by Bell, Heatherly

  Diana didn’t need to know that.

  ***

  Diana stared into the piercing green eyes of her new pal. The way those eyes made her squirm when they almost undressed her didn’t feel friendly. Instead she felt hot hazy deep tugs of lust starting in her stomach and moving decidedly—lower.

  She’d never in her life gone for the bad boy, except for that one misguided time with Scott. Even if he’d turned his life around, she’d bet there was still a little bit of the bad boy in Scott. He probably just confined it to the bedroom. Sure, Diana wished she could live her life not giving a crap what anyone thought about her, but that was a dream. She cared what people everywhere thought about her, but most significantly in the town where she was Betty Paulsen’s granddaughter. Right now they seemed to think she needed to wear flannel to bed.

  She had to fix that. “You haven’t been the one to get free bathrobes and flannel PJs through the US Postal service.”

  He squinted. “Flannel PJs.”

  “Since I’ve been here, my secret admirers have sent me no less than two new bathrobes and three pairs of flannel PJs. With hints that I should never wear anything else to bed.”

  He chuckled. “Clever.”

  “Or mean.”

  He nodded. “Are you wearing them?”

  “No! I already have a perfectly good bathrobe and I told you that.”

  “I meant the flannel.” Was he smirking?

  “It’s too hot for flannel.”

  “So what do you wear to bed?”

  Smooth. She didn’t even see it coming and softened a little. Maybe even smiled. He had a way of flirting with her that made her uneasy because it worked far too well and far too fast. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “It’s why I asked.” He shifted, moving closer.

  “Well, pal, it’s not romantic or anything. Normally I wear an oversized long t-shirt to bed.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “My panties.”

  He sat close enough that she could sense his thigh tense next to hers. His voice sounded gruff and deep. “Right.”

  “Now how can that turn you on?”

  “I could work with the loose t-shirt. Makes sense. I imagine it would pull off easily. And the panties—those usually slide right off too.”

  She swallowed. He’d obviously given this a lot of thought and more likely, practice. “So—panties turn you on?”

  “Yours.” He slung an arm around her and pulled her in, whispering the word into her hair.

  “You haven’t even seen them.” Diana leaned in even closer. From somewhere deep inside her brain, she wondered why she acted as if she’d just swallowed a Crazy pill.

  “And whose fault is that?” He stared at her lips.

  She stared back, but he still made no move to kiss her. Then she remembered she’d asked him not to, and he’d obviously listened.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

  She leaned back, catching her breath, pulled her phone out and glanced at the text. “My sister.”

  Just checking to make sure you didn’t jog yourself straight into a cardiac induced event. Or that some crazed wino hasn’t slashed your throat. Just kidding. Only Gran is worried about the second one.

  I’ll be home in a minute. Diana texted. “I should go.”

  He spread his arms across the bleacher behind him. “We’re always interrupted. Someday we’re going to have to do something about that.”

  Of course Scott insisted on walking her home. She let him, but they reverted to their friends status, walking like two normal people and not two idiots who had constant issues crossing the friendship line.

  “I’ll call you,” Scott said at Gran’s front lawn.

  She didn’t need him to call, because that sounded like expectations and too much like a relationship. But then she told herself that friends called each other too. “Okay.”

  Inside, she found Mandy on the couch in front of the TV with a container of Ben & Jerry’s in her hands.

  She laughed and pointed. “You look like death. Death by way of jogging. What a way to go.”

  “Must be nice to be the tall slender blonde. Move over,” Diana said. “Where’s Gran?”

  “She went to bed a few minutes ago, when I reassured her you’re not dead. I think we’re tiring her out. She left your dinner warming.”

  “Does she seem okay to you?”

  “You mean do I think she needs to be put in the home? No way.”

  “I thought so. Mom’s overreacting as usual. Gran is not a shut–in. When are you going back?”

  Mandy stopped mid-spoonful of the caramel and salt concoction. “That anxious to get rid of me?”

  “Just figured Mom needed you back soon.” Mallory handled all the accounting which was handy when Mom was a self-confessed math phobic. An Excel spreadsheet had once made her openly sob.

  “I’ve got a flight back tomorrow. Doing a full-fledged audit. Since Florina came on, nothing makes sense with the ledgers anymore. I’ll figure it out. What’s going on with you and Scott the stud muffin?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “He’s a good guy so he’s running with me. Plus, we both happen to be in that viral video and want it taken down.”

  “Which is impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible!” And she was trying damned hard to believe that.

  “This one might be.” Mandy shrugged. “I figured you’d be into him.”

  She was very much into him since she, along with the rest of the female population, had a weakness for strong and gorgeous. “He’s just going to be my friend.”

  “Ugh. What a waste. So how’s the writing going?” Mandy asked.

  “It’s not.”

  “Why?”

  “Even Benny was tight lipped about all his fostering work. These guys are in a service industry that doesn’t want to be acknowledged. But I have hopes. I’m meeting Julie for coffee. She’ll talk.”

  “That’s not the writing I’m talking about and you know it.”

  Mandy was about to bring up erotica again. “I’m not going to do that anymore.”

  “What? Why? This is your best chance.”

  “I’m terrible at it, that’s why. I made myself laugh. Pretty sure you’re not supposed to laugh during sex.”

  “Not if you do it right.”

  “Look, if I have to write sexy times, I guess I just won’t write fiction.”

  Mandy gave her a wide-eyed look. “Give up?”

  “No! Not give up.” She sighed. “I just need to write what I like to read, and see what happens.”

  “That’s one way to go.”

  “Don’t mention it again. Okay?”

  “All right. Whatever you say. Just trying to be supportive here.”

  “You want to be supportive, go back and tell Mom about our progress. I’ve boxed up all the old magazines lining the hallways. Everything in the house that needs fixing is getting fixed. Gran is getting out of the house again. And she has the right to live in her home, surrounded by people who love and care for her.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. Mom will be out in August. Save the speeches for her. Speaking of which, when are you going to tell her that you’re done working for her at the boutique?”

  “I will when I come back.” She owed Mom that much. Working at the bridal shop between all the rest of her dead-end jobs had provided the little savings that she had. Mom had been generous because, Diana believed, Mom had hoped either one of her daughters would take on what she’d worked so hard to build up.

  Diana couldn’t blame it all on Tiffany and Bradley though they were a big part of it. Unfortunately having seen behind the smoke and mirrors of one special day had amounted to the death of romance for Diana. One dress, worn once, shouldn’t cost as much as it did and yet brides were willing to pay and pay dearly. Not to mention other unethical things brides like Tiffany were willing to do in order to snag a groom.

  But knowing that she was done working for Mo
m and telling her face to face were two different things. Try as she had, Diana still hadn’t found her balls.

  The search would continue.

  Chapter 10

  “So you’re a writer?” Mrs. St. Michaels, the landlord, asked as she waited for Diana to fill out the application form for the studio apartment. The place should be called a studio wannabe, but it would have to do for now. She didn’t need much room, and as it turned out she wouldn’t have it.

  “No,” Diana said.

  Somehow everyone in Starlight Hill now thought that Diana was a professional writer. And naturally, everyone had a story that had to be told. Yesterday.

  “But you’re writing an article for the town’s website? Right?”

  She’d forgotten everyone in town would already know that. “Well, that. I am writing one article.”

  “And Betty says you’re a writer. Are you calling her a liar?”

  Diana looked up from her application where she’d written that she currently had no employer. She spoke slowly and patiently (she hoped). “No, my grandmother isn’t a liar. But are you familiar with the term ‘hyperbole’?”

  “Absolutely. My grandson has it. They put him on medication in the third grade and now he doesn’t act like a spinning top at Thanksgiving. Sometimes drugs are a wonderful thing.”

  Diana sighed and handed over the application. “You’ll probably notice I don’t have an employer yet. I’m working on that.”

  “I thought you were a writer?”

  “No, see, that’s a one-time thing. Freelance. I’m looking for something steady.”

  “Hey, maybe you could write a book for me. I’ve got some stories to tell, believe you me. I haven’t been a landlord for twenty-five years without having some stories. Tragedies, even!”

  “I’m not really—”

  “I could pay you. Not much, of course.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Diana said. “How about you rent me the apartment and I’ll help you out with your book sometime?”

  “Honey, that’s a deal.”

  Diana looked over the month-to-month lease, wrote out a check which took a good chunk of her savings, shook on it with Mrs. St. Michaels, and made plans to move in next week. Then she headed to Gen’s bakery to see if she could get some of the article written at one of the tables. Sometimes the white noise of customers coming and going could prove to be helpful. The way that words had to be pulled out like they were tree roots had begun to scare her a little bit. She had to get something down on paper and fix it later.

  She’d missed the breakfast rush at the bakery, and there were just a couple of people sitting at the tables inside. “Good morning,” Gen said. “More cinnamon rolls?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll have a small coffee.” Diana rifled through her change.

  Gen yawned and set it on the counter. “On the house.”

  “No, I’ll pay.”

  “Forget it.” Gen waved it off. The poor girl looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes.

  “Thanks. You looked tired,” Diana said as she stirred the creamer in her coffee. “Baker’s hours must be tough.”

  “It’s not that. I’m used to getting up early, but I’m not getting enough sleep at night.”

  “Why not?”

  Gen blushed a little, and Diana had her answer before Gen spoke it out loud. “Wallace.”

  “You’re losing sleep for the happy reasons.”

  “That’s true.” Gen smiled.

  “I can’t help you.” Diana returned the smile and took her coffee to a table nearby.

  She lined up her coffee cup to the right and turned on her Alphasmart. Found the file. Stared at it. Then she moved the coffee to the other side, lining it up perfectly, and watched as the doorbell jingled and a couple left the bakery.

  Words. She needed some. The right words, not just any words. Just for fun and so that it would appear she was doing something writerly, Diana wrote every adverb she could think of. Then she alphabetized them.

  Which really wasn’t helping much with this article.

  She pulled out her interview notes. Benny and his wife were salt of the earth people with their legacy to foster children. She could go with them, but did she want to go in a benevolent direction with her article? Face it, the calendar was something women would buy to drool over. Maybe the article should reflect it. But the men they’d be drooling over the most were the ones who weren’t talking. Like Scott. She read over what she’d written the night she’d interviewed him.

  Won’t talk about himself. Might have deep seeded personal issues.

  Seriously. Had she really written that about Scott? Wrong. He didn’t talk about himself because he didn’t like the attention. She got it now. Got it the day he’d pulled his shirt off, or more like made her pull his shirt off. The memory of all that muscle, and the scarring he didn’t want anyone to see because he didn’t believe he was a hero—yeah, she had to stop thinking about him.

  Diana glanced down at what she’d typed so far: The firefighters of Starlight Hill. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

  “You all right, Sugar?” Gen asked.

  “Oh, perfect.”

  The doorbell jingled again, and Diana looked up to see Julie walk in, holding a giant mug that said ‘Feed Me.’

  “Fill ‘er up,” Julie said to Gen, then waved to Diana and walked over to her table. “Hey. Working on the article?”

  “Yep,” Diana said. Always working on this thing because unfortunately it wasn’t going to write itself. Though she still occasionally had high hopes. “Do you have time to chat for a few minutes now?”

  “For my interview? All right, why not?” She sat down across from Diana. “I usually run six miles every Sunday, then treat myself to a mocha latte at Gen’s.”

  “Six miles?”

  “Are you going to write that down?” Julie leaned over.

  “No, but that’s pretty impressive. I could barely make it around the high school track four times.”

  “Yep. That’s a mile.”

  “Then why did it feel like ten?”

  “Believe me, it was the same for me when I first started running.”

  Somehow Diana doubted it. Julie looked like she’d hit the ground running. Maybe even in utero. “So. Have you always wanted to be a firefighter?”

  “We’re getting right to it? Okay, well I didn’t always want to be a firefighter. First I wanted to be a nurse. And my family wanted me to be a nurse. They weren’t crazy about it when I decided to be a firefighter.”

  Diana understood that all too well. She still remembered the crimson red color on her father’s face when she’d told him she didn’t want to go to law school but instead wanted to be a writer. Later that week her stepmother had called to inform her that dad had developed high blood pressure. Probably also her fault.

  “They thought you’d make more money as a nurse?” Diana asked.

  “I thought so at first, but it turned out they were afraid I would get hurt. Now they’re so proud of me it’s embarrassing.” Julie held up her fingers in air quotes. “First female firefighter in Starlight Hill history.”

  “They’re proud of you,” Diana said. Must be nice.

  What would she have to do to make her parents proud? For Dad, she’d have to become a lawyer. For Mom, she’d have to marry one. Actually, Mom wasn’t too picky. Anyone with a pulse would do.

  Julie shrugged. “I think it’s a little stupid it took this long to have a female firefighter, but yeah. They’re proud.”

  “What’s the best thing about being the only woman among all these men?”

  “It’s like living in a frat house sometimes. I’ll spend up to four days and nights with these guys. The girlfriends get jealous because they can’t believe no one’s hooking up. Believe me, there’s none of that! I’d say the best thing is also the worst thing: I’m just one of the guys.”

  That could be difficult given the range of hotness Diana had seen firsthan
d at the calendar shoot. “I hear you. That must be tough.”

  “Rookie is a hunk but he’s young. And face it, Ty scares me a little. But Scott—” Julie smiled and shook her head. “I can see the attraction. I dated him in high school.”

  “You did?” Along with everyone else, Diana would have to guess.

  “For about a nanosecond when I was eighteen. Scott’s a good guy. He even broke up with me without hurting my feelings. Honestly? You two make a cute couple.”

  “Scott and I are just friends,” Diana said.

  “Really?” Julie winked. “Would you like it to be more than that?”

  “Hold on.” Diana held up her hand. “Who’s interviewing who?”

  “Sorry. I forget that you don’t know everyone in town has been trying to fix Scott up for the past year.”

  “To who?”

  “That depends on who you talk to. Everyone has an opinion and in a town this size, they’re not shy about sharing them.”

  Diana hated that she was interested in this subject. She should get back to Julie, even if she had run out of questions and even if she couldn’t stop thinking about Scott’s abs. “Who’s the front runner?” Diana pretended to make a note.

  “A lot of people think he should marry Brenda O’Neal because she’s pretty enough, plus she’s got those big child bearing hips.”

  “Child…child bearing hips?”

  “Face it, Scott’s a big guy. What is he? Six one? Six three? Figure his babies are going to be big, you know?” She made a face, like she was picturing shoving one of them out of her non-existent hips.

  “I can see they’ve thought of everything.” Diana held her pen a little too tightly and wrote in the column of her yellow pad:

  Town as a cohesive unit is one can shy of a six pack.

  Mom would fit right into this town like the missing puzzle corner piece. Maybe she could just open up shop and start talking people into marriage just so she could sell them the wedding dress. Sounded like a business plan Mom would appreciate.

  “How does Scott feel about this?” She should stop asking about Scott, but she felt a sudden wild kinship with him. Maybe she’d been in denial so long with Bradley because she didn’t want to let Mom down. As long as Diana had been engaged, Mom could expect that eventually there would be a wedding.