L. NICOLE
DAMAGED
Copyright © 2022 by L. Nicole
All rights reserved.
Nopartofthispublication may be usedor reproducedin any manner whatsoever, including but not limitedto being storedin a retrievalsystem or transmittedin any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, withoutthe writtenpermission ofthe author.
This bookis a workoffiction. Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are theproductofthe author’s imagination or are usedfictitiously. Any resemblance to actualplaces orpersons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
WARNING: This book contains sexual situations, violence, and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 and above.
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Contents
Blurb Prologue
1. Rosalee
2. Zane
3. Rosalee
4. Zane
5. Rosalee
6. Zane
7. Rosalee
8. Zane
9. Rosalee
10. Zane
11. Rosalee
12. Rosalee
13. Zane
14. Rosalee Epilogue
Sneak Peek About The Author Also by L. Nicole
Zane Irons was a soldier. It was the only life he had ever known--and then it was over.
When my convoy was attacked and my jeep was hit with an IED, my life irrevocably changed. Suddenly, I wasn’t allowed to be a soldier anymore. Now, when people look at me, they don’t see a whole man. My b*tch of an ex-wife sure hadn’t. She took one look at me, served me with divorce papers, and left town.
I moved to Broken Falls to forget. The name seemed to work and my brothers are here. It’s as good a plan as any, really. It almostworked.
Slowly, I began to feel pieces of myself being knitted back together.
Then, Rosalee showed up on my mountain and blew everything all to hell.
Welcome back to Broken Falls. Zane has more reasons than most not to trust women. Rosalee gets under his skin— and his defenses—no matter how hard he fights it. Can he trust her enough to fall in love?
Zane
I need to get away from the construction going on—just a small break. Sometimes the loud noises drag me back into a world that I don’t want to be a part of any longer. I’ve given my past a fucking arm, after all. I hit the button to roll my truck window down and let the warm air remind me that I survived the war-torn Middle East. The sound of the saws and crap have my nerves on edge to the point that I can't even think straight. Today, my attitude is so awful that even I was getting tired of it. I'm happy we are making such quick progress on the facility, but at the same time, it's little things that trigger my PTSD. I don't feel alone in that. My brothers are having the same issues—some much worse than me. We were all involved in the accident that nearly killed us all. They understand all too well. That’s probably why they didn’t even question me when I walked away.
It doesn’t help that working on the barn we’re currently building makes me feel like less of a man. I hate feeling that way. Logically, I know it’s not true. I can do anything anyone else can do and I work damn hard at doing it better. Still, because I lost my arm, certain tasks that require a lot of physical labor are a challenge. I want to help and do my part, but I can’t use the hammers, saws or hell, even a screwdriver like I used to. I can still get the job done, but usually slower than any other person around. That means, more times than naught, I just slow the progress. I can see some of the
guys trying to be patient around me, but I also catch their side-eye glances. Shit, some even look at me with pity and I hate it. It burns in my gut. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I don’t need it. I lost an arm; a lot of men lost a hell of a lot more than that.
I’m grateful and I try to be okay with the fact I have a metal arm. I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but there are days, I’m anything but good. Some days, I sink into a deep well of depression and feel sorry for myself. I felt myself on the verge of going there today and I knew I had to do something—hence, the ride down the mountain.
I’m getting lost in my thoughts and come down the road a little too fast. My wheels skid on the dirt road, and my adrenaline soars. The fresh air and speed is just the thing to let my thoughts go and just concentrate on the here and now. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glint of something and I’m immediately worried. My brothers and I own this mountain. There shouldn’t be anyone up here besides us and the construction company. I throw my truck in park and jump out to get a better look. As I approach the riverbank, my heart plummets into the pit of my stomach. My pulse jumps until all I can hear is the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
There's a damn SUV sinking into the river. I can see the tracks, busted limbs on trees, and skid marks down the bank. There are deep ruts from where the tires were locked up as the driver tried to brake. Fuck. From where I’m standing, I can see an outline of a person in the vehicle.
I sprint down the hill, trying not to tumble my way down into the river. I toss my cell to the bank before diving in. This is the river’s deepest point. Water accumulates easily because this is our rainy season. Runoff from a nearby lake always ends up in the river, too. Broken Falls is close by, which means if I don’t get this driver out, they may be taking a dive over the falls and into an almost certain death. The water never warms up enough to be swimmable here. It’s too shaded, plus we’re in the middle of a cold snap and that means the water is positively frigid. It’s so bad that it steals my breath as I dive in, swimming as fast as possible to the vehicle.
Getting to the door, it's too far under the water for me to open it. The pressure is too high. I climb into the SUV through the sunroof still sticking out of the water to find an unconscious redhead leaning on the steering wheel. Her face is starting to go under the water. Leaning over her, I awkwardly hold her head up. Then, I quickly unbuckle her seatbelt. I have to maneuver that carefully, but I get it done. The lady is lucky she wore one. The water is rising quickly and I’m struggling to keep her above the water. I pull her up, hefting her higher through the sunroof. I wince as her body lolls to the side, but manage to catch her before she hits her head again.
I get her mostly out onto the top of the car. I keep her feet still dangling inside to hold onto her as I climb out. If she slips and goes into the river, I doubt I could be strong enough to fight the current and save her again. Just as I get out, there’s a large gurgling noise and the vehicle shifts as the front end of the SUV goes deeper into the rapidly rising water. I grab the woman, holding her close to me. I curse that I don’t have two good arms, that would make this a fuck of a lot easier. I can do this, though. I’ve worked hard to regain strength to be able to do with one hand what I used to do with two. I use my legs to push off from the roof, splashing into the cold water. It’s a struggle to get to shore, especially as the vacuum created as the vehicle slowly begins to disappear. It’s a fight, because my prosthesis is not designed for water. It keeps trying to seize up and I know the damn thing will be useless soon. I have a replacement at home, but this one is the most comfortable. I’ll have to contact the VA about getting another one. That’s something to worry about another day, because I literally drag and crawl to the riverbank and lay her on her back.
I can’t feel a pulse—although, honestly, my adrenaline is so crazy I can’t be sure. My own heartbeat has skyrocketed from exertion and fear I didn’t get to her in time. I start CPR after clearing her airway. My arm is toast at this point. I yank the damn thing off and toss it to the ground. I only need one hand for this anyway. When the woman begins coughing, I roll her to her side just in case she has any water in her lungs or something. Hell, I don’t know, I’m going on instinct. I’m not a doctor, I just had first aid
training in the military. I notice a bleeding wound on the side of her forehead as she coughs out the last of the water. It's hard to focus my attention when I’m halfway to panicking. I haven't been in such a position to panic since the day I lost my arm.
“Are you okay?” I question her. It was stupid to ask since she’s still hacking up a lung and in no shape to respond. I get her settled, not sure what to say next. “Lie still,” I murmur, awkwardly. “You have a cut to your head, and I don't know if you have any other injuries. I need to call my friends to get down here to help.” My cell is lying somewhere on the riverbank. Damn it. “What happened?” I move my hand over my face, knowing I’m bombarding her with questions.
She looks up at me with bright green eyes, confusion marring her face.
“I…I don't remember.”
CHAPTER 1
Rosalee
I find myself in front of a camper, looking at the soaking wet contents of my purse which is scattered across a picnic table soaking up the afternoon rays of the sun. I’m in a huge shirt that swallows me whole, and towels that smell masculine and sexy. There’s a guy with an eye patch cleaning the wound on my forehead. I hiss in pain as he brushes alcohol over the area.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I respond, my voice still scratchy.
“You're likely to bruise around the cut,” he informs me. I try not to look at his scarred face even though he's leaning over me. It's not that his looks bother me. They don’t in the least. I just sense he’s uncomfortable and I don’t want to make it worse.
The guy that pulled me out of the SUV walks out of the camper, fidgeting with his prosthesis through a long-sleeved shirt. He notices me watching and gives me a small smile. He's embarrassed. His other one stopped working after it got wet, but he put it on anyway, I think he was embarrassed—or maybe pissed I ruined it. He has a different one now and has changed clothes. Apparently, he lives in this camper although there is a house being built behind it.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I murmur, my voice too hoarse for my liking.
“You're lucky Ironman saw you down there. This could've gone differently if he hadn’t,” the eye patch guy says.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember your names…” I grumble mostly at myself.
I know they’ve told me their names, but I can’t remember. Heck, I don’t even remember my name or how I crashed into the river. Nothing comes when I try to remember. Well, nothing but a pounding headache. They give each other a look, and I pretend not to notice. I feel like I’m on an episode of the Twilight Zone. Should I be afraid of being surrounded by men I don’t know? Possibly, but why would they be helping me if they’re bad guys?
“That’s Zane,” the eye patch guy says as he puts a bandage on my wound. “He calls himself Ironman since his arm is practically made out of Grade A titanium. I’m Colt. That guy hovering in the corner is Lance,” Colt says. Lance gives me a slight nod.
“Have you checked her ribs? Zane could’ve broken one doing CPR….” Lance says, avoiding eye contact.
“Can you take a deep breath?” Colt asks, watching me as I bend back and forth.
“I…my throat hurts, and I’m sore, but….” I pause, taking a deep breath with a bit of stiffness getting in the way, but nothing feels broken or painful. “I think I’m fine.”
“What were you doing before your crash?” Zane asks, sitting down across from me. His dark eyes hold mine for a moment, and it sends sparks of awareness through my body. Do I know him? I’m so busy looking at him that I almost forget his question. Forgetting seems to be a thing for me right now.
“I don’t remember.” I try to think back. Nerves, fear, and an overwhelming sense of desperation comes over me, and I start to panic, taking in short breaths on the verge of hyperventilating.
Colt lays a hand on mine. “It’s okay, don’t force it. It’ll come back.” A flicker of concern crosses his features for a second. I don’t think he means to show it, but I see it just the same.
“If she has amnesia, she could have a concussion. She needs a hospital,” Lance says quietly. I notice he’s continuously scanning the area as if there’s an unknown threat. Colt is scarred, Zane is missing an arm and they all seem on edge having me around. I think one or more—maybe even all of them—are recovering from trauma. They’re showing classic PTSD symptoms. I wonder idly how I know anything about PTSD but not my own freaking name.
Colt picks up a flashlight, having me follow the beam of light. “Your eyes are clear,” he murmurs. “You’re tracking movements normally, too. Just don’t take a nap, and if you start to feel sick, we’ll take you into town.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask Colt, looking at all of them.
“We were special ops. This is just stuff we needed to know. Colt was our medic.” Zane goes to the small camper fridge to pull out drinks for everyone.
“Where are we?” I ask. Not that it will do any good to know. I won’t know where it is, regardless of how they explain it.
“We own this part of the mountain,” Zane says. “That’s how I came across you. I was still on the part of the acreage that I own when I saw you in the river.”
“Do you know your name and what today is?” Colt asks. Still, nothing comes to me, so I shake my head—slowly, because I do feel a little dizzy. I don’t tell them that, though. I don’t want to go to the hospital. I feel on edge even thinking about leaving here.
“Your driver’s license says your name is Rosalee Porter, and you live two hours away,” Zane says, holding up my ID. He holds it out to me. I take it, looking at my picture. As I look at the picture I touch my own hair. It’s so odd. I don’t even know how I look. Seeing a picture should jar my memory… but it doesn’t. “We can’t find your phone, but then we only got your purse because it somehow floated out of your vehicle and snagged on some rocks. That means, though, that there’s no way I can call anyone for you.”
“I…I don’t think I have anyone in my life,” I reply automatically. I don’t know what makes me say those words, but they feel true— almost as if I’ve said them before.
CHAPTER 2
Zane
We’ve been looking after my rescue all day. She seems to be fine— other than not having any memory. We left her in Colt’s care for most of the day, since he has the most medical training of all of us. He called his buddy in town, who's one of only three doctors we have in Broken Falls. He agreed with Colt’s assessment, but told him if she showed signs of nausea or her blood pressure fell, to bring her in. She’s also been awake all day while he monitored her for signs of a concussion.
While Colt dealt with her, Lance, Ben and I worked together, using the dozer to pull her car out of the lake. I dove in and connected chains onto the back of her SUV. We attached the other side to the dozer and with some patience and a little work, eventually pulled it out. All day long, however, I kept finding reasons to come and check on the woman. I’d like to say it’s because I feel responsible for her—since I’m the one that found her. The truth isn’t quite that heroic. Nope, not at all—it’s much more basic.
Iwanther .
I look at her while her attention is turned to Colt. She’s completely gorgeous with deep auburn hair, curves like a country backroad, and lips that are full, thick and made to kiss—or suck a man into heaven. The attraction I feel toward her is something that I’ve never encountered before. Hell, I didn’t even know something this powerful could exist.
I once thought I was in love with my ex-wife, Dedra, but I know better now. If it had been love it would have hurt more than my
pride when she cheated and left me because of my injuries. Still, I was attracted to her. I wanted her almost immediately. I remember the feeling I had every single time she looked at me, or touched me in some way.
The fact that the attraction I feel with Rosalee is a million times more powerful should scare the fuck out of me—especially since I don’t know her. It doesn’t help that she has no idea who she is. Christ, hadn’t I let women fuck my life up enough? I need to get a handle on this attraction and get rid of it—likeyesterday.
I shake my head to clear it. I know nothing about this girl. What I do know is that people don’t flock to Broken Falls for vacation. People come to Broken Falls to run away. You come to a place like this to get away from the city and people. That’s how my brothers and I ended up here—doing just that. We’re building our training facility to do what we know while keeping to ourselves.
IsRosaleerunningfromsomething?
I can more than understand that. Hell, I’m running. I haven’t been back home to Hawaii since my brothers and I were all medically discharged. I can't tell my parents that I no longer like crowds. Being around them and trapped on an island full of tourists feels suffocating. While Lance’s PTSD is out there for everyone to see, mine is different. Everyone thinks that I’ve been only physically hurt, but late at night, the panic sets in. I can deflect things all day with my morbid sense of humor and by keeping busy. However, the moment I’m alone, my mind is my worst enemy.
When Ben brought up buying land on this mountain, I was all in, especially building a facility where we can train and help those going into the service. Trained military personnel are highly needed right now—had that IED not taken us out, we would still be over there.
“After a traumatic event, it’s normal for someone to forget, especially with a hit on the head,” Colt tells Rosalee.
I can’t help but think she’s lucky. I wish I could have forgotten our accident. It haunts my dreams. Still, I get it. Hitting her head and the fear she had to feel when she crashed is bound to leave some empty spots in your head.
“That’s good to know, I guess. It’s so strange, not knowing who I am. Even the name on my ID doesn’t mean anything to me,” she mutters, sounding so lost that I make myself remain standing where I am and not scoop her up and try to comfort her.
Whatthefuckiswrongwithme?
“I don’t think it’s going to be long term. Everything is checking out. I think your memory will just click into place once your emotions have settled and you feel safe. It works that way sometimes when you’ve been through a trauma,” he rationalizes. She nods.
“I guess, it’s just frustrating. I have feelings about who I am, but have no idea about any details.”
“Like what?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
“Like, I’m almost positive that I don’t have family or anyone to call—like I’m alone, you know?” she says, reiterating what she said earlier.
I nod, not sure what to say.
“Do you want me to take you home to the address on your ID?” I ask, wondering if that wouldn’t be safer. I don’t know how to deal with the way I’m drawn towards her.
“I guess I should…” she hedges.
“But?”
“I feel safe here. I don’t really want to leave,” she says quietly, avoiding my eyes. Something in my gut clenches when she says she feels safe. That’s an odd choice of words. What is she running from? Does she know, or does she not realize what she just revealed?
“You can stay with me until you get your bearings,” I speak up before I can stop myself. I see the surprise not only on her face, but on Colt’s. I quickly avoid looking at him. I’m not sure I want him to see what’s going on in my head—mostly because I don’t know myself.
“I don’t want to put you out,” she says, but it’d take a blind man not to see the light of hope that sparkles in her eyes. Whatever she left behind, she doesn’t want to return to it.
“It’s fine. Though, I will warn you, it’s just an old camper, nothing fancy.”
“Thank you. I know it’s silly. I just—”
“It’s not silly. C’mon I’ll take you there and we’ll get settled.”
Colt’s watching me closely. I feel his eyes on me, but I ignore him. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that Rosalee is scared. Hell, in her shoes, I guess I would be, too. So, it looks like I have a roommate in the form of a beautiful redhead—at least for the time being. I shake my head, knowing that with the way I’m attracted to her, I’m playing with fire. Besides, she’s got gorgeous, high class written all over her. There’s no way she would want to be saddled to a broken soldier that uses tricks just to hold onto his sanity.
After ensuring that I have all of Colt’s instructions, we walk to my camper.
“I’m sorry to intrude…” she says and I can tell she’s selfconscious. She doesn’t seem afraid of me, though. Considering everything, that’s kind of a miracle. Then again, maybe she feels safe because I’m the one that saved her.
“It’s nothing. Trust me, you may regret your decision once you get a look at the camper. It truly isn’t much and it’s outdated. I’m building a house, but I’m not rushing on it. There’s no need, really. I just drew the short straw.”
“The short straw?” she asks, confused when we make it to my camper.
It’s a circa 1980’s fifth-wheel. It’s seen better days, but all things considered, isn’t bad. I have it parked in front of where we’re building my house. The house has been rough framed. The roof will be up by the weekend but it will be just a shell. I’ll get it done, but I’m not in a big hurry. It is pretty, though. I’m proud of it. I kept the trees around the sides. There’s a decent size yard in the back, but the trees surround that, too. I wanted a yard, but I wanted to keep the coverage of the trees. There’s a huge oak tree that I left near the edge of the yard. When I look at it, that old tree feels calm and free. It’s been around for a lot of years and is majestic in its way. It deserves to live its life in peace. Justlike me. That’s really what this house will represent to me. Peace.
“Yeah, Colt, Lance, and I drew straws. I got the short one,” I answer as we walk into my camper.
“If you get the short one, doesn’t that mean you lose?”
“Normally,” I laugh. “The truth is, none of us care if we have a house. It’s just us and probably always will be. We don’t need much. Colt is actually living in the loft of the barn. He’s got a bed and shower up there now. They just need to fix it up and put in a kitchen. Still, he eats with the others, so he doesn’t really care.”
“I see…” she hums, but doesn’t say anything else.
I walk to the small built-in cabinet in the hall and pull out some sheets. The camper is cramped for space, but luckily, this one put cabinets and storage in every nook and cranny.
“You go ahead and have a seat,” I suggest, motioning toward the couch and recliner that’s at the back of the camper. “I’m going to freshen up the bed.”
“Bed?” she asks and sounds alarmed.
“I’ll give you the bedroom. I’ll be fine on the couch.”
“I don’t want to take your bed, Zane. I can sleep in here just fine,” she says, her cheeks blooming with a soft pink.
“Baby Girl, I’ve slept on the jungle floor surrounded by insurgents. Of the two of us, I believe I can make out better on the couch.”
“Still, I feel bad. I mean, I probably have a bed at my house….”
“I don’t think so. I think you were moving,” I correct her without thinking. I wasn’t going to tell her about her vehicle until tomorrow. I figure she’s had enough shocks for today.
“What do you mean?” Rosalee asks while I frown and look at her.
“I mean, I’m not for sure, but there were a lot of boxes and things in the back of your SUV,” I compromise. I’ll show her the boxes and ruined belongings tomorrow. I just can’t bring myself to cause further harm tonight.
“Oh…” she crinkles her brow and then shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t even know. Are there rental homes or something up here? If I were moving, there’s a chance I found a place to rent here, right?”
“I’m afraid not. My buddies and I bought the land on this mountain. There’s some property on the other side of the mountain,
but it’s undeveloped and not for sale. It also has a different road. We made sure we were the only ones who would have access and reside here.”
“Oh, well, shit,” she mutters, making me laugh because she looks so dejected.
“Stop worrying. We’ll get this figured out,” I tell her, reaching out to stroke my thumb against her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft and when I touch her, it feels like electricity runs through my body. My hand has a fine tremble from the force of the pleasure.
I’minsomuchtrouble.
“Can I at least help you change the sheets?” she asks, but I shake my head no.
“How about you take it easy? We're monitoring you still, remember? If you feel okay tomorrow you can venture out with me and I’ll show you the facilities here.”
“Okay, but I’m just saying, I may not have any memories, but I’m pretty sure it goes against everything I believe to let someone else make the bed I’m going to be sleeping in.”
“Note taken. Now get that pretty ass of yours in a chair and watch television while I work.”
I see the shock on her face the minute the words slip out. Hell, it shocks me, too. I start to backtrack although I’m not sure where to go after you tell someone their ass is pretty—but I stop when she smiles at me.
“I’ll just go take my pretty ass over to the chair,” she says with a smile that makes her eyes sparkle.
“That’d be good,” I tell her, clearing my suddenly tight throat.
She giggles and it takes everything I have not to watch her walk away. Instead, I turn and strip my bed down and change the sheets, fixing the bed for Rosalee. To prove I really am in too deep, I even fluff the pillows.
Jesus.
She’s wearing some of Josie’s clothes. They’re a little tight on her and show off her curves way too much than is probably safe for my sanity—or any of the other men on this mountain. I lay out one of my t-shirts for her to sleep in and do my best to block out how it
would feel to see her wearing my shirt and nothing else. I close my eyes and bite off my groan when I fail to do that.
“All ready. I put an old T-shirt in there for you to sleep in. The clothes you had on before you put on that sexy garb you have on right now need to be washed.”
“Hey, don’t be dissing my clothes,” she jokes. “Sweatpants are a must for the new season—at least if I could remember what season we were having, I’m sure they would be.”
“Cute,” I laugh. “But trust me, you make sweatpants look good.”
She giggles and her face warms again. We stare at one another and I don’t think it’s my imagination that we’re both feeling the sparks firing between us. I’m doing my damnedest to resist them, but it’s not easy.
“Thank you for saving me today and for all the kindness you’ve shown me since. I mean, you could have had me transported back into town in an ambulance. You’ve gone above and beyond.”
“You just need a place to regroup,” I dismiss. “I’ve been there. That’s how I ended up on this mountain.”
“What did you need to regroup from?” she asks, thoughtfully.
She looks pale and vulnerable standing there. Rosalee has put on a good front, but it’s clear she needs rest—not standing here talking to a man who wants to take her to bed.
“That’s a story for another day,” I deflect. “Go get in bed, Baby Girl. You look exhausted.”
She swallows and I see disappointment in her features. For a minute, I wish I had told her all about my accident and my ex-wife. It’s just as well that I didn’t, though. I’m already having a hard enough time resisting her pull.
“Goodnight, Zane,” she says and as she walks past me, she places a chaste kiss against my cheek. She even leans on my prosthesis. I try to keep it hidden from her as much as I can, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.
My ex-wife’s words play in my head. “It’s hideous. Why would you even bother? It’d be better ifyou didn’t even try. God,you’ve ruinedeverything!”
“Zane?” Rosalee asks.
“Sorry, just lost in thought. Goodnight,” I respond, my voice gruff. She nods and walks away.
I stand there listening to the sounds coming from the bedroom. Only when the light disappears from beneath the door and everything goes silent except for the murmur of the television she has on, do I move.
I kick off my shoes and flop down on the couch, letting the dark surround me. I’m overly aware of Rosalee’s presence nearby. I replay saving her in my mind repeatedly. Even now, I can feel the panic building when I think of how I might not have reached her in time. It’s silly because I did—but that doesn’t stop the emotions from overwhelming me.
I close my eyes tight but I can still see her with her head on the steering wheel, the water about to submerge her beautiful face. A second later and the suction from the SUV sinking would have pulled us under and made it impossible for me to save her. Hell, we both probably would have died.
I try my best to pull my brain away from my thoughts, but I can’t, then suddenly, memories of her SUV are replaced by our platoon’s vehicle careening out of control after hitting an IED. I can hear Colt’s screams as fire leaps up around us when the gas tank catches on fire. There’s smoke and a horrible jolt, as we crash into something. The jeep somersaults and then I’m hurled into the air before the world goes black.
My entire body is trembling as I fight to pull myself from the past. I sit up and rake my hand over my face. I yank off my T-shirt, which is drenched in sweat. I have the urge to check on Rosalee and make sure she’s safe. I’m probably just using it as an excuse to distract myself, but I know I’ll feel better if I see for myself she’s okay.
I creep down the narrow hallway of the camper to see her firered hair spread out on my pillow. I take a deep breath. She’s beautiful and as confused as she was today, she was kind and moved carefully around my brothers. She even made Colt feel relaxed. I want to keep her. I can admit that. I like having her close by, which makes no sense. I’m a loner, I always have been. I can’t
deny how I feel, though. It’s crazy. Maybe it’s some kind of misguided complex because I got her to safety.
She whimpers in her sleep and I watch as her beautiful, petalsoft, pink lips open. I want to moan. I can still remember how it felt to put my lips on hers. It wasn’t sexual, I was too scared and trying to save her life. Still it felt so good to feel her soft lips against mine. Electricity zapped through my body. The contact between us created an electrical charge that rolled through my body like a tidal wave— completely out of control. Not even when I was married did I feel anything close to it. I’m being crazy. I mean, Rosalee is clearly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, but CPR is not sexual— or at least, it shouldn’t be.
I shake my head and sneak back down the hall. I go to the fridge, grab a cold bottle of water, then fall back down on the couch. First thing tomorrow morning, I will figure out a way to get her home and out of my head. I didn’t sign up for these complications. I came here to get away from emotions, and to stay away. A woman in my life is the last thing I need. I’ve been there and bought the Tshirt. I’m not a man who can give a woman like Rosalee what she deserves.
Notanymore.
CHAPTER 3
Rosalee
I open my eyes as my heart jumps into my throat. WhereamI?How did Iget here? I sit up as snippets come to me. The scarred man who seemed tortured fixing a wound on my head. The really hot guy crouched over me after giving me CPR next to a river. I remember looking up at him, his tanned skin and kind eyes. He had saved my life, but when I came to—after I became alert—my first thought was that he was beautiful and I wanted his lips on mine again. Just as a kiss this time. The current of attraction I felt for him overwhelmed my senses…
“Are you okay? Did I wake you?” A deep voice asks. I twist, pulling the blankets up as I take him in. His sun-kissed skin contrasts with his dark hair and eyes perfectly. He’s a good foot taller than I am, and his presence is both comforting and overwhelming.
“I…I’m okay,” I must look as confused as I sound, because he approaches me carefully.
“I brought you here after pulling you out of the river. I’m Zane. Do you remember?”
I nod slowly.
“What about your name?” he queries so softly that I want to smile. He’s trying to be gentle with me, but I get the distinct feeling that being gentle isn’t who he is. He brings to mind a bull in a china shop.
“I remember you showing me my ID and telling me that my name was Rosalee, but I still don’t recall anything else….”
“We will get you some answers, beautiful. I don’t want you worrying about it,” he responds with a kind smile. “Colt is confident that you will start remembering at some point on your own.”
Did he just call me beautiful? I blush, heat creeping into my cheeks as I pick at the blanket. He said it absently. I don’t think he realized he said it, but still….
“Why don’t you get dressed and come into the living room? I need to head over to the training facility soon, but I can help you get something for breakfast and give you a small tour,” Zane suggests, getting up off the bed.
“Okay,” I sigh. He gives me another smile and leaves me alone. I go into the tiny bathroom and find a bottle of mouthwash. I mourn that there doesn’t seem to be an extra toothbrush. I make do and brush with my finger, then rinse with the mouthwash. Zane’s deodorant, while awesome on him, is icky, but it’s spray and is better than nothing. My clothes have been washed and are on the counter of the sink. I don’t remember him doing laundry last night but his thoughtfulness means the world.
I get dressed quickly, then borrow his brush and run it through my hair. As I look in the mirror, I have a moment of alarm, because I truly don’t recognize the face staring back at me. I push myself to leave the mirror behind, because the sense of fear I feel is so strong that I can’t dwell on it. I’m alive. I’ll give myself time to breathe, then I’ll take charge and go to the hospital, and maybe to the address listed on my ID. I just need a day or two to recover. That might make me weak, but right now, I can’t help it.
I hurry into the front part of the camper, stopping just at the end of the small hallway.
“Hey,” Zane greets me, his lips twitching on the ends. I’m pretty sure that qualifies as a grin. It definitely short circuits my brain. Of course, that could have happened because he’s shirtless. His chest has some minor scarring here and there, but it’s also been kissed by the sun—and maybe the ancient gods. It’s golden brown and there are tattoos everywhere. They’re intricately designed and I find myself wanting to trace every line with my fingers. I shake that thought away and smile at him.
“Hi,” I finally answer, self-consciously. I can't help but notice that he’s trying his best to keep his prosthesis out of my line of sight. I frown. I now realize that he was doing the same thing yesterday. I don’t want him to hide anything from me. He saved my life. He’s my hero. I want to know all of him. I sigh. I really might be losing my mind.
“I was just about to leave,” he says, taking a drink of a shake that’s green in color. I frown. That’snotbreakfast.
“You mentioned something about a training facility?” I ask, my eyebrows knitting together. “What is this place?”
Zane pulls on a long-sleeved shirt before taking a seat across from me.
“I told you that my brothers and I bought land on this mountain, didn’t I?” he asks and from the look on his face, I can tell he’s not sure.
Honestly, I’m not either—though I do remember him saying he owned land here. So, I nod.
“Well, my buddy, Ben, got married, so he got his house first. We’re building mine now, so I’m living in this camper until it’s finished.”
“Ben? I don’t remember a Ben,” I answer, wondering if I forgot something else.
“He and his wife Josie have been staying close to their home. Their baby has colic. You’ll meet them soon. Josie is the one who washed your clothes.”
“Oh, will you thank her for me?”
“Of course, or you can. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. Anyway, we all served in Special Ops overseas. We grew close, as only men who face death together can, I guess,” he explains, but I can tell the memories make him agitated. I’m about to tell him it’s okay—that he doesn’t have to go on. He starts talking again before I can, and I let him. I want to hear his story. I want to hear everything about Zane. “We got back from tour, and each of us invested in land here. We took portions for our own private homes and, where they meet, we have a training facility, barracks, an obstacle course, and a shooting range. We will use them for training military cadets,” Zane says.
Training? It all sounds foreign to me, I figured they get training from the military. Maybe this is different? Instead of asking, I concentrate on Zane and putting the pieces of him I know together to learn more.
“You quit the military to train others?” I ask, being nosey.
“We were all discharged close to the same time because of the same…. incident.”
It’s becoming evident to me that there are two different sides to Zane. One has a soft, kind smile and seems to joke a lot, but the one that just told me about his platoon’s accident does so with lifeless inflection in his tone and his face is just a cool replica of what it normally is. He’s purposely emotionally numbing himself as a way of avoidance, I think absently.
I frown, wondering what prompted that thought.
“It was nice of you to let Ben build the first house.”
“Well, he had a family. The rest of us figured we could wait because we don’t have to worry about that. The barn was important because it started our business. Besides, training is what we do, it’s what we know. It just made sense to do that before our houses.”
“So you all live and work up here?” I ask.
“Yeah, we each have about forty acres, so we still have our own space, but the section where all of our properties run together? That’s where the facility is.” He sits down on the sofa and pulls on his boots. They’re slip on boots, not lace ups. I imagine little things like tying a shoe is complicated with the prosthesis.
“Can…Can I go with you?” I ask, unsure of what to do. “I don’t know that I want to just sit here.”
His surprise flickers on his face for a moment before he answers me. “Yeah, I can show you around.”
“That sounds nice,” I tell him with a smile, determined to live in the here and now and not worry about my memory—at least for today.
“Do you like shakes?” He looks so earnest and sweet that I nod. I don’t really know what I like, but I’m thinking it isn’t green shakes.
“I’m not sure, but I guess the only way to know is to try it,” I compromise, making him laugh.
Hemustnotbeabreakfastperson.AmI?I’ll just add that to the list of growing questions that I can’t answer.
