SKYLER HAWK: LONE BRAVE Page 6

  Windy cocked her head. "What are you doing?"

  Another damn question, he thought. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm organizing the kitchen, for crying out loud."

  She eyed the cigarette pack in his hands. "Edith told me before you moved in here that you quit smoking. I don't allow smoking in my home."

  And he wouldn't allow himself to fall for some nosy little blonde. "I did quit."

  "Then what are you doing with those?"

  He shot her a seething look. He sure as hell didn't intend to explain his nonsmoking method. She wouldn't understand that fingering a pack of cigarettes kept the craving in check. Besides, a man had a right to do things his own way without being interrogated. "Stay out of my business, Windy."

  "Your smoking in my house is my business," she snapped back.

  This time her temper didn't strike him as cute, hissing kitten or not. "You're annoying, you know that?"

  "And you're being a jerk. You don't mind having a woman around as long as you can eyeball her like she's a piece of meat. But the minute she speaks her mind, she's annoying." Windy clanked her new dishes. "I don't need this. I've been nothing but nice to you since you moved in."

  Nice to him? She'd been driving him mad with lust. Why in the hell did she think he'd been eyeing her like a piece of meat?

  In a stubborn gesture, Sky sat at the table and crossed his arms. "What you've been doing is sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

  Windy tossed her head in an angry female fashion, and a bolt of desire shot through Sky. He had to stay mad—mad enough to keep himself from pulling her into his arms. Crushing his mouth against hers. Tangling his hands in her hair. Damn her, anyway.

  * * *

  Windy narrowed her eyes. "Well, do you smoke or don't you?"

  As Sky leaned back, the chair teetered on two legs. Windy had the urge to knock him flat on his behind. The gorgeous, pigheaded male.

  "I told you I quit." He shoved the crumpled pack back into his pocket.

  She decided not to ask him why he carried cigarettes if he didn't smoke. He would probably just call her nosy. Besides, the real problem wasn't his wavering tobacco habit. His amnesia troubled him—not what he'd forgotten, but what he remembered. She knew something from his past had surfaced, something he didn't want anyone else to know about.

  "You should talk about what's bothering you, Sky. I'm a good listener."

  He rose from the table and began lining the shelves with the paper she'd bought, surprising her with his efficiency. Although still visibly angry, he measured, cut and peeled away the backing without missing a beat. "Don't start with that psychology bull. Just because I lost my memory doesn't mean you have to treat me like one of your patients."

  Windy shoved the empty cartons and torn wrappers into a trash bag. "I'm not a practicing psychologist yet. What I am is a preschool teacher, and at the moment you're acting more immature than one of my students."

  He cursed and all but ignored her. They worked side by side in agitated silence, determined to finish what they had started. Sky, Windy surmised, had too much pride to storm off before the task was done.

  Over an hour later, when each paper-lined shelf boasted a thorough reorganization, Sky headed for the front door.

  Now he's storming off, she thought, making his dramatic exit.

  He jangled his keys in a childish attempt to get her attention. "I'm goin' to the market. I need some cereal for breakfast tomorrow."

  Windy watched him go, wondering if that meant he didn't want her shopping or cooking for him. Well, fine and dandy. Big overgrown baby. He could clog his arteries with junk food. What did she care? While he poured milk on his chocolate crunchies or whatever he ate, she'd be making herself a mouthwatering breakfast, spicing the kitchen with a healthy, home-cooked aroma.

  Frustrated, she retreated to her room, curled up in bed, and told herself what she needed was a short stress-relieving nap. She closed her eyes. Why waste her time stewing over Sky? At the moment he didn't deserve her empathy, or her well-intentioned concern.

  Hours later Windy rose to discover she'd slept the afternoon away, not to mention most of the night. The alarm clock read 2:05 in bold red numbers. She peered through the eyelet curtains into a void of darkness. Now what was she supposed to do? Two in the morning wasn't exactly the rise-and-shine hour, but her growling stomach reminded her that she'd missed dinner. Maybe a cup of warm milk would cure the rumbling.

  She turned on the light and stared at her reflection in the mirrored closet door. Good heavens. Her dress looked like, well, as if she'd slept in it. And her hair… She managed a weary smile and ran her fingers through her worst, and possibly best, feature. Spiral curls and long waves dueled for dominance.

  She hated it; Sky loved it.

  Windy studied her tousled reflection. What did Sky see when he looked at her? He called her Pretty Windy. Was that just part of his flirtatious nature to nickname women, or did he actually find her that appealing?

  He found her sexually appealing, that much she knew. Like a shooting star, desire sparkled in those blue eyes, clearly reflecting unfulfilled wishes.

  Curious, Windy checked her own sleepy eyes. Oh, Lord. The same impossible wish stared back at her. The same hopeless need. A need she would never act upon. No summer flings, she reminded herself, changing into a nightgown.

  When her stomach growled again, she cleared her mind and headed for the bathroom to wash off remnants of yesterday's makeup and brush her teeth. By the time the peppermint taste faded, she would be sipping a cup of warm milk.

  Five minutes later, feeling fresh and moisturized, Windy padded down the hall toward the kitchen. The house was dark but for the reddish glow from the snake's cage. She ignored an ominous chill and moved on.

  When she flipped the kitchen light switch, her heart dived for her throat. A colorful bouquet sat on the table, nothing fancy, just a variety of posies wrapped in green cellophane. Beside them was a scrap of white paper. Windy inched forward and reached for the note.

  I knocked on your door, but you didn't answer.

  Sorry I acted like a jerk.

  Sky

  Lifting the bouquet, she hugged it to her chest and smiled. Still smiling, she filled a copper vase with water and arranged the flowers as a centerpiece. Fingering the delicate petals, she closed her eyes and imagined Sky at the market, cereal box in hand, stopping in front of the floral display. Her smile widened. He probably scowled at the bouquet before wrapping his big, calloused hands around it. What an incredible picture he must have made. Woman's intuition told her Sky had never bought flowers before.

  Windy opened her eyes and pushed the image away. Dear God. What if she fell in love with him? Sky would be gone in three months.

  Think logically, she told herself. It would never happen. They were wrong for each other, as different as the sun and the moon, Venus and Mars. Someday the right man would come along: a professional man, someone who wanted a wife and children.

  She looked at the lively bouquet. As long as she lived, she would never forget Skyler or his touching apology. One day she would rock her granddaughter on her knee and tell the child about a handsome prince she once knew. A quiet laugh escaped. An off-beat prince with a crooked grin, dusty cowboy boots and a black eye.

  The cup of milk forgotten, Windy sighed. Before Sky moved on, she had to help him. She couldn't live with herself if he continued to suffer. She would lie awake at night and worry.

  This summer was their summer, she decided. They would spend every waking moment together. In three months they would part ways, and Sky would be emotionally stronger. Hopefully strong enough to face his past and the memories that disturbed him.

  Pleased with her plan, Windy shut down the kitchen and stepped into the hall, using the snake's red light to guide her. And then she stopped and turned to look into the living room, praying her eyes deceived her.

  No deception. The screened top on the snake's cage was askew, the gla
ss enclosure empty. Once again Tequila had escaped.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  Windy stood in Sky's room, nervously twisting her hair. Squinting in the dark, she made her way to his dresser, then bumped her knee on the wood. She withheld a complaint and turned on the small brass lamp.

  Sky stirred, his long body draped in a crisp white sheet. His hair tumbled over his pillow and half covered his face.

  "Are you awake?" she asked, sensing he had heard her stumbling around.

  He opened his eyes. "Am I dreaming? I must be. The woman standing beside my bed has to be a dream. She looks like an angel." He pushed his hair away from his face. "Hmm. She must have lost her wings. Lost her way, too. Never thought an angel would visit me." He peered at the clock and smiled. "Especially at this hour."

  Windy didn't feel the least bit ethereal. "Tequila's not in her cage."

  His pupils dilated, adjusting to the light. "Damn. So much for dreams. Thought you came in here to ravish me."

  Although she recognized the teasing glint in his eyes, it didn't calm her anxiety. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm afraid to go back to my room. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk and I left my bedroom door open. When I saw that Tequila wasn't in her cage, I got a little worried that she might have gone into my room." Windy kept her arms crossed, hugging the chill. The snake being loose scared the death out of her. "Does she ever hide in bedrooms?"

  "Sometimes." He sat up and winced as though his bruised muscles ached.

  She avoided his gaze, feeling foolish about her fears. "I know snakes are your animal totem, but they still give me the creeps. Will you go look for Tequila?"

  He sighed. "Did you leave your closet door open?"

  She nodded. "My closet's jam packed and there're some open boxes under my bed, too. Lots of places for her to hide."

  "Hell, she might be in your bed rather than under it. Tequila loves warm places." He shot her a mischievous grin. "And I've got a feeling your body could warm a bed."

  "Don't you dare flirt with me. Not now." The last thing she needed was to envision that beast coiled in a tight ball under her covers, just waiting to strike.

  "Sorry. I was just trying to defuse the situation." He groaned and pushed the pillow behind his back. "It's the middle of the night, I'm tired and sore, and it might take hours to find her. I'd much rather search in the morning. I'll go sleep on the couch and you can sleep in here."

  Windy looked around suspiciously. "What if she's in here? Your door was open, too."

  "Didn't consider that possibility."

  He propped a second pillow behind him. His chest was bare, but the sheet had fallen below his waist, exposing the gray sweat shorts he seemed to favor.

  "What should I do?" she asked herself as much as him.

  "Well…" Thoughtful, Sky gazed up at the ceiling.

  "Well, what?" she asked impatiently.

  "If you're that scared," he began, then paused to study his fingernails.

  "Dang it, Sky. You know I'm scared."

  He expelled a heavy breath. "Okay, well…" He paused this time to search her face, then rushed his next words. "You could always sleep with me."

  Windy's muscles tightened as her features turned to stone, making her feel like a statue etched in shock. "In the same bed?" she asked, wondering how she managed to move her mouth.

  "It's the only solution I can think of. And I promise to behave."

  Windy stared, her mouth still agape. He had called her an angel, yet the smile on his face appeared almost saintly. Almost. If he were a celestial being, he'd wear a halo the same way he wore a smile—lopsided.

  A crooked angel. Just her luck. "Maybe we could stay up all night and watch TV," she suggested. "There's probably an old Western on."

  "No way. I have to be fresh in the morning. We're rehearsing a new act."

  Her thoughts strayed. "You're going to fall off horses in your condition?" His chest and stomach still looked like a road map of pain.

  He shrugged. "Don't have a choice. Besides, it's not that bad."

  She begged to differ since she'd caught him wincing earlier, but she had a more pressing issue to contend with. "No all-night TV, huh?"

  "No, but I swear, Windy, if you sleep here, I won't try a thing."

  Rather than respond, she assessed the bed and the man in it. The king-size bed was made up with white cotton sheets, a downy white blanket and a thick, quilted comforter. The man, an abundance of unrestrained black hair, too much brawn and a boyish glint in those azure-colored eyes.

  It was him or the snake.

  She couldn't ask Sky to sleep on the floor; the man was recovering from a beating. And she certainly didn't want to sleep on the floor; that slimy snake might crawl on her. And if she slept alone somewhere, she wouldn't have Sky's protection.

  Besides, what harm was there in sleeping next to him? It wasn't as though anything would actually happen. She trusted him, but what was more important, she trusted herself. And although she hated to admit it, there was that curious side of her, the feminine part that wondered what it would feel like to share his bed, even platonically.

  "Here's the deal," she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt. "We'll put pillows between us, and you'll have to sleep on top of the blanket. That way we won't accidentally … bump into each other."

  He nodded, almost too eagerly, and Windy's stomach unleashed a hundred winged creatures. Goodness, she was actually going to sleep with him.

  It took six pillows, two sheets and an extra blanket to transform the king-size bed into a sleeping fort. Windy bristled every time she glanced over at Sky. He peeked over the pillow barrier, grinning devilishly. Dang him, he probably knew how curious she was and found her inexperience amusing.

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. "I'm glad you're enjoying this."

  "Sorry," he apologized quickly and closed his eyes.

  Windy inched closer to the bed. Him and that wicked grin. "You'll look for Tequila first thing in the morning, right?"

  "Yep. First thing."

  Staying as close to the edge as possible without falling off, Windy slipped under the covers and checked the pillow reinforcement. Against her better judgment, she turned off the brass lamp and lay in the darkness, listening to his shallow breaths.

  How long would she stay awake, conscious of his presence? This was far too intimate. Talking, flirting, even arguing was easier than this awkward silence. His masculine, woodsy scent drifted to her nostrils, stimulating her senses. Somehow she didn't imagine him grinning anymore. His breathing had quickened as though he found her scent just as arousing. So much for feminine curiosity.

  "Windy?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I'm sorry Tequila's been causing you so much trouble."

  Windy peered over the pillows at him. Sharp angles and smooth planes prominently outlined his regal profile. A flowing curtain of black hair cloaked his broad shoulders. Even shadowed in the pitch of night, Sky looked majestic.

  "I know how important Tequila is to you," she said, tiny bumps prickling her skin. "But I don't think I'll ever get used to having a snake loose in the house."

  "I've never understood why people hate reptiles," Sky responded. "Even before I remembered what tribe I was from, I'd felt this connection to snakes. And then when I read about the Creeks, I discovered how important snakes were to their folklore."

  He sounded happy to share a piece of his newfound culture, so Windy relaxed and listened.

  "The Creeks believe in a mythical creature called tie snakes. Supposedly these friendly reptiles live in towns beneath the waters of creeks and swamps. Occasionally they capture someone and show them a good time. Word is, tie snakes are quite hospitable."

  She smiled. "Have you ever been captured?"

  He laughed. "Not that I can recall, but coming from a guy with amnesia that isn't saying much." His laughter faded softly as he turned toward her. "You know, Tequila's not a tie snake,
but she's friendly. And smart, too. You should give her a chance."

  Windy grimaced, grateful for the darkness. "Why did you name her Tequila?"

  Leaning on one elbow, he chuckled softly. "She's from Mexico. At the time I got her, the only Spanish word I knew was Tequila."

  "What is she again?"

  "A boa constrictor."

  Right. A boa constrictor. They strangle their prey. Now she could envision herself being strangled by a friendly, intelligent, Spanish-speaking snake.

  "Can't you lock her cage, keep her in somehow?" Windy asked, unconsciously raising a hand to her throat.

  "I guess I'll have to, at least until you get used to her. You know, most of the time she's content to stay put. I think she escaped tonight to get your attention. I think she wants you to notice her."

  Windy smiled in spite of herself. She had noticed Tequila all right, noticed the enormous beast was missing. When she replayed the scene in her mind, her heart skipped a guilty beat. In all the snake chaos, she had forgotten to thank Sky for the flowers.

  She gazed up at the ceiling, at the shadows playing across the wood beams. Moonlight shimmered through the window, creating a romantic ambience. A man had given her flowers and now she lay beside him in bed. For one silly, dreamy moment, she felt married.

  "Sky?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Thank you for the flowers. That meant a lot to me."

  "Sure," he responded somewhat shyly, and she imagined him ducking his head, even blushing a little.

  When the silence that followed became too intimate, she pushed one of the center pillows toward him and groped for something to say. "So you really quit smoking?"

  He pushed back, laughing a little. "Yeah, but I always keep a pack handy. Knowing they're available helps curb the craving. I only quit a few months ago."

  "Well, good for you. I'm sure your lungs are grateful."

  "I don't know. It might be too late. I've got the feeling they're already as black as my soul."