Page 16 of Weston

Stepping inside, she looked around the living room. It had a rustic feel that she liked. The hunter green couch with plaid throw pillows and matching chairs embodied warmth and comfort. She couldn’t wait to snuggle into one of them and let her mind wander. There was a large brick fireplace and she could imagine herself sitting in front of a roaring fire while snow flurries danced outside. Hope blossomed. For the past eighteen months, she’d been “trapped” overseas as much as in her own mind. But now it felt like she was on the precipice of remembering her life.

Wes set their bags down and opened a couple of windows. The fresh breeze lifted the curtains and she noticed the worn leather recliner in front of a large screen television. It looked lonely and she could envision him sitting there all by himself…mourning the loss of his dead wife. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Starving. Maybe we could get some of that pizza you mentioned?”

“Done. Let me show you where your room is and I’ll order your favorite.”

Ellie followed him down the hall. “What’s my favorite?” she asked softly.

He paused and sent her a smile that made her belly flutter. “Extra cheese and smothered in olives.”

“That sounds delicious.” Even though she couldn’t remember ever having that combination, her mouth started watering. She released a breath and continued walking behind him. Her gaze moved from his broad shoulders down his strong back and landed on his firm ass which flexed with every step he took. Biting her lip, she tried not to ogle him, and her attention dropped down to the prosthetic limb. The way he moved so effortlessly amazed her.

“You can stay in here,” he said, leading her into a bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with the basics. A double bed with a lemon-yellow bedspread, nightstand and lamp, small dresser and attached bathroom. “Hopefully, you’ll be comfortable, and if you need anything, I’m right at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.” As he set her bag on the bed, she noticed a figurine on the dresser—a bride and groom sitting on a bench, their foreheads pressed together. She wandered over and picked it up.

“You always liked Precious Moments statues,” Wes said, coming up beside her. “Growing up, you used to collect them.”

She turned, lifting a brow. “I did?”

He nodded. “There’s a whole curio cabinet of them at your parents’ house. That one was on our wedding cake.”

“Ohhh,” she breathed and carefully set it back down. Her questioning gaze met his and she searched his eyes, looking foranswers to her endless questions. God, he was handsome. Short brown hair edged in silver, deep chocolate eyes and dark stubble peppered with that same silver-gray. “There are so many things I want to ask you.”

“You can ask me anything, Ellie-Bean.”

She tilted her head. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because you love jelly beans.”

Fragments of her dream came back. “You used to make sure we had bowls of them around the house, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And there were always red ones.”

“They were your favorite,” he explained. “The cherry ones, not the cinnamon.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then Ellie cleared her throat. “You order the pizza and I’m going to hop in the shower. Then I’m going to ask you a million questions while we eat.”

“Okay.” He studied her for another moment then turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him.

The way he looked at her, as though he was scared she was going to disappear, made her heart twist up inside her chest. Although she couldn’t remember her life from before, she knew one thing for certain: Wes looked at her like she was the most important thing in his universe. And it felt really good.

Chapter Eight

Although Wes tried his best to remain respectful and not smother Ellie, keeping his distance was killing him. The urge to gather her into his arms and kiss her into oblivion was nearly overpowering. He’d missed her to the point where he could barely function without her. And now here she was, back in his life like some kind of divine miracle that couldn’t be explained.

It didn’t take long for the pizza to arrive, and as Wes set the box on the kitchen table, Ellie appeared in the doorway. He glanced up and saw her hesitation. “C’mon on in,” he invited, smiling at her, doing his best to make her feel at ease. She wore a comfy-looking pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt, and her freshly-washed, shoulder-length hair looked even darker now that it was wet.

He must’ve been staring because she lifted a self-conscious hand to the damp strands. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing. Your hair is just darker than it used to be. Shorter, too. Like when we first met.”

“You don’t like it,” she assumed.

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