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The doctor puffs out a laugh, and her shoulders seem looser as she turns back to the garden. We both watch the young woman sip from her cocoa, bundled up in patterned blankets. Hopefully the sugar hit will help warm her through.
“She’s a grown woman,” Doctor Nahum says at last. “And she got lucky. There’s nothing physically wrong with her that some fluids and rest can’t fix. Her memory will probably come back as the shock wears off.” An elbow nudges my arm. “But you’re not obliged to take her in. You don’t owe her, Mac.”
“I’ll do it,” I rasp. “I don’t mind.”
Because maybe I don’t owe her, maybe we’re complete strangers, but the thought of that young woman walking out of my garden into the big, wide world makes me want to beat my chest and howl.
I wait until the doctor has gone, her empty mug cooling in my hand; wait until it’s just the two of us again, alone in my back garden.
My boots thud against the stone path as I approach the table.
“Okay?” I say when I reach my new lodger. She nods and gives me a shy smile. Her mug is still half full, but already I want to fetch her drinks and snacks and run her a hot bath with scented oils.
Have I lost my damn mind? Since when did I dream of being a butler?
“Thank you,” my mystery girl says, her voice so soft and sweet. “For helping me this morning. For calling the doctor, and taking me in. I owe you so much already. If you’d rather I go—”
“No.” I cut in quickly, face hot. “Stay here. With me.”
And I sound like a brute, biting out commands, but the smile she gives me is pure, dazzling sunshine. I sway in my boots.
“She said your name is Mac.” Pink lips press together, already a much healthier color than earlier. Didn’t I tell her my name already? Must’ve forgotten that detail in all the ruckus.
“Yeah. It’s a nickname. Officially, I’m Bill McLaggen.” We both pause, the silence stretching between us, and fuck, this awkward. This is where she’d tell me her name. I scratch my chest through my flannel shirt.
“I could choose a name,” she says, right as I say, “Well, I’m gonna have to call yousomething.”
We both pause again, but it’s warmer this time. Easier. She tilts her head and smiles. So many smiles from this girl, and I’m greedy for every single one of ‘em. “Why don’t you pick?”
Surprise and arousal twist in my gut, as all the things I’d dearly love to call her batter my tired brain. All the things I’d whisper in her ear.
Won’t say them out loud, though. Won’t scare her off now, not for anything.
Casting my gaze around, I search for something innocent. Something sweet, like her. “Uh.” I gesture to her mug. “Cocoa?”
Is that stupid? I’m not naming a puppy, damn it. Probably should come up with something better.
But her husky laugh makes my stomach clench. “Cocoa. Sure, I like it.”
It suits her, too, with her chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes and the warm, golden glow of her skin. She’s sweet and scalding hot. Cocoa. Yeah.
“So you’re going to stay with me for a while?” The mugs clink in my hand as I shift. “Until your memory comes back?”
She shrugs. “If you’ll let me.”
Lether? Ha. It’s no hardship, believe me.
The hard part will be letting her go.
Three
Cocoa
I’m in denial—I realize that. The normal reaction to losing your memory and waking up in a rowboat is not an overwhelming sense ofpeace. That is nonsense.
But it’s what I feel around Mac. Mr McLaggen the harbor master. His presence is like a drug, soothing and warm, even when his voice is gruff and his face is stern and everyone else seems to give him a wide berth.
When we walked here, striding quickly past the town square, folks waved at Mac, but they didn’t approach to chat. They seemed wary. Well, they’re all wrong. I opened my eyes in that rowboat to find him looming over me, and Iknew: this is a good man. The best. I’m safe with him.
