Seven

 

 

SHE COULDN’T BE MELANIE, Braden thought. Yet, the sound of her voice and the shape of her in the pale moonlight. Melanie loved to swim. Finding her in the water behind her grandparents’ house seemed unreal. A dream. When she fell off the dock and he dove in after her, he would swear he remembered her scent. Of fresh water mixed with something feminine, soft, and like a flower shop. Hell, he didn’t know what flower, only that it was a flower scent. Lilies? Gardenias?

Braden tossed and turned in bed while wondering if he made a mistake returning to Granite Lake. He needed a place to remain anonymous while the case with the De La Costa Norte drug cartel settled in court. Zion, his lieutenant, informed him he wasn’t safe to stay in his cabin. If someone bothered to look, his history in Granite Lake could be found through high school transcripts. He’d spent less than a year here, but if someone searched deep enough they would also discover the reason he moved away from the area. The turmoil Justin caused when they were teens set his life on a different course. He used to blame Justin for what happened, but with the passing years, he’d forgiven his brother. Neither one of them had it easy growing up. Justin acted out in ways Braden couldn’t understand at the time, but they were adults now. Justin had matured, and delinquency and rebellion turned to carpentry and making money.

The biggest regret he carried regarding the year of his life spent in Granite Lake was Melanie Jamison. He scrubbed his hand over his scalp. The buzz cut still felt strange. But the necessary alteration of his appearance, even slightly, could help keep the cartel gang members from spotting him. His mystery neighbor had recognized him though—in the dark. She had to be Melanie. He had no idea whether or not her family still owned the lake house. Was the house hers now?

Braden had only returned once to Granite Lake. Family matters required every ounce of his attention. By then, Melanie was in school and her family had moved to Southern California where her father had a new job.

He never gave up on the belief that Melanie deserved to know why he didn’t show up for their last date before she left for college.

When he finally had time to track her down in Ohio and he saw the guy by her side, he couldn’t approach. The speech he’d replayed in his mind a hundred times didn’t seem important any longer. She had obviously moved on with her life, and he wouldn’t intrude where he wasn’t wanted.

Braden caught a few hours of restless sleep filled with dreams of satin smooth skin, chestnut hair, and eyes the color of a summer sky. Melanie whispered his name as she tickled the sensitive skin of his earlobe. He woke with a desperate need of her, something he hadn’t experienced with that intensity since that last summer they spent together. The morning wood was uncomfortable to say the least. Braden rolled out of bed and stepped into a cold shower. The chilly spray helped the physical discomforts, but reminded him of Melanie’s sleek body pressed against his as he lifted her out of the lake the night before.

He vowed to keep an eye out for any sign of his neighbor. If she really was Melanie Jamison, he’d make his presence known, husband or no husband.

The house in Granite Lake was an investment his brother acquired for the sole purpose of fixing and flipping. When Braden was ordered to leave his cabin for his own safety, Justin thought Braden should stay at the lake house. He owned half the house and any sweat equity put into the remodel meant higher profit when they sold. Braden was happy to have something to do while he waited to testify at the trial. Braden moved out of his cabin in Mendocino County and planned to live in Granite Lake for an unforeseeable amount of time.

He arrived late two nights earlier with a single duffle bag of his belongings over his good shoulder. The Jeep he drove was rented to a generic name assigned to him by the FBI. Justin and Alana were back in Georgia working on Justin’s latest commercial venture. Being the lone occupant in the outdated two-story lake house was a bonus in his mind. People were complicated and distracting. Alana and her dog were in a class of their own and he wouldn’t miss them. He and his brother hadn't lived together since he was seventeen and that was for the best.

The lake house needed a facelift, inside and out. Justin had detailed plans for the remodel and Braden received a list of what projects he should work on while Justin was away. The obvious problem was the shoulder injury. Braden was limited in what he could do. The shoulder separation was nearly back to one hundred percent, but he had postponed, or more like flat out denied the recommended surgical repair. Braden didn’t want to make his shoulder worse, but he couldn’t tolerate not doing any work for much longer. Demolishing the kitchen and tearing out two bathrooms would have to be done with one and a half good arms. Justin knew the situation with his shoulder and wanted Braden to work when he was ready. Forced time off from his job over the winter had gutted him, and knowing the house waited for him wasn’t much better for his self-worth.

Braden had been practicing his physical therapy exercises when the woman next door appeared on the dock. As he tended to do, he’d been minding his own business. The physical therapist he’d been using before he moved to Granite Lake suggested exercising in the pool whenever possible. He figured the lake would work just as well. It’d been a hot day and the lake cooled him off.

He was fifteen yards out, testing his ability to swim the breast stroke when he first saw her. He would have sworn she looked right at him. Braden gave up the swim strokes as it made his shoulder joint protest and began dog paddling it back to shore when he saw the woman strip off her shirt. It was nearly dark as pitch with the moon barely cresting the mountain top and he couldn’t see what she wore or didn’t wear. But the motion of a woman removing her shirt is unmistakable to any man with eyes in his head. Then she entered the water, surfaced, and tossed what could only be an article of clothing back on the dock. Braden noticed but wasn’t entirely interested. He was more concerned with frightening her. He watched for a few seconds longer, noticing her determined strokes as she streamlined toward deeper water. When she was on her way back to the dock, Braden was just finishing the last of his stretches while watching the dog steal the woman’s clothes.

Being a man who can’t resist a good joke, especially one as innocent as an underwear stealing dog, he admittedly stuck around for another minute to watch the woman’s reaction. He certainly didn’t expect to find his first and only love on the receiving end of the hilarity.

He smiled now remembering her accusing tone. The dog not only stole her shorts, but in the dim light, he was fairly certain, Tweeny destroyed her underwear.

Braden took a drink of his coffee and stared at the house next door. She was nowhere to be seen. An old full-sized pickup truck and a compact sedan were parked in the driveway. Did her husband drive that old beater? He’d been in the house for barely forty-eight hours and had not seen any sign of a husband or a child. Braden couldn’t help but wonder what was going on at his neighbor's house.

Movement caught his eye and he glanced at the fencerow separating his lot from the Jamison’s. A spray of fresh dirt flew through the air behind a pink and white dog. Braden drank his coffee and observed the furry hooligan’s efforts. It didn’t take but a minute before Tweeny compressed herself into a dog-shaped pancake and pushed beneath the fence. She appeared on his side, shook off the excess earth, and charged toward his back deck.

Alana mentioned the dog next door in one of her whiny complaints about living in the “nowhere town.” Apparently, Alana’s rat dog was infatuated with Tweeny and a canine affair had been going on.

Braden finished his coffee and set his mug by the kitchen sink. He walked out on the deck and found Tweeny sniffing around the brand-new patio furniture Alana had wanted.

“I think it’s time to meet your owner. Again,” he said.

The dog eyed him with caution but didn’t snarl or snap when he bent down and picked her up. He went to the garage and found a shovel before walking across the yard and placing Tweeny on her side of the waist high fence. He began shoveling dirt into Tweeny’s escape route.

Twenty feet down the fencerow, Tweeny scratched at the ground in an apparent attempt to have a backup plan in place. He blinked at the mongrel and her disregard for fences. The idea of having another way out of a fenced yard reminded him of his own plan of retreat should anything go awry with his final mission to gather evidence against the cartel. Of course, he’d had a plan. He just didn’t think things could have gone as bad as they had.

Braden moved along the fence filling Tweeny’s holes one by one. When he was within shovel range of Tweeny’s newest destruction, she turned an appraising gaze on him. He decided the inquisitive gleam in Tweeny’s brown eyes was not disobedience or stupidity. The dog clearly needed a mission and something to occupy her mind. When he provided neither, she went back to digging.

“Tweeny,” he said firmly. She stopped and stared at him again. “Stop digging.”

Tweeny backed away from the hole and sat. He may have noticed the pink hue to her fur when he picked her up and carried her home, but for some reason he attributed the color to a trick of the morning light. He clearly saw that the dog was pink. He shook off the observation and began filling the last hole on his side of the fence. The backyard was Swiss cheese and his efforts were futile, but at least the dog wouldn’t escape into his side of the yard for the next ten minutes.

Braden struck a rock with the tip of the shovel. He winced as the shock reverberated up the handle and impacted his sore joint. Shoveling probably wasn’t on his PT’s list of therapeutic methods. If he hit a rock, how did the dog manage to dig into it? He shoveled around the rock and promptly hit another one. The impact felt worse the second time. He shut his eyes and breathed through the discomfort.

“Tweeny! Come here!”

Braden’s lids popped open and he turned to see who spoke.

There she was. The one girl who ever mattered in his life. Melanie Jamison came toward him holding a three-foot section of a two-by-four. The look on her face didn’t come across as friendly either. The burning sensation in his shoulder was easing, but he made the mistake of staring and not paying attention. He tripped over the head of the shovel and his instincts and reflexes betrayed him. Braden caught hold of the fence with his hand, on his injured side. The angle stretched his acromion clavicular joint in the direction he had been trying to heal over the fall and winter.

The pain brought him to his knees—literally. His vision went black. The awareness of blacking out didn’t mean you could stop it from happening. He heard her voice as if she spoke to him from the far end of a tunnel. Her voice brought back a million memories. He dimly thought it interesting that in the decade they spent apart, it was the sound of her voice that he couldn’t remember until he heard it again. Everything else about her was like she had been there only yesterday. Hearing her voice was like listening to your favorite song for the first time in ten years. Too bad she sounded nearly hysterical. Screeching wasn’t nearly as sexy as her whispering in his ear in his dreams.

“Braden! What is it? What’s wrong? Holy mother of golf balls! I don’t need this right now.”

Did she just say balls? A grin broke through the stabbing fire radiating from his shoulder. Alright, so perhaps she wasn’t going to attack him with the two-by-four. The visual aid of her weapon of choice reminded him that he still resided in reality. He opened his eyes, surprised to find himself lying on his face.

Melanie’s fingers were pressed to his carotid. He rolled over, keeping his arm cradled close to his body. No lumber in sight. Her robin’s egg blue gaze met his. The instant she looked at him, he knew his heart stopped for an infinitesimal beat. She was the one for him. He’d always known from the very first time he’d looked into those eyes.

“Hi.” Did he say it aloud? She could not only stop his heart with those eyes, she had a way of stealing his words and his reason.

Melanie remained bent over him, her chestnut hair loose and framing her face. She blinked and broke their connection. He felt it snap and saw the instant shield that replaced the open line between them.

“You remember me now?” She rocked back and regained her feet.

Braden couldn’t miss the tone. She was either annoyed or offended, but it sounded like both. He sat up, embarrassed, and mildly out of sorts. The only other time he’d ever passed out was after he’d been picked up on the side of the road after three days of trekking out of the forest, sleep deprived, starving, and injured. He didn’t understand what had just happened.

“Melanie. I’m sorry.” Apologizing seemed acceptable. Especially since he had no idea what she was so peeved about.

In his mind, his words worked on a totally different level, anyway. He had apologized to her a thousand times. What had happened to him the night he stood her up eleven years earlier deserved a million apologies. He shouldn’t have been surprised those were the first words to exit his mouth.

“What just happened? Are you all right?” Concern was etched at the corner of her eyes and she was frowning at him.

His hand moved to his shoulder and he covered the joint with his palm. He didn’t think he’d torn the tendon again but only tweaked a nerve. By now, he’d learned what a pinched nerve felt like. But this was the first time the pain was enough to take him down.

Braden started over. “My apologies. You took me off guard. I’m recovering from an injury. I guess I uh—. I’m not sure what happened.”

“Come inside with me. I have something you can put on it.”

Braden started climbing to his feet, utterly embarrassed by what happened.

“Can you walk? Maybe you should stay right there. I’ll call for help.”

“Don’t call anyone. I’m fine,” he said.

Melanie raised her hands and stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Jesus, he needed a more original tagline. “I didn’t mean to sound rude.” He cleared his throat and started over. “My shoulder is fine now. I should head next door.” He glanced toward the house.

“Let me give you something to help with the pain first. It’s the least I can do considering you repaired the entire fencerow.”

Braden glanced at the work he’d done to refill the holes. “Your dog has a problem.”

“She has more than one,” Melanie said. “Come on, Tweeny.” Melanie called to the dog who had escaped out of the open gate. She started walking toward the patio door.

Braden couldn’t stop himself from following her inside if he wanted to. Melanie’s allure and mysterious appeal couldn’t be ignored. The sway of her hips and the shine to her wavy, full hair had absolutely nothing to do with his decision to take her up on the offer of pain relief, he thought, noting the sarcasm.

Tweeny darted over the threshold in front of Melanie, nearly tripping her, and Braden followed the duo. The fiery zing of nerve pain radiated down his arm, but the level of discomfort lessened by the minute. Walking inside the house brought an onslaught of memories. The smell of banana bread came to mind. Melanie or her mother were always baking something. The kitchen had been partially remodeled. The appliances had been switched out from the almond colored set that used to be there to new stainless steel ones. The floors and furniture were new, but the cabinets were the same.

“Have a seat and I’ll grab the medicine.” Melanie glanced at the chairs surrounding the kitchen table.

Braden planted himself on a stool by the kitchen island. Tweeny lapped water from a dish on the floor, sat down, and eyed him.

“Nice pink butt,” he said when she wouldn’t stop staring at him.

Tweeny blinked placidly, rose to all four paws, and turned to the side so he could see all of the pink paint job. She retrieved a toy from a bin, brought the stuffed toy to her plush bed, and set to gnawing the tail off of an alligator. The toy emitted a high-pitched and repetitive squeak. The sound pricked his eardrums and twanged off the irritated nerve in his shoulder.

“Psst,” he made a sound at the dog. “Cut it out.” Tweeny dropped the toy and glanced up. “That’s enough noise.” She laid her muzzle on the bed and closed her eyes for a nap.

“How did you do that?” Melanie asked as she reentered the room from the hallway.

The main level of the house had an open floor plan. The living room, dining area, and kitchen were one large space that allowed people inside to look out the glass picture windows and observe the backyard and the lake beyond. His house had a similar main level floor plan, but he had an upstairs. Braden thought it was a great house. He’d always liked this place, even when Melanie’s father eyed him with distrust and Melanie’s grandfather flat eyeballed him like a cockroach.

“No idea. She must sense my authority. I have that effect on animals. It comes with the job.”

Melanie’s eyebrow rose with skepticism. Braden was joking and wondered if she realized it.

Apparently she did, as she didn’t hesitate to say, “Tweeny respects a man who knows how to wield a shovel. She’s keen toward fellow dirt diggers.”

Braden’s smile spread wide. Melanie used to use his last name, Keehn, to make a play on words. It elevated his mood to hear her do it again after all these years. A rippling sensation rode down the back of his neck and raised the fine hairs on his body. No one else’s voice had ever had that effect on him.

“It’s a good thing we met then. Me and Tweeny,” Braden clarified. “You and I, on the other hand, that’s a different story.”

Her amusement disappeared to be replaced with confusion.

“I meant our story was written a long time ago.” He ran his hand over his scalp in frustration. Would he say anything right to Melanie this morning?

She approached with obvious caution, a small silver tin in her hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but take your shirt off, please.”

Braden glanced at his navy blue T-shirt. Well now, he thought. Did she have dreams about him last night, too? He mentally slapped his own face. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t had such immature thoughts about a female since he was a teenager—perhaps in his early twenties—but it’d been some time. She wants to put the cream on your shoulder, you idiot. Melanie was even holding up the tin for him to see.

“Does it hurt on the top of your shoulder or more in the back? Because you can just slip your one arm through if that would make you a little more comfortable. I have all my certifications in first aid. I was a school nurse for a couple years in Ohio, too. That’s where I lived before coming back to Granite Lake.”

She was babbling nervously, and damn, if it didn’t make her even cuter. Braden tried not to let his amusement show again, but the corner of his lips twitched.

“Give me a moment. Moving the joint is what caused the problem in the first place.”

She held the tin of ointment out to him. “Here. Take it home, and then you can put it on later.”

Her cheeks burned fuchsia and her gaze was fixed on the wall to his left.

“I wouldn’t know what to do,” he lied. As selfish as it was, he wanted to keep her in his personal space a little while longer. Not including last night, it’d been too long since he had the opportunity to enjoy her company. Braden had plenty of practice removing his shirt with a bum shoulder. He slipped his uninjured side out of the shirt first then eased the cotton T-shirt over his sore side.

“It’s my acromion clavicular joint.” Braden pointed at the injury. “What’s in the jar you’re holding?”

He watched her turn an even darker shade of crimson and work her lips back and forth.

“It’s an analgesic compound mixed with an herbal salve that promotes healing. I’ve used it on muscle strain and injuries for years.”

“You been through a lot of injuries or what?”

“No. Not me,” she said quickly and shook her head as if clearing the fog.

It didn’t escape his notice that she was staring slack jawed at his abs or chest, basically staring googly-eyed at his half naked body.

Melanie focused on opening the tin and set the lid on the counter by his side. “I keep extra jars handy for the members of my swim team.”

“You coach swimming?”

She dipped two fingers into the semi-translucent ointment. “I do. I love it.”

“You were always such a great swimmer. So pumped about it. I can see you coaching a bunch of snot-nosed kids.”

“They’re not snotty-nosed kids,” Melanie said. “Most of the time,” she added. She held up her medicine-coated fingers but hesitated to apply it.

Braden glanced at her hand and then up to her eyes. “I don’t bite. Most of the time,” he added, repeating her words back to her.

She took a deep breath before rubbing the medicine onto his skin. Silence settled into the kitchen as she worked on him.

“No wedding ring.” He commented more than asked.

Her fingers stilled.

“Am I being rude again?”

“No.”

“No, you’re no longer married, or no, I’m not being rude?” he asked.

“What do you mean no longer? How did you know I was married?” She lowered her hand, stepped back to watch his face.

“So, you are married?” he asked.

“Wait a second.” Melanie placed the tin down and held her hands out like a shield. “A few weeks ago you acted like you had never seen me before. What’s your deal? Did you injure your brain along with your shoulder? I’m not being facetious. Seriously, why didn’t you say anything to me before last night?” Her eyes widened and she stepped back farther. “It’s because of Alana. She’s not here right now,” Melanie accused. “Did you two break up or something? You should go.” Melanie said this last statement with finality and a touch of anger.

“Alana?” Braden was trying to make sense of this little rant. “Alana is—”

“You don’t have to say anything about your girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend.”

More confusion crossed her features. Braden’s own face must look similar. Then it hit him. Melanie was severely confused and he understood why. This scenario didn’t occur often, but it had happened to him before.

“Melanie, calm down,” he started.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you freak. You need to leave. I’m sorry if she left you, but you don’t get to fix my fence and then stroll in here as if nothing has changed between us. Life doesn’t work that way. I’m a mom now. I have responsibilities.”

Braden blinked. The memories were haunting him with a tenacity he could barely comprehend. All the reasons he moved to Granite Lake to finish high school jumbled together. The struggles with his family and the need to get away and start over.

Man, his foot tasted bitter and putrid. If he would quit shoving it in his mouth, he could clear up the confusion faster. He knew better than to tell a woman to calm down. Nothing elicited a quicker defensive argument from a female than those two words. She thrust his shirt at him.

“Let me start again. The first time I’ve seen you in over a decade was last night on the dock.”

Deep skepticism flashed across her haughty face before she turned to the sliding glass door. Braden reached out and took her hand before she could escape.

“I never forgot about you, Mel. How could I? And before you ask again, no, I didn’t suffer a brain injury. Well, not much of one.” He’d actually had a mild concussion, but it had absolutely no effect on his long-term memory.

“Then explain the introduction in my driveway. Was that for Alana’s benefit? It’s not nice to pretend you don’t know someone.”

“I wasn’t in your driveway. Like I said, I didn’t even know it was you for sure last night in the lake. It was dark, remember?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” he said, frustrated. The truth was, he was about to admit to lying. Lies from a time when he was desperate and moving on with his life. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but it was so far in the past, that he now looked back on his past with a different perspective, an adult perspective, not the teenager who rebelled against his family and would do anything to be rid of them.

She pulled her hand out of his and crossed her arms. “Explain now or leave. I don’t have time for, or need of psychos in my life.”

He snorted in disbelief and amusement. “Justin has been living with Alana next door. We bought the house together to fix up and sell.”

“Am I really supposed to believe that? I saw you with Alana only a few days ago. Who’s Justin?”

Braden massaged his forehead with his good hand. He lowered his arm and stared into her eyes. “Justin’s my brother.”

Her brows creased and she dropped her gaze to the floor. The silence was heavy. Braden rose from the stool and moved closer to Melanie. She put the hand up again.

“You don’t have a brother.”

“I do. He’s my twin.”

“Should I call the police now? Your level of weird is too much for me to handle alone.”

“If it makes you feel better. They’ll vouch for me. I can even give you the phone numbers for my sergeant and my lieutenant.”

“You’re a cop!”

“No. Sort of. I’m a game warden. It’s basically the same thing. Except the forest is my beat.”

“You don’t have a brother,” she said, backtracking.

“I’m sorry, Mel. I never told you. I never told anyone when I lived here. It’s a long story. And, you’re right. I should go. Seeing you again was unexpected. I repaired the holes under the fence hoping it really was you again after all this time. After I heard your voice last night, I thought I was imagining you in the same house and I had to find out. Here you are and here I am. My brother, Justin, has always caused me problems and the fact that it happened again without my knowledge doesn’t come with an ounce of surprise. I’ll go. I can see you don’t buy my story. And yeah, you’re a mom and a wife. You do have responsibilities. I didn’t mean to upset you. I'm sorry.” He finished his speech with his new tagline and moved to the door.

“He’s your twin?” she said to his back.

“That’s right.” He didn’t turn around. He confirmed what he wanted to know. Melanie was the girl next door. No longer a girl, but a woman, and she had a kid. The shock on her face tugged at feelings he didn’t know he had. He wanted to confess everything to her, but this one awful lie was enough for anyone to need time to digest. The need to explain the rest wasn’t necessary right now. He reached for the handle on the sliding glass door. Living next door to her may be more challenging than he could have ever imagined.

“Wait,” she said.

Braden glanced back. The confusion on her face was clear, but in the depth of those damned compelling and beautiful blue eyes was the need for answers. Was he only seeing a reflection of his own longing for the truth? Why had she married so quickly after they broke up? Where was her husband now?

“Why didn’t you tell me about him before? I don’t understand.”

“I would have. At the time, I was trying to make a new life for myself and one without Justin in it.”

She broke eye contact, her dark lashes lying against her cheeks. Braden could no longer see the range of emotions passing through her. He spun around to face her. To hell with it, he thought, and grabbed her left hand in his. He stared at her hand and saw no wedding ring claiming her as belonging to someone else.

“I never lied to you. I never talked about him to anyone. My brother was off limits back then. He’s grown up a lot, and I’ve forgiven him for what he did.”

“What did he do?” she asked.

“I don’t want to bring up a past I’ve worked hard at forgiving. I'll tell you everything but not right now. Is your kid here?” he asked. He didn’t release her hand. The electric pulses firing between them where their skin met spurred him on.

“No. She’s with her father. We’re divorced.”

Melanie stared up at him, lips slightly parted, and prettier than he remembered. He didn’t know how that was possible, but time graced her with the beauty of a woman where his memory held only images of her as a teenager. His next reaction might be a horrible decision at best, but he moved in closer anyway. “Good,” he said. He didn’t want to shock some poor unsuspecting girl if she accidentally walked in.

He let go of her hand and touched the edge of her jaw. “I never forgot about you. Never."

He leaned down and placed his lips to hers. Melanie’s hand rose in defense and she pressed her palms to his chest. He would have backed off in a second if he wasn’t wanted, but in the next instant she stopped pushing and stroked hot fingertips over his ribcage. She gripped his hip and Braden wrapped his hand around the back of her neck before lengthening their kiss. If electric tingles passed between them when they touched hands, sharing a kiss lit parts of his anatomy like lightning strikes. He lingered on the taste of her, letting the tip of his tongue explore the silken texture of her lips. A tiny whimper escaped from somewhere deep inside her throat. She inched in close enough to feel her thighs press against his. Was he imagining it or could he really feel her heartbeat pulsing against his bottom lip?

The chime of a doorbell rang somewhere in the distance, but he was fully immersed in reacquainting his lips with his ex-girlfriend.