Out of Uniform

He leaned on his shovel as if trying to decide whether to push the clothing issue further. Blowing snow hovered around his booted feet as he shifted his gaze to the truck sweeping through the parking lot. He stuffed the shovel into a drift. “Come on inside, and I’ll get you set up.”



Dee started up the steps. “How many rooms will you need cleaned if the tour bus shows?”



When he didn’t answer, she pivoted at the door. Jacob knelt at the base of the porch, scooping his fingers through snow. How odd. But she didn’t dare rush him.



Jacob shaped the handful and arced his arm back. He let the snowball fly, nailing the truck’s hood. The Ford kept rumbling forward. He packed together a second missile and thudded the back window. The truck stopped.



The driver’s-side window rolled down and a teenage face poked out, a face with a hefty addiction to eyeliner. “Yeah, bro? Did I miss someplace?”



“Park it, Emily. School’s canceled. Build a snowman or something.” He blew into his cupped hands, wincing as he moved the arm that had been in a sling earlier.



“I’m almost through here.” Wind streaked her wheat-blond ponytail, revealing the crimson strip dyed through.



“You’re done now.”



“Sure, Jacob. Whatever.” She rolled up the window, kicked the truck in gear and proceeded to plow the next row.



Jacob lobbed another snowball into the retreating truck bed. “Damn fool girl.”



“Her or me?” Dee couldn’t resist mumbling.



He either didn’t hear or chose to ignore the comment. Jacob stomped his feet as he turned. “Let’s get your supplies. Only one room needs cleaning. We can test you on that. The rest only need light touch-ups, some dusting and airing.”



As they walked inside, he rambled off a list of tasks. She registered his clipped phrases, all the while absorbing details around her to fill the terrifying emptiness within. She glanced at the framed buffalo prints over the fireplace. A faded map of Washington spread above a brochure rack. The scary ache didn’t even begin to fade.



Jacob Stone was the only person she could remember speaking to since waking, a strangely quiet man who took in stray amnesiacs and worried about his teenage sister on the road.



He and that young girl were the only people she’d seen face-to-face. Years of experiences with others had been lost, shrouded by an impenetrable fog. It was enough to make a person crazy.



If she wasn’t already.



He stared through his windshield at the lodge with her inside.



She’d been in and out of sight most of the morning. He couldn’t take his eyes off the shape of her, especially when the wind plastered her clothes into a tighter fit like now as she ducked into another room. Heat from the vents didn’t come close to the temperature pumping through him.



Want and hate, both hot, pumped through him.



Women screwed up everything. They always wanted more, more, more from a guy. She was just like the rest in the end. She was the messed up one, not him.



So what if he watched her through binoculars while parked on a side road? That didn’t make him a perv since she belonged to him anyway. Yeah, she still fascinated him even though he’d already had her.



He hated that about her, the way she had a hold over him. There were times he thought he would do anything to get rid of her. Then she drew him in again with her smile, her laugh, her touch.



Claustrophobia filled the vehicle in gusts as thick as the exhaust puffing from the tailpipe. He should just go. Somebody might see him lurking around. He could come up with an excuse, but it would seem weird. More than ever he needed to appear blameless.



Things would look bad enough when he got rid of her for good.



Chapter 3



D ee attacked the tub with a rag.



Surely routine household chores should stir a memory. How many tubs had she scrubbed over the years? One too many as of today since Jacob had underestimated the number of dirty rooms. Did his regular maid have bad eyesight?



Jacob Stone had been right about one thing. Cleaning was dirty, hard work. And she thanked God for the job plus the monotonous distraction it provided.



She’d done more than dust and air the extra rooms, but she felt obligated. Jacob would have been well within his rights to toss her into a snowbank. Of course with any luck, someone would come looking for her soon, whisk her off to a hot meal and soft bed, a bed she hadn’t made.



Meanwhile, she would pay her way while she waited to reclaim her identity. Her pride demanded it. Pride? The notion seemed misplaced given her current mess, but she didn’t have much else left.



Dee slumped against the bathroom wall and clutched her legs to her chest. What had robbed her of her past? She’d scoured every inch of her head, and there wasn’t a telling lump to be found, just a sore spot that could have come from brushing her hair too hard.



Could she trust someone on the tour bus to help her? Possibly, but not worth betting the bank. That just left her new boss.



What a puzzling man. Not that she had much to compare him to. He seemed determined to help her when he had absolutely no obligation.



Around midday, he’d slipped through the door, set a plate of food on the table and silently lumbered back out before she could speak. While she hadn’t been able to tolerate more than a mouthful of the sandwich, she’d stared out the window at his footprints long after he’d been swallowed by the circling snow. His thoughtfulness had filled her with a sense of security far more nourishing than two slices of bread and some turkey.



Dee stretched her legs the length of the minuscule bathroom. Every muscle resisted, tightening, urging her to curl up and sleep.



Not a chance. She had to break out the vacuum and get back to work before her boss caught her napping on the job.



She flung the can of scrubbing bubbles into the supply bucket just as voices swelled from the next room. Dee conquered her aching muscles and stood, ducking her head out the bathroom door. “Hello? Who’s there?”



The television blared to life from the stand. She stepped into the room and found the girl from the plow truck—Emily, Jacob’s sister—pitching aside the remote control.



“Hi, there.” Emily sat cross-legged in the middle of one of the unmade beds, a jelly-filled doughnut in one hand, foam cup of milk in the other resting on her knee. On the television, a game show contestant puzzled over an answer that could win her a Winnebago and a year’s supply of beef jerky.



All of that faded for Dee as her gaze focused on the sleeping baby in the middle of the bed. Swaddled in a pink sleeper with footies, the infant appeared to be no more than two or three months old.



Jacob had a child and recruited his sister for babysitting? She’d just assumed from his bare ring finger that he was single.



Dee notched down the volume with the remote. “I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but—”



“I figured you wouldn’t mind some company while you worked. I’m Emily. Emily Stone.” She patted the sleeping baby on her little round belly. “This is Madison.”



Still no clue who the infant belonged to and Dee didn’t bother asking. Her overtaxed brain seemed to do better by assimilating information as it came to her.



Emily appeared to be settling in for a long stay, and Dee wasn’t sure she had enough energy for the mental gymnastics needed to dodge more questions. “Weren’t you going to build a snowman?”



Emily tore her doughnut open. “Like I can wait another minute without the inside skinny on you.”



“There’s nothing to know.” What an understatement.



“Yeah, right. I figure I’ll just hang out. Madison’s gotta eat soon anyway.” Emily sipped her milk. Her curious eyes peered over the rim.



Dee eyed the cup, her stomach simultaneously growling and rolling. Best to stay away from food. She took in the girl’s Army fatigue pants and tight white T-shirt, hair-thin silver chains floating along her collarbone.



“So?” Emily licked away her milk mustache.



The girl wasn’t going to leave without something. The truth, or as close as she could guess, seemed a safe bet.



“My boyfriend skipped out on me.” Dee spritzed the mirror with Windex and began wiping.



“That bites. Guess I’m really lucky to have Chase.” The baby whimpered and Emily lifted her like a pro.



Then she hiked up her T-shirt and latched the baby onto her breast.



Dee blinked, surprised. Well, that solved one mystery, and brought an unwelcome swell of relief that the baby was Jacob’s niece.



Emily frowned, her hand cupping Madison’s head as the baby nursed. “I didn’t think to ask. Do you mind my nursing her in front of you?”



Dee shook off her distracting thoughts. “No. Of course not. We all have to eat, right?”



Emily’s face smoothed into a smile. “You’re cool. Good.” The sheets rustled. A small slurp sounded, before Emily continued, “Okay, so your guy blew out. How did you end up with a bottle of Windex and a broom?”



“I’m helping out to pay my bill until the storm passes.”



Emily set her cup on the end table. “Must have been some party last night.”



At least she could answer that one honestly. “I don’t remember.”



“That really bites.” Sticking her finger into the center of her doughnut, she scooped out the filling. She sucked it clean and flung the rest of the pastry in the trash can. “Do you think my brother’s hot?”



Dee’s hand froze on the mirror. “Pardon?”



“Hot. A real hottie. Good-looking. Well, for an old guy, anyway.”



How old am I? The question blindsided her. When would she get used to questioning the most elementary things about herself and coming up empty? Hopefully she wouldn’t have to.



So how old was she? Emily seemed a child. Jacob Stone looked to be around thirty and felt like a contemporary. Dee decided that put her somewhere in her early thirties, as well.



She swiped along the edges of the mirror. No one could call Jacob anything but virile. “He’s not exactly ancient.”



Emily grinned smugly before continuing. “He doesn’t live here in this dump, in case you were wondering. He’s in the Air Force, stationed in South Carolina. He’s an in-flight mechanic for one of the big cargo planes,” she said with unmistakable pride as she shifted the baby to the other side to feed. “He’s served a lot of time in the Middle East. He even got hurt on a mission last Christmas.”



His broad chest in that T-shirt came to mind, along with the sling he’d first worn. “That must have been scary for you.”



The teen stared down at her baby’s head and smoothed a hand over the fine blond hair. “It’s been a tough couple of months, with having Madison, then Jacob getting hurt and Dad dying.”



Dee ached to hug the young girl carrying so many adult problems at once. She started to move toward her when Emily tossed back her head with a smile and stand-off bravado. “So, do you think Jacob is hot?”



“Not meaning to be rude, but I just met the guy and I’m not in any position for a relationship right now.” She wasn’t up to matching wits with the ponytail contingent. “Um, I really need to make that bed.”



“Sure, no problem.” Emily secured the baby in the cradle of her arms and moved to a chair. “I didn’t mean to get in the way. I just don’t get as much time to talk to people as I used to.”



Those simply spoken words without even a hint of self-pity tugged at Dee more than if the girl had poured out buckets of tears. She understood too well the fear from losing control of her world.



“I appreciate the company.” Dee scooped off the musty spread and whipped a fresh one into a fluttering parachute over the bed. “Want to tell me about your boyfriend?”



“His name’s Chase. He’s, like, so hot,” she said, her dialect an odd mix of Generation Y meets farm town as she listed his every “awesome” attribute.