Otherwise, wouldn’t she be needed enough for someone to look for her? How devastating to think her life mattered so little that she could disappear.
She had to find answers. The lack of control threatened to drive her crazy. All she could do was continue to try, pester the police and save money for a private investigator.
Meanwhile, how could she be true to an unknown past while taking a chance on the future before Jacob left?
Standing outside the lobby closet, Jacob stuffed his military-issue snow parka into his gear bag. As always, the prospect of helping with a Civil Air Patrol search and rescue mission charged him, reminding him of his Air Force job waiting for him.
Only four days remained before he had to return to Charleston and he still hadn’t settled anything with Emily. His sister was going to have to accept the fact that she had to go with him. Starting tomorrow, they would have to get her school records, begin packing, hire someone to manage the motel…
Jacob glanced at Dee as she typed on the computer at the registration desk. “I can’t wait for Chase any longer. If he shows, let him know I’ve left to hook up with Bronco and Tag. He can meet us at McChord. He’ll have at least a half-hour window before the ground team heads out to start sweeping the area for the missing plane.”
Dee spun in the chair to face him, her hair swinging to drape around her shoulders. “No problem. I’ll pass along the message.”
Tearing himself away from the power of Dee’s honey-brown eyes, Jacob stuffed a box of packaged MREs—meals ready to eat—on top of his winter gear. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone? I could be gone all night.”
With two incidents of missing money from the drawer still unsolved, he worried about leaving her alone, unprotected. The cops hadn’t learned anything more about the intruder. He’d added extra security lights with motion sensors outside. He’d also given Dee a cell phone to carry with her at all times—in spite of her protests of “no charity.”
“I’ll be fine.” She stood and perched her hip against the counter, a shapely hip cupped by well-washed denim. “I can handle the phone lines for a few hours without you or Emily for backup.”
His hands itched. They begged him to fit both palms along those h*ps and pull her toward him. She’d started a thaw inside him that night in the back of the pickup. Her daily presence and that face-life-head-on attitude had ended his solitary days. A primal male part of him urged Jacob to pursue her, consequences be damned, before some other man came back to claim her.
What would he do then? It wasn’t as if he was any good at long-term. While he might not know much about Dee Smith, any fool could see she was the minivan-and-cookies type. His future mapped out more along the lines of wandering the world—anywhere but Rockfish with all its memories. Even moving to Tacoma shouted at revisiting the place he’d worked so damn hard to leave.
But she sure did look good in those jeans, and at his dinner table—and in his life. He’d been considering moving back here for Emily anyway, past be damned. Maybe Dee and Grace could run the motel for the few months until he managed the transfer and then…
“Jacob? Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat so he could push free a full sentence. “This counts as overtime, you know.”
“This counts as doing a favor for a friend.”
Slowly he zipped the bag to give himself time to think before looking at Dee. “Is that what we are, friends?”
She fingered the cuff of her yellow flowered shirt, the flannel one he’d sent Emily to buy on her first shopping trip. The color turned Dee’s skin the prettiest creamy shade, like fine china he wanted to hold but worried he might break.
“I’d like to think so.” She leaned forward across the counter. “Let me do this for you. Please.”
He’d become accustomed to having her around, sometimes finding himself surprised at how many ways she’d sashayed her gently curved body and bossy ways into his motel and into his every thought.
And his life was better for it.
A knot held tight in his chest uncoiled, relaxed. “Okay.”
“Okay? Really? No overtime?”
“No overtime. And thanks.” Jacob hefted his bag and started toward the door.
“Jacob?”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “What?”
“I don’t want overtime.”
“I heard you.”
“But you could take me out to eat.”
Damn, but she’d thrown him another curve. Curves. Of its own volition, his gaze flowed over her. Curves. He needed to erase that word from his vocabulary.