Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) (8 page)

Heck, had she not stopped him, he would be kissing her right now!

What the hell was he thinking? He must have lost his mind along with his memory. Bile rose in his throat as the image of her eyes, wide with dismay as sheʼd pushed him away, flashed into his mind. Sara was a nice girl who was trying to help him. She didnʼt deserve to be treated like that―especially not by a lowlife like him. And heʼd better remember that.

Shaking his head, he turned and gave another curious look around. Saraʼs house looked exactly the way heʼd pictured it: very neat, except for the dozens of books piled up on the coffee table. It was tastefully decorated and full of bright colors everywhere, from the light yellow curtains on the windows to the fresh flowers on the dining table. A big, cream-colored couch faced a matching armchair on one side of the room, while a huge, red-brick fireplace took up most of the wall on the other side, with several framed pictures lining its mantel. The whole room felt warm and cozy. It made him feel like snuggling on the couch and pretending his life wasnʼt the gigantic mess it was. It made him wish he were a normal man, with a normal life. It made him wish he didnʼt have to leave in the morning.

Yeah, right.

Pushing that thought back, Jack walked absently toward the pictures on the fireplace. Sara was in most of them, always smiling and never alone. Her pets were almost a constant, and he also recognized the two cops who had visited him at the hospital. He assumed the older woman she was hugging with affection was her mother but had no idea who the people in the other photographs were, especially the attractive man standing behind her with both arms wrapped around her waist and a big smile on his face.

That image made him frown. Sara had said she wasnʼt married…but maybe she had a boyfriend? For some crazy reason, he found that thought so disturbing he shook his head hard to banish it. Grabbing his bag, he plodded toward the bathroom. A cold shower was definitely in order.

***

Up in her room, Sara shut the door and slumped against it with a deep sigh.

Jack had almost kissed her! Just thinking about it made her weak in the knees. The truth was, despite her common sense screaming that she should run away from him and from his dark past, she regretted pushing him away. Lord help her, she was dying to feel his big body pressed against her. She wondered if his mouth tasted as good as it looked. If having his strong arms around her would make her feel safe and protected.

Protected from whom?
a nagging voice inside her protested. Ha. How ironic was it that the only danger she needed protection from was Jack himself?

With a huff, Sara walked to the linen closet to grab a set of clean sheets, then mumbled a curse when she inadvertently knocked everything off the shelf. She stared at the sheets and pillowcases piled in a mess on the floor, barely seeing them. When she finally found the strength to move, she realized her hands were shaking so much that it was surprising she was able to fold everything and place it back on the shelf without any more accidents.

It took a few deep breaths before she could calm herself enough to go back downstairs. Much to her surprise, there was no trace of Jack in the living room. Sara frowned as she dropped the clean sheets and pillow onto the couch, then walked to the kitchen―but again, she was disappointed to find the room empty.

What the heck? Maybe sheʼd taken so long upstairs that heʼd changed his mind about staying and decided to leave after all? Her stomach twisted at the thought. No way would Jack have left again without a good-bye. …Right?

Heart racing, she dashed back to the living room—and crashed right into Jack, who was walking out of the bathroom. Bare-chested, his faded jeans unbuttoned at the waist, and only a white towel wrapped around his neck, he was far more than her already exhausted heart could stand, and…

“
Ow!
”

His groan broke the spell, jerking her back to reality. Her confused gaze followed his hand as he slipped it up and touched his chest. And thatʼs when her eyes widened in horror at the sudden realization that he was in pain.

“Jack! Iʼm sorry, I didnʼt see you walk out of the bathroom! Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, Iʼm fine.”

“Iʼm so sorry.” She gave him another mortified look. “I, um, brought you some clean sheets,” she explained, pointing at the couch.

“Thanks. Hope you donʼt mind that I took a shower. I felt like a complete wreck.”

“ʼCourse not. Please, make yourself at home.” Sara regretted her poor choice of words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Thankfully, Jack didnʼt seem to pay any attention to them.

As he turned around and limped to the couch, she couldn’t help noticing the dark tattoo on his right shoulder blade. While she wasnʼt a fan of body ink, she had to admit that this one was pretty cool-looking, although its design was abstract—a series of intricate swirls and circles. It was so fascinating she had to force her gaze off it. “Do you need anything?”

Jack shook his head at her questions. “No, thank you. Iʼm so exhausted Iʼm sure Iʼll crash right away.” As if to confirm his words, a yawn slipped from his mouth as he lay down cautiously. After adjusting the pillow under his head, he closed his eyes with a weary sigh.

Sara studied him quietly for a few moments, trying to swallow the lump that had lodged in her throat at the sight of the cuts and bluish bruises scattered all over his chest.
Had someone really tried to kill him?
she wondered with a shudder.

Who could possibly hate him so much in Starville?

***

Sara glanced at the clock on her nightstand and tossed the sheets off her body in frustration. It was past two in the morning, but despite her exhaustion, she just couldnʼt sleep.

What if Jack was truly a murderer, and she’d offered to let him stay under her own roof? That thought chilled her bones despite the Texas summer heat, making her jump out of bed. Lance raised his head to give her a curious look, but Sara didnʼt even notice as she ran to the door and locked it twice.
There.
Now she was safe.

Or was she?

She started pacing the room. Who was she trying to kid? The possibility that Jack might or might not be a murderer was not the cause of her distress. What was driving her insane was knowing that right now he was lying semi-naked on her couch.

Oh, forget it!
Maybe sheʼd feel better if she went downstairs and made sure he was okay, she decided, ignoring Lanceʼs indignant look as she unlocked the door. “Stay here,” she ordered him, walking out and leaving the door cracked behind her.

The living room was dark and quiet when she reached downstairs. Jack was sound asleep, still lying in the same position sheʼd left him, and even snoring lightly. Good for him. Apparently she was the only one in agony! And speaking of agony… Her heart started doing crazy jump kicks in her chest at the sight of his big body taking up the entire couch. The sheets sheʼd given him barely covered his long legs and lean hips, and Sara found herself standing there and ogling him, unable to take her eyes off his bare chest or his strong arm resting lazily across his stomach. Her mouth dried out.

Shaking her head, she sank into the armchair in front of the couch, her gaze still glued to him. Before she knew it, she slid into a deep sleep, lulled by the comforting sound of Jackʼs slow, regular breathing.

***

Jack cracked his eyes open and looked around, trying to figure out where on earth he was. His gaze roamed over the bright yellow curtains pulled over the windows, the vase of colorful fresh flowers placed on the dining table, the red-bricked fireplace, and finally, the armchair right in front of him, in which Sara was curled up, deeply asleep.

Sara?

Still a little disoriented, he let his mind go over the happenings of the day before, but his gaze remained fixed on her. She looked even younger and more innocent in her sleep. How old could she be, anyway? According to the ID in his wallet, he was thirty-five…though he felt at least ten years older. His life was a mess. He might not remember it, but he’d been accused of murder and spent years in jail, for Godʼs sake. He felt like a freakinʼ pervert, fantasizing about a sweet girl like Sara!

Yet he couldnʼt ignore how painfully tight his jeans felt at the sight of her sleeping all curled up in that chair, her long legs barely covered by the light blanket sheʼd kicked off in her sleep, her soft thighs brushed by the hem of the enormous white T-shirt she was wearing.

Shit.

Jack tore his eyes from her, irritated with himself. Why was Sara sleeping down here, anyway? Did she not trust him? Did she think heʼd rob her or something? Not that he could blame her. In all truth, he was surprised that she hadnʼt locked herself up in her room. He didnʼt trust himself, either. Hell, he didnʼt even know who the hell he was!

Most likely a murderer,
he reminded himself as bits and pieces of his conversation with the sheriff suddenly echoed through his mind.

Go back to wherever you came from, Turner. Nobody in Starville wants a murderer like you….

Those words hit him like a punch in the gut, just as they had the first time heʼd heard them. Feeling more and more disgusted with himself, he rushed off the couch and barely managed to bite back a groan at the abrupt movement. Truth be told, last night Sara had crashed right into his cracked ribs, which now seemed to be wanting to shoot out of his chest. But heʼd break another limb before admitting it to her.

Jack shot her a quick glance; after making sure that she was still asleep, he grabbed his bag and walked quietly to the bathroom. When the door closed behind him, he turned to the mirror and stared into his eyes, almost hoping they would reveal something.

But they didnʼt.

***

Sara came awake to bright sunlight and a scratching sound. Her arms, legs, and neck were awfully sore―a painful reminder that sheʼd spent the whole night curled up on the chair in the living room.

Stretching, she turned cautiously toward the couch, but a cold knot formed in her stomach the instant her half-asleep mind registered that it was empty. The sheets Jack had used during the night were now a tangled pile at the end of the couch, as if heʼd pushed them away in a hurry, and there was no trace of his clothes or bag. No trace of him.

Just like the night before, her heart grew heavy with a mixture of apprehension, disappointment, and anger at the thought that he might have left.

Running a hand through her tousled hair, she stood and walked to the front, where Lance was scratching the door. “Did you see him leave, Lance? Why didnʼt you stop him?” she grunted, opening the door for him. All she got in response was an excited bark before the dog took off running outside.

Sara walked back to the couch and picked up the sheets with a sigh. Never in her life had she felt so sorry for herself. Jack must have thought she was a silly little girl for spending the whole night in that uncomfortable chair just to be closer to him, and she couldnʼt blame him―not when sheʼd reacted to him more pathetically than a teenager with her first crush. He hadnʼt even kissed her and sheʼd turned to mush! Not to mention that sheʼd pushed him away as if terrified. No, even a schoolgirl would have reacted way more maturely than her. She was so inept when it came to men, no wonder Jack had made a dash for it.

Still holding the sheets in her arms, she headed toward the stairs…and, just like the night before, she crashed right into Jack. This time, though, she was so shocked to see him that she jumped backward with a loud squeal, and her arms gave up their grip on the sheets. They dropped to the floor and entangled all around her legs, making her lose her balance and reel forward. She wouldʼve fallen facedown had Jack not caught her in his arms.

“Weʼve really got to stop meeting like this,” he joked.

Still too baffled to react, Sara didnʼt answer. He pulled away to give her a questioning look. Her confusion must have been evident, because suddenly his face darkened and the amusement dancing in his eyes faded.

She dropped her gaze and bent over to pick up the sheets. “Jack… Iʼm sorry, I didnʼt know you were still here.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

Sara followed him quietly to the living room, watching him as he looked around as if to make sure he wasnʼt forgetting anything. She noticed that he was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but only when she saw his bag already strapped over his shoulder did she realize he was about to go.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked, trying to delay his departure. She knew it was pathetic, but, for whatever strange reason she didnʼt even want to investigate, the thought of him leaving was as unacceptable now as it had been the night before. Maybe even more so.

Jack dropped the bag onto the couch and turned to her, a sarcastic grin on his face. “Save your act, Sara.”

Sara blinked, more and more disoriented. “What?”

“Oh, cʼmon. Okay, so last night you were exhausted, maybe moved to pity toward me―whatever made you ask me to stay, I appreciate it. But itʼs clear that things are different this morning and you canʼt wait for me to get the hell outta here.”

If anything, his words seemed to jerk her out of the numb state she had fallen into. “The blow on your head must have caused more damage than we thought, because youʼve obviously lost your mind!” she blurted. “Or maybe you were always this idiotic, and I just never noticed. Either way, I have no idea what the heck is going through your head right now, but itʼs ridiculous.”

“Is it, Sara?” Jack leaned abruptly into her, and she automatically took a step backward. “Thatʼs what I thought.” Without another word, he grabbed his bag, strapped it back over his shoulder, and started toward the front door.

“If youʼre talking about the fact that you almost kissed me last night, yes, it did freak me out!”

Her words had the effect she hoped they would, because he halted with his hand on the knob and slowly turned around to look at her. His eyes, however, stayed cold and emotionless.