Unforgettable. Samantha Hunter
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it, not that you would have.”
Erin frowned. Apparently, she and Kit had not exactly been close sisters, though Kit had been there for her every minute since the accident. Whatever tension was between them didn’t matter when the chips were down.
“Did he know you?”
Erin nodded. “There was definite chemistry. The explosive kind.”
Erin couldn’t remember anything about sex, not since making out with her senior year boyfriend in high school and letting him get her bra off. That was her last clear memory.
It was disconcerting, not knowing her sexual history. She’d been on birth control at the time of the fire, so she must have had an active sex life, but she couldn’t remember any of it.
“Well, what did he say?”
“Um, not much, really. I kind of bolted before we talked.”
Kit’s expression was sympathetic. “I know this is hard for you, and it has to be frightening to bump into people, especially men, who might know you better than you know yourself, but maybe he could help. Maybe if you talked with him, he could help you remember. Was he a member of the department?”
“Yeah, he was. We talked, and I left. I guess I, well... Last night was weird.”
“Talk to him if you get a chance. But make sure there are other people around, you know, the usual safety drill.”
Erin had been thinking the same thing. It was clear that there was something between her and the fire marshal, but the only one who could tell her what was Bo. But if they had been an item, why had he kept it secret until now?
“Or maybe it’s better if you don’t,” Kit said, changing gears. “Being with the guys so often at the firehouse could be a bad idea. You should be moving forward, not get stuck in the past.”
Erin couldn’t help the irritation that her sister’s comment spawned. “They’re my only friends. And they help. If I can get my memory back—”
“I think you have to face that you’re not going back to that job.”
“There’s a chance, if I can get my memory back—”
Kit shook her head. “I’m sorry, honey, I know you loved it, but it would be like starting from scratch, even if you do remember.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Being with them gives you false hope. Keeps you from finding something new. I don’t know why you’d want to go back to being a firefighter anyway. It nearly killed you.”
Kit’s features tightened with fear and grief, and Erin’s heart softened. The nurses said that her sister had been by Erin’s bedside every day at the hospital. Some nights, too, when things were iffy about her condition. Kit had also taken care of their mother when she was dying, and ran her own business while she was helping Erin.
Erin tried to imagine what it was like for people having to deal with her accident and her amnesia, but she was also tired of feeling responsible for it. She really didn’t agree with her sister about hanging out with the guys—it didn’t give her false hope. It gave her some sense of stability. But she could understand her sister’s fear.
“I’m sorry it was so hard for you. And I’m grateful you’ve let me be here with you. It’s nice to spend time together. I assume we didn’t do that so much before?”
Kit sighed, the strain melting away somewhat. “No, we didn’t. Sometimes we’d have lunch on your days off, but even then, you were usually at the firehouse. I’d meet you there.”
“I’m sorry. The more I hear, the more I know that I gave everything to the job. Maybe too much. But I do appreciate it. And I appreciate you. I really do.”
Erin closed the distance to hug her sister.
Kit hugged her back. “I’m not trying to be critical. I know they’re your friends. But I worry about your future.”
“It’s only been a few months since I’ve been out of the hospital. I’m not giving up yet on getting my past back. I don’t know what I’ll do with my life, and the job, but right now I need to remember. I have to have hope, false or otherwise.”
“Okay. But maybe you can find a safer line of work next time?”
Erin held up her scraped fingers. “Like handling flowers? I’m willing to bet I didn’t end up this bloody on a daily basis as a firefighter.”
Kit couldn’t resist a grin, shaking her head. “True, you are not a natural florist.”
“What are you doing tonight?” Erin asked, changing the topic.
“Quarterly taxes for the store are almost due. I’m way behind on accounting.”
Erin felt a pinch of guilt; her sister was behind, no doubt because of her.
“Another night working? So I take it you’re not seeing anyone right now, either?”
Kit rolled her eyes. “The market has been down lately.”
Erin chuckled. “Tomorrow night, I’m taking you to dinner.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Great. It’s a date.”
Erin left, glad the tension had lifted. With her sister anyway. She was one big knot inside at the thought of seeing Bo again.
Her watch told her that she might already be too late to catch him at his office. There was no way she could get home to change and then head over to the station, but she didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.
When she reached her car, the decision was made for her as her cell phone rang. She looked down to see Bo’s caller ID. Not his name, just “Fire Investigation,” which was how he’d been labeled in her work contact list. If they did have a personal relationship, there was very little evidence of it. Wouldn’t there have been emails or phone calls? A cute picture of him on her phone?
“Hello?”
“Erin.”
“Marshal Myers.”
“Bo, please.”
She hadn’t used his first name before, but considering she might have ended up having sex with him on the picnic table outside the bar if no one had interrupted the night before, she supposed they were way past formalities.
“I was hoping you might be able to meet me. To talk, if you have time,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
Hearing his voice made her think of his lips. His lips made her think of—
She ruthlessly cut off that line of thought. “I was thinking the same thing, actually. I’m leaving the shop now. I could be at your office in—”
“No, not the office. Your place?”
She paused. Was this smart? Why didn’t he want to meet at his office, which was a safe, neutral ground? Did she feel comfortable enough with Bo to invite him to her house?
In a sense, no. She wasn’t sure that what they had to talk about was fodder for public ears, either.
“How about that diner by the lake? June’s?” she suggested. It had booths in the back, enough privacy to talk, but it was public enough so that they wouldn’t, well, whatever.
He was so quiet she thought that he might have hung up.
“Are you there?”
“That works. An hour?”
“Okay, yes. That’s good.”
They hung up without further discussion.
The hour would give her time to go home, wash up and change her shirt, but as she stood in front of her closet twenty minutes later, she froze,