SEALs Love Curves Book 2: Forgotten
Autor
Mary E Thompson
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Visitor at Nine
Book 2: Forgotten
Kelsea
Kelsea Arnold locked her office door as a chill raced up her spine. She looked around, but no one was in the hallway. Dark classrooms lined both sides, with doors long closed and locked. Her colleagues had families to see, lives to live. Things she hadn’t ever had, if she was being honest with herself.
She glanced down the long hallway again and shook off the feeling of being watched. She was imagining things. She had to be. No one was there. No one was ever there when that feeling crept up on her.
Darkness blanketed the grounds of Erie University, like it usually did by the time she left work. She had papers to grade and lesson plans to finalize, and then there were the research papers she had to write. To say she had a lot on her plate was an understatement. It was one of the many reasons she worked late every night. That and it was easier to get work done at school where, once in a while, someone was around instead of her silent and empty home.
She was almost to her car when that feeling of being watched slithered up her spine again. She stopped and listened, straining to hear footsteps or some other noise that would tell her where the closest person was. A shuffling drew her attention to the sidewalk she’d stepped off of moments before.
She spun and stared long enough into the shadows that her eyes played tricks on her. She thought she saw a man near the bank of trees, but no one was there.
Right?
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Silence met her question, but silence didn’t mean she was alone.
She stared for another second, then convinced herself she was crazy. With a deep breath, she turned back to her car, not running, but not taking her time either.
As soon as she was in her car, she locked the door and forced herself to take a deep breath, then cranked up the car and drove off.
She watched her rearview mirror constantly on her drive home. Her heart raced as she changed lanes and took the long way home. At every intersection, she swore someone was following her, but she lost them at the next turn. By the time she pulled into her driveway, her palms were so wet they slipped on the steering wheel. She pulled her car into the garage and closed the door behind her, watching the mirrors to make sure no one got in the garage with her.
Kelsea turned her car off and sucked in a deep breath. She was safe. She was in her home. No one was there. She was okay.
She got out on shaky legs and made her way to the door. She unlocked it and went inside, locking the door behind her. She leaned back against it and breathed deep. Slowly, her heart stopped pounding and her breathing returned to something normal. It was sad to admit running from an imaginary stalker was the most exercise she’d had in months. She was painfully out of shape, something her ex reminded her of the last time they spoke.
Screw him, she told herself. She didn’t need the man who thought she was fat. She was changing the world, and she didn’t need any man for that. She was happy on her own.
Liar.
Kelsea rolled her eyes at herself and pushed away from the door. It was an ongoing internal battle. As a psychology professor, she knew her pride was bruised more than her heart. She’d studied enough to understand how people thought and why certain things bothered you when others didn’t. Like the fact that she was pissed off that he said she was fat, but not bothered in the least that they were done. Pride, one. Heart, zero.
She stashed her double-x coat and oversized purse in the closet, imagining Maxwell’s sneer. Everything about her was too big. She groaned. He wasn’t worth another thought. And after the night she had, she didn’t need one more thing to mess with her head.
Kelsea’s home was her sanctuary. She meticulously chose every item that went into the house when she bought it. It was a true fixer-upper, and she painstakingly remodeled every room until it was everything she ever imagined her home would be. Her kitchen was definitely one of her favorite rooms. It was the first one she completed, and she loved the beauty and simplicity of the pristine white cabinets and matching smooth countertops. The only color came from the copper cookware that hung above the large center island.
It was also where she kept the wine, so of course she loved the kitchen. More than that, it made her feel good. You could be fat in the kitchen and no one thought twice about it. No one trusted a skinny chef. Not that Kelsea was a chef, but she told herself it made sense as she moved around her kitchen, heating up leftovers from the night before and pouring herself a large glass of wine.
She carried her computer bag, wine, and dinner to the blue-gray living room and sank onto her insanely comfortable couch. She finally took a deep breath. She was safe. She was possibly crazy, but she was safe in her home.
She ate in silence, letting the sound of the movie on TV fill her home and convince her she wasn’t quite so lonely. If she had friends, she would call someone to come over once in a while. She had her work and her students and a neighbor a few doors down that she talked to, but mostly, she was alone.
After she finished her dinner, Kelsea pulled out the tests she had to grade. It wasn’t long before she was dozing on the couch. A loud commercial startled her. She looked at the clock and realized how early it still was. She didn’t care, though. She was exhausted. An early day combined with irrational fears did that to a person.
She went to her room and flipped on lights. Her dirty clothes went into the hamper in her closet, then she padded to the bathroom. She glanced longingly at her soaking tub and debated taking a bath. It would definitely soothe her nerves, but she was so tired she worried she’d fall asleep and drown.
She sighed and promised herself a long, hot bath over the weekend, when she wasn’t so exhausted.
She finished up in the bathroom and debated sleeping naked, but decided she wanted clothes on to give her a sense of security. Just like snuggling under the covers wouldn’t help if someone broke in, she knew it was irrational, but fears weren’t rational so she gave in to them and pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. She threw an Erie University sweatshirt on with a pair of thick socks and told herself she was going to roast. But she felt better, so she kept all the clothes on.
She went back to the front door and double-checked that she’d locked that and every other door and shook her head at herself. She was being paranoid.
In her bedroom, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and wished, not for the first time, that there was a man sliding into bed with her. Being lonely sucked.
With a sigh, she turned off the light, and swore she saw a flash outside her bedroom window.
***
Jaymes
Jaymes Ford leaned back in his chair and laughed at something his mom said. He rubbed his stomach, enjoying the full feeling. It was another thing he’d learned to appreciate. His brother, Archer, told him he’d only been gone a little under two weeks when Archer’s psycho former commanding officer, Brady Williams, kidnapped him, but for Jaymes, it had been a lifetime. They only gave him food when he couldn’t sit upright any longer, and water was restricted so he didn’t dump it on the computer.
The fuckers were smart.
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Mom,” Jaymes chastised.
His mom spun on him and rolled her eyes. “Neither should he. He’s a grown-ass man, and he should know better than to proposition an old lady like me. And at church of all places.”
Jaymes laughed again, because she was right. But that didn’t make it any less funny that one of his mother’s fellow parishioners grabbed her ass and told her he wanted to take her on a hot date.
“You’re right, Mom. Are you going to tell on him?”
She waved her hand at him and scoffed. “You know no one would care. Those old bitties would be jealous that they weren’t the ones getting felt up.”
Jaymes choked on his water. “Felt up? Mom, that’s sexual harassment. I mean, him grabbing your ass is also, but feeling you up definitely is.”
She gave him a funny look. “There’s no difference, Jaymes. Feeling me up is grabbing my ass.”
Jaymes held her gaze for a second then slowly said, “Mom, feeling you up is grabbing your breasts, not your ass.”
She turned scarlet and busied herself with the dishes in the sink. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that!”
The doorbell rang and saved them both from further embarrassment.
“Will you get that, honey? A neighbor is supposed to be bringing something over tonight. That might be her.”
Jaymes was more than happy to escape his mother for a minute, and her felt-up ass. He chuckled on his way to the door, wondering who was showing up at his mom’s house at almost nine at night.
Jaymes opened the door and stopped dead. He expected an old lady, someone close to his mom’s age.
Instead, it was another friend of hers. Jaymes met her a couple times but only briefly. He couldn’t remember her name. It was something pretty, simple but not very common. It suited her, but Jaymes still couldn’t think of what it was.
But it wasn’t her name or how beautiful she was that had Jaymes stopping dead. It was the look of pure terror on her heart-shaped face when she saw him standing there.
“Are you okay?”
She took a step back and started to turn away.
“My mom’s inside. Hang on a second.”
She froze and slowly turned back to look at him. Her eyes ran down his frame, taking in every inch of him.
He wondered what she saw. His white socks stood out against his dark jeans. His t-shirt was a little tight after the muscle he added the last few months, but it was comfortable. He edged his glasses up his nose, a new addition after spending so many days in dark basements and straining his eyes to look at computer screens.
He wasn’t the same man he was before he was kidnapped, but the woman before him obviously didn’t remember him anyway.
“Jaymes, right?” she asked tentatively.
He nodded. So much for her not remembering him. “Do you want to come in?”
She shook her head. “No, I should—”
“Come on. My mom was just getting dessert out. I think she made a chocolate cheesecake because she knows I’m a sucker for chocolate. You’re welcome to join us.”
She glanced down the street, then chewed on her lip, and finally nodded.
Jaymes stepped back and held the door so she had plenty of room to get around him. He didn’t know what she was running from, but it was obvious to him that she was doing exactly that. Running. From someone or something.
Before they walked into the kitchen, he stopped her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded stiffly, as though regretting her decision to come inside. “I won’t stay long.”
“I think you should. Did my mom tell you I was kidnapped a few months ago?”
Her swift intake of breath told him she either didn’t know or didn’t remember, but either way, it was too close to her fears.
Enormous green eyes looked up at him and filled with tears. She was scared, trembling as she stood in front of him.
“Nothing will happen to you here. I promise.”
She sucked in another breath, fortifying this time, and nodded sharply, just once. Strength stiffened her spine and dried up her tears. When she met his gaze again, she was a different woman. Determined, strong, pissed off.
He liked that one better.
She followed him down the short hallway to the dining room. The kitchen sat just beyond, but his mom was already bringing cheesecake back into the dining room.
“Kelsea, honey! How are you? I didn’t know you were stopping by tonight. Did I?”
Kelsea nodded. “No, Cecelia. I’m sorry. I just wanted to… say hi. I scared myself and wanted some company.”
Her cheeks pinked like she was embarrassed by what she admitted. Why, he couldn’t understand. If anyone knew fear, it was definitely him. He wouldn’t judge her, and neither would his mom.
“You’re always welcome here, Kelsea. You know that. I’ve got two spare bedrooms these days, and my boys are both in town so I don’t have any reason to fill them up.”
Kelsea smiled and looked relaxed for the first time since Jaymes opened the door. He wondered what was going on with her, what or who she was running from.
She gave him a sideways glance, so he smiled, hoping she thought he looked trustworthy.
“Sit and have some dessert with us, Kelsea,” his mom said, waving Kelsea toward a seat.
“Oh, I should go. You love your time with your boys.”
Jaymes moved toward the table and took a seat. He cut a large piece of cheesecake and set it in front of the empty chair next to his. Then he cut another one and set it in front of the chair his mother used for dinner. Finally, he cut a piece for himself.
When he looked up, both women were watching him. He speared a bite of cheesecake and shrugged. “What?” Then shoved it in his mouth.
Kelsea met his gaze and finally settled into the seat he left for her, between him and his mother.
Both women forked a bite and ate it. Jaymes watched Kelsea out of the corner of his eye. She had one of those curvy hourglass figures that drove him crazy. She was wearing a pair of yoga pants that threatened his sanity and an oversized sweatshirt with Erie University on the front. Her dark hair was tied back from her face in a knot kind of thing on top of her head with tiny pieces falling down around her face and along her neck. Her emerald eyes darted around the room as she ate, taking in everything and focusing on nothing.
He hated that she was so scared, that she wasn’t sure if she was safe. He understood that feeling and wanted to keep her from it.
“What were you teaching your students about today, Kelsea?” his mom asked when the cheesecake was half gone.
Kelsea set her fork down and folded her hands together. “We’re still early in the semester, so I’m convincing half of them that I’m not crazy and telling the other half that they are. It’s always an interesting time of year.”
Jaymes smiled with her and slowly ate his cheesecake while his mom peppered Kelsea with questions.
“Are these freshman again?”
Kelsea nodded.
“They all think they know everything.”
She laughed. “Some of them, yes. Since it’s the second semester, many of them have mellowed out. They already know that they aren’t the kings and queens like they were in high school. They’re in a much bigger pond now.”
His mom nodded. “Well, that’s good. They don’t need to go into it all cocky like they own the place. How many classes do you teach this semester?”
“Five classes. Two undergrad and three grad school.”
“And how many students have projects with you?” his mom asked pointedly. She turned to Jaymes and said, “Kelsea is the most popular professor in the psychology department. She studies the brain side of psychology and interprets what people do because of their brain. It’s where the field is going.”
Kelsea blushed and met his gaze. “I’m a neuroscience psychologist. I study how the brain works in relation to psychology. I have the best toys. That’s why I’m so popular.”
He smiled at her, waiting for the realization of what she said to sink in. When it didn’t, he simply said, “All the beautiful women I know have the best toys, too.”
She choked on her cheesecake.
