The Angel Alejandro Page 6

  Madison hesitated. “Those are my dad’s old clothes.”

  “Huh?”

  Spinning nervously back and forth in the swivel chair, Madison said, “He was naked.”

  “Naked?”

  Madison nodded.

  “But why-”

  “I don’t know.”

  Dette peeked out the door again, trying to imagine Alejandro naked. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do. “He’s … beautiful.” She wouldn’t have normally described a guy with that word, but it was the right one - the only one that fit.

  Madison leaned forward. “And there’s something else. When I fell off the roof, I hit my head, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I think I had a concussion because all day I’ve had the worst headache of my life. Just before we came here, my vision started to blur, and I had to pull over because I didn’t think I could drive.” She hesitated. “And then … he touched my head and something … really … weird happened.”

  “Weird as in …?”

  “My head tingled … and then lights flashed … and then … the headache was gone. The other symptoms, too. Even the lump is gone.”

  Dette brought her acrylic nail to her mouth and tapped her teeth. “You think he healed you?”

  Madison stood. “The whole thing is crazy.”

  Indeed it was. Dette worried that maybe the concussion hadn’t passed. “Maybe you should go to the hospital, Maddy.”

  “Ugh. Don’t call me that. It makes me sound like a tween-age heroine in an overwrought YA novel.”

  Madison was still acting like Madison, a good sign. “Well, what are you going to do with him?” She hooked a thumb at the door.

  “I don’t have a clue, Dette. No one seems to recognize him, and nothing’s sparked his memory so far. I don’t know what to do with him.”

  Dette smiled. “He can stay at my place.” She still couldn’t get the image out of her head - she wanted to see him naked, too.

  Madison wasn’t amused. “Right now, I need to get him home and try to get this figured out.”

  “Maybe you should go to the police sta-”

  “I have two words for you, Dette: Clint Horace.”

  Dette nodded. “Yeah. True.”

  “And there’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “It’s going to sound crazy, but I know him from somewhere. I know I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place him. It’s driving me nuts.” She chewed her fingernail. “Does he look familiar to you at all?”

  “Umm … I’m pretty sure I’d remember a guy like that!” She paused. “So … when he was naked … did you see it all?”

  Madison glowered. “No. Of course not!”

  “He’s absolutely gor-”

  “I need to get going, Dette. Do you need anything?”

  Dette sighed and opened the office door. “Not a thing. It’s another slow day.” They stepped into the shop and saw Alejandro running his hand along a hooded sweatshirt on a rack. Dette couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “Are you ready to go?” Madison asked him.

  Alejandro turned and frowned. “I like this garment better than mine.” He tugged at the hoodie, emblazoned with the words, Prominence: Home of Winkie the Golden Hedgehog. “It’s soft.”

  Garment? Who says garment? Is a he a foreigner? That’s hot!

  Madison headed for Alejandro and Dette followed close behind, unable to resist getting closer to this nice big piece of man candy.

  “Can I have this?” Alejandro pointed at the hoodie.

  “Sure.” Madison took if off the hanger and handed it to him.

  He smiled at the image of the grinning, pirate-eyed, hedgehog.

  Dette edged between them. “I’m Dette. I’m Madison’s best friend.”

  He blinked at her and this close, she could smell him. Lotus blossoms. The guy smelled just like lotus blossoms. The best smell ever. Her mouth watered. “It’s nice to meet you.” She held her hand out.

  Alejandro looked at it and frowned.

  Oh, God, he hates my nails! Damn you, Rebecca McNair!

  Then, with reluctance, he reached out and gave it an awkward pat. That brief touch shot a bolt of warmth through Dette - a buzzy, electric vibration that spiraled under her skin, and raced toward her solar plexus.

  “I am Alejandro. I am a tourist.”

  His smile raised Dette’s heart rate. “Well, then, welcome to Prominence, Alejandro.” She paused, feeling overwhelmed by a need to speak to him further. “When I was a kid, my parents took me to the Grand Canyon and I stole a t-shirt from the souvenir shop.”

  “We aren’t stealing the shirt, Dette,” said Madison. “Write it down as a wholesale transaction.”

  “No,” said Dette. “I meant that I-” What did I mean? Why did I say that? I’ve never told a soul that I used to steal things!

  Alejandro patted her hand. “It is all right. It was a very long time ago.”

  Madison’s head swiveled back and forth between them, like she was watching a tennis match.

  The relief of the confession was remarkable. “Thank you.”

  Alejandro dipped his head. “You are welcome.”

  His voice melted Dette’s knees. She wasn’t shy around men, never had been, but this guy was … something else.

  “Come on, Alejandro.” Madison led him to the exit. “Text if you need anything, Dette.”

  She nodded absently as they left the shop, nearly tripping over a small dog that had wandered up to wag its tail at the door. They stepped around it as an exasperated woman raced over, leash in hand. The dog whimpered, straining toward Alejandro as the woman snapped the lead onto its collar.

  Dette watched till they got into the VW then returned to her post and stared at the braided rug, dazed. What’s a guy like that doing in a town like this? It was all so mysterious. And sexy.

  She wondered if Madison had a thing for him. Or if he had a thing for her. Of course not. They just met. And Madison wasn’t really like that. If a guy wanted her attention, he practically had to club her and drag her off before she caught the signals.

  But Dette wasn’t frigid in the least.

  At Roxie’s Diner

  Marty Pullman had dropped Nick Grayson off at the police station, wishing him a nice weekend of unpacking - but Nick wasn’t interested in going home just yet. He was starving.

  He drove to Cameo Road, took a right just past The Psychic Sidekick and found the yellow diner that had caught his eye earlier. Roxie’s. He pulled into the nearly empty lot and locked up, wondering if the locals even bothered with such formalities. He paused to admire a white T-Bird parked nearby. Under the door handle in pink and blue cursive, the name Roxie had been stenciled.

  He entered the diner and inhaled a fragrant bouquet of coffee, bacon, sausage, waffles and maple syrup. Roxie’s was a seat-yourself affair that relied heavily on 50s-style decor with gleaming black and white checkered floors, hanging light fixtures with lazy ceiling fans, cozy booths and a long counter with shining chrome stools. Beyond was a kitchen where a hair-netted man worked a grill for all the world to see. Nick would have hated that kind of scrutiny. It keeps him from picking his nose while he works, anyway. That open grill was probably responsible for the Health Department’s A rating in the window.

  Nick squeaked into a red-vinyl booth and was immediately approached by a teenaged redhead in a blue apron. Her nameplate read Tiffany. She handed him a menu and said she’d be back.

  Aside from an old-fashioned jukebox banging out a Jerry Lee Lewis melody in the far corner and the clanking sizzling sounds of Mr. Hairnet on the grill, the place was silent. At the counter, two men sat, bent together like schoolboys sharing secrets, and one couple faced each other a few booths down.

  Nick opened the menu and deliberated. Everything on it looked good. Though generally fit, he’d recently noticed the beginnings of a beer gut. Since hitting forty a couple of years ago, it would be easy enough to blame his age, but he knew
better. The booze is catching up with me.

  A waitress approached and it wasn’t Tiffany the Teenager. This woman was a blond, a few years his junior, with plenty of makeup on a cute face and an eye-catching figure.

  He glanced at her nameplate. “So you’re Roxie. I take it you own the place?”

  Her smile flattered her already pleasant features. “Guilty as charged, Officer.” Her voice was soft, sensual.

  Something in Nick pricked its ears - like a hound scenting a fox. “How did you know?”

  She laughed. “It’s a small town. We don’t get many new arrivals and when we do, people talk.”

  “Nick Grayson.” He held out his hand. “Chief of Police. As of Monday, anyway.”

  She took it; her touch was firm, warm, and pleasant. Roxie Michaelson was just the kind of woman he’d always gone for - and the kind of woman that’s all wrong for me. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand.

  “So what can I get for you, Chief Nick Grayson?”

  “Hmm,” he mumbled, drawing it out. He was stalling; he didn’t want her to leave. And that was stupid. Learn from your mistakes, Grayson. “Two eggs, over-medium, a side of sausage, well-done, smothered hash browns, a breakfast omelet, and a side of bacon.”

  Roxie scribbled furiously on her pad.

  “And some pancakes. And coffee.”

  Roxie shook her head. “I envy you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “If I ate a third of that, I’d be as wide as I am tall.” She looked him over. He thought he caught approval in her eyes.

  “I work out.” He instantly regretted the words - it sounded like a cheesy attempt to impress her.

  “I can see that.” Her eyes lingered on his chest and his heart rate rose.

  Knock it off. It was amazing how quickly old habits settled back in - like an old friend stopping by for a visit. But this was one old friend he didn’t want to entertain. The cycle had been going on since he’d been old enough to appreciate feminine beauty. He’d eventually married the wrong women - women just like Roxie Michaelson - and blown both those marriages, for other women just like Roxie Michaelson. They excited him for about five minutes, but there was no real connection beyond the physical. This is an opportunity to start doing things differently, he told himself, but the disappointment was palpable, like passing a candy store during a severe sugar craving. “And can I get some water, too?” He was all business now.

  “Sure thing.” She smiled and was off.

  Nick didn’t watch her walk away. He looked out the window at the heartless leaden sky instead, resolving to keep his shit together.

  * * *

  Alejandro tugged at the tight sleeves of his white shirt.

  “We’ll get you out of that as soon as we get home,” Madison said.

  He looked surprised. “I thought you did not want me to roam without garments.”

  Her cheeks went hot. “No, I meant that you can change into your hedgehog hoodie.”

  “Do I still have to wear pants?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked a little disappointed.

  But Madison didn’t let it bother her. Ever since Alejandro had done whatever he’d done to her head, she felt great. It was as if his touch were a drug; she was happy to be feeling good again.

  Alejandro gazed out the window at the passing shops. He groaned - it was a kind of low-pitched whimper she’d first heard as they were leaving the rock shop.

  “Are you okay?”

  Alejandro nodded. He touched his abdomen and made the same noise.

  Realization dawned. “Are you hungry?”

  He looked at her a long moment. “I think so. I want the bear.”

  “The bear?” She realized he was referring to the honey bear and turned around, heading back toward downtown where there were several restaurants to choose from. “What sounds good?”

  He looked perplexed.

  “Is there anything in particular you want to eat?”

  “Just the bear.”

  “We’ll get you something better than that.” She took a right and Roxie’s Diner came into view.

  “But I like the bear.”

  Madison pulled into the lot and parked next to a dusty black Highlander. She released her seatbelt and helped Alejandro do the same. She didn’t know where he was from, but it was clear that seatbelts were not customary there. “Stop it.” She pushed his hand away so she could unlatch the belt - he was over-complicating it, twisting in his seat and jabbing at the latch, tugging at the belt and flapping his arms as if he were caught in a giant spider’s web.

  Madison was struck again by his vanilla scent. Her heart did cartwheels as she leaned closer to unlatch him; her lips were just inches from the golden skin of his neck, and she felt the warmth resonating off his body. She had an irrational compulsion to touch his skin with her tongue, to see if he tasted as sweet as he smelled.

  Alejandro pushed the belt away and faced her.

  Her gaze slipped to his full lips and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face. It was sweet and fresh, despite the fact that he couldn’t have brushed his teeth since some time yesterday. Her lips tingled, singing with the need to kiss him. She could get lost in those lips ...

  When she came to her senses, Alejandro was blinking his wide eyes at her.

  What the hell is wrong with me? She flashed him a casual smile and drew back, killing the engine.

  There were only a few bodies in Roxie’s, but the moment Madison and Alejandro entered, every head swiveled to stare, all eyes locked onto the handsome stranger in the white shirt and khakis. One of the waitresses - Tiffany Rhodes - stopped mid-stride. The two men at the counter - Shawn Barzetti and Bobby Beckstead of Prominence Power and Light - turned on their barstools and stared him up and down. Roxie Michaelson stood at the booth, talking to a man Madison didn’t recognize. Both gawked.

  “Come on.” Madison led Alejandro to a booth away from the rubberneckers. Tiffany made her way over, menus in hand.

  “Hi, Tiffany,” said Madison. Tiffany smiled but she seemed nervous. She stole furtive glances at Alejandro, as if she dared only take in small fragments of him at a time and would piece him together later, when he was gone. Her cheeks flushed and Madison noted a slight tremor in her hand as she placed two glasses of water in front of them. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

  “Do you know her?” asked Alejandro.

  “We aren’t pals or anything.”

  He nodded at Shawn and Bobby. “Do you know them, too?”

  “I do.” They were in their mid-to-late twenties and much like a burger and fries - a package deal, a hetero power couple who were rarely seen apart.

  “It’s a pretty small town. Everyone knows everyone.” Madison glanced at Roxie Michaelson. She was in her late thirties, and single, with an eye for handsome men. She’d moved to Prominence from Santo Verde several years back and now lived on Haiku Drive. Looking closer, Madison still didn’t recognize the tall, broad-shouldered man with whom Roxie now flirted. He was handsome enough in that classic square-jawed-jock way that Dette would appreciate.

  Alejandro was staring at her.

  She felt warm. “Have you decided what you want?” He hadn’t even opened his menu.

  “Do they have bears here?”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  Tiffany returned, her gaze downcast, and Madison ordered an omelet for herself and a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon for Alejandro.

  “Do you like coffee?” Madison asked him before Tiffany left.

  Alejandro shrugged, so Madison ordered coffee for both of them.

  “And,” said Madison, “can we get honey instead of syrup for the pancakes?”

  Tiffany nodded, flashed Alejandro a self-conscious smile, and left.

  “I don’t suppose this place is familiar to you?” said Madison.

  Alejandro frowned, shook his head, and tugged at his shirt.

  “After this, we’ll go to Bart’s Ark.
That’s the pet store. I need to get some koi for the pond.” She looked out at the sky. “I’m sure it won’t rain again for a while. It should be fine.”

  “You do not like the rain?” Alejandro was fingering his fork with that strange fascination, like he’d never seen silverware before.

  Madison knew that certain types of amnesia wiped out different sets of memories, but this guy seemed to have no memory of anything at all. It didn’t seem natural. “I don’t hate the rain, but I prefer blue skies, I guess.”

  “Me too,” he said. “And I like clouds.” He stared out the window, his gaze far away.

  Madison felt a pang of pity for the guy. He must feel so lost and confused. She decided to be patient with him - as frustrating as this was for her, it had to be far worse for him. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? They might be able to help you.” And they can contact the police. They can deal with Clint Horace.

  Alejandro shook his head. “I would not like to go.”

  It was clear he wasn’t going to change his mind.

  Tiffany brought coffee then left.

  Alejandro eyed the steaming cup with reluctance.

  “It’s coffee. You might like it.”

  He watched as Madison took a sip, and then, carefully, he did the same.

  And spit it out in a great explosion.

  Shocked, Madison grabbed napkins and began mopping the tabletop, glancing around, cheeks burning. “What is wrong with you!” she said under her breath.

  Alejandro’s face was a mask of disgust. “I do not like coffee. I do not like coffee at all.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to spit it out.”

  The broad-shouldered man she didn’t recognize watched them, a smile toying with his lips. The whole thing was embarrassing. “You can’t just … spit things out in public. It’s rude.”

  Alejandro seemed unconcerned and continued to scowl at the offending cup of coffee. Never give this man coffee again! She wondered if she ought to add that to the private list of Life Lessons she kept in her phone, but decided she’d remember it on her own. Like I’d ever forget!