Smoked

that bad?”
“I just realized what a long day you had.”
“It’s been long for you too.”
No sooner were we out of the hospital than Smoke lifted me into his arms.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked.
“Conserving your energy.”
“The doctor said we had to wait.”
Smoke smiled. “Is everything about sex with you?”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “To be honest, that’s all I remember.”
Smoke laughed. He didn’t chuckle. He laughed. I loved it when he laughed. More, I loved it when I was the one who made him laugh. A memory flashed through my mind so fast I barely caught it, but it was of Smoke. There were a lot of people around us, and even though it was fleeting, I knew I’d said something funny. The thing that confused me was the feeling the memory brought with it. Surprise.
“I’m not usually amusing,” I murmured.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, setting me on my feet when we arrived at his SUV.
“You don’t laugh at things I say often.”
He opened the door, and I climbed inside. “It’s the life we live, Siren.”
When he got in the driver’s side, he typed things on his phone while I rested my head against the seat. He was right about my fatigue; all I wanted to do was sleep.
“Where are we?” I asked when Smoke parked on a street where there were several bars and restaurants.
“Picking up our dinner.”
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
Smoke shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”
He was gone mere minutes, and when he opened the back door and set a bag on the seat, the most heavenly aromas wafted from it.
“What is that?”
“Indian.”
“It smells fantastic.”
“It’s your favorite.”
The way my mouth was watering over the pungent scents, I knew he must be right, but that I couldn’t remember my favorite food depressed me. “What else do I like?”
“There isn’t anything you don’t like. At least that I know of.”
I didn’t say much the rest of the way back to the house and then ate very little before telling Smoke and Maureen that I was retiring to the bedroom. It wasn’t five minutes after I crawled under the covers, that I was fast asleep.
When I woke the next morning, Smoke was in bed beside me, his body spooning mine. Instead of bringing me comfort, it troubled me.
What had happened before I was shot that brought these unexpected feelings? Coupled with my dreams about the two of us being angry with each other, I couldn’t help but think that maybe we weren’t happy together. The idea of it brought me to tears.
I eased out of the bed, used the lavatory, and went into the main living area of the small house. Maureen was in the kitchen.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
“I’d love it. Thank you.”
“I’m afraid this is all you can have until after your scan.”
“I’m not hungry anyway.” The anxiety over what I might learn today about my memory left me with no appetite.
One thing the doctor had said during our meeting the day before was that I didn’t have to be on the IV any longer, nor was pain medication necessary unless I felt as though I needed it. That, along with the antibiotics I’d been given intravenously, I could now take in pill form.
I picked up the steaming cup from the counter with my left hand and then immediately set it back down. My mobility on the left side of my body had improved steadily to the point where I often forgot it wasn’t functioning normally. That my hand shook while I held boiling-hot liquid was a quick reminder that I was still suffering from more than memory loss.
“She’s not to have anything to eat or drink,” said Smoke, coming out of the bedroom, looking both disheveled and sexy as hell.
Maureen pointed to a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. “She is permitted clear liquids.”
He nodded and then set about making coffee. Again, the aroma of it brewing stirred something inside me, but I couldn’t pull the memory forward enough to know what it was about.
“I like coffee.”
Smoke turned to me and smiled. “You do.”
“More than tea?” I asked.
“Not that you’d admit.”
“May I have some?”
He shook his head. “You like it with cream.”
Instead of showering, I took a bath in the tub that was more luxurious looking than the rest of the house. Whoever owned it had left bath salts that smelled of lavender. I sunk into the warm water and closed my eyes. Again, the smell evoked something I could feel but not see.
It seemed as though scents stirred my memory over anything else. Just not enough for me to picture the reminiscence.
I heard a rap at the door. “Come in,” I said, putting my arm across my chest to cover my breasts. I moved it when Smoke walked over and sat on the edge of the built-in tub.
“That looks very relaxing.”
“There’s room for two,” I said, winking.
“Maybe two people the size of you, but if I got in, it would overflow.”
I reached forward and pulled the plug. “That’s easily solved.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Hurry before I get cold.”
Smoke reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head and then lowered his joggers to the floor. Seeing his arousal stirred my own.
He settled behind me, and I closed the stopper when the water level was low enough that overflowing was no longer a threat. When I leaned back into him, Smoke put his arms around my waist.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he murmured, kissing the side of my head where the wrapped bandages covered what was now only stubble.
“Do I?”
I felt him nod. “It’s inky black with waves that cascade onto your shoulders.” He kissed my shoulder. “Your skin is like alabaster, and your eyes…”
“What about my eyes?”
“They can freeze a man’s soul.”
His lips on my neck distracted me.
“Freeze?” I murmured, leaning into his mouth. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“There are times it isn’t.”
While I wanted to ask more, his