Page 37 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

I hear a bird singing in the distance as I spread more blueberry jam on my sweet potato and pecan waffle. I’m not sure if this is my first time ever eating this, but I think it is—because I doubt I’d forget something this delicious. I think I just found a new addiction.

Beau told me it’s one of the region’s signature dishes.

“How long are we staying in New Orleans?” I ask.

We’re having breakfast—or I am, since Beau seems more interested in watching me than eating. It makes me nervous, and I feel the need to fill the silence. I’ve noticed he looks at me a lot, like he’s carrying around secret thoughts about us.

Did we do simple things like this—normal day-to-day stuff—before the accident? I don’t know why, but it doesn’t quite match the picture I have of him, this domestic scene.

“Do you want to leave?” he asks.

“Not at all. I like being here. I think I’ll walk around the gardens later. My mom loved flowers,” I say, frowning. A sudden image of her crouching in a garden, planting something, flashes in my mind.

“Do you know anything about gardening?”

“I’m not sure. While I was talking to you, I saw this image of my mom tending to a garden.”

“What kind of flowers did she like?”

“Huh?”

“In your memory, was she caring for a specific flower?”

I try to picture the scene again in my mind. “I think she liked them all . . . but now that you ask, I suddenly feel sure I’ve always loved daisies. I guess most people think they’re kind of plain.”

“You’re not most people.”

I stop eating and walk over to him, settling into his lap. “I was scared to come to New Orleans. Back in the Boston apartment, you seemed so distant. But now, I’m really glad we’re here.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me the way he always does.

I start to feel self-conscious and try to get up. “I’m interrupting your breakfast.”

“How do you know I don’t want you for breakfast?”

I choke a little in surprise. We slept together last night, and when I woke up, he was holding me tight. We made love again this morning, but ever since we sat down at the table, he’s been kind of distant.

I decide to get up anyway. “Didn’t seem like that was what you wanted two minutes ago,” I mutter, trying not to sound like I’m whining.

He pulls me into his arms. “My silence has nothing to do with us. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“I spoke with your sister last night.”

My eyes go wide. “Elodie?”

“Yeah.”

“So we were close before I got hit?”

“I think she’s the most important person in your life.”

I shake my head slowly. “Then she, you, and our baby . . . you three must be my whole world.”

I barely finish the sentence before he grabs the back of my neck and kisses me.

It’s not the kind of kiss that leads to tearing off clothes in seconds—it’s gentle, full of tenderness.

Suddenly, a memory of us arguing flashes through my mind.

“We fought a lot.” It’s not a question. The memory is crystal clear.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah. Pretty much every day.”

“What about?”

“Anything and everything. Disagreements. Let’s just say we’re both a little hardheaded. But the fights never lasted long, and making up was always worth it.”

“You’re insane. Who enjoys arguing?”

He shrugs. “Usually I have zero patience for useless fights, but ours were . . . fun.”

I shake my head slowly. “I’d like to talk to my sister.”

“That’s fine, but no cheating, Amber. Remember what the doctor said—your memories have to come back on their own. Don’t try to fill in the blanks with questions.”

“I won’t. I promise. I really hope this amnesia won’t last. How did you find her?”

“My head of security—”

“Roman . . . I get the feeling he doesn’t like me much. He always looks at me funny.”

“You two never really got along. But anyway, like I was saying, he found another phone at the scene where you were hit—besides the one you used to talk to me.”

“Why would I need two phones?”

He seems to think before answering. “Maybe that’s one of those things you’ll only figure out when your memory comes back.”

“Maybe. So you used that phone to call my sister?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t even sure it would be Elodie who answered. It was more of a hunch.”

“Well, good thing it was the right one, huh?”

He cups my face and studies me for a moment. “You’re not mad that I went through your phone without asking?”

“No. You did it to help me. I can’t force myself to remember, and if I’d called my sister before you did, I probably would’ve asked all the wrong questions. Besides, I don’t have anything to hide from you, right?”

Beau doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls my head to his chest and begins stroking my hair.

“It’s scary not remembering anything, but I trust you.”

“How much do you trust me, Amber?”

“Is there a measure for trust? I don’t think so. You either do or you don’t. You’re the father of my child, and that bond can never be broken. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”