Forgive and Forget(11)

“Baloney,” Bea huffed. “Amnesia’s something you see in those old Hollywood movies. It’s not real.”

“’Course it’s real. Wouldn’t be a medical condition otherwise.” Joe smiled sweetly and pinched Bea’s cheek. “What you mean to say, my dearest, is that you think he’s full of it.”

Bea slapped his hand away, her gaze boring into him as he headed toward the back of the shop. “He’s stringing you along, honey, and you’re letting him.”

Joe waved his hand dismissively, ignoring that last statement. “Listen, don’t you fret your pretty little head. Jules will be here as soon as she can, and she’ll tell us what’s what.”

“I tell you, there’s something sinister about that boy,” Bea insisted.

“That’s why you shouldn’t watch so many soap operas. This isn’t some ‘wealthy heiress gets pregnant with the stableboy’s baby’ scandal. He’s just some poor guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Joe remembered the look on Tom’s face when he realized he couldn’t remember. How could Joe ignore the pain the man was in? “What am I supposed to do, huh? Kick him out? You should have seen his face. He looked so… lost. He’s a nice enough guy, I think. I can’t shove him back out into the gutter. Where would he go? What if something terrible happens to him?” The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. “I can’t picture him ending up sleeping on a bench or some dank alley with rats and fleas, and what if he got sick and—”

“All right already,” Bea grumbled. “Geez Louise. Now who’s been watching too many dramas? I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not going home while he’s sleeping a stone’s throw away from you. He might knife you in your sleep. Steal your shoes.” She stomped over to pick up trusty ole Silver, and Joe released a groan when she came out swinging. “I’m taking first watch.”

“You’re kidding.”

“If Bea’s staying to watch over you, so am I,” Donnie declared, chest all puffed up like a baby bird. “I’ll take second watch.”

“I’ll take third,” Elsie chirped.

Dammit all. This was the last thing he needed right now. As if a sixty-year-old woman and two spindly adolescents would be any match for a guy of Tom’s strength. Joe appreciated their concern, but if Tom was dangerous, Joe couldn’t allow his friends to put themselves in harm’s way. The decision to allow the man to stay in his apartment had been his, and he would deal with the consequences.

Walking up to Bea, he gingerly took the old aluminum baseball bat from her hands, and turned her away from the kids. “Bea, I know you all mean well, but let’s be practical about this. You saw the man. As much as I can confidently say Tom—that’s what we’re calling him by the way—poses no threat, if he did, do you really think Donnie and Elsie would stand a chance?” Bea opened her mouth, but Joe was quick to cut her off. “I promise you, I’ll be careful. I need you to keep things running as usual. I’ll be a little late downstairs tomorrow since Jules is coming by.”

“I don’t like it,” Bea groused, though he knew she’d do as he asked, so he gave her cheek a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“I want to talk to him first,” she said stubbornly.

Well, it was the best he could hope for. “Okay. Finish up down here and give me about ten minutes. I don’t want everyone barreling upstairs and scaring the life out of him. Try to go easy on the poor guy.” Not waiting around for a reply, he sped through the kitchen to the set of stairs at the back that led up to his apartment. If anyone was in danger, it was poor Tom.





Chapter Three


JOE reached his living room only to find it empty, and for a moment he wondered if maybe Tom had decided to go after all.

“Tom?” Joe took a peek down the hall and spotted the light coming out from under the closed bathroom door.

“I’m just finishing up,” Tom called out. “Be right out.”

Joe couldn’t explain why the mere sound of the man’s voice caused butterflies to appear in his stomach. He tried not to think about how nice it was to hear his apartment filled with more than the sound of the TV, or no sound at all. Man, he really needed to get out more. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t hear Tom come out of the bathroom. When he saw movement directly in front of him, Joe gave a start, and his jaw nearly became unhinged. Oh sweet Betty Crocker.

Tom stood in the borrowed pajama pants and undershirt—which was pulled snugly across his well-muscled chest. His newly washed hair was charmingly tousled, his chiseled jaw clean-shaven, and his skin naturally tanned, which made his silver eyes stand out all the more. He stood barefoot with a towel around his neck and a big grin stretched across his face. He looked younger, but the little creases at the corners of his eyes and the fine silver hairs subtly woven in with his pitch-black hair said Tom was probably close to Joe’s age.

Picking his jaw up off the floor, Joe attempted to regain some form of decorum before Tom ended up thinking worse things about him than him being a little nuts. “There you are. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, thanks. You okay?” Tom cocked his head to one side as he studied Joe.

“Yep, fine. Listen, I hope you won’t be offended, but I don’t really have much—any, actually—family except for Bea, Elsie, and Donnie who help me run the shop, and they’ve gotten it in their heads to have a word with you. So, could you maybe humor them for me?”