Most days Rebecca Lindt feels like an imposter…
The world admires her as a survivor. But that impression would crumble if people knew her secret. She didn’t deserve to be the one who got away. But nothing can change the past, so she’s thrown herself into her work. She can’t dwell if she never slows down.
Wes Garrett is trying to get back on his feet after losing his dream restaurant, his money, and half his damn mind in a vicious divorce. But when he intervenes in a mugging and saves Rebecca—the attorney who helped his ex ruin him—his simple life gets complicated.
Their attraction is inconvenient and neither wants more than a fling. But when Rebecca’s secret is put at risk, both discover they could lose everything, including what they never realized they needed: each other.
She laughed and kissed him. This morning she'd melted down. But somehow this man had her laughing and turned on only a few hours later. Everything inside her felt buoyed.
She felt…light.
She'd forgotten what that felt like.
She felt…light.
She'd forgotten what that felt like.
Title: The One You Can't Forget
Author: Roni Loren
Print Length: 416 pagesPublisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication Date: June 5, 2018
ASIN: B076BWSBXM
Read an Excerpt:
Wes parked the van in front of the house and cut the engine. “Well,
I’ll take it as a good sign that your car is still here. If those guys showed
up with your keys, they would’ve taken your ride.”
Rebecca frowned. “No. I didn’t have my car keys with me since I
walked today, but at least everything looks the same as how I left it. Plus, my
car keys are hanging on a peg in the kitchen. They wouldn’t be hard to find.”
Wesley eyed her. Her voice was confident, but she kept smoothing the
leg of her scrubs, her hands like nervous birds not knowing where to settle. He
had the weirdest urge to hug her and tell her it was going to be all right, to
take that fear from her. But a sure way to freak her out even further would be
for some strange dude she’d just met to hug her. He was freaked out enough for
both of them that he even had that urge. “Hey, why don’t you
tell me where your spare key is hidden, and I’ll go in and check the house for
you first.”
There. That was a reasonable, not weird way to help.
She glanced his way, frowning. “If the alarm’s on, I need to turn it
off, and I don’t want to sit out here. That’ll stress me out more than going in
with you. I’m the only one who will be able to tell if anything’s been moved
anyway.”
“Fair enough. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable is fine. But
the minute something seems off or out of place, we bail and call the cops.
Pinch my arm or something to signal me.”
Her frown deepened, a little line appearing between her brows, as if
she couldn’t quite figure him out.
He couldn’t stop his smile. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re
trying to figure out a really hard math problem.”
“I wouldn’t make this face for math. I’m good at math.” She let out
a breath. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’re being so nice to
me. You don’t…know me.”
“Does that matter? If I knew you, would I not want to help you out?”
She stiffened. “What?”
He tilted his head. “I mean, are you secretly some evil comic-book
villain who’s about to take over the city? Or do you have plans to kill me and
store my body in your basement when we get inside?”
Her pinched expression flattened into something droll. “Austin
houses don’t have basements.”
“Whew.” He wiped his brow. “I’m safe.”
She snorted and then covered her nose and mouth like she was surprised
the sound had escaped. “You’re kind of strange, Wesley Garrett.”
He shrugged. “I get that a lot.” And that was a helluva lot better
than what most people probably called him these days. “Now, are we going to
bravely search your house like two TV detectives? Because I am so down for that
right now. I need to bang open doors and yell, ‘Clear!’”
She laughed, the soft, husky sound filling the space between them
and sending a pleasant ripple through him. The feeling was so unfamiliar that
it stalled his breath for a second. How long had it been since he’d been around
someone he could simply joke with and relax around? Someone who wasn’t looking
at him like he was damaged goods? Or who wasn’t checking him for signs of a
backslide?
He didn’t get clean-slate conversations like this anymore. Not with
his family. Not with friends. Not even with himself. Rebecca felt like a gulp
of clean, fresh air. He wanted to close his eyes and inhale. In this moment, he
could be a man with no past. He could be whoever he wanted to be. And right
now, he wanted to be the guy who was making this woman laugh.
She cocked her head. “You say that like you’ve been planning to do
this TV detective routine for a while.”
“It’s a life goal,” he said solemnly. “I mean, I’ve done it at home
alone, but that really isn’t as fun. Plus, it pisses off the neighbors. All
those banging doors.”
She laughed again, and he felt like he’d won some kind of prize. She
seemed like someone who didn’t give those laughs away easily.
“Now all we need are weapons,” he declared.
She reached into the bag of takeout and pulled out the eco-friendly
cornstarch forks Dev used in place of plastic cutlery. “How’s this?”
“Perfect. We can go for the eyes.” He took his fork and grabbed the
keys. “Let’s do this.”
“I’m ready.” Some of their playing around must’ve distracted her
from her nerves because when Rebecca got out of the van, her shoulders seemed
looser and there was a tentative smile on her face. She nodded toward the house
and set her fork on the hood. He followed suit, since if he really had to take
action, he’d need his hands free. “My extra key is by the back door.”
They headed around the house and into the small backyard. She
hunched near an overgrown herb garden and fished around, finally coming up with
one of those fake rocks. She flipped it over and keyed in a three-digit code on
a spinner combination lock.
Wes snapped a leaf off one of her plants and inhaled the scent.
“Mmm, lemon thyme. You’ve got quite a collection out here. Cilantro. Oregano.
Italian parsley. I’m a little jealous.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I honestly have no idea what
most of them are or what to do with all of them. I had the house landscaped
when I moved in, and I guess the gardeners picked the perfect spot because they
grow like crazy. Except the basil, which was the one I actually knew how to
use. That one was a goner during the first hundred-degree day of summer.”
“Basil is a sensitive soul.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell
her he could show her how to use the herbs, but he held the offer back. His
brother had been right. Making her laugh was like some weird sort of drug to
his starved system, but she didn’t need a guy flirting with her right now. It
couldn’t go anywhere anyway. He didn’t date, for one. And even if he was doing
the casual hookup thing these days, she didn’t strike him as the type who’d be
down for that, especially with someone like him. He had nothing to offer her
besides garden-care tips.
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