by Judy Duarte
The nurse stopped and pulled back the curtain, revealing the bed where Clay lay, as well as the blonde female doctor who was examining him.
“The patient’s friend is here,” the nurse told the doctor.
Alana was going to feel pretty stupid if she claimed to be a good friend, and then the man she knew as Clay turned out to be Joe Schmoe from Kokomo. But if she admitted that she didn’t know much about him, they’d shoo her out of the room, and there was no way she’d leave. Not until she knew exactly who he was. And why he’d turned up at her ranch.
The doctor looked up, her green eyes zeroing in on Alana. “I’m glad you’re here. What happened to him?”
“I’m not sure. I think he was coming to visit me, but instead of driving, he staggered onto my property. And when I asked him what happened, he couldn’t tell me.”
“We’re going to run some tests,” the doctor said. “He definitely has a concussion, but I can’t rule out a skull fracture. He’s somewhat lucid, but he can’t provide us with any pertinent information. It looks like he has a case of amnesia. Hopefully, just temporary.”
“He might’ve been involved in a car accident,” Alana said.
The doctor shook her head. “No, it was probably a mugging. Or a carjacking. He doesn’t have a wallet, cash, credit cards or any other form of identification.”
Alana’s breath hitched, and her heart cramped at the thought of something so mean, so brutal happening to Clay in her community. Someone had hurt him and could have killed him, then they’d robbed him and left him for dead.
“So what’s his name?” the doctor asked.
Alana started to say Clay, then reeled it back in. They’d expect a last name, and she didn’t have one. So John Doe might be more accurate. She paused for a moment, weighing what to do. Tell them the truth?
And then what? As a near stranger, she certainly wouldn’t be privy to any updates to his medical condition.
It probably wasn’t wise to give him a fake identity, albeit one as temporary as his amnesia, but there was no way Alana was going to let anyone chase her off as a nobody. She needed information about her baby’s daddy.
Then an idea popped up. A way to keep her story straight, to remember the details. “His name is Jack McGee. But he’s kind of a drifter. I hired him to work on my ranch for the season.”
The doctor nodded. “I see. Someone from the administration department will be up to get more information.”
Alana could handle that. She’d provide them with Grandpa Jack’s birthday, using her own birth year. And she’d give them the address for Rancho Esperanza. Hopefully, as soon as Clay’s memory returned, the two of them would be able to straighten out this mess.
“Is Jack going to be all right?” she asked the doctor.
“I think so. I’m going to order a CT scan and some other tests. I’d also like to keep him overnight for observation.”
Alana wasn’t going to leave him here, completely defenseless. “Would it be possible for me to stay with him?”
“Sure, if he doesn’t mind.”
Alana glanced at Clay, who’d dozed off. “I’m sure he’ll be fine with that.”
Yet that was the second lie she’d told. She wasn’t the least bit sure how he’d feel about her camping out all night with him at the hospital or what he’d say if he were lucid. But she’d been given a second chance. And this was one night she wasn’t going to slip out early, not without learning who he really was.
* * *
Jack woke up in a hospital bed, the morning sun lighting the room, if not his memory.
Wait. Jack? That couldn’t be right. Could it?
For some reason, the name didn’t seem to fit. But then again, nothing had been the least bit familiar to him over the past twenty-four hours. And on top of that, each nurse who’d come into his room, which had seemed like every fifteen minutes last night, had called him Jack. So he couldn’t very well object. On what grounds?
He’d suffered an injury. That was for sure. But he’d be damned if he knew how it had happened. And no one else seemed to have a clue, either.
At least he was feeling a little better than he had yesterday, although his head still ached as if he’d been a piñata at a kid’s birthday party.
He was also exhausted. Why did hospitals wake up sick and injured people when they needed their sleep?
And speaking of sleep, he turned to the right, where the brunette dozed in a chair by his bed. She’d been there all night. He’d seen her there each time he’d woken up. But he doubted she’d slept any better than he had. How could she?
She was pretty. That is, if he closed his bad eye and looked at her with only the good one. She was friendly, too. And she had a sweet, gentle voice.
Can I get you some water?
Are you cold? I can ask them to bring you another blanket.
Do you need something for pain?
Alana. The name sounded vaguely familiar. And she claimed that they were friends. But damn, wouldn’t he remember a kind, thoughtful, stunning woman who looked like her?
But he clearly couldn’t rely on that assumption. Hell, he didn’t remember squat.
They must be friends, though. Why else would she be here? Not only that, she’d spent the night in a chair, which must be uncomfortable.
Another nurse—no, it was a doctor—walked into the room. Was she the same one who’d examined him last night? The one who’d run so many tests? Dr. Kirk...something?
“Good morning,” the doctor said, approaching the bed. “I see you’re awake.”
At the sound of voices, Alana lifted her head and let out a little yawn.
“From the test results,” the doctor continued, “your injuries aren’t nearly as serious as they might have been. As I indicated yesterday, you don’t have a skull fracture. Just a bad concussion. The night nurse said you did well, so I’m going to discharge you.” Her focus shifted to Alana. “That is, if he has a place to go. And someone to look after him for the next couple of days.”
“He can come home with me,” Alana said. Then she cast her gaze on him. “That is, if you’re okay with that.”
He’d have to be. Where else would he go? So he nodded. But that didn’t solve his problem. This whole damn situation left him flat-out bewildered.
“Give me some time to get the paperwork in order,” Dr. Kirkland said. “I’ll also give you instructions for follow-up care.”
Alana rose from her chair. “Thank you.”
As the doctor turned to leave, Jack came to his senses and called her back. “Wait a minute, Doc. I’ve got a few questions you haven’t answered. Is my memory going to come back? And if so, when?”
“It should. With time.” Dr. Kirkland slipped her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat. “But it’s probably best if you get your rest and take it easy.” Then she turned to Alana. “I’d suggest that you give him the time he needs to heal. Don’t try to force him to remember.”
Alana nodded. “Okay. Got it.”
Jack certainly hoped she had a handle on things. Because right now, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around anything.
Chapter Three
As the rickety old ranch pickup rumbled down the county road, engine rattling, seats bouncing, a country song playing on the radio, Jack remained silent. In fact, he hadn’t uttered a sound since they’d left the hospital.
As much as Alana would like to start a conversation—she certainly had quite a bit to say to him—she was at a loss for words. Besides, the doctor said that, when it came to his temporary amnesia, they should let nature run its course.
She stole a casual glance across the seat at her injured passenger, a man dependent upon her for the time being. In spite of a few remaining flecks of dirt and dried blood in his sandy-blond hair, the stitches over his left brow and a bruised and swollen eye, she st
ill found him drop-dead gorgeous.
He turned and caught her looking at him. As their gazes momentarily locked, her breath caught, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“So what do you know about me?” he asked.
“Truthfully? Not much. Only what you told me.” And she wasn’t sure if any of it was true. “We really haven’t known each other very long.” Alana had a heart for people down on their luck, and her baby daddy had certainly hit a rough patch of it, but she didn’t want to be naive anymore.
Her friend Callie had been pressing that reminder into her lately. People weren’t always honest, and some would jump at the chance to take advantage of Alana’s kindness and generosity. More than once, Callie had wagged her finger and said, And just because they have money or appear to, that doesn’t make them any more trustworthy.
Her baby daddy cleared his throat, drawing her from her musing, and asked, “How did we meet?”
This was so not the conversation she wanted to have. Not here, not now. “I’m not supposed to overload you with information. Remember? It might work against you.” And it could work against her. She wasn’t about to tell him that he’d fathered her baby.
What if he wouldn’t make a good daddy? What if he turned out to be the kind of man she didn’t want to be a part of her child’s life?
He let out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m not asking you to provide me with a birth date, social security number or a mailing address.”
If he were, he was out of luck.
During her days as a nanny, she’d learned it was best to answer a child’s question simply and not to provide an explanation that was more than he or she could handle. And she suspected that same philosophy would work in this case. “We met in a bar.”
He nodded as if that made perfect sense. Maybe for him but not for her. She’d never been one to hang out in places like that, let alone pick up a lover in one.
“Was it a bar around here?” he asked.
“No, it was in Colorado.”
“What were we doing there?”
“I was attending a cattle symposium. And you didn’t say.”
He seemed to chew on that for a while, then asked, “When was that?”
“Close to four months ago.” Dang. He was making it hard for her to follow the doctor’s orders. And harder to hold off on having this particular conversation until he was well and able to remember that night. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. We’d both had a little too much to drink, and believe it or not, I barely remember more than you do.”
When he turned his head and gazed out the side window, she assumed that she’d told him enough to appease him. So she continued to drive, her eyes on the road, then turned up the radio to let him know she was done talking.
She didn’t blame him for wanting to know more about himself. But she had a few questions of her own that she’d love to have the answers to. The biggest one of all was What the heck happened to you? Yet plenty of others came to mind.
What were you doing in Fairborn yesterday? And why were you so close to my ranch?
Hopefully, with time, they would both get some answers.
He reached over and turned the radio knob, shutting off the music. “At the hospital, you told the doctor we were friends.”
Only because they would have thrown her out of his room and not revealed any information to her if they’d been strangers. They might have been onetime lovers, and now they would be parents, but calling them friends was a pretty big stretch. “I don’t want to throw too much at you until you have time to heal. Remember what the doctor said.”
He chuffed. “Hell, I can’t even remember my name. And even though you told me it’s Jack, that doesn’t seem right.”
Would he feel any better if she’d called him Clay? She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, then her right hand slipped to her lap, gently caressing the curve of her belly. He’d seemed honest that night, but for all she knew, he could have been lying through his teeth, just to get her into bed.
Then again, going to his hotel room had been her idea, and she rolled her eyes at the thought.
In fact, they’d spent only one evening together, one unforgettable night. At least she’d never forget it. And even if that were possible, she’d have a constant reminder in about five months.
It seemed reasonable to suspect that, if he’d come looking for her, it meant he’d remembered it, too. That is, until someone or something knocked the sweet memory from his mind.
She pressed on the accelerator, pushing the beat-up old truck to drive faster. The sooner they got to the ranch, the more distractions he would have. And then maybe he’d stop asking the question she either couldn’t—or didn’t want to—answer.
They’d hardly gone another mile when he spoke again. “Have we...? I mean, did we...?”
...have sex? Her breath caught, and her heart nearly skyrocketed out of her chest. Yes. And it was...awesome. The best she’d ever had. But surely that was too much to admit to now. Still, she couldn’t very well ignore the question.
“Did we...what?” she asked, her voice coming out a little wobbly. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Keep in touch. I assume we did. Do we see each other very often?”
Relief rushed through her, and she thanked her lucky stars he hadn’t made the jump she’d thought he’d made. “Four months ago, we met and...enjoyed each other’s company. I told you that if you were ever in the area, you should stop by the ranch. Apparently, before you got hurt yesterday, you planned to surprise me. So I figure that makes us friends. And I’m okay with that.”
Was she? Truthfully? Yes and no.
She cut another glance across the seat, only to find him staring at her. And then he nodded, as if it all made sense to him.
Thank goodness. She started to blow out a little sigh, then sucked it back in as her relief faded.
Returning to the ranch wasn’t going to solve her problems. Because something told her that her problems had just begun.
* * *
The old rattletrap pickup slowed next to an overgrown bunch of weeds and shrubs that nearly swallowed up a bright yellow-and-green mailbox. The right front wheel hit a rut of some kind, and the jarring awakened the dull ache in Jack’s head.
“Here we are,” Alana said, as she turned on the right blinker and continued past a broken wooden structure that had been a gate at one time.
So much for having a sense of privacy or keeping people off the property.
Alana had told the doctor that she’d found him on her place, but if this was where he’d collapsed yesterday, it didn’t look the least bit familiar. But then again, nothing seemed familiar to him, not even Alana, who’d spent the night sleeping in a chair next to his hospital bed, which suggested that they might be more than friends.
“Have I been here before?” he asked. “I mean, before yesterday?”
“No,” she said. “That was the first time.”
Then, they weren’t lovers? That didn’t make sense, even to a man whose brain was a scrambled mess. Because what, other than sexual attraction, would provoke a man to come looking for a beautiful woman he’d met four months ago in an out-of-state bar?
He stole another look her way, this time his focus on the ring finger of her left hand, which rested on the top of the steering wheel. Nothing there. No tan line. No reason to believe she was married or engaged.
Not that he was in any position to let his mind, as jumbled as it was, wander in a romantic or sexual direction. Still, she’d spent the night next to his hospital bed, sleeping nearly upright. Why would a woman do something like that?
His gaze lifted to her face, to her delicate profile, to the thick black lashes framing big green eyes a man could get lost in if he wasn’t careful. He couldn’t help noting the way the sunlight glistened on the glossy
strands of long dark hair. Rather than let her catch him looking at her again, he turned away. Instead, as they bumped along the rutted, potholed road, he studied her property, the expanse of pasture that hadn’t seen any cattle, let alone a mower or plow, in years.
Deferred maintenance on a colossal level.
“So, this is your ranch,” he said.
A broad smile dimpled her cheeks. “Yes, it is. People in town still refer to it as the Lazy M, but I call it Rancho Esperanza.”
Hope Ranch? Jack didn’t see much about this particular plot of land that would provoke hope. But the fact that he understood those two Spanish words was an interesting awareness. Was he fluent? He tried to summon up more words, but his head began to spin. Maybe later.
“I know it doesn’t look all that great now,” Alana added, “but it will be one day. Besides, we love living out here.”
We? Did she have a family? Kids? A significant other?
“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked.
“Me and a few of my friends.”
As the pickup pulled into the yard, he saw one of those friends, an attractive blonde, sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. She got to her feet before Alana could shut off the ignition and started toward them. Actually, waddled was more like it. The woman was clearly pregnant and looked like she was ready to deliver any day.
“That’s my friend Callie,” Alana said. “She used to live here, but she moved out right after she married Ramon Cruz, our future mayor. That is, if the upcoming election turns out the way everyone seems to think it will. We’re having a baby shower for her next Saturday afternoon.”
By the size of her baby bump, she looked like she might give birth before then. But what did he know about pregnant women?
At least, he assumed he didn’t know anything. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on women and babies, hoping things would come together for him, but they didn’t.
