by Judy Duarte
“What’s she doing?” Clay asked.
“She keeps bumping into the rails of her stall. And then she lies down in the straw. But she gets right back up again. It’s like she can’t decide what she wants to do. I think she’s sick.”
Clay pushed his chair way from the table. “I’ll go check on her. She’s probably getting ready to foal.”
Alana got to her feet, too. “I’ll go with you. I’ve never seen a colt be born.”
“It’s pretty cool,” Clay said. He knew that was true, although he couldn’t actually recall a specific memory of him seeing a mare foal. But if he’d lived on a ranch, as he’d come to believe, he probably had.
Moments later, Clay and Alana followed Jesse into the barn and back to Bailey’s wooden stall. Mark stood just outside the gate, flanked by Rascal and Licorice and watching the chestnut mare shift her weight from side to side and paw at the straw on the ground, stirring up dust.
“Boys,” Clay said, “why don’t you put the dogs in the house. I don’t want them to make the mare nervous.”
“I’ll do it,” Jesse said. “But that’ll probably make them sad. They already feel jealous that Chewie and her puppies get to stay with us.”
Alana tugged on Clay’s shirtsleeve, worry etched upon her face, her eyes seeking his for reassurance. “Is she okay? I mean, I’ve studied what happens when horses give birth and I’ve watched a few YouTube videos. But dang. It’s different in reality. Is this normal?”
“Yes. Looks like she’s in the first stage of labor.”
“According to what I’ve read,” Alana said, “this could take some time.”
“It can take hours.” Again, he wasn’t sure how he knew that. He just did. It seemed reasonable to assume he’d have firsthand knowledge, even if he’d been a “city boy” until he was twelve or thirteen.
Alana tugged at his shirtsleeve again, only this time her fingers lingered on his arm. “I don’t want to take any chances. Maybe we should call the vet.” Her pretty green eyes, framed with thick, dark lashes, locked on his. She was relying on him. Trusting him. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” At least, not yet.
“Should we leave her alone?” Alana asked. “I mean, I’d rather not. I want to stay here as long as it takes, but I don’t want to bother her.”
“Mares usually prefer to be alone when they foal, but it might be okay if you’re nearby, as long as you stay out of the way.”
“Can we wait with you guys?” Mark asked.
Before Clay could answer, Katie approached and placed her hand on her brother’s small shoulder. “Dinner’s on the table, boys. It’s time to eat. We need to be at Callie’s house before seven.”
“Aw, man.” Jesse turned a frown on his big sister. “I forgot about that. Do we have to?”
Katie stroked the younger boy’s hair, then gave it an affectionate tousle. “Coach Ramon asked us to keep Callie company while he’s at that town council meeting because he doesn’t want her to be by herself. And he said he’d have everything we need to make ice-cream sundaes.”
“I don’t think you’ll miss anything,” Clay told the boys. “Bailey probably won’t have her baby until morning. Besides, you made a commitment to your coach. And he’s depending on you to follow through with it.”
“Yeah,” Mark said. “He’s right. Come on, dude. We gotta go.”
As the boys trudged behind their big sister on their way back to the house, Clay watched them go. It was nice to see such connection between the brothers.
The smile that had begun to tug at his lips faded as a memory rose up.
“Clay-dough,” Artie said, as he peered into the rearview mirror, “I left my sunglasses down at the lake where we were fishing. Go get ’em for me.”
Artie was always leaving things someplace—his keys, his homework, his hat.
“How come I gotta go get ’em?” Clay asked.
“’Cause that’s about all you’re good for. Just do it, Doughboy.”
Clay might have spouted off with an insult or a dumb nickname of his own, but he’d been glad when his brothers had included him for a change, even if he didn’t like fishing and had to take a boatload of crap off them. So he climbed out of the backseat of Artie’s Jeep and jogged toward the water’s edge.
He’d only gotten ten yards away when he heard the engine start up and the tires kick up gravel as the vehicle spun around.
“Clay-dough,” Phil hollered out the window. “Have a nice walk home.”
It had been a ten-mile walk, and by the time he’d gotten home, dinner was over and he had a couple of blisters on both feet. But he hadn’t complained. Or snitched. That would have only made things worse.
As the vision dimmed, revealing little more of that evening, Clay wondered if things had ever gotten any better between him and his brothers. It was impossible to say, so he shook it off. Then he leaned against the stall railing and studied the laboring mare.
“How’s she doing?” Alana asked. “I mean, do you see any reason for us to be concerned?”
“No, but why don’t you go back in the house and eat with everyone else. I’ll stay close by and keep an eye on things out here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Clay. My grandpa pinned his hopes of turning this ranch around on Bailey and that colt. And they’re my hope now. So I’m going to stay out here as long as it takes. And if something goes wrong, I’ll have the vet on speed dial.”
Her spunk surprised him. In a good way. Unable to help himself, he tossed her a flirtatious smile. “Then, it looks like we’ll both be spending the night in the barn.”
Her lips parted, and she shot a quizzical look his way. “You’re going to stay out here with me?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I was a Boy Scout once. It might be fun.”
“But what about work? Don’t you have to open the feed store tomorrow morning?”
“I can get by without sleep.” Hell, he’d done it enough times when he’d been at Oklahoma State University and then again in law school.
Well, how about that. The past was slowly coming back to him.
“Okay, then.” Alana took a step toward the door. “I’ll go inside and get us some blankets. The barn can get cold and drafty at night.”
As she turned away and headed back to the house, Clay couldn’t help but smile. Camping out with the Scouts was a lot of fun—and clearly another youthful experience that battled itself to the front of his mind—but telling ghost stories to a bunch of guys who didn’t think bathing and overnighters went hand in hand couldn’t hold a candle to spending the night out here with Alana.
Five minutes later, she returned with two pillows and a couple of blankets. But she wasn’t the only one to come back into the barn. Katie came next, holding two sturdy paper plates loaded down with a hearty meal, while Jesse juggled two glasses, each one holding a set of plasticware wrapped in a napkin. Mark brought up the rear with a thermos and a worn yellow tablecloth.
“We brung dinner and beds for you guys,” Jesse said.
“Brought,” his sister corrected.
Alana nodded at the east wall, where an old desk and chair sat. “Clay, would you mind pulling that out for us? We can use it as a table. There’s also another chair next to the ladder that’s leaning against the hayloft.”
“Talk about five-star service.” Clay chuckled as he complied with her request.
Alana set the bedding, two blankets and a couple of pillows on a bale of straw. Then she took the faded yellow tablecloth from Mark and covered the desk. “I figured we’d both eat out here. And since we could be staying the night, we may as well be as comfortable as possible.”
The guest bed where Clay slept was warm and comfortable. But spending the evening with Alana in a drafty, dusty, straw-littered barn was going to be an interesting
experience. Not that either of them would get much sleep once the night air began to infiltrate the gaps in the wood-slatted walls and the mare’s labor progressed.
“Alana,” Katie said, “I’ll clean up before we leave. Ramon said that he felt okay leaving Callie alone for a few minutes. So the boys and I have time to eat quickly and do the dishes.”
As Katie ushered her brothers back into the house, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Have a good evening. Ramon’s meeting is usually over at ten, so we won’t be home until after that. We’ll check on you when we get back.”
“Great,” Alana said. “Call if you’re going to be late. And drive carefully.”
Katie brightened. “Will do.”
Jesse stopped in front of the open barn door. “Don’t forget to phone if Bailey has her baby. Me and Mark think it’s going to be a boy, and we can’t wait to see it.”
“You know,” Mark said, his hands resting on his hips, “I was thinking... Maybe you guys ought to take turns sleeping, just like the army guys do when they’re on guard duty.”
Clay lifted two fingers and gave him a scout’s salute.
Alana just smiled and watched them go. “I love those kids.”
“I can see why. They’ve got good hearts. And they truly seem to care for each other.” Clay hadn’t shared anything like that with his half brothers. Maybe that’s why he’d tried so damned hard to prove himself worthy...of love and respect.
And there was another conclusion he’d just come to.
He blew out a sigh, frustrated at how long it took, how hard he had to work to put his life back in order. But at least it was coming along, slowly but surely.
“Are you ready to eat?” Alana asked. “The pot roast will taste a lot better if it’s warm.”
“I’m more than ready.”
They each took a seat in rickety chairs and sat around the makeshift table. Clay cut a glance at Alana and smiled. He had a feeling they were both in for a nice evening—albeit one unlike any they’d ever had before. And, oddly enough, there was something romantic about it, too.
“My grandfather used this desk,” Alana said. “He put it in the back corner of the barn and referred to it as his office until he added a room at the back of the house and made a real one.”
Her eyes lit up whenever she talked about her grandfather, and Clay couldn’t help wondering if he had grandparents himself. It was hard to say since his memory wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet. All he knew was that his mother had died and he’d gone to live with his father, a man he’d resented back then. Surely that had changed in time.
While they ate, he urged himself to envision a familiar face or two but came up short.
“Are you finished?” Alana stood and gathered her disposable dinnerware.
“Yes.” He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d neglected to praise the meal. “The meat was delicious. And so were the potatoes and carrots. You’re a great cook.”
Her smile dimpled her cheeks and put a sparkle in her eyes. “Thanks. I didn’t used to like spending time in the kitchen, but after I moved here and had to cook for Grandpa, I found an old recipe box that belonged to my grandmother. I had no idea I’d enjoy whipping up some of the food she used to fix.”
Alana carried their discarded plates and put them in an empty trash can that sat near the wall where they’d found the desk.
He watched her walk, the sway of her hips until another memory snuck up on him, and he tumbled back into a world he couldn’t quite grasp while living in this one.
* * *
Dammit, Clayton. I’ve got enough of a problem with grain-sniffing rats trying to sneak into the barn without you leaving a leftover ham sandwich to draw them in. Take your food scraps into the house.
Clay caught a shadowy vision of a man who stood about five foot six or seven, short yet bearing an invincible stature. Dark hair, neatly styled. A well-trimmed mustache.
“Are you okay?” Alana asked, breaking the spell.
He glanced up at her, then got to his feet. “Yeah. I’m all right.” Then he nodded to the trash can where she’d deposited their dirty dinnerware. “I’ll take that and put it in the sealed receptacle at the side of the house. We don’t want to attract flies, ants or rodents. While I’m gone, keep an eye on Bailey.”
Without waiting for a response, he snatched up the battered old trash can and carried the whole damned thing out of the barn and disposed of it in the covered container at the side of the house. He stopped by the faucet to wash his hands, then dried them by wiping them against his jeans.
He stayed outdoors for a moment, taking in the sight of a nearly full moon and enjoying the familiar sounds of a ranch at night—the chirp of crickets, the whinny of one of several horses in the corral. How he loved being outside by himself on a night like this... Selena was the only horse in Alana’s corral.
Another memory, he supposed. Something that gave him a glimpse of the life he’d led in Texas. It seemed that he was a cowboy lawyer, if that made sense.
He shook it off and returned to the barn, where he found Alana leaning against the stall railing, watching the mare. She turned toward him as he approached and blessed him with a sweet smile that set off a whoosh in his chest. Damn. Her eyes were an amazing shade of green. And in the soft glow of the light overhead, they seemed to sparkle like a cluster of precious gems, emeralds and diamonds.
He closed the distance between them and softly asked, “How’s she doing?”
“About the same.”
A piece of straw poked out of the curls that tumbled over her shoulders, and he reached to pluck it out. But instead of dropping it to the ground, he continued to hold it as he brushed his knuckles along her cheek.
Her breath caught, and her gaze locked on his. Something sparked between them, lighting a fuse. A short one, it seemed.
He’d promised himself not to kiss her again until he clearly remembered who he was. But try as he might, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around what could have provoked him to make a vow he wasn’t likely to keep.
As her lips parted, kissing her seemed to be his only option. And when he stepped closer, her chin tilted up. He didn’t give a damn who he used to be. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Ten
Alana slipped into Clay’s embrace as if she’d always belonged in his arms, in his life.
As the kiss deepened, the attraction and desire she’d felt for him since that first night they’d met grew too strong, too intense and alluring to ignore.
Yet there was more in play than just lust. An emotion, warm and vital, rose up in her chest, seeping into every nook and cranny of her heart, reaching into tiny crevices where old hurts, dormant for years, lay hidden.
She’d been holding back her feelings for him until his real identity was revealed, until his memory returned. She’d told herself that by doing so, she was just following doctor’s orders. But the longer he stayed on the ranch, the more she’d begun to realize she could fall heart over head for him. She’d seen the way he interacted with Mark and Jesse, and it touched her to the core. Even Rascal, Chewie and Licorice seemed to follow him around. It was so easy to conclude that he was a good, kind and honest man—one worthy of her love and trust.
As their tongues continued to mate, their breaths mingling in a knee-buckling kiss, Clay’s fingers slid down the slope of her back, bunching the cotton fabric of her dress. Then they trailed down to her derriere, where he gripped her bottom with both hands and drew her closer still.
His erection, strong and hard, pressed into her, his desire for her clear. It would be so easy to throw caution to the wind, to let passion run its course and continue kissing him as if there were no tomorrow. But the sun would come up, and making love tonight was sure to complicate things.
So she released her hold on him and placed both hands on his bro
ad chest, where his heart beat strong and steady. Slowly and reluctantly, she pushed against him and drew her lips from his.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she said. “At least, not here. Not now.”
“You’re right.” He reached up and brushed a loose strand of her hair from her brow. “You deserve more than a proverbial roll in the hay.”
She smiled.
“And to make matters worse,” he said, “I don’t have any condoms.”
They didn’t need them. She was already pregnant. Should she tell him now? She’d been wrestling with her deceit since he’d arrived at her door, but he deserved to hear news like that somewhere other than a dusty, drafty old barn.
Then again, birth control wasn’t the only reason to use protection. At that realization, her heart sank.
Was that why Clay had come to Montana looking for her? To tell her that he had a sexually transmitted disease and to suggest she be tested?
Then the voice of reason stepped in. No, that wasn’t possible. The physician’s assistant had ordered blood work at her very first obstetrical appointment. She’d been tested for all kinds of things, including STDs. And she was clean.
Clay reached out and cupped her jaw, drawing her attention back to the here and now. His thumb skimmed her cheek, caressing it and sending her pulse rate end over end like a gymnast’s Olympic routine on the mat.
“Whatever is going on between us, whatever we’re feeling is only growing stronger. And when the day comes and the time is right, we should be prepared, even if it’s spontaneous. So I’ll stop by the drugstore after work tomorrow and pick up a box.”
Her lips parted, realizing that whether they were in the barn or at the kitchen table, she ought to say something now. But for some dumb reason, the words failed her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look uneasy.”
“It’s just that... You don’t need to...do that.”
“I know. But I should. It’s going to happen, whether we plan a romantic evening or not.”
She couldn’t argue with that. And if he didn’t stop strumming her cheek, singeing her skin and creating an empty ache in the most feminine part of her body, making love was going to happen much sooner than later.
