He grimaced and swore even more viciously. “What I thought was my name.” He gestured at the mirror and the people he still believed were watching their sessions even though Hayley had assured him otherwise many times. “They’re the ones who told me it’s really Jason.”
All of this she also knew. She uncrossed her ankles and set her notepad on her lap. “I’d like to try something new, if you’re willing.” She reached into the side pocket of her slacks, her fingertips brushing over the panic button as she extracted the short pencil that, along with the notebook, was all she’d been allowed to bring in with her. Jason wasn’t even allowed plastic eating utensils at this point because he was far too adept at causing damage with even the most innocent of objects.
He wasn’t suicidal. But he definitely had bouts of rage. Considering everything he’d been going through for the past several months, even those fits probably stemmed from reasonable cause.
“Hypnosis,” she finished.
He snorted and returned to sit on the bed with his back against the wall, his long legs crossed. “Doesn’t work.”
“How do you know?” She’d spent enough time with him now to feel confident that his condition wasn’t an act. He truly did not remember anything. Physical causes for his amnesia had already been ruled out before he’d been placed under Tristan’s “care.” Which left the psychological. He could very well have been involved in the death of his partners, but if so, she honestly believed he couldn’t recall the memory. “Do you remember?” she asked with a faint smile.
He bared his teeth in a humorless grimace. “Don’t quit your day job, Doc. You’re no good at standup comedy.”
Doc. Too easily, Seth snuck back into her mind.
She stared hard at the blank pad she’d put in her lap until his image was once more pushed behind the barrier that separated her personal life from her professional.
“Hypnosis,” she continued calmly, “can be a very useful tool in recovering dissociated and repressed memories. But it’s nothing that can be forced on you, Jason. Not by me or anyone else. You have to be willing to participate. To try.”
“And when I do remember, I spend the rest of my life on death row. Or worse,” he added with a look toward the mirror.
“We don’t know that yet.”
His expression was skeptical to say the least.
“My plan isn’t to work on that right now,” Hayley continued. “Your entire life isn’t made up only with the time you spent in Central America. You had parents. Siblings. A childhood. You went to school. To college.” All of these things she knew from Tristan. But Jason couldn’t recall any of the details. “Let’s just start with retrieving memories from your childhood. When you learned you liked reading fiction, for instance,” she added. “Or we can spend another hour together twiddling our thumbs again.” She spread her hands slightly. The man was a prisoner. He needed to feel some control, particularly when it came to his own mind. “Your call.”
He thumped his head against the wall behind him a few times. “You went to a wedding this weekend,” he said abruptly. “I heard the gorillas talking.”
The work–life barrier in her head vibrated a little but held fast. “There was a wedding. A lot of people went.”
“You’re not married.”
“So we’re going to talk about me today?” She shifted and crossed her ankles again. “No. I am not married.”
“Gay?”
If he’d hoped for a reaction, he would be disappointed. “Unmarried. I like to read thrillers,” she mused smoothly. “Political intrigue. An occasional love story.”
“I think I was married,” he said abruptly. “Once.”
Ah. She wanted to cheer but contained it to an encouraging smile and set aside the notepad. “I’d like to hear about that, Jason.”
* * *
She was walking the dog.
More accurately, the dog was walking Hayley, practically dragging her along by the long leash she held as they crossed the street and entered the big community park.
For the past two days, ever since he’d unintentionally run into her at Shop-World, Seth had been telling himself that staying away from Dr. Hayley Templeton was the smart thing to do.
But what was a man to do when the universe put her in his orbit?
His rhythmic pace didn’t falter at the sight of her. Which meant it took only minutes for their paths to cross near the pavilion. Just when she was depositing a plastic bag into the trash with quite an expression on her face.
“Looks like you’re on doody duty,” he greeted as he slowed to a walk. The park was a hive of activity even on an early Monday evening. There was even a group of little girls dressed in tutus twirling around under the pavilion to the clapping of their dance instructor. “Fun times.”
Hayley dropped the trash bin lid back into place and eyed him as if he’d materialized out of nowhere. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing I do most every day after work. Five miles.” Then there was the shooting range, followed by the dinky gym at his apartment building. He absently pulled the front of his sweaty T-shirt up to swipe his face with it, only realizing what he was doing when her gaze followed the movement.
She looked fresh-faced and feminine and he was an uncouth, sweating beast.
He let go of the fabric and went down on one knee to scrub his fingers over the dog’s yellow coat. “Isn’t this Casey’s pup? The one that keeps eating his shoes?”
“Moose,” Hayley provided. “And not just shoes.” She’d pulled a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer from the back pocket of the blue jeans that accentuated her long legs and squirted some onto her hands.
He couldn’t keep from chuckling over the sight. She’d probably want to shower in the stuff if he pulled her close the way every cell in his body urged.
“What?” She pocketed the bottle again. “I’m not big on doody duty, as you call it.” She folded her arms over the front of the long-sleeved thermal shirt that clung to her slender torso. Moose’s enthusiastic bouncing around tugged the end of the leash clasped in her fingers, which in turn made her arms bounce around, too.
And every time her arms bounced, her breasts plumped distractingly beneath the close-fitting top.
“At least he hasn’t tried eating any of my shoes,” she continued. “Not that I’ve given him a chance. I keep them in the closed guestroom closet. Which doesn’t stop him from chewing instead on the edge of the closet door and most anything else he can get his teeth around. I’m staying at their place while they’re on their honeymoon,” she added. “I thought I’d try tiring him out some with a long walk, to see if he’d sleep more and chew less tonight.” Her gaze shied away from Seth’s and she moistened her lips. “I was, um, going to stop at Colbys and grab a sandwich for supper after I walked Moose. I still owe you dinner for that shirt. If...if you’re interested.”
Looking up at her provided him with a new perspective. She had a tiny birthmark underneath her slightly pointed chin that he’d never noticed before.
He gave the slobbering pup a final pat and stood up. Between the bouncing arms and that cute little mole he wanted to kiss in the worst way, he was too close to heading off a cliff. “You don’t owe me anything, Hayley.”
“In other words, thanks, but no thanks.” She took a steadying step when the dog jerked hard on the leash. “Moose, stop.” Of course, the words had no effect and the dog kept prancing around until he’d twisted the leash around Hayley’s ankles. Not that she seemed to notice. “I got into psychology because I was always interested in what made people tick. But I can’t figure you out at all.”
“There’s nothing to figure.”
The fine line of her jaw was firmly set as she looked past him. “So I’m just...imagining this thing between us.” The corners of her soft lips turned downward. “A litt
le humiliating, but I’ll survive. Come on, Moose.” She started to step around Seth, only to learn what he had already noticed about the leash. She nearly stumbled into him.
He caught her easily but let her go the second she was steady again. “Stand still for a minute.” He worked the twisted leash free of first her fingers and then her ankles. It was one of those retractable types and before giving the handle back to her, he hit the button to shorten the leash by several feet. “Don’t give him the advantage of such a long lead,” he suggested.
“You know.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts again. “The only time I’m a klutz is when you’re around.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
She made a face. “That’s my line. Not yours. Enjoy the rest of your run.” She didn’t smile as she turned and tugged, trying to draw the dog’s attention from the bush he was sniffing. “Moose! Come on.”
The puppy finally turned and loped along ahead of her, a disjointed collection of body parts going at different speeds, all covered in thick, yellow fur. In a matter of minutes, she was leaving the park and crossing the street again.
So much for the long walk for Moose.
Seth blew out a breath and forced himself to turn and go the opposite way. He still had a few miles to run before he’d hit his quota.
A part of him wished he’d never heard of Hollins-Winword, Tristan Clay or the dinky town of Weaver, Wyoming, where a person couldn’t seem to turn around without running into someone they needed to avoid.
If he hadn’t, his life would have been so much simpler.
He picked up his pace, returning to the familiar, rhythmic thump, thump, thump of path underfoot.
And if he hadn’t, his life—thump, thump, thump—would have been missing the increasingly vital element that was Hayley Templeton.
Chapter Seven
After leaving the park, Hayley did not pass Colbys.
She did not pass go or collect two hundred dollars.
Running into Seth that way just made her want to head home and lick her wounds. But she couldn’t even do that. She was staying at Jane and Casey’s, taking care of their wrecking-ball-in-training of a dog, Moose.
Even though Hayley hadn’t stayed at the park long thanks to that wholly unsatisfying encounter with Seth, the entire trip still had managed to eat up more than an hour of time. As she walked up the stone drive leading to the white, two-story farmhouse that Casey had transplanted to its present neighborhood, she let Moose off the leash. He raced with all the speed and none of the grace of a greyhound across the green grass surrounding the house and up the wooden steps of the front porch, skidding headfirst right into the door.
She heard his yelp, but because she’d already witnessed similar scenes before, she wasn’t unduly concerned. By the time she reached the porch, Moose was sitting on his haunches, a goofy smile on his face while his wagging tail thumped against the door. “You’re such a silly boy,” she murmured, scratching his head before letting him through the front door.
She walked through to the fully renovated gourmet kitchen and great room located at the rear of the house and refilled the dog’s water bowl before opening the oversize refrigerator. The glass shelves inside were spotless and mostly empty. Jane had made noises about getting it stocked for Hayley before she and Casey left for their honeymoon, but Hayley had assured her not to worry about it. Between preparing for the wedding and taking care of Colbys, the last thing the new bride needed to be worrying about was laying in food for her house sitter.
Hayley needed to get to the store.
But ever since running into Seth outside of Shop-World after the wedding, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go back and stock up on her usual items. And the small, local grocer in town had been closed both times she’d thought to run by.
She closed the fridge doors and dialed her house number. Vivian answered on the second ring. “Want me to come home and fix you dinner?” At least there the refrigerator had a few items in it besides leftover wedding cake, Casey’s beer and Jane’s favorite chardonnay.
But even in this, Hayley was thwarted when her grandmother replied, “I’ve already eaten.”
Hayley leaned against the granite-topped island that seemed the size of a helicopter pad. “When? Today?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, miss.” Vivian’s own tone was haughty. “If you must know, I ordered in.”
Hayley nearly laughed out loud. “You ordered pizza?” Because that was pretty much the only option in a town where the sole Golden Arches was still in the planning stage. To say there was a dearth of takeout in Weaver was an understatement.
“I hired Mr. Bumble to cook for me.”
Hayley pressed her fingertip to the bridge of her nose. “Who’s Mr. Bumble?”
“That young man who works at Ruby’s. He has that dreadful haircut and never wears a proper shirt. But he makes a lovely quiche.”
It took Hayley a minute. “You mean Bubba?”
“I refuse to address anyone as Bubba,” Vivian answered. “Mr. Bumble has agreed to prepare a proper dinner for me for the next week until Montrose arrives.”
“Vivian.” Hayley pulled out one of the barstools tucked beneath the kitchen island and sat down. “I know I can be preoccupied sometimes, but who is Montrose? And since when have you been getting over to Ruby’s to even know what sort of quiche Bubba’s capable of making?”
“You told me to get out,” Vivian said crisply. “I got out. Don’t start complaining now.”
“I’m not complaining,” Hayley quickly assured her. “Everyone is just full of surprises today.”
“Who is everyone?”
She couldn’t very well talk about Jason McGregor’s bout of loquaciousness that afternoon. And broaching the subject of Seth would just set her grandmother off on another you-need-a-man tangent.
So she didn’t address the question at all. “Who is Montrose?” she asked again instead.
“My chef from Pittsburgh. Well. He used to be my chef, before I let him and the rest of the household staff go last year. Of course he’ll decide that he needs hazard pay once he sees the state of your small kitchen, but that’s temporary and he’s always been a prima donna.”
Maybe Hayley needed more protein in her diet because she was having the hardest time keeping up. “If you were worried about meals, you could have just said so, Vivian. I thought you were looking forward to having the place to yourself for these few weeks while I’m house sitting.”
“I was. But I’ve decided it’s time to move on.”
Dismay squeezed inside her. “You’re going back to Pennsylvania?”
“Why on earth would I go there when I’ve already gone to some trouble convincing Montrose to come here? I had to actually apologize to the man for having let him go. Really, Hayley dear. For an intelligent young woman, you’re very illogical.”
“Gee. Thanks.” She propped her elbow on the countertop and rested her forehead on her hand. “Then what did you mean by moving on?”
“I’ve decided I’m no longer going to worry about Carter and David. Dear Arthur, rest his soul, convinced me to try, and I did. I failed. So be it. Time to move on.”
“Vivian—”
“No. There is no point in sugarcoating this any longer. I’ve thought about what you said the other night, and you were right. It’s time I start living my life again.”
“I applaud proactive behavior, Vivian. But I’m not ready yet to give up on Dad and Uncle David.”
“That’s up to you. In the meantime, I’ve decided to buy us a house. A suitable house. Not just a little cottage like you have.”
Hayley hesitated, more internal alarms going off. “Us.”
“Mr. Bumble provided me the name of a Realtor in town. I will make an appointment to begin look
ing as soon as possible. Of course, we’ll need accommodations for Montrose. He’s always lived in, and I expect that won’t change.”
“Vivian.”
“So Montrose and a housekeeper. Housekeeping is beneath him, naturally. And acreage would be nice.” Vivian’s voice went dry. “I’m assuming there isn’t a lack of that in the area.”
“Vivian!”
“Yes, dear?”
“Why would you assume I want to move?”
“Why wouldn’t you? With a large enough house, we won’t even have to see one another if we choose not to. Mercy. I once spent half a year living with Theodore without having to exchange two words with the man. Not that I’m comparing you to Theodore, mind you. I’m simply trying to make my point.”
“I like my house,” Hayley said.
“Hmm. Well, it’s cozy. But you might as well become accustomed to certain things, Hayley. I have no one else to leave my money to—Carter and David would probably spit on every dollar and your siblings and cousins don’t give me the time of day—so you’re going to be a very, very wealthy woman one day.”
“If you want a relationship with my brother and sisters or our cousins, you could make an effort, too. And I don’t care about your money. I care about you.”
“And I care about where we live,” Vivian retorted as if that were that. “Now, I can’t sit here talking on the phone all evening with you. I have plans to make. Was there anything else you needed?”
Hayley shook her head, feeling as if she’d walked into some alternate universe. “No.”
“Then I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Good night, dear.”
The line went dead.
Hayley slowly set down her phone and looked at the puppy. “Who was that masked woman, Moose?”
The dog just cocked his head, one floppy ear folded backward. Bemused, she bent down and righted his ear, scratched his belly a few times when he immediately rolled over begging for it and then returned to the refrigerator.
One Night in Weaver... Page 9
