by Eve Gaddy
His mouth curved up in a sexy smile. But his words were anything but. “That was a mistake.”
“Why do you say that?”
“For a variety of reasons.” He pulled off the shoulder back onto the highway.
“I can’t think of any. Name one.”
He shot her an annoyed glance. “You could be married.”
“We’ve been through that. If I am married I’m married to a bad guy and I’m getting a divorce. Next.”
“You have amnesia.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Very funny. Seriously, Glenna, no matter what I want, it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you.”
“What do you want, Mitch?” she asked, ignoring the latter part of his statement.
He didn’t say anything but his hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Shit. Trust Glenna to focus on that slip of the tongue. He sensed he was sliding down a slippery slope. I want you. Under me, on top of me, against the wall, on the floor, in a bed, any damn place I can have you. But obviously, he couldn’t tell her that. He shook his head. “Not going to happen, Glenna.”
“What if I never regain my memory? Am I supposed to put my life on hold forever? If that’s what you think, forget it. That’s bullshit.”
“No one said anything about forever. And you’re not putting your life on hold. You’re going to meet your family and once you do—”
“Once I do my memory will come rushing back and everything will be wonderful?”
“It could happen.” Jesus, did he sound as desperate as he felt?
“It could,” she agreed. “And a meteorite could hit us at this exact moment. That doesn’t mean either of those things is going to happen. Or is even likely to happen.”
He started to answer but his cell phone rang. Saved by the proverbial bell. He’d left his phone in the cup holder since the car’s hands-free device had been disabled. “Can you get that and hand it to me?”
“Mitch’s phone,” she answered after picking it up. “Just a minute.”
“It’s Louise. She says she’s your assistant.”
“She is. Thanks.” He took the phone and asked, “What have you found out?”
“I can’t find any record of a marriage between Rolando Villareal, or for that matter, any Villareal and Glenna Gallagher. I couldn’t find a Glenna Gallagher mentioned in a marriage to anyone in Argentina.”
“Okay, thanks.” He put the phone back and said, “Congratulations. Odds are you aren’t married.”
“Good. I hated to think I’d have committed myself to a criminal. Of course, if I am married, I’d like to think I married him before I knew what he was.”
“It’s not confirmed, but Louise couldn’t find any record of you marrying in Argentina. That leaves out the possibility that you got married somewhere else, though. Or that it’s not recorded but it still took place.”
She shrugged. “Even so, that takes care of one problem. Mostly. Now how can I convince you that you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me if we—” she hesitated, then said, “let things happen naturally and quit fighting our feelings?”
“We’re not talking about feelings, here, Glenna.”
“No? Then what are we talking about?”
“Sex. We’re talking about sex. We have the hots for each other. It’s not surprising. We’ve been with each other constantly for almost three days.” There. It was finally out in the open, not that it mattered.
She laughed. “You think proximity is the only reason we have the hots for each other?” she said, making air quotes.
How in the hell had he gotten into this? Oh, yeah, he’d kissed her. And everything spiraled from there. Worse, he wanted to do it again. Kiss her, touch her, taste every inch of her body, bury his hands in her hair and make her come, screaming his name. But that was not going to happen.
“Maybe not the only reason, but it’s a big part of it.”
He shot her a glance and saw her smiling. She obviously wasn’t buying his theory. With good reason. He took another turn, this one leading to the Gallaghers’ farmhouse. He stopped a ways short of the place so Glenna could get the whole picture. The house was a two-story, white wooden classic farmhouse. It had a huge wraparound porch with a couple of rockers and a porch swing on either side of the front door. Wildflowers bloomed in part of the massive front lawn, while closer to the house, there was a grass lawn and beds of planted flowers.
“It’s pretty.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’ve seen it before?” she asked him.
“Just once, when I came here to talk to Dylan and get the information I needed to start tracking you down.” He put the car in gear and started driving to the rear of the house.
“Where are you going? The front door is right there.”
No need to ask if she remembered the house. Obviously, she didn’t. “Everyone uses the kitchen door around back.”
He stopped the car and turned off the engine. Glenna sat, looking around, taking in the surroundings. Dylan Gallagher’s horse-breeding operation had gained a good reputation, and was growing accordingly. There was a stable down the hill from the house, with another partially built building nearby that he guessed would become another stable. An old rusted-out pickup sat beside the original barn. There was a horse in the round pen, several horses in a nearby pasture, and a number of dogs milling around the stables. A couple of dogs, both of them mixed breeds of some type, had come up to the car barking, and were now sitting patiently, waiting to greet them when they got out.
The kitchen door opened and Dylan Gallagher stepped out, along with a petite brown-haired sixty-ish woman Mitch knew was the housekeeper, Glory. Glenna sat frozen, with a deer in the headlights expression on her face. Figuring that given the chance she might sit there forever, he went around and opened her door.
He held out his hand. “It’s okay, Glenna. Come on, let’s go see them.”
The look she sent him damn near broke his heart. Take me with you, her eyes pleaded. Take me away. Don’t leave me here. It about killed him to smile reassuringly at her, knowing that’s exactly what he was going to do. But not right this minute.
How she could, in a heartbeat, go from sexy, engaging and completely sure of herself to this vulnerable woman who wasn’t even sure of her name was a total mystery to him. And disconcerting as hell.
The dogs had followed him around to the passenger side of the car. When Glenna got out they didn’t jump on her, but they nosed her, clearly encouraging her to pet them. She squatted and laughed when they licked her face and some of the tension left her shoulders. After a bit she gave them each a last pat and straightened. Mitch got her backpack out of the back seat and slung it over one shoulder.
Dylan whistled. “Spike, Rosa, that’s enough. Come.” The two dogs dashed off to Dylan, then took off for the barn after he said something to them.
Glenna squared her shoulders and began walking—or more like slowly dragging herself—toward Dylan.
Well, shit, isn’t this awkward as hell, Mitch thought watching the two of them.
They’re just people, Glenna told herself. People who love you. There’s no need to be nervous.
Except she was. Because these people loved Glenna Gallagher. And she was someone else. Who, she didn’t quite know. But she felt like an imposter.
Dylan was walking to meet them halfway. Glenna clutched Mitch’s arm, praying he wouldn’t pull away. She glanced up at him. He gave her another reassuring smile. And it did reassure her, a little, though she wasn’t sure why.
Everyone stopped a short distance away from the kitchen door. The woman, Glory, Mitch had told her, waited at the door. The housekeeper, who, according to Mitch, was a second mother to the Gallaghers.
A young woman with dark hair and a heart-shaped face popped into her mind, a pretty girl with a musical laugh and flashing brown eyes. As
quickly as the memory had come, it was gone. And this was, definitely, a memory. Valencia. Why did Glenna feel a flash of fear and sorrow when she thought of her? Was she alive? Dead? Is that why she couldn’t remember? Because she didn’t want to remember?
But you did remember. You remembered she told you to leave. And you remembered being scared for her.
“Mitch, thanks for bringing Glenna home.” Dylan offered his hand and Mitch shook it. Dylan turned to her and said, “It’s good to have you home, Glenna.”
“Thank you.” Two words were all she could manage. She had no idea what to say. She couldn’t very well say it’s good to be home when she didn’t recognize anything about the place. She let go of Mitch’s arm and took a step forward, but then she simply stood there.
Dylan didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He gave her a swift hug and said, “I hope you two are hungry. Glory’s been cooking for two days.”
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Glory said, stepping forward and enveloping Glenna in an enthusiastic hug. She smelled like cookies. Glenna felt a twinge of something. Not quite memory but, perhaps, familiarity?
Turning to Mitch, Glory added, “Lean down here so I can hug you too. Thank you for bringing our girl back to us.”
Mitch laughed and hugged her. “Yes, ma’am. You’re welcome.”
“Would you like to go to your room and freshen up?” Glory asked Glenna as they all went into the kitchen. “Or would you rather eat something first? Dylan, you bring her bags up to the room.”
“I only have this backpack.” She took it from Mitch and said, “I can get it.” Her backpack was literally held together with duct tape. She hadn’t wanted to spend any money on a new one and after they opened hers up to find the money and her passport and DNI card, it was falling apart. She was suddenly aware of how she must look, with her hair curling wildly, wearing her only pair of jeans and a T-shirt she’d bought at a half-price sale in the airport gift shop.
“I’ll come with you and make sure you have everything you need,” Glory said after exchanging a glance with Dylan.
“Thank you.” She meant it. She thought it was very considerate of Glory not to call attention to the fact that she didn’t know the way to “her” room.
“Dylan, you give Mitch something to eat. And there’s some of that beer you like in the fridge.”
Glory led her out of the kitchen and through the living room, a very homey-feeling room with a huge stone fireplace, wood floors scattered with rugs, and a comfortable-looking well-worn leather couch and overstuffed chairs. She stopped, struck by the view from one of the large picture windows on either side of the fireplace.
“Oh, my God, what an amazing view.” It was a fairy-tale vista. The well-kept lawn surrounded the house. Farther beyond that lay green fields dotted with horses and cattle, with patches of wildflowers springing up here and there. Behind it all, white-topped mountains rose in shades of purples, blues, and grays, against an achingly bright blue sky, darkening even as she watched.
“You always loved this view of the mountains,” Glory said. “Ever since you were a little girl.”
“I can see why. It’s stunning.” But she didn’t remember. Not even the smallest memory.
Glenna followed Glory up the stairs, turned left and then halted at the first door on the right. “We still call this Glenna’s room but we turned it into a guest room a long time ago. We left a few of your favorite things in here.”
She opened the door and Glenna followed her in. The walls were painted a pale mint green. A queen-sized bed in a white wrought-iron frame drew her attention next. The bed was covered with a white comforter with mint and white striped throw pillows and a blanket also in mint green completing it.
A small white writing desk stood beneath a window, which had a view of the front lawn. There was a white dresser with a mirror hanging over it. The mirror was framed in the round and sported Mickey and Minnie Mouse figurines. All the woodwork was painted white. “It’s beautiful,” she said. She stepped closer to the mirror and picked up a picture of a young girl and her horse. “Is this me?”
“Yes. And Minnie, your favorite horse when you were a girl.”
She laughed. “After Minnie Mouse. I guess that explains the mirror.”
“Yes, you absolutely loved that mirror. We thought you’d want a more grown-up mirror once you became a teenager, but you never did. So we kept it after you left. This bedroom is usually reserved for women. It’s a bit too feminine for the men.”
“I think it’s lovely,” she said, looking around.
“So the backpack is all you have?”
“Yes. I don’t have many clothes so I’ll need to use the washer and dryer if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. You’re about Sam’s size. I’m sure she has some things she won’t mind lending you.”
“Sam?”
“Dylan’s fiancée.”
“Is she living here?”
“Mostly. She’s trying to sell her house, so sometimes she stays there. Sam’s a doctor at the Marietta hospital, like Jack, Sean, and Wyatt. She’s a trauma surgeon.”
Crap. A trauma surgeon? That sounded intimidating.
Get a hold of yourself. This isn’t like you. You’re not a vulnerable wimp.
How do you know?
Good question.
“I’ll leave you alone. You come downstairs whenever you’re ready.”
“Glory? Would you mind staying and talking to me a little?”
“Of course not.”
Glenna couldn’t get any words out. Staring out the window, she felt her throat close up and tears prick her eyes. Damn it, I’m not going to cry. There’s no reason to. I’m with my family. Yes, and Mitch is leaving soon. That thought depressed her even more.
“Glenna, honey, don’t you worry. This will all come back to you when it’s good and ready.”
She turned and gazed at Glory, thinking how motherly and comforting she looked. Glory held out her arms. Glenna walked in to them and began crying in earnest. Though Glory was nearly a head shorter than her, it was a relief to feel as if she could lay some of her burden down, if only for a little bit.
“There, there,” Glory murmured. “Cry it out, sweetie.”
She did for a while, then finally forced herself to stop and move out of Glory’s arms. “I don’t usually cry like that. Do I?” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose with the tissue Glory handed her.
“You never did as a girl. Well, you cried a time or two when you were hurt. When you tangled with the barbed wire fence, the time you broke your arm, and a few other things.”
“Good. I don’t want to find out I’m a wimp.”
Glory laughed. “Oh, girl, that’s the last thing you were. And still aren’t, I’ll bet the ranch.”
“I don’t remember anything about the family, or about the ranch either,” Glenna said, her breath hitching. “None of it.”
“You have amnesia,” Glory said reasonably. “Doesn’t mean it won’t get better. You won’t do yourself any good worrying yourself sick about it, so just relax. Your memory will come back when it’s good and ready. You were always headstrong. Guess your memory is too.”
Glenna smiled. There was something infinitely comforting about Glory. She sat on the bed and Glory took the upholstered chair in the corner.
“When did I leave home?”
“A long time ago. You weren’t much older than eighteen.”
“Mitch said—He said I had a fight with my father and left home and hardly came back in all the time since.”
Glory nodded. “Your daddy—he was a good man. But he had a blind spot about women and ranching. He just didn’t believe a woman should be running a ranch. Since that’s what you were determined to do, you two got into it more than once. I don’t know exactly what passed between you that time that caused you to up and leave but I do know he regretted it.”
“If that’s so, why did he cut me out of the will?”
“Oh, honey, he didn’t cut you out. Well, not exactly.”
“Mitch told me there was something in there about how I wouldn’t inherit anything unless I married by the time I was thirty. Or before I turn thirty-one, anyway.” Which, according to her passport, was in a couple of months. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to take anything from the Gallaghers anyway. At least not until her memory came back. If it did.
Shaking off that thought, she changed the subject. “Did I keep in touch with anyone?”
“You wrote to Dylan regularly. You two were close. Closest in age and closest in what you loved.”
“What did we love?”
“Horses. Both of you were always horse crazy.”
“I haven’t been around a horse since... I don’t remember the last time.” Tomorrow she’d ask Dylan to let her see the horses. Maybe that would help, although she didn’t hold out a lot of hope.
“I imagine you were around a lot of horses on that ranch you worked at.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t remember that either.”
“What do you remember, honey?”
“Almost nothing before the accident. Everything from the time I woke up in the hospital. I’ve had a few dreams and a few flashbacks. At least, I think that’s what they are. They’re all about Argentina, though.”
“That makes sense. You’ve been living in Argentina and you haven’t lived here in a long time.”
“I feel so bad that I can’t remember them.”
“Your brothers? Don’t you worry about them. They’re just thrilled to pieces to have you home.” She paused and added, “I can’t imagine what that must be like. What do the doctors say about you remembering?”
“I haven’t seen any since I left the hospital in Chile. Mitch wants me to see his brother. He’s a neurologist here in Marietta.”
“That sounds like a good idea. You’re sweet on Mitch, aren’t you?”
Sweet on. What an old-fashioned saying. Glory didn’t look all that old. “I—He’s the only person I know.”
“It’d be a pity if that’s all there is to it. He is one fine-looking man. And from what I can tell, he’s just fine period.”