Taboo Cowboy: A Secret Baby Ranch Western Romance

by Crowne, KC

  “Yeah, ah…I think I can handle it.” She was pale, and her wide eyes looked like a deer’s that had been caught in the headlights.

  “Then let’s move.” Before we started off, I reached forward to zip her coat back up. She stopped me before I could.

  “I can do it.”

  I raised my palms, signaling to her to go for it. Once she was zipped back up, I held her close and the two of us began moving. “Hell, this storm’s a bad one.”

  “I haven’t seen one like this in a while,” she commented, though her voice sounded unsure of the simple observation.

  I kept her body pressed against mine as we trudged through the muddy path we had to take to get to the house. She was cold, and my protective instinct flared up yet again as I considered the possibility of what might’ve happened if I hadn’t been there to find her.

  We made it about halfway to the house when she stumbled, nearly falling over again.

  “Come on – almost there.”

  She turned her groggy eyes up toward the massive house as it appeared in the distance. “That’s your house?”

  “Yeah, that’s my house. Live there with my family. Come on.”

  We continued, and every step or so I’d glance in her direction to see how she was holding up. But the longer we walked, the more I realized she needed real medical attention – like the hospital kind, not a vet like me checking her out in my living room.

  Relief washed over me as we crossed the boundary of the property, the house only a stone’s throw away. However inviting the house looked before the storm, it seemed like Heaven on Earth now.

  Soon we were at the door and I pulled it open, a burst of hot air rushing out to greet us. It felt so good I could have melted right into it. We stepped into the foyer, the staircase of the giant, log cabin-style house looming high above as it always did.

  “Wyatt!”

  I recognized the voice of Mama G. She appeared moments later, stepping around the corner of the hallway. My mother was a tough old woman, wiry and slim but sturdy as hell for a woman of seventy. She was dressed in her usual outfit of jeans and a button-up farmer’s shirt, always looking like she was ready to head out to do some work on the ranch at a moment’s notice.

  “Oh, my my!” she exclaimed, hurrying to my side. “How long you been out there in that mess of a storm?” She turned her attention to the girl before I had a chance to reply. “And who’s this? Poor thing, what happened to you?”

  “She’s a guest. And she needs to sit down.”

  “Get her into the living room. I’ll get something hot for her to drink.” She turned her attention to the woman. “Go have a seat, honey. I’m Ginny. Welcome to our home.” Mama G darted out of the room and toward the kitchen.

  “Come on,” I encouraged, leading the woman out of the entry way.

  Moments later we were in the spacious living room, the place appointed with the same antique furniture it had been when my father had built it. And just like I’d hoped, there was a roaring fire going, warm and crackling.

  Again, I tried to help her with her coat, but she slipped out of it and her boots before I had a chance.

  “Sit down,” I told her, heading for the phone. “I’m gonna call the hospital.”

  “No, no hospital. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” The comment was only about her state – because she looked pretty damn beyond fine as far as the rest of her was concerned. As she moved slowly to the high-backed chair nearest to the fire –my usual spot— and with the light from the blaze of the fire, I noticed once again just how stunning she was. She was all curves and had the face of an angel, the spitting image of my type of woman.

  She settled into the chair, and I went for my phone where I’d left it near the front door. A quick call to the nearest hospital later and an ambulance was on its way.

  Mom hurried past me in a blur, two mugs of steaming coffee in her hands, one of which she quickly placed in mine. The heat from the mug was bliss.

  “Someone’s comin’ for her,” I murmured to my mother.

  “Okay.” Mom sat in the closest seat to the lovely woman. “Tell me what on earth were you doing out there?” She handed one of the mugs to her.

  “I…don’t know.” The expression on her face was thoughtful, and it was clear she really had no idea.

  “What about your name?” I asked, coming over to join the two of them. “Good place to start as any.”

  My mother and I watched the focused expression form on the woman’s face. “I…I don’t know that either.”

  “You don’t know your name?” I asked skeptically. “How about where you’re from?”

  She stared blankly ahead, her brows furrowed, as if her brain wouldn’t tell her the answers. “Shoot…I…I don’t know that either.”

  A bad sign indeed. Meant that she’d taken a hit to the head.

  “Check your pockets,” my mother suggested gently after giving me a look. “Maybe you’ve got some kind of ID on you.”

  The woman slipped her hands into one pocket after another. Finally, she pulled out a wallet, and from that removed a driver’s license. “My name’s…Jessica Whitman. I’m from Houston.”

  “All the way from Houston?” my mother asked, a little surprised. She slapped her hands on her knees and asked, “What brings you out here?”

  “If she doesn’t know her own name, she likely doesn’t know that either,” I commented. Jessica nodded, proving my point. “Name’s Wyatt, by the way,” I said. “Wyatt Walker.”

  I reached over and offered her my hand. She took it, and I noted that her skin was warmer, though nowhere near normal.

  “Thank you, Wyatt,” she murmured. She pulled her gaze from me to my mother. “Both of you.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Mama G assured her, patting Jessica’s leg in a motherly manner. “Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “This is all so scary, to say the least, but would be a hell of a lot worse if y’all weren’t here. I really appreciate it.”

  Looks and a potty mouth. My kind of woman, and her accent was southern, which meant she was damn near perfect.

  Jessica Whitman. I let the name play around in my thoughts for a moment. It was good to put a name to a face. And there was something about the woman, something that made me want to do anything to make sure she was safe. I’d always been the protective sort, but she was really making me feel it something fierce. Might’ve had something to do with her good looks. But I felt like there was more to it than that.

  We sat and sipped our coffee, Mama and I doing our best to try to jog Jessica’s memory. But she had no recollection of anything before I’d saved her from the cold.

  Before too long the ambulance arrived. I helped Jessica out of her seat and to the front door. The paramedics stepped in and immediately began asking questions about what happened. We explained it as best we could, and soon Jessica was on her way out.

  I didn’t like the idea of her leaving my sight until I knew a hundred percent for certain she was safe.

  “I’d like to come with you,” I said to Jessica as she let the paramedics lead her out.

  One of the paramedics, the lead, if I was guessing, stopped me. Her voice was firm. “Sir, we think it’s best you allow us to monitor her overnight. She seems to have a concussion, and with cases like this, limiting her interactions with an unfamiliar outside world is best. We have a handle on this. You don’t need to worry.”

  Like hell I don’t.

  “Jessica,” I said as I took her hand in mine and looked into her eyes. She had to be 5’ 2’’, a major difference from my stature of 6’3”. “I want you to have my number. I want to make sure you’re safe.” I jotted my number on a nearby piece of paper and handed it over. “I’ll also be calling the hospital and checking on you shortly after you’re admitted and requesting updates. I hope you won’t mind.”

  “I don’t. Thank you,” she said, not moving her hand away from mine. “Again.
For everything.”

  My grip on her hand tightened. Frankly, I didn’t want her to leave. Yet she needed proper medical supervision in case her injury was serious.

  After only barely an hour of knowing her, I felt this instinctual feeling of possessiveness I’d never experienced before. Not in a controlling way, but in a needing to protect her from harm kind of way.

  I wondered if it was because of the circumstances of our meeting. She’d scared the living daylights out of me. Or maybe it was my intense feeling of attraction toward her. Whatever the hell it was, it was happening, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was beginning to feel like one of my very territorial animal patients.

  With a heavy heart, we said our goodbyes, and like that she was off. I watched the ambulance pull away from the house and disappear among the trees. And as I did all I could think about was how much I wanted to make sure she was taken care of.

  I had a feeling it wasn’t the last I’d be seeing of Jessica Whitman.

  I hoped like hell I was right.

  Jessica

  “OK, we’re gonna need you to tell us everything you remember. Doesn’t matter how inconsequential.”

  “I told you, I don’t remember anything,” I huffed, frowning in frustration. “I was in the rain somehow, and that man –Wyatt. He saved me. I would’ve frozen to death out there if it wasn’t for him. He saved my life.”

  I was thinking about Wyatt again.

  The whole matter of what the hell had happened to me weighed heavily in my mind, but I kept coming back to the way his body had felt pressed against mine after I came to.

  He helped me through the rain and made me feel safe.

  Protected.

  Warm. In every sense of the word.

  I could still feel the warmth from the blush on my cheeks. In a moment when I needed to focus on jogging my memory, all I could think about was getting closer to the man who’d saved my life. Maybe it was a survival mechanism. Or maybe I just had the hots for this stranger.

  While I didn’t know who the hell I was, I apparently had a very good idea of the kind of man I was into. And Wyatt was that man. I wondered if he was single, then scolded myself for the foolish question.

  Focus. Where are you from? How the hell did you end up alone in the middle of nowhere? Fear crept through my body. Were you running from someone or something?

  “Do you remember falling? Hitting your head? Were you alone or with someone else?” one of the doctors tried to prompt. The two doctors, both tall and skinny with thinning hair, almost looked like twins.

  “Listen,” I said, exasperation in my tone. “You keep asking me and I keep telling you that I don’t remember anything. I don’t know anything other than I woke up in the rain with no idea who I am or how I got there.”

  I looked around the small hospital room. It was sterile and clean and harshly lit. It made me think about how much of a contrast it was to that cozy living room at Wyatt’s amazing ranch. Part of me wanted to go back and have coffee with him and his mom.

  God, what was wrong with me? Didn’t I have bigger things to worry about? Like how I’d passed out in a damn storm on some property I’d never been to before?

  “How about drinking,” the doctor on the right asked. “You remember having anything last night?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea. I feel more like a truck ran me over. And my head’s still killing me.”

  “Well, judging by your symptoms and the knot on your head, you have suffered a concussion. That would explain the memory loss and the headache,” one of the doctors explained.

  “Is my memory ever gonna come back?” Panic rose in me at what the answer to the question might be. I couldn’t imagine anything scarier.

  “It should,” the doctor on the right said, nodding sagely.

  “It should?” I asked, a bit of the panic leaking into my voice.

  “Now, calm down,” the other doctor placated. “We really don’t think this is permanent.”

  “But how long will it take?”

  “Might take a few days or even a few weeks,” he said, pressing his lips together when he saw my horrified face. “Keeping your stress levels down will help greatly.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, snark in my tone. I sighed and grumbled, “Sorry. I’m just upset. And freaking out a little.”

  “Of course.”

  They straightened simultaneously and crossed their skinny arms over their skinny chests. Maybe I had a concussion and was seeing double or something. “Give yourself time. Your mind will heal.”

  “Yeah, but a few weeks?” I squeaked, feeling like crying. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

  “We checked your jacket and pants pockets when you came in but found no phone.”

  “It must’ve fallen out in the field. It’s probably ruined.” Suddenly, a thought popped into my head. “Wyatt,” I blurted.

  One of the doctors raised his eyebrows at me. “Wyatt? Is that someone you know?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know that I really know him, but he’s the man who found me. Wyatt Walker,” I said, remembering that he’d given me his number.

  And as if saying his name out loud had conjured him, a knock sounded on the door frame and a young nurse appeared with the very man in tow. “Someone’s here to see her.”

  My heart soared when I saw him. Since I couldn’t remember anyone before meeting him, he was the exact person I wanted to see. And more than that, he might be able to help.

  “Speak of the devil,” the doctor on the left said with a smirk. He smiled at him and shook his hand.

  “Doc,” Wyatt greeted. “How’s the patient?”

  “As well as can be expected,” he assured him, smiling at me. “Ms. Whitman, we’ll come back in a bit to check on you.”

  The doctors left the room, and I had to admit I was a little relieved to see them go. And more than that, I was eager to see Wyatt. He stepped closer to my bed, his small smile beautiful. The man looked so good it hurt. He was tall as hell, for one, and built strong, exactly what you’d expect from a guy who worked on a ranch. He had mussed, brown hair and eyes that were almost golden. His features were handsome but also gentle, with a strong jaw and full lips.

  And I loved the way he dressed, all rugged in his jeans and flannel and boots. His hands, too. I remembered when he’d offered his to me; I’d noticed how rough and strong it was.

  More than that, his presence was reassuring. He was the kind of man who seemed to always have things under control, that you could trust with anything. He looked capable, self-reliant.

  And he was so, so hot. He also appeared to be at least ten or twelve years older than me. I kind of dug it.

  “There she is,” he said, flashing me a kind smile as he stepped into the room.

  “Here I am.” I smiled back.

  “How’re you feelin’?” He set his hat on the nearby counter and took a seat in one of the open chairs. “The doctors find out what’s goin’ on?”

  “Well, they wanted to make sure I didn’t have a mishap with a bottle of vodka last night.”

  He let out a soft laugh. “They’re just doin’ their jobs. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s what went down. You don’t strike me as the type.”

  “Thank you for not assuming I’m a raging alcoholic.” I smiled to let him know I was only joking.

  “Not at all.”

  “I can’t say for sure on account of the whole ‘not remembering anything’ part, but it’s not the vibe I get from myself either.”

  The smile faded from his face and his expression became one of concern. “Your memory. They say anything about that?”

  I shrugged. “They told me I have a concussion and that it should probably come back in a few days or weeks.”

  “Hell, that’s a relief. I can’t imagine how frightening this must be for you. Wouldn’t wish somethin’ like that on anyone.”

  I was very touched by his kindness, his concern. It was o
bvious he wasn’t there to see me out of some sense of obligation – he seemed to really care about what happened to me.

  “Yeah, it’s…not fun,” I agreed with a little chuckle. “But I’m ready to get it back and find out what the hell happened.”

  “Any guesses on that? You don’t think…” His expression was hard with a tinge of anger to it. “You don’t think anyone did this to you, do ya?”

  He looked like all I’d have to do was point in the right direction and he’d be out for revenge. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.

  “It’s hard to say. I mean, I’d like to think I don’t know anyone who’d do something like that. But I guess I can’t really know until I remember why I was there.”

  He clenched and unclenched one hand into a fist for a brief moment before letting the anger fade from his face. “I’m glad to hear you’re likely on the mend.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  He smiled slightly and looked away as if there was a joke on his mind that only he understood.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “No reason,” he said. “Just thinkin’ you look mighty cute in that little gown.”

  I blushed, my face heating as it colored. There was no self-consciousness to Wyatt’s words, and I was taken aback by how charming I found it to be.

  I cleared my throat and spoke. “Well, thank you again for coming to my rescue. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come and Prince Charming’d me back to life.”

  He flicked those golden eyes back up at me, another smile playing on his features. “Prince Charming, eh? Hell, I’ll take it.”

  Despite my dire situation, I couldn’t help but be affected by the man’s presence. His jeans were loose-fitting, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make out a serious bulge in his crotch. No doubt he was packing down there.

  He cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, there’s the matter of what we’re going to do with you.”

  “Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

  “Well, I’m assumin’ you don’t know anyone in the area.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t know anyone, really.”

  He chuckled at my little joke, nodding his head. “That’s right. Which means I’m about the only friend you got.”