Читать книгу Willow in Bloom - Victoria Pade - Страница 9

“I’m sitting on my front porch with my feet up on the railing, drinking a steaming cup of coffee and watchin’ the sun rise. How’s that compare to a smelly motel room, a stale Danish and a cup of weak, lukewarm swill that’s supposed to pass for a cup a’ joe?”

“Mornin’, big brother,” the voice on the other end of the phone said when Tyler had finished his lengthy greeting. “Tryin’ to make me jealous, are you?”

“Yup.”

“Well, it’s workin’. This room smells like mildew, my complimentary continental breakfast is a muffin you could play hardball with, and I think the coffee was made yesterday.”

“And I wish I was there,” Tyler added, slightly under his breath.

Brick didn’t comment on that, and Tyler knew his younger brother didn’t know what to say to it.

But Brick didn’t let much silence lapse before he used Tyler’s utterance as a segue. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay. The headaches are still comin’ but they’re fewer and farther between, and the pills help when they do hit.”

“That’s something. What about the other? Are things clearin’ up on that front?”

“No. That’s the same.”

“And you haven’t found your mystery woman to help?”

His mystery woman. The woman he’d met at a blues club and spent that last night with. Whoever she was…

“If I have found my mystery woman it hasn’t helped,” Tyler said with a laugh to lighten the tone. “No, seriously, I’ve only met one woman—someone named Willow Colton. She runs the feed and grain store here and she isn’t my mystery woman.”

“Because she didn’t spark anything? You know what the doctors said about your theory that—”

“Not only because she didn’t spark anything. She recognized me from Tulsa in June because she was at the rodeo Friday afternoon and saw me ride.”

“So she’s not the one.”

“And she didn’t spark anything, so, no, she’s not the one,” Tyler said definitively.

But talking about Willow Colton brought her to Tyler’s mind. Vividly to mind. Something that had been happening every time he turned around since meeting her the day before.

She might not be his mystery woman, but she’d certainly struck a note with him. Of course, that shouldn’t have come as any surprise. After all, she was beautiful, so she would have struck a note with anyone. Beautiful with shiny licorice-black hair and skin as smooth as satin. High, broad cheekbones; a sweet little nose. Full, luscious lips the color of Colorado’s red rocks. And those eyes—luminous, ethereal, pale, pale dove-gray—those eyes could mesmerize a man….

“You’re probably right.” Brick’s voice broke into Tyler’s wandering thoughts. “Not only isn’t Miss Feed and Grain your mystery woman if she was at the rodeo, but if she’d been with you that night she’d have said it.”

“That’s what I’m figuring, too. Besides, I don’t care what the doctors or anyone else say, I think I’ll know her when I see her. I just feel it in my gut.”

Brick didn’t comment on that, either. He didn’t have to. They’d had this conversation a dozen times in the last two months, and Tyler knew his brother thought he had just gone a little crazy in response to an unwanted life change. He also knew that in many ways Brick was merely humoring him, figuring he’d come to his senses eventually.

But Brick did look on the bright side. “Well, one way or another, that pull you felt to Black Arrow landed you a nice piece of property. If nothin’ else, maybe fate was planting that seed to get you where you were meant to go.”

“So when are you comin’ to stay awhile?”

“You miss me. Admit it, you really miss me,” Brick goaded.

“Yeah, I miss all that snoring and snortin’ you do in your sleep every night,” Tyler countered facetiously, when in truth he did miss his brother. Not only had they shared a bedroom their entire growing up years, but since they’d left home to follow the rodeo circuit they’d rarely been apart.

But Tyler knew there was no way he’d ever live it down if he admitted that he actually did miss Brick.

“I’ll be there the weekend after next,” his brother said in answer to his question. “And don’t go thinkin’ I’ll be able to recognize the mystery woman if we come across her, either, because I keep tellin’ you that I didn’t so much as cast her a glance before I left you with her in that bar. I was too tired to think straight that night.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before.”

“I just wish to hell I’d made you come back to the room with me instead of leaving you there. Then maybe you wouldn’t have still been thinkin’ about her the next day and you wouldn’t have been distracted and—”

“We all get dealt our own hand, little brother, and that was mine,” Tyler said in answer to the suddenly serious tone Brick had taken.

“Yeah, well, still and all—”

“Still and all nothin’. Things happen the way they’re supposed to happen.” Whether it’s easy to understand or cope with or not.

Tyler heard the sound of a knock on his brother’s motel room door just before Brick said, “That’s the guys.”

“Headin’ out for a real breakfast,” Tyler added, knowing the routine well himself. And suffering a terrible pang not to be a part of it anymore.

But he didn’t let it sound in his voice. He made sure to seem upbeat. “You better get goin’ or they’ll leave you behind. I just wanted to wish you luck on your ride tonight. Let me know how you do.”

Brick wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings. His voice echoed with sadness. “You know I will. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later,” Tyler answered. Then he pushed the button to disconnect the call, and set his cordless phone on the planked floor of his front porch.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself, weathering the fresh surge of sorrow that flooded through him.

But things were the way they were, he reminded himself. They couldn’t be changed, and pining for what used to be, for what might have been if only, didn’t help anything. He needed to look to the positives, not the negatives.

Like the fact that he was now the owner of this ranch and had a home of his own.

Like the fact that even if it was sooner than he’d planned, this was still the life he and Brick had always talked about having when they were ready to throw in the towel on bronc busting.

Like the fact that Black Arrow was a nice, quiet town full of friendly people.

People like Willow Colton.

Willow Colton whose legs went on for miles, whose tight body couldn’t have been better proportioned, and whose breasts were just the right size to fit into a man’s hands….

Tyler knew what his brother would say about Willow Colton if he saw her. Brick would say, “Who needs a mystery woman when there’s a flesh and blood woman like Willow Colton?”

But Brick didn’t understand what was going on inside Tyler over his mystery woman.

Hell, Tyler didn’t understand it himself.

He just knew there was something pushing him to find her. And maybe to find that part of himself that he’d lost in the process.

And he didn’t think he could rest until he did.

Even if he was having trouble getting that image of Miss Feed and Grain out of his head.

Even if he was looking forward to seeing her again more than he wanted to.

No, his mystery woman was like lost pages in a book he just had to finish, and until he figured out who she was, he was damn sure not starting up anything with anyone else.

Not even a woman with pale dove-gray eyes that seemed to haunt him.

Because no matter how much that might be the case, those pale-gray eyes didn’t haunt him as much as that gap his mystery woman had left.

And he was all about filling that gap.

Willow hadn’t slept much the night before, which didn’t help her fatigue. But even feeling more tired than usual, she was at no risk of falling asleep at her desk the way she had on Tuesday. The same thoughts that had kept her awake until the wee hours of the morning kept her adrenaline level high through Wednesday.

Tyler Chadwick was on her mind. Tyler Chadwick and the predicament she was in.

Not that Tyler and her predicament had been far from her thoughts at any point in the two months before this. But since he’d walked into her life again nearly twenty-four hours ago, she had been completely incapable of thinking about anything else.

She also hadn’t been able to stop asking herself the same two questions—how could he have forgotten her, and how could he have forgotten their night together?

It was just so awful to think that he had.

She wasn’t proud of what she’d done in Tulsa. In fact, she’d been ashamed of herself. Spending the night with someone she’d just met in a club? That was definitely a first. And a last.

But it was as if something had snapped in her in June.

It hadn’t been easy growing up with four older brothers. Four very protective older brothers. But since Willow had been out on her own, running the Feed and Grain, one or another of her brothers was at her side every time she turned around. Watching over her to the point where she felt as if she were being stalked by her own family.

She’d tried talking to them, reasoning with them, letting them know she wasn’t doing anything even remotely dangerous and that they did not need to take turns becoming her ever-present guardians.

But no sooner had she given that lecture than there they were again. Just checking in with her, they said.

Until, finally, Willow had thought she might explode.

She’d known if she didn’t get away from them for a while she was going to lose her temper and say things that would hurt their feelings. And she didn’t want that.

So Willow had called her friend Becky Lindstrom in Tulsa and taken her up on her repeated request for Willow to visit.

Just for a week. A week of rest and relaxation, with no brothers looking over her shoulder every minute. That’s all it was supposed to be. That’s all it was.

Until Friday.

Friday night when she knew her week was at an end and she had to go back to Black Arrow, back to four brothers who couldn’t leave her alone.

Just the thought of that had left her feeling the need to go a little wild. To cut loose one last time before she went back. To get out and do something she wouldn’t do at home. To be someone besides a person with four brothers who seemed to need to keep her in a velvet cage.

So, on their way home from an afternoon at the rodeo that was passing through Tulsa at the time, Willow had confided her feelings to Becky.

Becky had embraced the idea with a vengeance. A night on the town. Just the two of them. Kicking up their heels.

Becky had reveled in the free hand to make Willow over. To doll her up in a way Willow never got dolled up. To transform her into a new woman.

No jeans.

No T-shirts or flannels.

No practical shoes.

No braided hair.

Becky had loaned Willow a slinky, strapless red dress that fit every inch of the few inches it covered like a second skin.

Spike-heeled shoes had gone with it, but Becky hadn’t stopped at merely outfitting Willow. She’d also played beauty shop with Willow’s hair, with makeup Willow never wore, with perfume and lipstick that were the finishing touches that turned everyday Willow Colton into exotic Wyla and made her feel truly like a different person.

Out on the town.

Nightclubbing.

And that’s where Willow had met Tyler Chadwick. At a blues club.

She and Becky had recognized him from the rodeo earlier in the evening. He was one of the bronco riders. The drop-dead gorgeous bronco rider with the derriere to die for. The one who had won.

By that time, Becky had had enough champagne to lower all her inhibitions, and she’d suggested they invite him to join them.

Willow, who had been feeling no pain herself, hadn’t put up too much of a fight.

“Just don’t let him know we know who he is,” Becky had whispered to Willow before leaving their table. “He’ll get a swelled head if he thinks we think he’s somebody.”

And that’s how it had happened.

Tyler Chadwick had taken them up on the offer and joined them.

But from the minute he sat down, his focus had been on Willow.

Or actually, on Wyla.

Becky hadn’t minded. Not long after it had become clear that Tyler Chadwick preferred Willow, another man had begun to show an interest in Becky, and she’d gone to sit at the bar with him, leaving Willow and Tyler alone.

Wyla and Tyler.

Which was when Willow had discovered that her new Wyla persona could be quite a flirt.

And not only that, she could be coy and cute and coquettish, too.

She could even be sexy.

It had all seemed innocent enough. It had been Wyla doing it, not her. Wyla who was laughing that high-pitched laugh. Wyla who was putting her hand on Tyler’s arm. Wyla who was drinking so much champagne…

It wasn’t completely clear in Willow’s mind how she’d gone from that innocent flirtation in the bar to Tyler Chadwick’s room in the hotel next door. But that was where she’d ended up. In the suite he and his brother were sharing, because of some glitch in their reservation that had upgraded them.

Which meant that he had a bedroom to himself.

A bedroom in which he and Willow—Wyla—had had a wild night of passion.

Mindless passion, as Willow’s head had been filled only with thoughts of Tyler Chadwick and all he was doing to her that made her feel so, so good.

So, so unlike herself.

So unlike herself that after a second round of love-making just after the sun had come up, when Tyler had fallen asleep again, she hadn’t been able to believe what she’d done.

It wasn’t merely uncharacteristic behavior. It was complete insanity.

And while Tyler still slept, Willow—and she had been Willow again by then—had dressed at record speed and slipped out of that hotel room, out of that hotel and into a cab, putting that night and Tyler Chadwick behind her.

Which was exactly where she intended to leave them. Forever.

Then she’d missed her period.

At first she’d thought it was just stress, but when she’d begun to have some very odd symptoms that couldn’t have been stress-related she’d had to entertain the possibility that something else was going on.

Pregnancy.

She’d actually passed out cold in the doctor’s office when her worst fear was confirmed.

And then she’d come to and cried. Sobbed. Right in front of the doctor.

That had caused the doctor to talk about alternatives if she didn’t want the child, which had made Willow cry all the harder.

“Alternatives? I don’t have any alternatives,” she’d wailed.

But by the time she’d returned to Black Arrow that night she’d thought about the alternatives the doctor had laid out for her and she’d known she couldn’t choose any of them. This was her baby and she was going to have it, raise it, love it.

She just didn’t know anything else.

She didn’t know how she was going to have and raise a child alone.

She didn’t know how she was going to tell her brothers.

She didn’t know what they were going to do when she did.

She didn’t know whether or not she should find Tyler Chadwick and tell him.

Only now he’d found her.

He just didn’t know it.

Willow slumped in her desk chair like a wilting flower.

The father of her baby was a man who obviously had had so many one-night stands with so many different women that he didn’t even remember the women he’d had them with.

It kept coming back to that.

Back to what Willow had thought the previous day—that he was the worst kind of creep.

But he hadn’t seemed like a creep that night in Tulsa.

She’d thought he was the nicest guy she’d ever met.

He’d made her laugh. He’d put her at ease. He’d made her feel good about herself. He’d made her feel free. Free from being the little sister to Bram and Ashe and Jared and Logan.

Which had been exactly what she’d needed.

It had just been so wonderful it had all apparently gone to her head.

“But that was then and this is now,” she said to herself as she crossed her arms on her desk and laid her head on them to rest.

And as much as she wished she could just forget about Tyler Chadwick and that night, the way he apparently had, she couldn’t.

So what was she going to do? she asked herself.

One thing that she definitely couldn’t see herself doing was marching up to him and announcing out of the blue that, whether he remembered it or not, they’d slept together and that she was pregnant as a result.

But what if she gave him more of a chance to remember her? What if she did what she could to spend some time with him? To let him get to know her? To see more of her?

Maybe something about the sound of her voice or the way she looked at just the right angle would make him remember her and that night together.

Surely somewhere in his brain there was some image of her that could be brought back to the surface.

And then…

And then…

She didn’t know what then.

But at least it was a first step. It was something to do.

And she needed to do something. Something that could give her a clue as to where to go from here.

Because not only had Willow been knocked for a loop when she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about breaking the news to her brothers, or whether or not to tell the baby’s father, or what to expect his reaction would be if she did, or what to do about her entire future.

But getting the baby’s father to remember the baby’s mother seemed like a logical beginning.

She just hoped that her initial impression of Tyler as a genuinely nice guy had had some validity to it and that he wasn’t really the jerk she’d decided he was the day before. That maybe along the way he’d tell her she reminded him of someone he’d once encountered, and she would learn that he hadn’t forgotten her at all, that he just hadn’t connected the dots and realized that she and Wyla were the same person.

It was a hope she tried hard to hang on to even though she was very much afraid the odds were against her.

But still it was a whole lot better to hope that his not knowing her had a simple, believable explanation than to accept what seemed more likely—that he’d spent an entire night making love to her and now didn’t remember who she was.

Willow had the perfect excuse to see Tyler again, and once she’d closed up the Feed and Grain for the day she decided to use it.

But not before making a stop in the apartment above the store.

The apartment had been her grandmother’s, but Willow had moved into it with Gloria when Willow had taken over the running of the Feed and Grain. Now that her grandmother had passed away she lived there alone.

And she never climbed the stairs at the back of the store without wishing she would still find her grandmother there to greet her.

But she was learning to weather those moments, and tonight, when she had, she made a beeline for her own bedroom to change her clothes.

Only as she stood in her closet, trying to figure out what to change into that might give Tyler a hint as to who she was, did it occur to her that all of her things were basically the same—jeans and tops.

She had a couple of pairs of slacks she wore to church, and a plain, simple black dress that she wore with a matching jacket to funerals and, without the jacket, to weddings. But that was about it. And because she knew she’d feel overdressed if she wore her Sunday slacks—besides the fact that it would no doubt raise eyebrows and questions if anyone who knew her saw her—the closest she could come to Wyla-wear was a red V-neck T-shirt with a clean pair of jeans.

She did unbraid her hair, though, brushing it and letting it fall free the way she’d worn it that night. And although lip gloss was all she owned in the way of makeup, she made a mental note to buy herself a few cosmetics as soon as possible to aid her cause.

Then she locked up the apartment and used the outside stairs to go down to her old blue pickup truck, wishing she had a better, sexier vehicle, too.

But there wasn’t anything to be done about it, and so she climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled away from the curb, feeling more anxious than she could ever remember having felt before.

Willow was familiar with all the farms and ranches around Black Arrow. It had been her job at the Feed and Grain to make deliveries after school as soon as she’d been old enough to drive. So she knew exactly where she was going.

The former Harris place was south of town about four miles. She’d gone all through school with the Harrises’ only child, Samantha. But she and Willow hadn’t been friends. Samantha had been a very girly girl—worlds apart from tomboy Willow.

As she turned off the main road onto the private drive she could see the house in the distance. It was a two-story frame, painted white and trimmed in black, with a steep black roof.

The house had a nice front porch—that was what Willow had always liked best about it. The porch was bordered with a spindled railing that looked beautiful at Christmas, decorated with lights and evergreen boughs.

But August was not the time for that, and other than a wicker rocker and a chair swing hanging from chains, the porch itself was littered with several moving boxes apparently waiting to be thrown out.

No lights shone through the windows, but since it was only seven o’clock and there was still an abundance of summer daylight, Willow didn’t think that was a sign that no one was home. Besides, there was a big white truck parked in the drive, so she assumed Tyler was there.

She parked beside the truck and cut her engine, taking a deep breath to bolster her courage and wishing—as she had so many times since June—that things hadn’t taken the turn they had.

But wishing didn’t make any of it go away, so she picked up the file she’d brought with her as her excuse, and got out of the truck to climb the five steps onto the porch.

The front door was open, and through the screen door she could hear music playing. Softly.

She recognized the singer. Chris Isaak. He was one of her favorites, and she hoped that maybe he was one of Tyler’s favorites, too, and the fact that they shared similar musical tastes was a good sign.

She knocked on the screen’s frame, feeling her tension level increase with each rap.

Nothing stirred in response. Chris Isaak just went on singing about the wicked things people do.

Maybe she hadn’t knocked loud enough to be heard over the music. She tried again with more force.

“Hold on,” she heard Tyler call, his unmistakable baritone sounding as if it were coming from the living room to the right of the front door.

Then he came into sight from that direction.

He had on a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans with a tear in the knee, and he was in his stocking feet.

He was hardly dressed for company, yet he still looked good enough to make Willow recall one of the reasons she’d been so swept off her feet by him in Tulsa. The man exuded a raw sensuality that made the woman in her sit up and take notice.

She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same effect on him. The way he squinted his eyes against the light made it look as if he’d been sleeping.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” Willow said, as that thought occurred to her.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he assured her, blinking a few times as if fighting to keep his eyes open. “I just had one of these headaches I get, and the pills for them knock me out.”

“Maybe I should come back another time.”

He waved away that notion with one big, blunt-fingered hand. “Nah. It’s fine. Headache’s gone.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then took his hand away and finally seemed to really look at her.

“Willow. Willow Colton. From the feed store,” she stated.

“I know,” he answered. But then he gave her the once-over and smiled that one-sided smile. “You look different than you did yesterday, but I still knew you.”

From yesterday, but not from June…

She tried not to let that bother her.

Tyler stepped back from the doorway. “Come on in.”

Willow hesitated a moment, feeling all the more awkward because she’d awakened him. But in the end she decided that, since she already had, she might as well do what she’d come for.

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive. I’m glad for the company. Gets kind of lonely out here.”

Willow accepted his invitation and went in.

It was cooler inside than out, and the scent of leather was in the air. Maybe from the cowboy boots that stood beside the wide, elegant staircase that faced the door.

Tyler didn’t seem to mind being shoeless in front of her because he didn’t move to put the boots back on. Instead he just closed the door and pointed toward the living room.

“Let’s go in there.”

Willow did, with Tyler following behind.

“Excuse the mess,” he said in reference to the fact that lamps were on the floor rather than on tables, and chairs were in no particular arrangement. The only pieces of furniture that were situated with any sort of purpose were the long leather sofa—likely the source of the scent of the place—and a wide-screen television.

“Please, sit down,” he invited. “Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea?”

“No, thank you,” Willow responded. Her throat felt like the top of a drawstring bag with the ties cinched so tight she didn’t think she could get even liquids down.

She did sit on the couch, though. Hugging one end.

“I just wanted to let you know you’d been approved for an account with us and to bring you over our price lists and policies,” she announced, not sounding nearly as relaxed as he seemed to feel.

“Great. I appreciate that,” he said, joining her on the sofa at the opposite end, as if he were entertaining an insurance salesman.

Willow opened the file folder she was clutching in a white-knuckled grip, and pointed out a few details about special orders and delivery schedules. It didn’t take long, and once she’d finished, she realized she’d exhausted her excuse to be there.

“Maybe I will have that glass of iced tea, after all,” she said, to give herself more of a reason to linger and put into motion her plan to spend time with him.

“Sounds good to me, too,” he said.

“If you’re sure you’re up to it,” she added.

“I’m fine.”

All remnants of his nap had disappeared, and he seemed as awake and energized as ever, so she believed him.

“Can I help?” she asked as he stood.

“You can keep me company, but I think I can manage the pouring myself,” he joked.

Willow got to her feet, too, tagging along.

As she did, her gaze took a dip to his derriere, and she realized her own memory hadn’t done it justice.

But that was the last thing she needed to be thinking about, so she forced her eyes to behave, and made small talk to occupy her mind.

“When I was a teenager my job was to make our deliveries. Mr. Harris would have me come in as far as the living room while he signed the receipt. I’ve never seen the rest of the house, though.”

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Tyler promised. “But be warned, there isn’t much to see. Before this I lived in a studio apartment, and I was only there when I wasn’t chasing rodeos. So I didn’t have a lot to bring with me to fill this place up.”

They went through a large, empty dining room before they passed under an archway to get to the kitchen. The very white kitchen. Walls, cupboards and appliances were all sterile, hospital white, and there wasn’t a single other color to break the almost blinding, institutional effect.

Apparently that fact wasn’t lost on Tyler. As he went to the refrigerator he said, “You just about need sunglasses in here.”

“Just about,” Willow agreed.

Tyler poured two glasses of iced tea and asked if Willow wanted sugar in hers. When she declined, he handed her one of the glasses and then they set out for the tour of the house.

He was right about there being nothing much to see. There were four bedrooms, three baths and a recreation room upstairs; another bathroom, a den and a library to go with the kitchen, living room and dining room downstairs. But room after room was bare, except for beds in two of the bedrooms, and a few unpacked boxes here and there.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t bring much with you,” she said as they returned to the living room. Tyler had pointed in the direction of the sofa with his chin, inviting Willow to sit down again.

“I know,” he said with a laugh that transported her back to that night in Tulsa, when they’d both done a lot of laughing and the sound of his deep, full-barreled chuckle had sent a skitter of delight along her spine. Just as it did now.

Then he added, “And I don’t have any idea where to start to furnish the place. Or where to even look for things in Black Arrow.”

“We actually have a furniture store. With some factory-manufactured things and some really nice hand-crafted pieces that folks around town make,” she informed him.

She knew this was a prime opening, but it took a moment of screwing up her courage to take advantage of it. “I’d be happy to go with you, show you where it is, give you my opinion—for what it’s worth.”

“I might just take you up on that. I could definitely use a woman’s advice when it comes to decorating.”

Not many men in Black Arrow thought of her as a woman. It pleased Willow to no end that Tyler did.

But she tried to contain her pleasure. She didn’t want to appear too eager.

“So where are you from?” she asked, changing the subject before she got carried away. And also because when she’d found out she was pregnant she’d realized she’d actually learned next to nothing about him that night in Tulsa, and thought it was time she did.

“I was born and raised in Wyoming,” he answered.

“Is that where your family is?”

“My folks died in a flood up there a few years back. That left only me and my brother, Brick. Brick is still riding the rodeo circuit, and since I bought this place we gave up the apartment we shared in Cheyenne. When he needs a place to stay off the road he’ll come here.”

“Your brother wasn’t ready to retire with you?” Willow asked.

“No. Neither was I, for that matter,” he added with that same regret he’d had in his voice the day before, when they’d talked about this.

“Then why did you?” Willow persisted, hoping he didn’t think she was prying. Even though she was.

Tyler didn’t answer right away. He took a drink of his iced tea and stared into the glass.

And the longer he hesitated, the more she began to worry that he did think she was prying, and didn’t like it.

But then he set his glass on the floor beside the sofa and raised his amazing green eyes to her. “You said you were at Friday’s rodeo in Tulsa. Well, that was my last good ride. On Saturday I got thrown. I landed on my head and ended up with a concussion that put me in a coma for fifteen days. Nobody was too sure I was going to come out of it or, if I did, whether I’d be okay. When I finally did regain consciousness the doctors said no more bronc bustin’. So that was it for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Willow said, because she could see what a blow that news had been to him. But for herself, she felt a strange sense of relief. She’d seen how dangerous what he did was, and the thought of her baby’s father doing it had apparently bothered her more than she’d realized.

“Luckily, I’d been socking away prize and endorsement money for a lot of years,” Tyler continued. “So I bought this place and came here to settle down.”

“How did you end up choosing Black Arrow for that?” she asked, since when she’d told him that fateful June night that this was where she lived, he’d never heard of it before.

Tyler laughed again and inclined his head in a way that made Willow think he was confused by the choice himself.

Then he confirmed that by saying, “I don’t know for sure how I chose Black Arrow. Here’s the thing, the concussion blanked out some of my memory. It left me with some holes. When it came time to pick a place to settle down, Black Arrow popped into my head. I’m pretty sure it’s connected to some other things I’ve forgotten, things I’m trying to remember, but one way or another, something about it just seemed right. Right enough so that I contacted a Realtor here and bought this place sight unseen.”

“You lost your memory?” Willow asked, seizing on that part of what he’d said because it was so vital to her.

“Not all of it. Mostly I’m blank about things that happened in the weeks just before the accident.”

“People, too?”

“Places I’d been, rodeos I’d ridden in, prizes I’d won, a commercial for cowboy hats that I did, and yes, people, too. Friends my brother tells me we spent time with I have no memory of having seen, people I’d just met, people I wish I hadn’t forgotten.”

Willow didn’t know exactly what that last part meant. “How could you wish you hadn’t forgotten someone if you’ve forgotten them?”

“It’s kind of like the way it was with Black Arrow. Almost like an itch I can’t reach. Something tells me things were important, but I don’t know why or what or who, and I just keep hoping something will happen to bring it all back. Or at least some of it.”

It was slowly sinking in that it wasn’t only her and their night together that he didn’t recall. That it wasn’t a matter of her being unmemorable or of him having so many one-night stands that they didn’t mean anything to him. She and their night together were a part of a bigger picture. A part of many things that he’d lost.

“So you actually have a medical condition?” she asked, just to have it confirmed.

“A part of the memory portion of my brain was damaged from the concussion and induced a limited amnesia, yes. I know it sounds incredible, but that’s what happened.”

I could tell him, Willow thought. Right now. I could tell him he’s already met me. On that Friday night before his accident. That we were together all night and that was where he heard about Black Arrow.

But would that bring it all back to him? she wondered. Or would it only seem like a story to him? Maybe not even a believable one, since she hadn’t mentioned it before now.

She had no way of knowing.

But what she might have was an opportunity, she thought suddenly. The opportunity to let him get to know her. The real her—Willow. Not the dressed-up, drinking, partying Wyla who had spent the night with him before she even knew him.

And if she used that opportunity to let him get to know the real her, maybe he would like her for who she was.

The idea appealed to her.

It was as if she could erase—at least temporarily—the one thing she’d done that she was most ashamed of. The one thing that gave the absolutely wrong impression of her and of the person she truly was.

It was almost like having a clean slate. For a little while, anyway. And at this point, she thought, she should take what she could get.

So she didn’t tell him that she was one of the people he’d forgotten. That they’d spent the night together in Tulsa. She held her tongue and allowed herself to take advantage of an opportunity that maybe fate had offered her. Instead of telling him anything, she said, “Are the headaches from the concussion?”

“Yeah. The doctors say they’ll probably go away eventually, and they are getting better. But still, when one hits, I’m in a world of hurt.”

“I should go then, and let you rest. You’re probably wiped out after you’ve had one.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her again.

But Willow was so relieved, so thrilled that she hadn’t been just one of many unnoteworthy one-night stands that she almost felt giddy, and she was afraid it might show if she didn’t get out of there.

So she set her glass on the floor, too, and stood. “No, really, I should be going.” Then she screwed up her courage for the second time and said, “But if you want, we could do some furniture shopping tomorrow evening. After I close up the store.”

He stood again, too, pausing to smile down at her as if he liked not only the suggestion, but what he saw, as well. And it did fluttery, feminine things to her insides.

“You’d do that for me?” he asked in a flirty tone she remembered well.

“Sure. Just consider me Black Arrow’s welcoming committee,” she flirted back, surprising herself by how easily she’d fallen into it.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

She wouldn’t have minded even if she didn’t have a secret agenda. “No, honestly, I don’t mind.”

“That would be great, then. I really need a couple of tables—like a coffee table and maybe a kitchen table. I’m sick of standing at the counter to eat.”

“Good. Then it’s a date.”

Why had she said that? She could have kicked herself.

“Not a date date,” she amended in a rush. “I wasn’t asking you out or anything. I mean I’m not coming on to—”

“I know,” he said, stopping her before she made things any worse. Then he leaned slightly forward and confided, “It would have been okay even if you were.”

Willow was not a person who blushed. She’d grown up with four brothers, after all. She would never have survived if she had been overly sensitive. But she could feel her cheeks heating and she didn’t seem to be able to stop it.

And worse yet, she knew he was seeing it because his agile mouth stretched into an amused grin.

Unlike her brothers, he didn’t say anything about it, however. “When’s closing time? I’ll meet you at your store.”

“Six. Closing time is at six,” she managed to reply.

“Maybe after we’re finished shopping I could buy you dinner. As payment for your decorating services.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“How about if I just want to?” he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I guess that would be okay,” Willow conceded. “Nice, even.”

“Then it is a date.”

He was teasing her. She could see it in the sparkle in his eyes. In that quirk of his lips that let her know he was enjoying himself.

And then, from out of nowhere, Willow had a burst of memory from their night in Tulsa, and what hadn’t been clear in her mind before—how she’d gotten from the blues club to his room—became vivid.

It had started with a kiss. A good-night kiss he’d asked if he could have when he’d walked her outside after the club had closed and they were facing each other just the way they were at this moment. A simple good-night kiss that had lit a fire between them and gone on from there.

And in that instant Willow wondered if, were he to kiss her now, it would be as combustible.

But of course, he wasn’t going to kiss her.

She also knew it absolutely shouldn’t happen, even if it were a possibility. That she shouldn’t let it happen, since she was trying to amend the impression he would have of her if he could remember her.

But still she couldn’t help wondering…

“I’d better go,” she said more forcefully, heading for the front door. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Thanks for bringing the papers out,” he countered, following in her wake.

He reached the door in time to open it for her, and Willow went out onto the porch again, feeling oddly as if she’d just escaped something. Herself, probably.

“See you tomorrow,” she said as she kept on going down the porch steps to her truck.

“I’ll be there at six,” he called after her.

Willow missed the door handle on her first try and had to make a second attempt, hoping he didn’t realize why she was so flustered.

But it wasn’t a good sign that he was grinning again.

Be cool, she advised. Be cool.

Because Wyla would never have blushed or flubbed opening the car door, and Willow didn’t want to be a woman who did, either. She wanted to be smooth and self-confident and sure of herself, the way she had been that night in Tulsa.

The way she had been the first time Tyler had liked her.

That first time that he hadn’t just forgotten, that he actually had a medical reason for not remembering.

Which meant that he wasn’t a creep at all.

And that she wasn’t necessarily forgettable, either.