Читать онлайн книгу «The Cowboy Seal′s Christmas Baby» автора Laura Altom

The Cowboy Seal's Christmas Baby
Laura Marie Altom
HIS UNEXPECTED CHRISTMAS SURPRISE…A baby's cry was the last thing former SEAL Gideon Snow expected to hear on an Arizona mountain trail. Nor was he prepared for the sight of the young mother suffering from memory loss. Gideon has plenty of reasons for avoiding people—and his painful past—but two fragile people now depend on him to survive. Can he just fall for the lovely Jane Doe?Jane doesn’t deny the pull of the gruff-yet-sweet cowboy who saved her and her baby. He’s more than a cowboy hero—Gideon's given them a chance at a new life and love. But Jane knows that any day, her memory might come back. And the woman Gideon is falling in love with might disappear forever…


HIS UNEXPECTED CHRISTMAS SURPRISE...
A baby’s cry was the last thing former SEAL Gideon Snow expected to hear on an Arizona mountain trail. Nor was he prepared for the sight of the young mother suffering from memory loss. Gideon has plenty of reasons for avoiding people—and his painful past—but two fragile people now depend on him to survive. Can he just fall for the lovely Jane Doe?
Jane doesn’t deny the pull of the gruff-yet-sweet cowboy who saved her and her baby. He’s more than a cowboy hero—Gideon’s given them a chance at a new life and love. But Jane knows that any day, her memory might come back. And the woman Gideon is falling in love with might disappear forever...
“Christmas is right around the corner...”
“Though I’m not big on holidays, since this is Chip’s first one, let’s do it up right,” Gideon said. “While we’re in town, we’ll grab lights—”
“Can we make all the ornaments?”
“Why not? Just add what supplies you need to our list.”
Jane laughed. “That list of yours is going to rival Santa’s.”
“True.” He reached for her, hovering his hands midway between them.
Please touch me, hold me, her heart begged. More than she needed any random item on his list, she craved human contact—his contact. But was that wrong?
For all she knew, she could be married.
Did that make her an awful person?
Dear Reader (#u9bc114c8-0b12-5bcd-bd5d-295a14abb1b2),
Most of my books tackle at least one heavy issue, but Jane and Gideon’s story had so many that at times, while writing, I found my own pulse racing. Jane battles amnesia. One scene in particular tugged at my heartstrings—when she was in a department store, trying on clothes and didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her in the mirror.
Enter Gideon. As a Navy SEAL, his entire life centers around helping others in need. But when he loses his leg in battle, he also faces an identity crisis—made all the worse when his wife leaves him because she doesn’t want to be with a disabled man. Because of this, Gideon’s emotionally scarred, believing no woman will ever again want him.
I fear many disabled veterans experience this same sense of loss. Gideon is one of the lucky ones who has forged a new life as a horse whisperer, fulfilling his need to help by nurturing emotionally scarred horses. But once Jane becomes a fixture in his home, he finds himself once again longing to help people—more specifically, her and her son.
I hope you enjoy this heartfelt read. More important, if you or anyone you know is a disabled vet, I pray for you to find your life’s second chance.
Warmest wishes,
Laura Marie xoxo
The Cowboy SEAL’s Christmas Baby
Laura Marie Altom


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAURA MARIE ALTOM is a bestselling and award-winning author who has penned nearly fifty books. After college (go, Hogs!), Laura Marie did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy-girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.
When not immersed in her next story, Laura plays video games, tackles Mount Laundry and, of course, reads romance!
Laura loves hearing from readers at either PO Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or by email, balipalm@aol.com.
Love winning fun stuff? Check out lauramariealtom.com (http://www.lauramariealtom.com).
This story is dedicated to all disabled veterans who have lost their way. Please know you are loved and appreciated by me.
Contents
Cover (#ue582d5c7-5282-54e3-b36c-d56eb6389c71)
Back Cover Text (#u9448566a-53f7-58c5-8957-399452cd0c84)
Introduction (#u1cee064b-3e62-5b08-b05c-c1028c741425)
Dear Reader (#u2b47271e-70e7-5a9f-9a61-21c590b69231)
Title Page (#u6691c2be-4e51-5b10-a6dd-1241a2d142a5)
About the Author (#u3ce2686e-7e1b-5119-80b9-b7dd442d8e33)
Dedication (#uc8e99d92-bfe6-50eb-b7df-8717a9afdf16)
Chapter One (#u59da8189-defa-52e6-ae97-c29a4947f601)
Chapter Two (#ue12f8491-454e-58e4-b590-5029adf15320)
Chapter Three (#uc881ae83-e8fd-56ff-99eb-d6bc53c18c41)
Chapter Four (#u7210f3cd-fd1b-57de-8b3c-b6e9490dbffb)
Chapter Five (#u9064f479-c9bf-5d8d-ba8f-d94b7605f59b)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u9bc114c8-0b12-5bcd-bd5d-295a14abb1b2)
Why was a baby crying?
Gaze narrowed, Gideon Snow hunched forward in his saddle. He tugged his cowboy hat’s brim lower against the driving sleet’s pinprick assault. At least twenty miles in on a sixty-mile trail through northern Arizona’s Asuaguih mountain range, on an early December day fit for neither man nor beast, the last thing he should be hearing was an infant’s wail. But there it was again.
Waaahuhah.
Had to be a fox.
No woman in her right mind would bring a baby out in this weather.
Jelly Bean, the pinto mare he’d been rehabilitating for a good twelve weeks, snorted. The cold had her exhalations wreathing her head in white.
“Good girl.” Gideon leaned forward, smoothing his hand along her left cheek. She’d been through a lot—trapped in a burning barn during a Nevada sandstorm. Her fourteen-year-old owner died trying to save her. The girl’s father had carried his lifeless daughter from the flames, then returned for the horse she loved. But the normally easygoing pinto charged into the heart of the storm. Three days after the girl’s funeral, Jelly Bean returned to what was left of the barn. It had taken six men to corral her into a trailer. Her coat had been ravaged by the storm. Her eyes filled with protective mucus.
It had taken Gideon a month of sweet talk to get near the poor creature, but once they’d turned the corner from strangers to friends, progress had been swift. Jelly Bean’s owner prayed to keep the horse in the family as a living tribute to Angela.
This trail ride was Jelly Bean’s final exam.
Gideon had waited for the ugliest conditions possible to push her to her limits. Tonight, he’d stop to make a campfire, and if she could once again handle being at a safe distance from flames, he’d know she was nearing the end of her stay with him.
Gideon would be sad to see her go.
Folks in this lonely corner of the world called him a horse whisperer, but at this point in his life, after all he’d been through, he figured it was the other way around. The horses helped him make sense of a life he no longer recognized as his own.
Was he angry? Hell, yes.
But that didn’t change anything, and it sure as hell wouldn’t bring back his wife or—
Waaaahhhuh!
Jelly Bean whinnied, turning her head toward the sound.
“What do you think, girl? Could there really be a baby out here, or is a crafty fox trying to get a piece of weekend action?”
Of course, the horse gave no answer.
The fact that Gideon had grown close enough to the mare that he’d halfway expected one told him it was high time he start talking to creatures other than horses. But since he still couldn’t stand being around people, maybe he should at least get a dog?
Another hundred yards down the steep, rocky trail, zigzagging around ponderosa pines and thick underbrush, landed Gideon in a clearing.
A blue dome-style tent flapped in the wind, and sure enough, from inside, there was no denying a baby’s panicked wail.
Pumped with adrenaline, Gideon dismounted, loosely looped Jelly Bean’s reins around the nearest pine trunk, then charged toward the infant. He ignored the mild discomfort in his left leg, but upon reaching the tent, he couldn’t ignore the blood. The way it snapped him back to a time he’d fought hard to forget.
Blood pooled on the tent’s floor.
It was everywhere.
And for a moment, red was all his eyes were capable of seeing. But then he forced his breathing to slow, shifting his gaze to the baby. The unconscious woman upon whose chest the infant shivered.
Holy shit...
Think, man...
For an instant, Gideon froze, taking it all in. The blood. The baby. The woman. The sleet’s clatter on the nylon tent.
But then he sprang into action, ducking inside the shelter to check the woman’s pulse. It was weak, but there.
Though getting a signal was a long shot, he unbuttoned his long duster coat and reached into his shirt pocket for his cell. As he’d assumed—zero bars.
He growled in frustration.
The contrast of the woman’s long dark hair against her ghost-white complexion made her appear nearer death than life. A nasty bruise marred her otherwise flawless forehead. In Iraq, he’d grown too familiar with this sort of grisly scene. To find it again here, on this mountain he turned to for security and peace, was unacceptable.
He refused to succumb to the dark memories filling his dreams. Instead, for this woman and her baby—for himself—he had to fight.
First things first.
Triage. The baby’s screams had grown frantic.
Gideon reached for the infant, who was half-covered by a sweatshirt. He lifted the newborn only to receive his next blow—the cord hadn’t yet been cut.
Lord...
No need to panic. Women had been having babies for hundreds of years before fancy birthing suites ever existed. He’d make a fire to sterilize his knife, then do the deed.
He fully covered the infant, then exited the tent.
The red pool had darkened to rust, telling him the woman was at least somewhat stable since there was no additional fresh bleeding.
With the weather worsening, Gideon moved Jelly Bean beneath the shelter of a mammoth pine.
He unlatched his saddlebags, hanging them over his shoulder to carry back to the tent. Inside were dry clothes, a few first aid basics and fire-starting materials. There was also plenty of food and water, but no baby formula or bottles.
Back outside, he found another towering pine that was out of the horse’s view, then assembled a small fire. His grandfather taught him the secret to making all-weather starting blocks that never failed to produce instant heat. Since the wood he’d dragged beneath the tree was wet, it took longer to catch, but soon enough crackling flames banished the cold.
For further insurance, he constructed a small lean-to made of sticks and pine boughs to put another layer of protection between his only heat source and the sleet.
The baby’s wails drove him at a furious pace.
When they stopped, the silence, save for the sleet’s clatter, came as a relief, but then terror struck. Had the infant died?
He charged into the tent, then froze.
The woman not only was awake, but held the infant to her breast.
* * *
SHE WAS BEYOND GROGGY.
Her eyes didn’t want to open, but a primal instinct told her that if only for a short while, she had to tend to her son. After assuring herself of his safety, she could sleep, but he came first. Would always come first.
His cries ripped at her heart.
Though she barely had strength to draw her next breath, she somehow knew he was hungry. She fumbled with her jogging suit’s zipper, and then raised the hems of her T-shirt and sports bra. Breast bared, she guided her baby to his first meal. Luck was with her when he greedily latched on.
Relief brought tears.
Eyes closed, she finally found the energy to wonder where she was. And why. How come she couldn’t remember anything other than the most basic of all urges to stay alive?
She licked her lips, desperate for water, when the tent flap that had been fluttering in the storm’s wind opened farther.
A giant of a man stepped in.
She screamed.
He kept coming.
He wore a black cowboy hat and boots and a long duster-style coat of the sort she’d only seen in old Westerns. Could he be a hallucination?
He held up his hands. “I’m here to help.”
Could she believe him? She didn’t know, and clutched her newborn closer. What was wrong with her? Why was her mind blank?
“Woman, you gave me a helluva scare. What landed you all the way out here? How’d you get that nasty bump to your head?”
So many questions. She had answers for none. “I—I don’t know.”
Brow furrowed, he knelt alongside her. “What do you mean you don’t know? What’s your name? Where’s your baby’s father? What kind of man lets the mother of his child go camping in this weather?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Fighting back tears, she shook her head. “D-do you have water?”
“Of course. Be right back.”
Sleet fell so hard on the flimsy tent that it was collecting on the sides, causing the nylon to bow. Moments later, when the cowboy stooped to enter, he punched at both sagging sides before unscrewing the lid on a gallon jug of water. He handed it to her, but then understanding dawned on his whisker-stubbled face when her arms proved too weak to leave her baby.
He got down next to her, holding the jug to her lips. In the process, the backs of his fingers touched her chin. For an instant, they warmed her cold skin. The sudden heat made her shiver.
She then grew hyperaware of the man’s size.
And the vulnerable position she and her newborn son were in.
How had she landed herself in this predicament? Nothing made sense. The man raised valid questions. Where was her baby’s father? Why did her mind feel numb?
She drank deeply of the cowboy’s gift.
The water might as well have been liquid ambrosia sliding down her throat. Never had anything tasted so good.
Eyes closed, she drank until feeling as if she couldn’t hold any more. The whole while, the man patiently knelt beside her, holding the heavy jug.
“Can’t recall ever seeing a woman drink that much,” he said. “Guessing you were dehydrated?”
“I’m sure.” She shivered.
Her baby unlatched and cried, kneading tiny fists against her right breast. Maternal instinct had her shifting him to her other side. When he drew milk, a hormonal flood raised a knot in her throat and had her eyes tearing.
What could have landed her in this situation? Why did her head feel like a blank sheet of paper?
“Since it’s not getting any warmer,” he said, “once you finish with—” the man gestured to her nursing baby “—you know, give me a holler and I’ll bring you a rag and pot of hot water. We need to get you both cleaned up, then cut the baby’s cord.”
“You know how?”
“Had some EMT training. Not much, but you’ve already tackled the worst. As soon as this weather clears and you feel able, we’ll get you to a hospital.”
She nodded. Something about his take-charge demeanor, the gentle yet confident note in his voice, eased her worry. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve it, but by what could only be the grace of God, she and her baby were in capable hands.
* * *
“HOW ARE YOU DOING?” Gideon stroked Jelly Bean’s cheek.
For the past hour, he’d prepared pot after pot of melted sleet that he’d then delivered to the mystery woman—along with a T-shirt for her to use as a rag. While waiting for the latest batch to boil, Gideon tended to the horse.
“Bet you never thought we’d encounter a newborn and her momma, huh?”
The horse snorted, then stilled, closing her eyes while appreciating his affection.
“Damned if this doesn’t beat anything I’ve ever seen.” Gideon kept his voice a low murmur for only the horse to hear. Over the past months, he’d learned Jelly Bean calmed whenever he was speaking. Maybe her former young owner had been a chatterbox? Regardless, since he rarely had anyone around his place besides his nearest neighbor, Mrs. Gentry, it was good to have someone to talk to—even if that someone was a horse.
He continued stroking, combing her mane.
Did the mystery woman need help with her long hair?
The crown of her head was matted. Leaves and small twigs had caught in the longer sections.
“I’d have offered to brush it for her,” he said to the horse, “but that might be overstepping, you know? Although I’d be at a loss to come up with a more bizarre situation. Hope you’re up for a long, slow ride back to the cabin.”
Gideon figured once the weather improved, he’d get the woman and her baby settled on Jelly Bean. He had misgivings about entrusting the skittish mare with such precious cargo, but there was no other choice. Upon reaching his place—or, if he got a signal in the high mountain meadow—he’d call for help. “Until then,” he said to the horse, “we’re on our own.”
He removed Jelly Bean’s saddle and blanket, then brushed her down. Fed her a few handfuls of feed, then picked his way over the treacherous ground back to the fire.
Now that the woman and baby were as clean as could be expected, he could no longer put off cutting the infant’s cord.
After slicing three inches of nylon from each of his bootlaces, he chucked both pieces into the pot, along with his best bowie knife. This was hardly a sterile environment, but he’d do his best to ward off infection.
Smoke from the fire rolled out from under its shelter, filling the temporary camp with a sweet-smelling normalcy that couldn’t be further from the truth.
In all his time with the Navy SEALs, he’d never encountered anyone with amnesia. It was unsettling.
While the water came to a rolling boil, minutes ticked by.
He pretended to know what he was doing, but now that he’d tossed cordage and his knife into the pot, how did he get it all out while maintaining sterility?
The only logical conclusion was to let the water somewhat cool, pour some out to wash his hands, then pluck out the cord and knife. If he didn’t touch the blade, the procedure should be no big deal.
He put the heavy cast-iron lid on the pot to keep sleet from getting in, then used his coat sleeve for a hot mitt to heft the pot from the fire.
Gideon trudged back to the tent, and since he couldn’t exactly knock on a tent wall, he stood outside, clearing his throat. “You decent?”
“Almost.”
He glanced beyond the tent’s flap and caught flashes. Her creamy-skinned collarbone. Long dark hair swinging like a curtain over her cheeks before she swept it behind her ears. Her breasts’ pale underbellies.
She glanced up.
For a heartbeat, her piercing clover-green stare locked with his. Feeling part rescuer, part voyeur, he lowered his own gaze.
Sleet fell harder. Thunder rolled.
“You okay for me to cut the cord?” Gideon tugged his hat brim lower against the sleet’s assault.
“Please. Come in.” Her voice barely rose above nature’s racket. She’d cleaned herself and her baby, but the tent floor was still a mess. “I guess now’s as good a time as any since my son is sleepy from his meal.”
“Yeah.” My son. Gideon hadn’t even thought to ask. In another world, he’d longed for a son. Now he knew better. His time in the Navy had left him reactionary. Trapped in a crisis loop. He fixed impossible situations. A long time ago, broken people. Now, horses. Still a good thing, right? But according to his ex, his capacity to genuinely care? To give a shit? He’d left that ability in Iraq along with his—No.
Not going there today.
He stepped into the tent, then poured hot water over one hand, then the other, letting the runoff flow onto the already-wet floor.
“This should only take a sec.” He tried conveying a sense of calm that was a bald-faced lie considering the pounding of his heart.
Lightning cracked. Thunder boomed.
Sleet fell hard enough to make the tent’s ceiling appear as if it were writhing.
“This can’t be good,” the woman mumbled.
“Nope.” Gideon set down the pot to check on their sole means of transportation. Careful not to touch his freshly rinsed hands, he used his elbow to nudge the tent flap back to check on Jelly Bean.
“What are you looking for?” the woman asked.
“A horse. Or, in other words, our ride out of here.”
“Is he okay?” She gingerly sat up.
“Kind of hard to tell.”
“Why?”
“She’s gone...”
Chapter Two (#u9bc114c8-0b12-5bcd-bd5d-295a14abb1b2)
“Sorry.” The man set the cast-iron pot alongside her, then headed back into the storm. “But I’ve got to find the horse. You’re too weak to walk out of here, and—”
“Go. I’m fine. No need to explain.” And there wasn’t. She might not be able to remember her name, but she knew enough to realize Mother Nature wasn’t doing them any favors. The faster the man found their ride, the better.
Once he’d gone, leaving her alone again with her panic, minutes seemed stretched into hours.
What if he was hurt, and she was on her own again? Instinct told her she was a strong woman. If she’d survived giving birth in a tent, she’d somehow make her way back to civilization. But it would sure be a whole lot easier with a friend—not that she and the cowboy could be called friends.
She didn’t even know his name.
But she wanted to.
She eyed the pot he’d set beside her and lifted the lid. Beneath a thin layer of water were two nylon strings and a mean-looking knife. Everything needed for her to cut her son’s cord herself. Once they were separated, she could bundle him, then help her new friend find his horse.
Her backpack was within reach, so she tugged it closer, taking a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer from the front pocket. How could she have known it was there, yet not know her name or who’d fathered her child?
None of this made sense.
Her runaway pulse made her breaths choppy.
Lightning stabbed the earth with enough force to make her jump. Where was the cowboy? He shouldn’t be out in this weather.
Operating with newfound urgency, she exposed her son’s tummy, then enough of her own abdomen as low as she could comfortably reach. She squirted hand sanitizer into her palms, rubbed them together, then tied one nylon string roughly two inches from her baby’s navel. She recalled reading about this procedure and knew there were no nerves in the cord, which is why cutting it didn’t hurt. Doctors clamped it to prevent bleeding. The string would serve essentially the same purpose. She made quick work of tying the second string as low as physically possible, then took the knife from the pot, careful to touch only the bone handle.
Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she clamped down with her teeth, then made the first cut. The knife was sharp, easily cutting the cord. The second cut was completed as smoothly and while she might have expected to feel a certain melancholy, her current drive to save the stranger who had saved her overrode sentimentality.
Before her son’s delivery, she’d had the forethought to make a pallet of clothes. Those were blood-soaked and ruined. She’d covered herself and the baby with more clothes.
Now she rose, eyeing the stranger’s saddlebags that he’d left inside the tent.
Darkness was falling too fast, making the lightning flashes all the more disturbing.
She swaddled the thankfully still-sleeping baby in a dry sweatshirt, then used the pot’s remaining warm water to wash herself. There were clean undergarments and a jogging suit in her backpack, so after bathing, she hurried to dress before her teeth chattered out of her head. Her long hair was a nuisance. Hands trembling from the cold, she finger-combed the tangles and leaves, then braided it, fastening it with a ponytail holder she’d instinctively known was in her backpack.
The tent floor resembled a crime scene.
After drinking more water and eating a protein bar, she rolled the entire mess into the floor tarp she’d spread, wadded it into a ball, then flung it outside.
She next unrolled her down sleeping bag and tucked the baby inside.
From the stranger’s saddlebags, she borrowed a red long-sleeved flannel shirt. Teeth still chattering, she lost no time in pulling it on.
She found a ball cap in her pack, as well as a plastic pouch containing a foul-weather poncho. Dizzy from the energy she’d expended, she ate a second protein bar, drank a bottled sports drink, then forced a deep breath before ducking out into the storm.
* * *
“JELLY BEAN!” GIDEON climbed onto a boulder, only to slide back down. “I swear to God once I find you, you’re headed straight for the glue factory.” Of course, that would never happen, but in the heat of the moment, the notion deserved consideration.
Thankfully, the sleet had eased up.
The thunder and lightning moved on.
In this part of the country if you didn’t like the weather, all you had to do was stick around ten minutes and it would most likely change. In the higher elevations, snow had already set in, closing the trails and passes.
He spent another thirty minutes circling the camp’s perimeter, but felt obligated not to venture too much farther. With luck, Jelly Bean would return on her own. Without luck? She’d either show up back at the barn or become bear or mountain lion bait. The grim fact forced him to increase his pace.
“Jelly! Where the hell are you, girl?”
He rubbed his left thigh. For the most part, he was one of the lucky ones. His old war wound only reared its ugly head when he overexerted himself or when fronts rolled through. He had friends who’d been to hell and back fighting two wars. One in the Middle East, and another once they got home, battling pills and depression.
A lot of times, Gideon found himself missing the camaraderie of being around his SEAL brothers, but as for the work itself? Never.
“Hello? Sir!”
Gideon frowned.
What was the woman doing out of her tent? He had enough to deal with in rescuing the damned horse. If she went and did something even more stupid than traipsing out into the woods to deliver her baby? Say, like falling and breaking her leg or neck? Then what? He’d be stuck carrying her and the baby home. He rescued. That’s what he did. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Framing his mouth with his hands, he shouted, “Over here!”
In the Navy, his call sign had been Angel. He’d hated it—especially after his injury. Because most days, he felt chased by demons that left him feeling anything but angelic. He was angry. Depressed. Pissed at his ex. None of which he could do anything about, which was why his new life of solitude suited him just fine.
He resented this woman for intruding on his privacy. If it weren’t for her, Jelly Bean might have had a successful test run. On the flip side, better to have found out she still wasn’t at 100 percent now, rather than when she carried an inexperienced rider.
“There you are.”
“Here I am.” He rounded a corner of the trail to find her looking like one of those yellow toy bathtub ducks in her foul-weather gear. “Why aren’t you with your baby?”
“I’m rescuing you.”
He snorted. She’d barely made it fifteen yards from the tent, well within easy earshot to hear if her son made so much as a whimper.
“Any luck finding your horse?”
“Does it look like it?”
“What’s got you so salty?”
“I’m not,” he lied. “I’m just worried about how we’re going to get you out of here.”
“Give me a day to rest up, and we’ll hike.” Her hopeful half smile blinded like staring too long into the sun. He blinked. “I’m not sure how, but I remember feeling most at home outdoors. That must be why I came all the way out here even though I was pregnant. Maybe the fall that conked my head brought on my labor?”
His gaze narrowed. “Wait a minute... If you’re out here without your baby, does that mean you cut his cord?”
She nodded.
“I’m impressed.” He really was. She might be loony, but she had spunk. He admired that in a woman.
She waved off his compliment. “I cleaned that mess in the tent, too, but I’m feeling woozy. Now that I know you’re all right, would you mind if I joined my son in taking a nap?”
“Not at all. Hell, I might grab some shut-eye, too. In my own sleeping bag, of course.”
“Of course.” Her cheeks reddened to an adorable degree. Adorable wasn’t the sort of term he typically bandied about, but for her, it fit.
He held her arm while traversing the last bit of steep trail. He told himself he would have done the same for anyone, but would he? Something about her both annoyed and fascinated him.
“Mind if I ask you something?” she said.
“Depends.” Touchy-feely wasn’t his thing.
“Relax, cowboy.” She covered her mouth while yawning. “I was only going to ask your name.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, then paused to extend his hand. “Gideon Snow.”
“Nice to meet you.” When she pressed her small, cold hand against his, if he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Stupid. Corny. Inappropriate. “Wish I had a name to call you. For now,” he said, “let’s call you Jane. You know? Like Jane Doe.”
She winced. “That’s not very original.”
“True. But I’m guessing you’ve got family out there missing you. Probably even a husband.”
She’d withdrawn her hand, and now inspected her empty left-hand ring finger. “I don’t feel married.”
Good. Because for some inane, selfish, inexplicable reason, he didn’t want her tied to another man. But then considering what a mess she’d made of Gideon’s day that made no sense. Logically, he should have been thrilled to have her and her baby be someone else’s problem.
The trail widened, and they finished the short walk side by side. The sleet had stopped, but the whole forest sounded as if it were dripping.
A crow’s sharp call rose above the melting sleet’s patter.
“Is it just me,” Jane asked with a shiver, “or is it getting colder?”
“It is,” he said, glad for the distraction from wondering how such a pint-sized woman had found the wherewithal to not only give birth in the forest, but then cut her baby’s umbilical cord before chasing out into the storm.
She was really something.
Not that it mattered.
Gideon wasn’t in the market for female company. That ship had sailed long ago. His contentious divorce guaranteed he’d never again climb aboard the Love Boat.
Chapter Three (#u9bc114c8-0b12-5bcd-bd5d-295a14abb1b2)
“That was delicious. Thank you.” Jane couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed a meal more. But then considering the fact that she didn’t know her own name, was that a surprise? The act of eating proved especially enjoyable, because of the normalcy of sharing a meal. If only for a moment, it distracted her from her frightening reality—of literally having zero reality.
“It was no biggie.” Her cowboy had added water to a packet of dehydrated sweet-and-sour pork. He was right; the shared feast hadn’t required an inordinate amount of culinary skill, but it was hot and filling and for now, that was good enough.
Before sundown, he’d built up the fire, then moved the tent closer to take advantage of the radiant heat.
Jane cradled her son, rubbing the underside of her chin along his downy hair. Part of her couldn’t wait to get him back to civilization. Another part was terrified of what that return might find. There had to have been a reason for her to have endangered herself by traipsing off into the woods this late in her pregnancy. It had been not only irresponsible, but just plain dumb. She was lucky they were still alive.
So why had she done it? A nagging voice told her she didn’t want to know.
“Do you have kids?” she asked Gideon, eager to change the subject—if only in her own mind.
“Nope.”
“I’m assuming you’re not married?”
“Nope.”
“Would you ever want to be?”
“Nope.”
“Why so fast to respond?” She kissed the crown of her baby’s head. “I’ve only been a mother for a few hours, but this guy’s already got me wrapped around both of his tiny pinkie fingers.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been there, done that, and learned the hard way that marriage isn’t for me. The only logical conclusion is that parenthood would end with the same dismal results.” He set the foil food packet on the ground beside his log seat, then warmed his hands in front of the fire. He was tall and ruggedly appealing, but not traditionally handsome. His nose was crooked as if it may have been broken. His jaw was too wide and his cheekbones too high. That said, something about the way firelight danced in his brown eyes called to mind s’mores and made her wonder what kind of ugly breakup had resulted in such a bad attitude toward any sort of new relationship.
Skirting the direct issue, but still curious, she said, “Tell me about your parents.”
“Not much to tell.” He added a log to the fire. “They’ve passed.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged, staring into the dancing flames. “They were hardly the sort who inspired procreation or family unity. I’d never even celebrated Thanksgiving until joining the Navy. Before Mom split, we did usually have Christmas.”
“That’s sad. But back to your grim outlook on marriage, what happened?”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Yes, but I won’t get a wink of sleep until you answer my question.”
He sighed. “If you must know, I’m divorced. My marriage ended so badly that my ex wanted her freedom even more than my assets. We had to have set a record for the world’s fastest split.”
Jane whistled. “Did you cheat on her?”
“Why would you assume that?”
“You said you were in the Navy. I thought you might have had a girl in every port.”
“I didn’t.” He pitched a log into the fire hard enough to send sparks flying.
“I believe you. Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. How about you turn in. I’ll keep watch.”
“For what? Mountain lions? Bigfoot?”
“Look...” He clasped his hands. “Don’t take this personally, but I’d rather sleep outside.”
“Oh.” Why did his rejection hit her as if he’d turned down her invite to a Sadie Hawkins dance? “Sure. I understand.”
But she didn’t.
Worse yet, it wasn’t so much his rejection that had her super confused, but her silly reaction. For a woman who literally knew only two people in the world, to have one dismiss her stung.
* * *
GIDEON WOULD HAVE enjoyed nothing more than stretching out in his sleeping bag in Jane’s toasty tent. The night had turned breezy, and his fingers and nose felt cold enough to snap off. Just what he needed: to also be missing his nose. That’d be a big hit with the ladies.
Suddenly mad at the world, his ex, Missy, and most of all himself, Gideon kicked dirt into the fire.
Nights were always tough.
Jane’s incessant babbling and questions weren’t making this particular night any easier.
How long had it been since he’d shared a meal?
The part of their time when they’d exchanged small talk about favorite old movies had actually been pleasant. He would have never pegged her for an old-school sci-fi fan. Maybe once they got back to his cabin, he’d make popcorn. The two of them—make that three—could settle in for a movie marathon.
Stop.
He pressed the heels of his hands over his stinging eyes.
For the sake of argument, even if he was interested in hooking up, perky Jane was hardly his type. He was willing to bet that somewhere out there she had a husband desperately searching for her and their son.
Gideon would be wise to adopt his usual protector role, get her and her son safely delivered back to her family, then wash his hands of the whole situation.
In fact, as well as Jane had already recovered from giving birth, he figured Jelly Bean needed him more than she did.
“Gideon?” she called from the tent.
“Yeah?”
“What was that noise?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Listen! It’s like a snort, then I heard a twig snapping. Maybe even a growl.”
Gideon heard nothing but the occasional owl and wind high in the pines.
“Could you please stay in here with us? Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll get a wink of sleep.”
It was her second time using the phrase. Had it occurred to her that if she stopped winking long enough to close her mouth and eyes that sleep might come? Shaking his head, Gideon banked the fire, then snatched up his sleeping bag. If Jane wanted him to stretch out alongside her, rather than spending his night upright on a log, who was he to argue?
Hours later, Gideon woke to golden sun warming his face.
Even better? The mesmerizing sight of Jane breastfeeding her son. Witnessing the nurturing act warmed a long-frozen place in his heart. But then he grew fully awake. Fully grounded in the knowledge that if his heart ever did thaw, it would be as gray and ruined as freezer-burned meat.
The woman was pretty, but the expression on her face when she held her baby transformed her into what he could only describe as ethereal. Then she turned to look at him.
Her faint smile faded to fear.
As if she’d forgotten he was even there, she looked up with a startled jolt. “G-good morning.”
“Hey.”
The few minutes it took for him rummage around in his bag, straightening his prosthetic without her seeing, took a lifetime. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
She apparently wished the same.
“Um...” Because he’d been on more pleasant bombing raids, he cleared his throat. “Give me a sec to get coffee in my system and I’ll launch a fresh search for the horse.”
She nodded. “I’ve got freeze-dried scrambled eggs if you’d like me to make breakfast?”
“Thanks. But you’ve got your hands full. I’ll tackle chow. You handle baby maintenance—speaking of which, he probably needs a fresh diaper.” Lord help him, now that he was on a roll, he couldn’t shut up. “I’ve got biodegradable paper towels that should work.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He unzipped his sleeping bag, then rolled onto his knees, maneuvering himself into a standing crouch that his height forced him to use all the way to the tent’s zippered door.
“You slept in your boots?”
Gideon froze. “Is that a problem?”
“No. I mean, I guess not. It’s just a little odd.”
“I don’t recall asking your opinion.” The blunt-edged statement had been intended to shut her up. It did. But instead of feeling satisfied, he felt ashamed.
Of course, she had no way of knowing he’d slept with his boots on for the purely prideful reason of keeping his most carefully guarded secret.
“Sorry.” Her ghost of a smile as she rubbed her son’s back should have warmed him, but it only served as a further reminder of his condition. Of the reason his entire life had fallen apart. “I was teasing. It’s touching—the fact that you care so much about protecting us that you fell asleep fully dressed. Thank you.”
Gideon grunted before tugging hard enough on the tent’s zipper to make the whole structure lean.
He had to get out of here.
Being around Jane and her baby only served as a reminder of the life he might have had.
He was one of the lucky ones. No pain. Full functionality. But somehow in the grand scheme of things, none of that mattered.
Some days he felt as if that grenade hadn’t just taken his leg, but his man card.
What he needed to feel better was to get Jane and her baby off his mountain. He’d help find her family, and that would be that. Like his ex, she’d be a memory best forgotten.
Outside, gulping fresh air, he made quick work of tossing her the paper towels, then starting a fire.
When the camp soon smelled of sweet woodsmoke, brewing coffee and dehydrated eggs mixed with onions and peppers, his stomach growled.
But then Jane emerged from the tent, carrying her son, spoiling not only his privacy, but his peace.
Gideon consoled himself by reasoning that within a few hours, Jane would no doubt have the cavalry out searching for her and her baby boy. When they found them, Gideon would once again be blessedly alone.
He was great with that.
Had to be.
Before his mind took any further control over his day, he cleared his throat, then gestured to her half of breakfast. “Eat up. Coffee’s almost done.”
“Thank you.” She ate from a neon-green plastic bowl she’d unearthed the previous night from her pack. It was the type of pricey camping frill that weekend trail rats would find necessary when the only purpose it served was adding extra supply weight. Gideon ate his freeze-dried meals straight out of the package. If he hadn’t had a horse, his cast iron pot weighed too much for hiking. But it was a luxury for cooking over a decent-sized campfire.
“Sadly, I’m off caffeine until I’m no longer eating and drinking for two.” She kissed her tiny son’s cheek—practically the only part of him visible past his thick sweatshirt swaddling. “But this sure is good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re spoiling me.” She nodded toward the bowl she’d rested on her knee. “But I’m not complaining. I get the feeling I’ve always enjoyed camping. Fresh air, wide-open spaces. The sharp scent of pines contrasting with sweet woodsmoke...” She punctuated her words with yet another faint smile. For someone who literally could have died not twenty-four hours earlier, she was awfully chatty. “Listen to me yammering on. Maybe I was a poet?”
“Doubt it. Not with all your fancy gear.” Finished with his meal, he chucked the waste in a plastic trash bag.
“Was that sarcasm, cowboy?”
“Not at all. But think about it. From your tent to your backpack to your bowl and fork—all REI or some other big-name sporting goods chain. Camping gear like that doesn’t come cheap. At the very least, we know you had a comfortable amount of disposable income.”
Her smile faded. “But what does that mean?”
He shrugged before using his shirtsleeve as a hot pad to take an old-fashioned percolator from the fire. Morning coffee usually smelled and tasted better on the trail, but today, Gideon feared no amount of caffeine or ambience would help his suddenly sour mood.
“You were the one who said it.”
“It was an observation. Nothing more.” After setting the coffee atop a stump remaining from turn-of-the-century timber cuts, he ducked into the tent, rummaging through his saddlebags for sugar. Some guys liked their beer. Others enjoyed smoking or myriad other vices. Gideon didn’t just like sugar, he needed it. And since he had plenty of friends with worse habits, he didn’t even try abstaining.
“Guessing you’ve got a sweet tooth?” Jane said after he’d removed the grounds from the percolator, flinging them into the weeds, then dumped a good portion of his sugar into the remaining black liquid.
Ignoring her, he found a stick to use for a stirring spoon.
“I’m just messing with you. No need to turn grumpy.”
“You sure are perky for a woman who’s lost.”
“But see? Since you found me, I’m not really lost at all.” Her words proved braver than the unshed tears shimmering in her gaze.
“Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”
“It is a valid observation.” Her tone turned low and introspective. “Maybe we can use it to find a clue about who I am?”
“I’ll play along.” Gideon sipped more coffee.
“Hmm...” Her smile returned. “What kinds of jobs require a perky demeanor?”
“Kindergarten teacher?”
“Yes—but if I were a teacher, how would I have had time for a leisurely hike in the middle of a school day? Today is Thursday, right?”
“Wait—how can you know the day of the week, but not your own name?”
“Great question. I suppose I could have been on maternity leave?”
“True. But even if that were the case, I still don’t get why any pregnant woman would have been out for a strenuous hike in less than ideal conditions. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, right?” Her shoulders slumped, as if too many of her own questions left her deflated.
If he’d had a heart, he would have felt sorry for her. But honestly? Most days he had no emotions at all. He finished the coffee, then wiped the pot and its workings dry with a shop rag he kept stashed in his bags.
Once he’d finished, and she hadn’t budged from her spot on a log, Gideon cleared his throat. “You mentioned yesterday that you’d need a day of rest before we head back to civilization. But earlier, you looked like you’re getting around okay to me. How about we pack up and at least try going a few miles?” When she didn’t answer, he found himself blabbering on. “If you do—get tired—we can always stop and make camp. I just figure it would probably be best if...” If I were no longer around you and your baby.
The two reminded him too much of all he’d lost—correction, all his ex had thrown away.
“Sure. I’ll help pack.”
“Thanks, but I’d feel better if you and the baby stay by the fire.”
“I don’t mind.”
I do. After five minutes of bickering, Gideon finally convinced Jane that her energy would be best utilized on the hike out. He spent the better part of the next hour packing. In a perfect world, he’d have let the collapsed tent air-dry before folding and then rolling it, but there was no time.
As soon as they reached his cabin, he’d drive her and her son into town, drop them at the hospital, then he’d never see either again. Maybe he’d get lucky and catch a cell signal in that high mountain meadow where he’d once picked up an Arizona Cardinals game. Then he could call for help and let authorities sort out Jane’s mess.
Yes—that was by far the better option.
As his ex had so thoughtfully reminded him, he wasn’t fit to be around women or children.
Chapter Four (#u9bc114c8-0b12-5bcd-bd5d-295a14abb1b2)
Jane.
She somehow knew she’d never been a fan of the name.
She had almost as hard a time thinking of herself by that moniker as she was traversing the steep trail while keeping a safe hold on her son. Her cowboy companion had offered to hold her baby, but she’d politely declined. In a brain and heart filled with fog, the one thing she did know was that she fiercely loved her newborn and wasn’t letting him go.
Gideon had called the baby John—as in John Doe, but that was no good, either. She held him snug against her chest and while pausing to catch her breath, Jane sneaked a peek beneath the sweatshirt she’d wrapped him in. Chip. Because he looked sweet enough to be a chocolate chip. The name as well as the reasoning would probably be silly to anyone else. But to her? It worked.
She paused, dragging in gallons of sweet-smelling mountain air. As nasty as the previous day had been, this day was sunny and while not exactly warm, at least above freezing. Birdsong came as a welcome change from the sound of clattering sleet.
“You okay?” the cowboy called from a good thirty feet up the trail. He not only carried her large-framed hiking pack, but his saddle bags. The exertion didn’t seem to affect him.
“Sort of?” She managed a faint, breathless smile.
“Do we need to rest?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” He glanced forward on the trail, then back to her. They’d only been hiking a couple hours, yet her body felt as if she’d run a marathon.
You did give birth twenty-four hours ago.
The same voice justifying her exhaustion left an underlying wave of not really fear, but a vague sense of unease. As if laziness wasn’t approved—regardless of the excuse.
Excuses are for wimps.
This new voice served as an intimidating reminder that she hailed from hearty stock. She was no quitter and had apparently been taught from a young age that nothing good came without plenty of hard work.
“Hey...”
Jane glanced up to find Gideon now in front of her.
“You don’t look so hot.” He reached out, almost as if he’d intended to touch her arm, but then changed his mind. “Are you tired? Or did you remember something?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe both.” She trudged a few feet farther to a flat boulder, backing onto it.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He removed both of his loads, then sat beside her. After digging through the nearest pack for a canteen, he unscrewed the lid, offering it to her.
“Thanks.” She drank deeply, resisting the urge to lean against him for physical and emotional support. He was a stranger, yet at this moment, she knew him better than she knew herself. “I just had the strangest sensation—not really a memory, but a gut-deep feeling that someone in my life wouldn’t approve of me taking a break.”
“Your husband?”
She glanced at her ring-free left hand. “I-I don’t think so. Maybe my father?” She passed Gideon the canteen.
“If you feel I’m pushing you too hard, we can stop here for the night. I was hoping to make it farther—to a creek where we can replenish our water supplies. But if—”
“I’m okay,” she promised. “Just needed to catch my breath.”
“How’s the little guy?” He nodded toward the baby. He’d again started to reach out, but as earlier, she got the impression that Gideon didn’t want to touch. Why? Was he afraid of overstepping personal boundaries? Or getting too close? Given the fact that in a day or two they’d never see each other again, it was unlikely they’d ever be more than casual acquaintances. A good thing, considering her tenuous grasp on reality.
“He’s great. Sleeps a lot. But I guess that’s to be expected?”
“No clue.” Gideon toyed with the canteen lid. “Babies aren’t my thing.”
“What do you do? I’ve been so caught up in my own mystery that I hardly know anything about you.”
“Not much to know.” He took another swig of water, then offered it to her.
“Tell me about the horse that ran off. Do you think he’s all warm and cozy back in your barn?” She drank deeply. It felt odd—the intimacy of their lips touching the same vessel.
“Hard to say. And he is a she.” Gideon shared the horse’s heartbreaking story.
After hearing about what the poor creature had been through, Jane said, “We have to find her.”
“Let’s get you and the baby to a hospital first. Odds are, she is back at my place. If not, I’ll come back out as soon as you two are safe.”
“But—”
“Not up for debate.” When Jane again tried speaking, he held out his hand to stop her. The gesture royally ticked her off. As if another man in her life had a nasty habit of shushing her.
“Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?” He was rummaging through his pack.
“Shut me up. I’ll say my mind whenever I see fit.” Her raised voice woke the baby.
Her son showed his displeasure with a series of fitful cries.
“Don’t blame me for that.” Eyeing the infant, Gideon raised his hands in the universal sign of not guilty. “All I was trying to do was impress upon you the urgency of getting you and your son back to civilization. This time of year, snowfalls are epic, and we’re way past due for a big one. Hopefully, the horse can fend for herself.”
Jane jiggled her son, but that only made him cry louder. “Do you think he’s hungry?”
“How would I know?”
“You seem to know everything else,” she snapped.
He sighed. “I’ll give you privacy. Why don’t you...” He gestured toward her chest.
“Feed my son? With my breasts? Are you twelve?”
“What happened to perky Jane? I liked her way better than snarky Jane.”
Jane rolled her gaze skyward. “I liked you better before you were so bossy.”
The baby wailed.
“I’m out of here to look for signs of the horse, but I’ll stay within earshot. Holler when you’re done and we’ll go together to the stream, then set up camp for the night.”
“Aye-aye, Captain Bossy.”
When he turned his back, Jane stuck out her tongue.
While she was by no means an expert on infant care, thankfully, breastfeeding was coming naturally to her and her sweet little Chip.
With him feeding, Jane arched her neck back, drinking in warm sun. All of this was so strange. Part of her felt wholly at ease in the forest. Another part warred with the notion that beyond a few hunches about who she was, and what sort of lifestyle she preferred, the truth was that where her memories should be now yawned a frightening black hole.
She knew she preferred Gideon’s sweeter side as opposed to this new grouch. And she also knew that given her aversion to his demanding tone, she was now apprehensive about what secrets her former life may hold. Could she have been on the run from someone abusive? Or just a bad breakup from her baby’s father?
She may not know much, but she somehow knew she didn’t love Chip’s dad.
But what if I’m still married to him?
As much as she wanted to fill in the missing pieces of her life, another part of her was afraid. What if she didn’t like the woman she turned out to be?
The question made her pulse race uncomfortably fast.
So much so that the logical choice for her immediate future seemed to be remaining with a grumpy cowboy. What was that old saying about it being better to be with the devil you knew? Not that Gideon was in any way mean or cruel, but given his current frame of mind he could hardly be considered warm and fuzzy.
Tears stung her eyes, but she swiped them away.
She needed to be strong.
Not just for the baby, but herself. This was no time for a breakdown. Whatever had led her to run into this forest, she feared she’d need all her strength to face it.
A twig snapped.
She darted her gaze in that general direction. “What was that?” she asked her son. “Probably a squirrel, right?”
He stared up at her with enormous baby blues.
“But it sounded bigger. What do you think?”
There was another twig snap. A low huff.
Jane froze. “Maybe it’s Gideon’s missing horse?” Standing, holding her son close while he finished brunch, she called, “Jelly Bean, sweetie? Is that you?”
A low growl came from the camp’s edge.
Not thinking, just doing, Jane screamed, “Gideon!”
* * *
GIDEON HEARD JANE’S cry and abandoned the track he’d been following to run toward her and the baby.
“Jane?” he called. “Hang tight! I’m coming!”
After damn near breaking his neck while charging through thick underbrush, Gideon finally reached the trail, then poured on extra speed to reach the boulder where he’d left her.
Pebbles skittered after him on a steep downhill section.
He rounded a corner to find her standing with her zippered jacket hanging open and full breasts exposed save for the parts covered by her still-nursing son.
As fast as he’d been running, Gideon now screeched to a full stop, politely averting his gaze.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” she said as if she wasn’t standing there half-naked. “There’s a monster growling—just over there.” She pointed to the dense woods behind them. “I thought it was Jelly Bean, but then whatever it was turned bloodthirsty.”
“Bloodthirsty?” He nodded. “Guess it could have been a mountain lion, but they’re usually fairly skittish, and aren’t known for making warning noises before they eat you.” He winked, then realized her condition. “Would you, ah, mind fastening that up?”
A glance down left her cheeks reddening while she fumbled to hold her now-sleeping son and fasten her front-latching sports bra. Turns out it couldn’t be done, so she returned to her rock seat, setting her son alongside her. Once she’d closed the “mess hall,” she looked Gideon’s way.
He’d meant to turn his back to her, but hadn’t quite managed. He’d intended to offer to hold her son for her, too, but the words refused to leave his mouth. So there he stood. Frozen. Like a big, dumb rock.
Above her, a squirrel chattered.
“Apparently,” she said, “he’s bothered by the sight of a little skin, too?”
“I’m not bothered,” Gideon said, “just figured you might be cold.” He averted his gaze. “Are you decent?”
“I was decent before, but if you mean fully clothed—yes.”
“Sorry.” He sighed, then found the wherewithal to once again meet her gaze. “Your scream got me spooked. Then I showed up and you were—well, barely dressed.”
“Because I was feeding my baby.”
“Yeah, I know that now. Give me a minute, okay? It’s not an everyday thing around here for me to find pregnant ladies on my trail.”
“I’m not pregnant anymore,” she sassed.
“By God, you are a handful.” He raked his fingers through his shaggy hair.
“Sorry, I’m not sorry?” Now she winked.
Gideon busted out laughing.
And then she was laughing.
The racket startled her baby awake, but then she was smiling down at him, and rocking him, and crooning soft words to coax him back to sleep.
Something inside Gideon shifted.
Instead of viewing the two of them as enemies hell-bent on destroying his carefully structured life, he recognized them as something far more menacing—enjoyable. They represented a welcome change. A bright spot of hope in the dark fog that had become his world.
But there was danger in that hope, because just as soon as he returned Jane to the real world, her family would claim her. Her husband would claim her. And just like that, Gideon would be in the dark again.
The funny thing was, he’d been there so long, he’d almost convinced himself he liked it. But then this spitfire had come along, changing everything.
“What’s got you so deep in thought?” she asked.
“You.” He hadn’t meant to tell the truth, but it had slipped out.
“Is that good or bad?”
In keeping with his truthful scheme, he said, “A little of both. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She hugged her baby close, kissing the crown of his head. He’d seen her perform the maternal move at least a dozen times, yet it never failed to stir him. He could deny it all he wanted, but he realized he wasn’t mad at his wife for stealing the joy of becoming a father from him. He was mad at himself.
He waved off her question. “It’s way too deep to go into now. We’re strangers. I’ll try being nicer and leave it at that.”
Eyes narrowed, she cocked her head. “Sometimes strangers are best for making confessions. The beauty of them is that you get to unload, and then never see the person again.”
“True. But then your juicy secret is out there, just waiting to hit tabloids and TMZ.”
“Interesting...” Gaze narrowed, she said, “I wouldn’t have taken you for the TMZ type.”
“I’m not.” He sat beside her to dig into his saddle bag. “But a few of the younger guys I served with never stopped yapping about Hollywood crap.”
“You’re a veteran?”
“Yeah.” He pulled out two protein bars and handed her one.
“Which branch?”
“Navy. Has anyone in your family serv—”
Her complexion paled.
“Sorry.” Gideon gave himself a mental kick. Dumbass. If she couldn’t remember her own name, how was she supposed to remember a family member’s service records?
“No worries.” She ran her thumb over the protein bar’s label. “Chocolate chip. Did I mention that while we were hiking, that’s what I decided to name my son?”
“Chocolate Chip? Cute.” Gideon bit into his bar and chewed. “Don’t think I’ve ever met one.”
“You have now. Chip for everyday. Chocolate for holidays and special occasions.” She smiled.
He smiled.
It was all very civilized, but underneath these newfound manners ran a tension Gideon couldn’t quite get a read on.
They sat in silence long enough for the songs of nature to feel noisy in Gideon’s head. Wind in the pines. A cawing crow. He wanted to say so much to Jane, but wasn’t sure how—or even why. The sensation was as unnerving as it was unwelcome.
“Ready to get going?” he asked. “I’d like to make the stream in a few hours, then set up camp well before nightfall.”
“Sure.” She wadded up her bar’s wrapper, tucking it into a pocket of her pack.
He liked that she hadn’t littered. He liked her green eyes that reminded him of new grass in the spring. He liked her laugh and the way she doted on her son.
He did not like the way she’d unwittingly taken over his life.
Which was why, once they’d gotten back under way, he set the pace faster than he probably should, because he had to escape not only Jane, but the biting pain of what it felt like to be connected to another person. And to know with absolute certainty that he’d never see her again.
* * *
IT TOOK HOURS to reach the gurgling stream beside which Gideon was now assembling Jane’s tent.
She sat on a fallen log, nursing her son, appreciating the unseasonably warm late-afternoon sun. It was almost as hard to predict Arizona weather as it was Gideon’s moods.
At one point during their death march out of these woods, he’d seemed downright chivalrous, waiting for her to catch up. He’d almost held her hand over an especially rocky part of the trail. But at the last moment—as if remembering girls have cooties—he’d changed his mind.
Her stomach growled.
“Gideon!”
“Yeah?”
“Mind if I have another one of your protein bars?”
“Go for it.”
“Thanks.” Midway through the day, he’d removed his coat. She had spent hours staring at the back of his green T-shirt. How had it escaped her that his shoulders were broad, his hips narrow, and his derriere... Oh my.
Might her former self have giggled at such an observation? The fact that she didn’t know soured her stomach.
He cursed at her tent. “This thing was clearly designed for yuppies.”
“I’m not a yuppie.” She bristled more at his tone than the label. She honestly wasn’t even sure what being a yuppie entailed.
“But that’s the thing.” He straightened. “You don’t know. Your gear shows that you have a more than average knowledge of backpacking. Almost as if you were in training for, I don’t know? Something big—like the Pacific Crest Trail.”
Free hand on her hip, she cocked her head. “Me? Hiking from Mexico to Canada? Yeah. I suppose that’s possible. But if that was the case, what am I doing in Arizona?”
“I just said you could be in training. The trail we’re on is a notorious killer.”
“Good to know.”
“Have you been all through your backpack? Are you sure there’s nothing we could use for a clue? How could you not have at least had a credit card or ID?”
“No clue. Maybe it fell? Or I was in such a hurry to get started I left it in the car? When we stopped by that mushroom patch, I had to dig deep for the paper towels. I didn’t see a single useful item in regard to discovering my identity.”
“No worries. We’ll figure it out. In fact, once we get you to a hospital to get checked, I’m sure the place will be crawling with your family.”
“Hope so...” Tears stung her eyes, but she swiped them away. This was no time for a breakdown. Whatever issue had led her to run into this forest, she feared she’d need all her strength to face.
With Chip fed, she got herself zipped up, settled him on a soft grassy patch, then dived into Gideon’s saddlebags for the protein bar.
She easily found it, but she’d also stumbled across a laminated photo she had a feeling Gideon would never want her to see. It had to have been taken at his wedding. He wore Navy dress whites, and the woman’s full-skirted gown seemed too fancy for the casual beach setting. His look of adoration for his bride made Jane’s stomach tighten.
Was this the woman who had broken him?
Of course, there were always two sides to every story, but what part had he played in their marriage’s collapse?
“Mind helping me out with the center pole? I don’t know how the hell you got this assembled while in labor. It’s like freakin’ origami.”
She tucked the photo back in the saddlebag, then went to help. “You have to work it through. You can’t just shove it. The whole process needs finesse.”
“Words to live by.”
It took her a minute, but then she caught his grin and blushed. “You know what I mean. Here, let me show you.”
“Do I need to cover Chip’s tender eyes?”
“Stop.” She brushed past him to grab hold of the channel the tent pole needed to be worked through. Now that she had an audience, the motion did feel less than wholesome in a comical way.
When Gideon stepped in to help, Jane fought to ignore the tingly awareness stemming from his faintest contact. He reached over her, raising the nylon channel for her to feed the pole through. The action was simple, so why did her every move strike her as beyond complicated? The heat of his chest radiated against her backside, and when his forearms accidentally grazed the sides of her overly sensitive breasts, she bit her lip to keep from begging for more.
Insanity! That’s what this was.
Her brain got the message, but her body refused to listen.
Ten minutes later, she stood side by side with Gideon while surveying their work.
“We have a home,” he said of their blue abode.
Home. An interesting choice of wording given their situation. She felt the same vibe—at least in the moment. The setting with its gurgling stream and sunny glade surrounded by towering ponderosa pines was idyllic. The stuff of fairy tales. Only by all logical standards, her current situation more closely resembled a nightmare.
Only...it didn’t.
Now that Gideon had mellowed, and her son seemed healthy and content, and she was immersed in a postcard-worthy setting, her current lot in life no longer seemed all bad.
“What’s causing that smile?” Gideon asked.
“Oddly enough, the fact that this trek has suddenly turned kinda fun.” She smiled.
“You won’t be thinking that when this clear sky causes nighttime temps to dip into the twenties.”
“That’s why Chip and I have you—to build us a nice, toasty fire.”
“True...” He returned her smile, warming her from the inside out. “But please remember that my whole rescuer gig is only temporary. As soon as we hit civilization, you and your little chipmunk will be history.”
His comment should have brought her comfort, but all it really did was make her feel like crying.
Chapter Five (#u9bc114c8-0b12-5bcd-bd5d-295a14abb1b2)
“Aw, why are you crying?” Gideon supposed the decent thing to do would be to draw Jane into a nice big hug. But while they’d had fun joking around while assembling the tent, that didn’t mean they were best buddies or that he’d ever again be decent. What went down in Iraq had fundamentally changed him to the point that he was no longer a nice man. Missy, his wife, had told him every chance she’d gotten before she’d left him.
Then she’d died.
Her words had stuck to his skin like a shirt with static cling.
Jane said, “Y-you have this way of making me feel like I’m on an emotional roller coaster. One minute, we’re laughing and everything’s chill. The next, you look at me and Chip as if we’re your mortal enemies. My gut tells me you’re a great guy, but your mean mouth is telling a different story.”
“Damn, woman...” Summoning a half smile, he pressed his hand over his heart. “I’ve had gunshot wounds hurt less.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about—and why are you carrying around a wedding photo? Sorry—I saw it by accident, but it doesn’t fit with the man I’ve come to know.”
“Look...” Needing a barrier between them, he crossed his arms and took a defensive step back. “I keep that pic to remind me I’m never again taking that route. As for what’s going down between us? I’m trying to be a stand-up guy. I promised to get you and your son safely to a hospital and I will, but beyond that?” He shrugged.
“I stupidly thought we were friends.”
“We’re acquaintances. Nothing more. Psychologically, I’m guessing you’re placing importance on our relationship, because at the moment, aside from your infant son, I’m literally all you have.” He softened his voice. “That won’t last forever. In fact, there are probably search parties out looking for you right now.”
“Think so?”
He nodded.
She looked so utterly lost, so confused and alone and beaten, that he broke his every rule to extend his arms to her for a quick hug. When she stepped into his embrace, crying so hard that tears wet through his T-shirt, there was nothing he could do but hold her. Which hurt him. Every second she sobbed against his chest equated to weeks—hell, maybe months—it would take him to rebuild his carefully constructed walls.
How long had it been since he’d felt needed? He used to thrive on problem-solving. A part of him craved charging in to Jane’s rescue, but to fully embrace her needs, he’d have to abandon his own.
Or maybe not? Maybe all this situation required was basic human compassion. What could it hurt to at least offer her that?
She sniffed, finally backing away. “Sorry. I-I guess you’re right. I’ve been putting on this brave front, trying to act upbeat and like my loss of memory doesn’t really matter, but it does. I’m terrified. I have dozens more questions than answers. Biggest of all? What if I ran into the woods to escape danger?”
“Not gonna lie—” with her no longer in his arms, he missed their physical connection “—it’s a possibility. How about if we make a deal—once we get to the hospital, and your husband or parents step forward, if you feel at all threatened, give me a sign. Tug your ear or scratch your nose.”
“Then what?”
“No clue. We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
“Promise?” She’d lowered her gaze, and when she glanced up at him with late-afternoon sun making her still-teary eyes glisten, Gideon was lost.
“Sure.” By this time tomorrow, Jane and her son would be back with her family, and he would be reunited with Jelly Bean, who was no doubt miffed to find he hadn’t yet made it home. His life would have officially reverted to normal.
His neighbor and occasional caretaker, Mrs. Gentry, would barge in right when he sat down to dinner, yammering on about what naughty boys and girls his ragtag crew of livestock had been. After helping herself to a good portion of his meal, she’d then devour most of his dessert, leaving him even more grouchy than when she’d arrived.
“You’re scowling again.” Jane had left him to retrieve Chip from his grassy patch in the sun.
“It’s not about you. I have a busybody neighbor who makes me all kinds of crazy. I was just thinking about how infuriating it is when she eats my baked goods.”
“I’ll have you know I’m the best baker in—” She covered her mouth when a gleeful laugh bubbled free. “Did you hear that? I’m not sure how I know, or even where I stash my prized pink KitchenAid mixer, but I know I’m a baker—and I like pink.”
“This is good,” he said, collecting wood for a fire. “Is anything else coming to mind? Do you specialize in pies or cake or cookies? Please, God, let it be cookies.” His laugh felt shockingly good—and real. As real as his love for oatmeal scotchies and snickerdoodles.
“I’m not sure. Maybe? That might make sense since the first name that popped into my head for this little guy was Chip.”
“That’s a logical assumption. And shoot, I never met a cookie I didn’t like. I’ll bet you make them for gifts—you know, for your family and neighbors.” He dumped his latest load of wood next to the stone ring he’d previously made.
“That sounds nice.”
“Yes, it does.”
Call him crazy, but relief shimmered through him over the fact that her mood had returned to her formerly perky self. He liked her better smiley than moping. A double standard considering his own mood swings over the course of their journey. But now that they’d cleared the air between them, and he’d had his say about the fact that they were destined to be acquaintances—nothing more—his spirit felt lighter. With her not expecting anything from him, he felt more at ease.
Groundwork had been laid.
Rules of engagement firmly established.
“Thank you.” On her tiptoes, she pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. It was no big deal. So why did his skin feel as hot as if he’d been branded?
“You’re welcome,” he said, “although I’m not sure what for. Regardless, no more of that, okay?”
“Of what?”
“You’re going to make me spell it out? That kiss, Jane. No more of that.”
“Don’t be silly.” She waved off his concern. “That wasn’t a real kiss. If I ever decided to really, truly lay one on you? I would hope you’d recognize the difference.”
* * *
JANE HADN’T MEANT to kiss Gideon. Just like she didn’t mean to flirt. But somehow their conversations naturally took that turn. Unlike him, she decided not to stress over it. Since she didn’t have a whole lot else going for her, what could a smidge of harmless flirtation hurt?
Plenty!
Her conscience was all too quick to remind her of the very real possibility that she could be married. But if that was the case, why didn’t she feel as if she’d made a lifelong commitment to the love of her life? Wouldn’t she at least have a vague recollection of such a momentous event?
Chip grew fitful, so while Gideon was off gathering more firewood, Jane ducked into the tent to feed her son.
The smell inside made her happy.
It was a comforting, somehow familiar scent—sunbaked nylon and the sweet smoky remains of countless campfires. The tent was large enough for three or four people. Why would she have packed such a large tent for only herself? Could she have had a friend, and they’d been injured?
Outside, the tumbling crash of firewood being dropped onto the growing woodpile made her call, “Gideon!”
“What’s wrong? Is the baby—oh.” He ducked into the tent. Upon catching a flash of her bare breasts, he blanched, then backed out. “Jane, we talked about that, too.”
“Sorry.” She drew a sweatshirt over herself and the baby for modesty. “I was so excited to run something past you that I forgot Chip was still nursing. Isn’t it wild? How a couple of days ago, I knew nothing about being a mom, yet now, I feel as if this precious guy has always been in my life.”
“That’s great,” he said with a hint of annoyance, voice muffled from having turned his back on her. “But what did you call me over for? You sounded as if it were urgent.”
“It is.” She explained her theory about the oversize tent.
“What do you think? Could I have been with someone else when I set off for my hike?”
“I guess it’s possible.” He scratched his head. “That theory’s just as plausible as anything else.”
“I thought so, too. But then that would mean someone else is out here—lost and hurt. Should we hike back to where you found me to check for any additional clues?”
“No. We stick to the plan. Get you and the baby to a hospital, then let professionals handle it from there.”
“O-okay.”
“What?” He looked back. “I’m growing way too familiar with that look of yours.”
“I’m tired of dead ends. When will one of our theories pan out?”
“In due time. Relax.”
“How?”
“I don’t often share this—hell, I haven’t even thought of it in years. But back in my swinging single days, I was known for giving magic massages.”
“Yeah?” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yuk it up. After cooking dinner, I was going to offer you one of my top-secret, patented shoulder rubs, but if you don’t want one, I—”
“Oh—I never said that. In fact, just as soon as Chip’s finished his meal, let’s go ahead and have ours. I’m excited to gain firsthand knowledge of your supposed skills.”
“That’s what all the ladies used to say.” Through the open tent flap, she watched him walk toward his impressive fire pit. The way he filled out his Wranglers was mighty impressive, too.
This more playful side of him was a charmer.
Jane closed her eyes, imagining a young Gideon, fresh out of basic training, out for a good time on a Friday night. Was he like this all the time back then? Unfettered by the emotional baggage that now seemed to have him on constant guard? What happened to him? Would she ever know?
Chip had finished, so Jane began the now-familiar task of closing her bra and other garments. She set the baby on top of her sleeping bag that she’d already rolled out, then dug into her pack for freeze-dried dinner packets to prepare.
She called to Gideon, “Craving beef stroganoff or chicken and rice?”
“Neither!” he said above the noise of his hatchet biting into a small downed pine. She glanced over her shoulder to find he’d removed his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He’d worked up a sweat. His chest and washboard abs glistened in the sun.
Oh my. Her mouth went dry.
If she was a married woman, she shouldn’t be this attracted to a stranger. Yet there it was—an undeniable visceral pull toward this cowboy who’d saved her and her baby’s lives.
Determined to turn her focus to anything more productive, she worked on changing Chip’s makeshift diaper. What she wouldn’t give for a box of premoistened wipes...
She made do with the remains of her water bottle and a wad of paper towels, then swaddled him in preparation for cooler temperatures once the sun dipped below the neighboring mountain range.
Outside the tent, she found that Gideon thankfully was clothed, only his black leather cowboy hat didn’t exactly detract from his looks while he started the fire. Soon, woodsmoke flavored the air, and he’d rigged a tri-pole wooden support frame for his cast-iron pot.
“You’re really good at all of this.” She perched on one of the logs he’d dragged next to the fire.
“Given the right tools, anyone could do it.”
“Not according to some of the reality-style survival shows I’ve seen.”
“Oh, yeah?” Still working, he rounded in front of her, giving her an up-front view of his powerful thighs and that Wrangler-clad behind. Cue her wild pulse. She licked her lips. This wasn’t good. “Do you remember being an armchair fan of that sort of thing?”
“No clue. But I guess I’d have to be if it’s coming to mind. It just seems like making a fire doesn’t come as easy to most people as it does to you.”
He shrugged.
“You never told me what you did in the Navy.”
“This and that.” He added a log to the fire.
“Did you do ‘this and that’ on a sub? An aircraft carrier?”
“I was a SEAL. My team and I pretty much did whatever needed doing. End of story.”

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