Lost Christmas Memories. Dana Mentink

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was: her friend. It wouldn’t hurt to have a friend right about now when she seemed to have garnered an enemy in John Larraby.

      The doctor stuck his head in, voice stern. “Mr. Thorn, when I said it was time to leave, I meant it.”

      “Sure thing, Doc,” Keegan said, giving a lock of her hair a playful tug. “I’ll be right outside, Pockets.”

      “Why did you call me that?”

      He grinned. “Oh, that’s a story for another day. And trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

      Despite his playful words, fatigue and worry pressed down on her as the door closed softly behind him.

      Tracy was released late that afternoon and Keegan was ready. She could not drive for three days due to her head injury, so Keegan took one of the ranch trucks, having discarded the sling as soon as he was out the hospital doors.

      “I really think you should come and stay at the Gold Bar,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her. “There’s room. My brother Barrett and his wife, Shelby, are living in her uncle’s house and tending his ranch while he’s in Europe since their own place isn’t done yet. Something about grout and shutters.”

      She climbed in gingerly, wincing, and he realized for the first time how petite she was, the top of her head coming only to his collarbone. “I can’t remember much more, but I did recall something to do with celebratory pomanders.”

      He chuckled. “Double wedding. Pomanders are for that. Baby coming, too, for Barrett and Shelby.”

      “That’s enough without squeezing in an addled stranger.”

      He climbed into the driver’s seat. “You’re not addled. The doctor says you’re likely going to get your memory back in time.”

      She bit her lip, a look of fear flickering through her hazel eyes. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing scratches and a bruise along her jawline. Her profile was so delicate, he marveled at it.

       Aww, knock it off, Keegan. She just needs someone to keep her safe and get John off her back until she regains her memory—a friend, nothing more.

      Keegan had never been short of friends, especially female ones who loved his reckless pursuit of fun and his “barn burner” attitude, as his adopted mother would put it. And that was all he required of his relationships: companionship, shared interests and a zest for adventure. He was too restless to look for anything deeper.

      He realized she was looking at him.

      “Oh, sorry, did you say something?” he asked.

      “No. I’m the quiet type, but I...I mean...” Her fingers twisted together on her lap. “I’m very sorry for shooting at you. I can’t imagine why I did that.”

      “Plenty of people would line up to take a shot,” he joked.

      Her eyes went wide. “Really?”

      “Well, maybe a punch rather than a shot, but you get the drift. I got one particular gang member who would love to lay me flat. Sonny B, he goes by.”

      She nodded, more out of politeness than understanding, it seemed. He’d probably scared her.

      “I lived a wild youth. I’d like to say I’m reformed, but the jury’s out still.” Exiting the parking lot, he headed for the main road. He’d figured she’d be too well mannered to ask, and he was right.

      The winter sun was low in the sky, glaring through the windshield as they drove west, so she pulled down the visor. Three plastic-wrapped sticks of beef jerky fell into her lap.

      “Good catch.” He laughed. “Snacks. I’m always hungry. Want one?”

      She laughed. “Maybe later. I’d really appreciate a ride to my property, if it’s not too much trouble. It’s up in the foothills.”

      He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Give me directions.”

      “About seventy miles east. I just bought it two months ago.”

      Though he asked a few questions, she kept her answers vague. Didn’t trust him, and maybe she was right not to. Strange guy, strange town, bullets flying and a murder she couldn’t remember.

      She toyed with the zipper on her jacket. “Keegan, you’ve been good to me. I don’t want you to think... I mean...what John said about the pills... I was thrown from a horse and I had a series of seizures for a period of time. I didn’t...”

      He put his hand on her forearm, surprised at the delicacy of the bones there. He could circle her entire wrist with two fingers, yet she’d fired a gun at him, so the size of her spirit outstripped everything else. “I know you aren’t abusing.”

      She looked at him full on. “But how can you know that when you don’t know me, not really?”

      Secrets flickered deep down in her eyes and he suddenly realized that her past might just be nearly as complicated as his own. Complications were things he usually avoided, but he felt an urge to dive right in to her messy situation and help.

       She didn’t ask, Keegan. Cool your jets.

      “Maybe I don’t know you well, but John is a jerk and he’d happily discredit you in order to preserve dear old Dad from embarrassment.”

      “He’s a cop, surely...”

      “He’s a jerk, trust me.” The words snapped out harsher than he’d meant, so he gave it a beat before he continued. “You were beyond scared when I met you at the train station—terrified because you’d witnessed a murder. And that wasn’t due to alcohol or pills.”

      She shot him a nervous glance. “Do you really believe that?”

      “Yes, I do.”

      Again the shadows flittered across the hazel irises and she looked away, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was cold. He flipped on the heater.

      “But how could there be no sign of it at the center?”

      “Because someone is trying to cover it up, and I’m going to find out who that is.”

      Tracy straightened. “I appreciate it, I really do, but you’ve done enough. This isn’t your fight.”

      “Yes, it is.”

      Her jaw went tight. “Please don’t dive into my problems because it’s a way to even the score with your brother.”

      Her tone was soft but the words cut right to his core. Was that what he was doing? Why he’d stayed in the hospital after his wounds had been treated?

      No, this wasn’t about revenge; it was justice he was after. Justice for both of them.

      It was an effort to keep his voice calm. “I’m in this mess because I got shot at, too.” But if my father is covering up with the help of my brother, he’s not going to get away with it.

      He

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