J.D. shook it. “J. D. Russell.”
Christy’s gaze leaped to J.D.’s. Had he remembered? Was that his real name? But J.D.’s smile was bland and his eyes focused on Warner.
“I’m going to try and drive my SUV into town,” Warner said. “You two want to ride along?”
Christy nodded. “That would be great. J.D. had a little accident yesterday. I’d like Dr. Mayes to take a look at it.”
“Come on then.”
As they drove to town through streets filled with debris and still knee-deep in water, Warner unabashedly quizzed J.D. about himself.
“Where are you from, son?”
Christy cringed. Warner had always reminded her of a jovial Santa Claus, but today she wished he weren’t so outgoing and interested in others.
J.D., however, fielded the question with ease. “Houston.”
“Nice place for you young folks, but too chaotic for Ellie and me. We like the quiet life here. Haven’t been back to Houston but a couple of times since we retired here three years ago, and that was for doctor’s appointments. Under protest.” He glanced at J.D. “What kind of work do you do?”
“Consulting. Human relations.”
“Teach those CEOs to be more compassionate, eh?”
J.D. smiled. “Something like that.”
Christy’s eyes widened at his glib answers. Either J.D. was an accomplished liar who’d been feeding her a line about having amnesia these past two days, or he’d regained his memory. She tried to send him a what’s-going-on? message with her eyes, but he avoided her gaze and continued the conversation.
“How’d you two meet?” Warner asked as he turned onto San Sebastian’s main street.
“At a party,” Christy said.
“At the gym,” J.D. replied at the same time.
Christy’s cheeks heated as she met Warner’s startled gaze. “Which?” he asked.
“Party,” Christy repeated, then forced a chuckle. “We’d seen each other at the gym, but we didn’t really meet until that party. Remember, hon?” She turned and patted J.D.’s hand. “J.D. has such a bad memory for, um, details like that.”
“Terrible memory,” he agreed, and added, “Really all I remember of that evening is Christy. She bowled me over. You could say I fell at her feet.”
“Yeah, you could,” Christy muttered. She let out a breath of relief when Warner pulled the SUV into a parking space.
“Well, here you are,” Warner said. “I need to pick up a few things for Ellie. Why don’t you two meet me at the hardware store around the corner in, say, three hours?”
“Fine.” Christy could hardly wait to escape from his curious gaze. She tugged J.D. across the street toward the small medical building where Dr. Mayes practiced. She stopped in front of the door. “You remembered everyth—”
“Nothing.”
“But you gave Warner your name.”
J.D. shook his head. “When you went to answer the door, I figured I’d be meeting someone. I saw a notepad from Russell’s Pharmacy on the counter, so I used the name. The rest—I had to say something.”
“Maybe some of it was true.”
“Don’t know, except for falling at your feet.”
“Yeah,” Christy muttered. “You did do that.” If he hadn’t, she’d have had him out of her house in minutes, and then she’d have missed:
A. The adventure of her life.
B. A lot of grief.
C. Both of the above.
Didn’t matter. Here she was, and here he was. “Let’s go see if the doctor’s in,” she said.
They found Dr. Tom Mayes’s waiting room filled with patients and his receptionist’s chair empty. They rang the bell and waited at the window. After a few minutes, the doctor bustled out of an examining room, followed by a young woman with a whimpering toddler. “You just give him a couple of baby aspirin every few hours, Amanda, and he’ll be fine.”
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