not to disturb her sleep, he worked the socks over her dirty, but delicate feet. There was dried mud on her calves too, but she could wash up later, he thought, tugging the white fabric up her shapely leg.
“Seems we’re getting pretty familiar, sugar.” He smiled, but didn’t feel any mirth. She hadn’t liked him calling her that. Good. It made her angry. That’s exactly what he wanted. For her to stay distant and as far away from him as possible. He listened to the rain, hoping it would let up and things could get back to normal. That someone would come looking for the plane and her, soon.
It had been awhile since he had taken care of anyone. Not since his mother. Memories of their crummy apartment flooded his head. The smell of alcohol, his mother’s slurred words as she tried to apologize for not bringing home any food for him. At only ten years old, he’d learned quickly to fend for himself, not to depend on anyone.
Jake had made a point of being independent. Meg had been the closest he’d come to a relationship and that had been a mistake, too. They’d been partners in the bureau. He was a twelve-year veteran. He should have seen the danger, he should have been able to save her. Instead, he let his guard down and allowed her to walk into a trap.
Pain and regret washed over him, constricting his chest as he watched the mystery woman sleep. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone again. That’s why he’d come here. Far away from country and duty, to figure out his plans for the rest of his life. All he knew was that his career with the bureau was over. He’d specialized in terrorism and worked undercover. He had seen too much ugliness and total disregard for human life. He just hadn’t had the stomach for it anymore. After handing in his resignation, he’d had no trouble walking away.
Through an acquaintance, he’d heard about Wales. So he packed up and traveled to the Welsh countryside. He liked hiking in the mountains. Then he’d found this remote cabin where he could be by himself, and over the past four months, he’d been able to get through most days. He still had the nightmares and he’d gotten lonely some times, but he was staying.
He covered his guest with a blanket and put another log on the fire, then walked out the door to feed the horses. He only hoped that he was going to get back his solitude. Real soon.
“Wake up, Ana. Come on. Open those pretty blues for me.”
Ana stirred and tried to shove at the hand on her arm. “Go away.”
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
Her head was pounding as she rolled over. “Go away, Rory. I want to sleep.”
“Can’t do that,” he said, in a voice that was low and smooth as velvet. “So Rory will have to wait.”
Slowly Ana came out of her fog and she opened her eyes. The man before her was familiar, but he represented what she didn’t want to remember. A plane crash, two dead men and no memory of who she was or if anyone was even looking for her.
“What do you want?”
“I need to check your pupils,” he said.
She slowly and carefully made it into a sitting position, mainly to get away from him. “What?”
“Your eyes. You have a concussion. I let you sleep a few hours, but you need to be awake now.”
“Okay, I’m awake.” She looked toward the door. “Is it still raining?” Silly question when she could see water sheeting off the window pane.
“It eased off for a while.”
She looked back at the man. “How do you stand being up here by yourself?”
He shrugged. “I like being alone.”
“Yes, solitude can have its advantages, but what if something happened?”
“Max is a pretty good watchdog, he could go for help.”
That sparked an idea in her head. “Could he go now and let the authorities know I’m here?”
“Not in this weather. Besides, this isn’t a life-or-death situation.”
“Maybe not to you,” she said, hating the trapped feeling that was enveloping her.
“If you’ll be patient a while, this weather will clear and I’ll get you down the mountain, or better yet, maybe Rory will rescue you.”
“Rory? Who’s Rory?”
“You tell me. You called out his name when I tried to wake you.”
She gasped. “I did?” At his nod, she worked to remember, but nothing came. She couldn’t come up with anyone by the name of Rory. What if he was her…husband? “I can’t remember,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Stop trying so hard. Things will come to you.” He moved closer. “Now, look up here so I can check your pupils.” She did as he asked and sat still as he shined the flashlight in her eyes.
Jake Sanderstone was so close that she could feel his breath against her face. She drew air into her lungs and inhaled his scent and something else. Straw and some kind of animal. A horse.
She pulled back. “Horses.”
“What?” He looked confused and annoyed. “What about horses?”
“You smell like horses. Why is that?”
His nearly black eyes captured hers. “Maybe because I just came in from feeding two in the stable. Why? Do you remember something?”
She shook her head. “Just that I recognize the scent of horses. That’s not such a breakthrough. Pretty distinctive odor.”
“Maybe. But you might know something about horses. Give yourself some time to think about that.” He got up and went to the kitchen area. On the stove was a pan and he began stirring. “If you’re hungry, I heated up some stew.”
Suddenly, her stomach growled. “Maybe I could eat a little.”
“Good.” He smiled this time. “It’ll help you get your strength back.” He pulled down two mismatched bowls from the cupboard and filled them with two large ladle full of stew. He carried the heaping bowls to the small table and went back for a loaf of bread.
“Supper is ready,” he said as he came to the couch.
Ana started to stand, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Instead of asking for his help, she used the couch for support and slowly made her way into the kitchen. “Looks good.”
“It’s canned. I’m hoping when you feel better, you can practice your culinary skills on me.”
“I don’t cook.”
He sent her a questioning look. “Now, of all the things you had to remember, why that?”
She shrugged and picked up her spoon. “I don’t think I’ve spent much time in a kitchen at all.” She paused and looked around the bowl.
“What are you looking for?”
“A
