His Unforgettable Fiancée

Except for that one moment of vulnerability before going in for the MRI, he took it in stride. She supposed it was all he could do to handle the pain of his physical ailments.

Not least of which was a stab wound. The doctor concurred with her time frame for the stabbing at less than a month. JD stated he had no memory of the incident. He’d sounded frustrated, an emotion she shared.

He had to be wondering about his life—the circumstances of the stabbing for one, the accident for another. He’d been alone when he met up with Porter, but he could well have a family out there wondering about him. A wife praying for his safe return.

A wife. Her shoulders twitched at the notion. Something deep inside rebelled at the thought of him with another woman. Which was totally insane. There was nothing between the two of them.

For sugar’s sake, they’d spent half their time together on separate sides of the law.

Not that it was an issue. He had no wife. Or so he said in that way of his that was so definite. How could he be so sure of some things, yet have no memory to support his conclusion?

Perhaps the amnesia was a hoax. One big fib to cover a crime.

So his prints didn’t hit. There were plenty of criminals that never got caught.

He could have had a falling-out with his cohorts who ditched him and took his ride. Then he could have stumbled into town and unfortunately drawn the attention of a sheriff’s deputy. Who would believe a motorcycle thug with a stab wound owned a seventy-thousand-dollar Cartier watch? No one. So he ditched his wallet and claimed to have lost his memory. All he had to do was sweat it out in the drunk tank for a few hours and he was home free.

Except for the do-good ex-sheriff who insisted on taking him to the hospital.

That version made more sense than the motorcycle-riding geek with an expensive taste in watches and a penchant for knowing things he couldn’t back up with facts.

And yet she believed him.

The concussion was real. The pain was real. The frustration was real. The occasional flash of fear he tried to hide was very real. She’d been in law enforcement too long not to recognize those elements when she saw them. And there were medical tests to back it all up.

Not to mention the fact if he was a thug, she’d probably be lying on the side of the road back near Woodpark.

Well, he would have tried, anyway. She didn’t go down so easy.

The lights of Santa Rosa came into view. She stole a sip of JD’s coffee, wrinkling her nose at the lack of sugar. Surprisingly it still held a good heat. And the punch of caffeine she longed for.

No question about it, he was a puzzle, but a legit one.

Still, she’d be smart to take the things he was so sure of with a grain of salt. There was no sense, none at all, in fostering an attraction when neither of them was sure of their future. When neither of them was sure of themselves.

Because, yeah, losing the campaign had really shaken her. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud. She thought she’d been doing a good job, that the community liked her. But the votes hadn’t been there. It had left her reeling. And feeling a little lost. She put her heart and soul into protecting and serving the citizens of Woodpark, and they chose a stuffed shirt who was more hot air than action.

Their loss, right? Except the experience threw her off stride, made her question her decisions and her vocation. Which was so not her. She always knew exactly what she wanted, and she went after it with a zealousness that earned her what she sought.

Not this time.

So, yeah, she had more empathy for JD than she might have had otherwise.

In a moment of connection and sympathy, she reached across the middle console and gripped his hand where it lay on his muscular thigh. His fingers immediately wrapped around hers, and her gaze shot to his face.

There was no change in his expression or posture, leaving her to wonder how long he’d been awake.

She pulled her hand free.

“We’re about twenty minutes from Santa Rosa,” she told him. “I bought you a coffee. It has a little heat left if you want it. There is cream and sweeteners.”

He straightened in his seat and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was in a cage fight with a motorcycle and lost.”

“You need to choose your sparring partners more carefully.”

He barked a laugh. “Yes, I do.” He picked up the to-go cup and took a sip. “Black is fine.” He stared over at her. “How are you doing?”

Wow. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time someone asked how she was doing. She blinked, clearing her vision, shoving aside the maudlin reaction to a simple question.

“Fine. The coffee has kept my body alert.”

“Ah. And what’s your mind been busy with?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Well that narrows it down. Was wondering if I’m lying mixed in there somewhere?”

“Yes. I discounted it.”

Silence met her response. And then in a hoarse voice, he asked, “Why?”

“The evidence supports your claim.” She told him truthfully, and more hesitatingly, “And I trust my gut.”

“I’m glad.” He turned to stare out his window. “Because I’m trusting it, too.”

She eyed his profile before focusing on the road again. “Then for both our sakes I hope it holds true.”

“Do you have a job lined up in San Francisco?” Now she felt the weight of his gaze on her. “Is that why you’re headed there?”

“I prefer the city.” Amenity was easier in the city.

“Me, too.”

“Another clue?”

“Yeah, let’s call it that.” He sipped his coffee, then dropped the empty cup into the holder. “Losing the election causing you to question your career choice?”

“My ego took a hit.” She lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “I’ll shake it off.”

She hoped.

“Good. You’re better than the lot of them.”

“Really.” His endorsement tickled her, bringing out a rusty smile. “And you base your accolades on what exactly?”

“On my observations. Everyone we talked to liked and respected you. It was a busy night, a holiday they were working, yet they thought enough of you to remember it was your last day and to wish you well in future endeavors. You would have won the election if you put a little effort into it. They’ll be missing you soon enough.”

Hmm. What he said made sense. And she liked it better than her version where they were all thinking good riddance. People did like to know their opinion mattered. Maybe she should have campaigned a little.

Too late now.

“Yes, well, on to the next adventure.”

“And what will that be? Do you have a job offer?”

“I have options.” Her future loomed ominously ahead of her like the fog creeping up on the west side as she took the off-ramp in Santa Rosa. “A town in the next county over offered me an undersheriff position.” The city was bigger than Woodpark, but not by much. “And there are always patrol positions in San Francisco.”

“You don’t sound too excited by those options.”

“The undersheriff is a higher rank, but San Francisco holds more appeal. It’s a dilemma.”

The truth? Neither of them appealed to her.

“The undersheriff position holds some appeal, except for the location. I’ve seen too much of the world to be happy in a small town.”

“Then why run for sheriff?”

Because she thought she’d found acceptance.

She explained how she got the job. “The people were decent for the most part and seemed to like me. For a while I felt like I belonged. But the election results don’t lie. I wasn’t one of them. The mayor’s brother-in-law was one of them.”

It was an old lesson, well learned. And yet she’d fallen for it again. The need to belong. As a child she’d suffered with every base change until she learned to Bubble Wrap her emotions. And as an adult she’d stayed in more than one relationship longer than she should have.

Her last boyfriend let her catch him cheating so she’d finally get the hint. Not one of her more stellar moments. Rather than fall into the pattern again, she’d stayed single for the past two years.

“A position in San Francisco holds a lot of appeal locationwise. It’s a beautiful place with so much history and culture. The problem is it’s an expensive city to live in and a beat cop doesn’t make much.”

“It would be a step backward for you.”

There was that. “I don’t mind working my way up, but I really wanted something more, something to challenge my mind.”

And she wanted a home. Someplace permanent. She appreciated what she’d seen of the world, and had more countries she longed to visit. But more than anything she wanted a place to come back to, a place to call home.

“I’ll figure it out.” She pulled into the clinic parking lot. “We’re here.”

* * *

While JD had another MRI she found the cafeteria and got a cold soda. The idea of caffeine didn’t bother her. When her head finally found a pillow, nothing would keep her awake.

Figuring she had a few minutes, she took a seat at a table, leaned her head against the wall and fell asleep.

It seemed only an instant later she opened her eyes. She yawned and blinked her watch into focus. An hour had elapsed.

Wondering when this night would end, she did a few stretches—oh, yeah, that felt good— gathered her soda and headed back to emergency. Clear down the hall she heard a ruckus going on and hurried toward the sound.

“You can’t keep me here against my will,” JD declared. He sat on the side of the gurney facing the doctor, a plump woman in a white lab coat with lovely mocha-colored skin and beaded black braids clipped atop her head.

He was refusing to be admitted at the doctor’s request. Stubborn man.

“It’s just for observation.” The doctor spoke with resigned patience.

“You said there was no additional swelling,” JD pointed out.

“No. But you’ve sustained a severe concussion.” The woman responded. “I highly recommend you be admitted for tonight and possibly tomorrow. Head wounds are unpredictable. It’s for your own safety.”

JD pushed to his feet. “I’m fine. I have the pain medicine the last doctor gave me. I can take care of myself.”

“Sir, I really advise against leaving.” She shifted her bulk to block his exit. “You need bed rest. Trauma of this magnitude requires time to heal. At this stage just being on your feet walking around could result in more damage.”

The mulish look on JD’s face revealed what he thought of her suggestion.

“JD,” Grace interjected softly, “the night is almost over. Why don’t you rest for a few hours and I’ll come get you in the morning?” The stars knew it was what she longed to do. He could lie down and be out in a heartbeat. She still needed to find a hotel and check in before her head found a pillow.

His shoulders went back and he gave one slow shake of his head. “I hate hospitals. I’ve spent too much time in them already tonight. I’ll rest better somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

She sighed. He meant it. The tension in those wide shoulders, the clenched jaw, the faint flicker of panic in his emerald eyes told her his dislike went deeper than memories. He really intended to leave.

“You’ve done enough,” he told her. “Thank you for all your help. I can take it from here.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He tried sliding past the doctor, but she had her moves on, keeping him pinned while signaling to a nurse.

“Sir, we really can’t release you without adult supervision. This level of traumatic brain injury results in disorientation and confusion. You represent a danger to yourself and others.”

JD did not back down. “I need you to get out of my way.”

“Get security.” The doctor instructed the nurse.

Time to defuse the situation. “Doctor, we understand your concern. Of course he won’t be alone. He’s been lucid all night. You’ve confirmed the swelling hasn’t gotten any worse. He’s clearly determined to go. Won’t causing him mental duress be worse than allowing him to leave?”

Faced with his stubborn determination, the doctor saw the sense in Grace’s calm argument. “You’ll be with him?”

JD opened his mouth. She shot him a don’t-you-dare glare.

“Yes.”

“And you’ll bring him back in the morning?” The doctor pressed.

Green eyes narrowed. Grace agreed the physician was pushing it.

“I’ll see he gets the care he needs.”

The woman reluctantly agreed. She noted her concerns on the release form and reiterated her instructions and the symptoms to be concerned over.

“Mismatched pupils, vomiting, excessive sleepiness.” Grace rattled off the last of the list. “Doctor, you’ve been very helpful. I think I should get him somewhere to lie down. Good night.”

Taking JD’s arm she led him away, not releasing him until they were out the door. “Don’t look back.” She warned him. “She might change her mind.”

“They couldn’t keep me against my will.” He bit out.

“She’s not wrong. With the concussion you’re not thinking clearly.”

“You told her I’ve been lucid all night.”

“And you have. That doesn’t mean you’re making good decisions. You should have been admitted. At least for the rest of tonight.”

Halfway across the driveway to the parking lot, Grace realized JD wasn’t keeping pace with her. She swung around to find him hovering near the exit. She started toward him.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Dang, she should have thought of that. She’d just been extolling his injuries but she kept forgetting how extensive they really were.

“No.” He closed the gap between them. Surprised her when he bent to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for all you’ve done. I wouldn’t have made it through the night without you.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “But I can’t take advantage of you any longer. It’s time to say goodbye.”

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