Chapter Six
The night sky provided a clear view of the stars as Joe went out to get the tree from the back of the ranch pickup.
He took a moment to study the constellations, noting both the Big and Little Dippers. Apparently he had at least some astronomical knowledge, which was another tidbit of information that hadn’t been completely lost to him.
For some reason, he felt oddly at home on the Rocking C.
He knew where to find things, like the mop he’d used earlier today and the ladder he’d needed so he and Tomas could climb into the hayloft for the Christmas decorations.
He’d even walked right up to the container of oats and molasses, popped open the lid and scooped out a handful to feed as a treat to Lola, the mare.
In spite of the fact that Hernandez, the Rocking C foreman, hadn’t given him any reason to believe he’d ever stepped foot on the ranch before, Joe still couldn’t seem to kick that uncanny feeling that he had.
But if so, he didn’t have a clue what the circumstances had been.
Had he worked here? Maybe even lived here? If not, he must have visited Dave and his family at least once.
As he walked out to the pickup Chloe had driven to town earlier, a crisp winter breeze stirred up the ranch scents that seemed more and more familiar.
In spite of what Hernandez had said, somewhere along the line, Joe had been here.
His boots crunched along the graveled drive as he headed toward the faded green GMC Chloe had parked near the barn. Hell, even that weathered old truck looked familiar. Had he driven it before? Or had he just ridden in it?
“The tree is in the back of the pickup,” Chloe had told him before heading to the kitchen to check on the scones baking in the oven.
Sure enough, there it was.
He reached in, grabbed the tree by the trunk and pulled it out. As he shook out the branches, he caught the scent of pine, which didn’t provoke any memories.
He had to have celebrated Christmas before. He had a tamale recipe to prove it. He cursed the amnesia that plagued him while he carried the six-foot tree into the house. Then he placed it in the stand that had been stored in the loft with all the other holiday decorations.
Joe had no more than stepped back to check out his work when Chloe carried in a tray with two steaming cups of hot cocoa and a plate of scones.
“It’s a bit crooked,” she said.
“I can fix that.” Joe made a few minor adjustments in the stand, then tilted the trunk slightly to the left.
“That’s better,” Chloe said as she set the tray on the coffee table. “I’ll get some water to fill the reservoir. Then we can get started.”
After she returned with a plastic pitcher, she knelt and watered the tree. When she finished, she stood and brushed her hands against her denim-clad hips. Then she began to unpack the red and green plastic storage boxes.
First they strung the lights, tiny, multicolored bulbs that blinked on and off. The ornaments came next. While they worked, they’d stop long enough to nibble on the warm, buttered scones and to sip the hot chocolate.
Joe couldn’t say whether he’d ever decorated a tree before, but doing so with Chloe sure felt like a first.
“Oh, look,” she said as she unwrapped the tissue from an angel. “This is the perfect tree topper. Don’t you think?”
Actually, just hearing her ooh and aah over the various ornaments while her eyes lit up like a hopeful child made the entire evening seem perfect. And he couldn’t help but smile. “You bet.”
“Can you reach to put it up? Or should I get a chair?”
“I’ve got it.” He took the angel from her hands and put it in place.
With that done, they both stood back and studied their handiwork.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes glistening.
She was beautiful—even in jeans. And he couldn’t help thinking that she belonged here—on the ranch, decorating a tree and making a memory.
When it was all over—not just Christmas, but his amnesia—he’d have to ask her out, just to see her all dressed up. Maybe he’d take her to that Italian restaurant...
Wait. He could almost see an actual place in his mind, a quaint restaurant with a European flair—a mural of Venice hand-painted on a white plaster wall, dark wood tables covered with white linen, a bud vase with a single red rose, a flickering candle... Where was it? When had he seen it?
“What do you think?” she asked.
About her? About taking her out for a romantic evening on the town?
“I love Christmas,” she said, drawing his thoughts back to reality and the subject at hand.
But he still couldn’t help allowing his own musing to drift back to the romantic fantasy.
“All we’re missing is a little mistletoe to hang over the doorway.
” She flushed, and he was tempted to draw her to him anyway, to kiss her senseless.
In fact, as she lifted her eyes to his, as their gazes locked, desire flared.
He had no business following through on it, though. He didn’t even know where he’d been, let alone where he was going. But if she didn’t stop looking at him like that...
Oh, what the hell.
“Then again, something tells me I’ve never needed any prompts.” He stepped forward, placed his hands on her cheeks. He waited a moment, taking the time to study her eyes, her expression, checking for any sign of protest.
Instead, her chin lifted and her lips parted.
That was all the invitation he needed.
As Joe lowered his mouth to hers, Chloe’s heart soared in anticipation. She really shouldn’t kiss him, although for the life of her, she could no longer come up with a good reason to object. Instead, she slipped her hands around his neck and stepped into his embrace.
His lips brushed hers tentatively at first, then a second time. The whisper of his breath, the promise of what was to come, sent her senses reeling, and she was soon caught up in a swirl of heat and desire.
Goodness. The man might not recall a lot of things, but he certainly knew how to kiss.
As their tongues met and mated, she lost herself in his musky, mountain fresh scent and in his sweet, chocolate-laced taste.
Did she dare put a stop to it? Or take him by the hand and lead him to one of the bedrooms?
In truth, with her knees about to give out on her, she doubted whether she could urge her feet to take a single step.
When they finally came up for air, she had to hold on to him so she wouldn’t collapse into a heap on the floor.
“I was curious,” he said, his breath warm against her face. “So thanks for indulging me.”
She’d been curious, too, but she was even more so now. Not about kissing, but about what other heart-spinning, soul-stirring talents Joe might have. Needless to say, he would make an incredible lover.
“Well,” she said, “now you know.”
“Yes, but it opened a whole other world of questions.”
She released her grip on his shoulders and took a step back. “Maybe so, but I don’t think we ought to ponder the answers right now.”
“You’re probably right.” He let his own hands slip down her back, his fingers leaving a trail of heat, until he released her altogether. “You’ll have to forgive me. I should have known better.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I could have resisted.”
Oh, yeah? a small voice asked. That’s not true.
Okay, so she’d been a willing participant—and an active one at that.
Joe turned away and strode to the stone fireplace, where Dave’s photo sat on the mantel. The young man in uniform seemed to be watching them.
Something told Chloe that Dave hadn’t intended for his buddy and the woman he’d thought of as “his girl” to...
What? Kiss? Become involved?
Fat chance of that happening. Chloe was in no position to strike up a romance with anyone. Not until she moved on and established herself as a nursing student at the junior college in nearby Wexler.
And Joe had to feel the same way, since his future was even sketchier than hers—at least, until he could remember his past.
His gaze drifted to the other photos on the mantel, as if they could somehow provide him with his missing identity. She suspected that he was having some of the same thoughts she was, the same concerns.
“Would you like some more cocoa?” she asked, pretending as if the kiss hadn’t happened, as if she wasn’t confused by all the feelings and desires it had sparked.
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
Why not indeed? They obviously needed a distraction or something to help them cool off. She offered him a smile. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“While you’re gone, I’ll see if there are any good movies on television.”
She supposed that watching TV was as good an idea as any. Yet as she left Joe to surf the channels, her thoughts made a complete one-eighty.
Too bad she wasn’t free to pursue the attraction that raged between them. But only a fool would pin her hopes and dreams on a man who knew nothing about his past, very little about his present and had no idea where the future would take him.
A noise—either real or imagined—jolted Chloe from a sound sleep, and she shot up in bed, her heart pounding as though it might jump out of her chest. She scanned the room, her eyes desperately trying to adjust to the darkness.
She didn’t hear anything but the tick-tock of the clock on the bureau, so she assumed all was well and that she’d only been dreaming. That, she supposed, was the result of being overly tired.
She and Joe had turned in just before eleven o’clock. Yet, try as she might, she couldn’t find a comfortable spot on the mattress. At least, not while their blood-stirring kiss continued to haunt her thoughts.
As it was, she hadn’t drifted off to sleep until well past midnight.
“No!” Joe yelled from the guestroom down the hall, setting Chloe’s fight-or-flight response on high alert.
“Fall back!” he shouted.
He must be having a nightmare. She glanced at the clock on the bureau. It was 3:17.
“Don’t!” Joe called out again.