She realized that in that instant if there was one thing she wanted as much as to know who she really was, it was Braden.

She ached to feel his hands on her, to feel him inside her, to know what it was like.

“Braden,” she said, her voice so thick his name almost didn’t come out.

“I feel you,” he murmured.

His choice of words at once seemed odd and yet right. He wanted to know her first, but he knew essentially all there was to know about her, the pathetic story of her search for self and place. Maybe part of that search could be answered right now with him. Maybe she was afraid of knowing any more about her past, but she wasn’t afraid of this.

To just be a woman at her most basic seemed like the greatest gift on the planet. To stop being guarded, to stop censoring herself, to stop fearing. To just be.

* * *

Montana Mavericks: 20 Years in the Saddle!

A Very Maverick Christmas
Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

To my family,

who have blessed me in so many ways.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes,” Vanessa said over the phone. “Okay?”

“I’m almost ready,” Julie answered, looking around for her boots. “See you.” Spying one under the bed, she clicked off the call and made a grab for it.

Going to a Christmas pageant? She wondered if she was losing her mind. All those people... The only thing that was going to be worse was Thanksgiving, right around the corner, a day she was going to spend determinedly by herself.

Trying to feel at home constantly troubled Julie Smith. She had come to Rust Creek Falls nearly six months ago in June, had made a few friends at the Newcomers Club, but she still didn’t feel as if she belonged.

But how could she? she wondered as she finished dressing to join her new friends for the Christmas pageant. She had no memory older than four years, and no idea who she was. Julie Smith was a name conveniently tacked to her by the people who had cared for her after the incident that had erased her memory.

But coming out here to Montana to live in this tiny ramshackle cabin sometimes struck her as the ultimate grasping at straws. She looked into the mirror that hung—oddly, she thought—beside her front door and touched the necklace she wore, her only touchstone to her past, gazing at the tarnished coins that hung from it. A specialist in antique coins had told her she was wearing a small fortune around her neck, and that the most recent information he had been able to find about the collection was that it had last been owned by a man in Montana. No name, as collectors preferred to protect their identities, and insurance companies wouldn’t give out private information.

So here she was. All because of a necklace and an online blog by someone named Lissa Rourke that had somehow roused a sense of familiarity in her.

Stupid? Maybe. Desperately hunting for a place in this world? Definitely.

For sure, what she found most familiar was the deepening winter. Little enough to cling to.

She smoothed her blue wool sheath over her body and looked at her shoulder-length blond hair. She preferred jeans and Western shirts, and the dress felt awkward. Four years, and she still somehow didn’t look right to herself, either. Something was wrong. The hair, she decided, and quickly pulled it back into the ponytail she favored. Better, but the bright blue eyes that stared back at her held no answers to the mystery of who she was. Sometimes she thought she ought to just cut off all her hair, but stopped herself. She’d been able to sell one of her coins, which had given her enough to live on for a while, but that didn’t mean she could afford to splurge. Nor did she want to part with another piece of what might be the only clue to her identity.

Sighing, she went to get her coat, wishing she had a longer memory, wishing things in life really seemed to fit somewhere in her experience. But she was woefully inexperienced now. A grown woman with a four-year-old memory. Pathetic. Frustrating.

It struck her, though, as she pulled on her coat, that while Montana was a big state and some conviction that this wasn’t the right town kept gnawing at her, things did strike her as familiar. Cowboys. Horses. Even the occasional family name. Those small familiarities kept her here, kept her hoping.

She felt more at home here, if she could feel that at all, than she had at any time since her memory loss.

But what was home? She didn’t even know. And if she ever found out who she really was, could she be sure she would feel that other woman was really her? Or would she meet a stranger inside her own head?

Stop it, she told herself. Time to look forward to whatever tonight would bring, and stop peering backward into a black hole.

It had been hard enough to join the Newcomers Club. She suspected she hadn’t always been so uncomfortable with people, but how would she know? Going to the pageant tonight had taken some persuasion from her small group of friends. Big groups still overwhelmed her, mainly because she felt out of context. Always out of context and unsure how to react. She didn’t have a list of anecdotes to tell about herself in casual conversation, and much of her experience since the amnesia was off-limits. She couldn’t bring herself to expose that flaw to anyone.

So she kept quiet, tentatively reacting, speaking only rarely about the most recent events around here, and that left her little enough confidence or conversation. Somehow she had to build enough of a future to have a past.

Because she suspected she might never regain her full memory. As time passed, it became less likely. But maybe she could find at least some snatches of who she had once been.

Maybe someday she’d feel less like she’d been born spontaneously into adulthood.

Headlights flared through the window of the tiny, two-room cabin she rented on the outskirts of town, casting the battered furnishings briefly in harsh light. Her new friends were here.

All she had to do was take one step at a time. Minute by minute, she just had to forge ahead.

It sounded easier than it was. She touched her necklace again before buttoning her coat. It was the only good luck in her new life and her only proof of her past.

* * *

Sitting near the front in the auditorium, near Mallory Franklin and her fiancé, Caleb Dalton, Vanessa Brent and Cecelia Clifton, Julie felt mostly uninterested in the show. It was a typical Christmas pageant, although she had no idea how she knew that. But then Mallory’s niece, Lily, entered garbed as a darling angel, and the world seemed to stop for Julie.

All of a sudden she had a flash of wearing a similar costume, mouthing similar lines. Then, in an instant, the vision was gone.

She felt herself tremble as she came back to the crowded room, and wondered if she’d had a flash of real memory. Could she have ever played an angel in a Christmas pageant? Soon she realized that the people around her were applauding, and she halfheartedly joined in, trying to paste a smile to her face.

As the applause died away, and everyone waited for the show’s little actors to emerge from backstage, Vanessa started talking. She was a tall, lovely woman with curly brown hair and sparkling eyes that for some reason Julie couldn’t help but envy.

“I always love Christmastime,” Vanessa said. “Don’t you, Julie?”

“It’s beautiful,” Julie answered cautiously. She couldn’t understand her reaction to little Lily’s angel outfit, or why she still felt shaken.

“We used to have this family tradition,” Vanessa continued. “I think I’m going to start it with my family.” Over Halloween, Vanessa had gotten engaged to architect Jonah Dalton, and she clearly couldn’t wait to begin their new life together.

“What’s that?” Julie asked.

“Everyone—siblings, parents, cousins—got holiday pajamas exactly alike. Then on Christmas Eve we’d all gather on the staircase and take a group photo.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Cecelia said. She tossed her dark hair back over her shoulders. “Mind if I steal it?”

“Help yourself, if you can find the pajamas.” Vanessa giggled. “It wasn’t always easy.”

Mallory spoke. Beside Vanessa she appeared especially petite. She looked ready to jump up from her chair the instant her niece, Lily, appeared. “I think my tradition for a while is going to be making costumes for Lily. She loved this whole pageant idea. But as for family traditions, oh, we had loads. From who did which job decorating the tree to the foods we had for dinner.” She smiled at Julie. “What about you?”

“I...” There it was again. Just the big blank that held her back from being a part of all this. “I just loved the season no matter how we celebrated.”

“No traditions?”

Julie had to fight an urge to flee. She hadn’t told anyone in this town about her amnesia, and this wasn’t the place to start. “None that stuck.” At least not stuck to her memory.

“Maybe you can start your own,” Mallory said, then jumped up and grabbed Julie’s arm. “There’s Lily. Let’s go tell her how wonderful she was.” Caleb had already moved toward his soon-to-be daughter. Julie was touched by his eagerness to reach the girl. She wondered what it must have been like to be loved like that...but she couldn’t remember.

Lily was a perfect little doll with a mouth that often embarrassed her aunt. She’d been adopted from China by Mallory’s sister, who had died. With long, inky hair and almond eyes, she promised to become a stunning beauty.

Except for that costume. Something about it made Julie hesitant to approach. Mallory just kept tugging her closer, and she forced herself to don a smile and get ready to congratulate the little girl.

The Traubs and Daltons were already gathered, telling Lily how beautifully she had done. Julie had already met some of the Daltons through Mallory, but the Traubs were still utter strangers to her. As they approached, Vanessa suddenly poked her gently in the ribs. “Look at who showed up.”

“Who?” Julie asked blankly.

“Braden Traub. The last single Traub brother. He’s gorgeous enough that I might have given him a second look except I met Jonah. I hear the whole family gives him a hard time about still being a bachelor. Anyway, I guess he managed to come in from the ranch for once.”

“But you got Jonah Dalton,” Julie said with passable cheer. “Complaints?”

“Absolutely none. I just wish he could be here. Nick, too. You should hear Cecelia complain about her loneliness. The guys are working too hard right now.”

“Needs must.” Julie attempted to sound light, but she knew all about loneliness, she figured. She had no one at all. How nice it must be to have someone to miss.

Julie, who, unlike many of the women she had met at the club, hadn’t come to Rust Creek looking for the cowboy of her dreams, finally picked out Braden from his family. They all shared similar good looks, but Vanessa was right. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

Apparently, amnesia hadn’t deprived her of the ability to feel a quiver of response to a handsome, muscular man with brown hair and eyes that seemed to hold a sparkle. She’d been putting her sexuality on the back burner since her amnesia, for good reason. Her sudden reaction to Braden was almost disheartening. If she didn’t know herself, she shouldn’t even consider such things. No guy would want her in this condition anyway.

They reached Lily at last, and Julie squatted before the child to tell her how wonderful she’d been. Then before she could stop the words, she said, “When I was five I got to be the angel, too. I was so scared.” Where had that come from?

“I wasn’t,” Lily answered confidently. “It was lots of fun.” She beamed at the gathered adults, who all smiled and laughed. As soon as Julie straightened, Lily, clearly feeling like a queen bee at the moment, introduced her to everyone, Traubs and Daltons both, including little Noelle. They plunged into a discussion of past Christmas events, clearly trying to include her in a neighborly way.

Wondering how she could talk about something she didn’t really remember, Julie started looking for a graceful escape. She could wait outside until Vanessa was ready to go.

Before she could take a step, Lily spoke again, freezing her. “Julie? I think you should talk to Braden. He hasn’t got anybody yet, either.”

Mallory gasped. “Lily! I’ve told you to stop saying embarrassing things to people.”

Julie looked down in time to see the girl’s face fall into a frown.

“Making friends is good. What’s embarrassing?” Lily asked.

Plenty, Julie thought, wanting to sink through the floor.

But Braden pretended nothing had happened. His brother Dallas spoke. “About time you met the recluse, Julie. The last of the living Traub bachelors.”

Braden offered his hand with a smile, and Julie reluctantly took it. His palm felt warm and callused, but it had more of an impact than a simple handshake should. Her urge to flee grew. She couldn’t risk wanting a man, or becoming involved with one. But nothing about him suggested he was feeling anything more than friendly. Oddly enough, given her state of mind, that almost disappointed her.

“Nice to meet you, Julie. Don’t listen to Dallas. I’m not a recluse at all.”

“No, you just bury yourself in work.”

“Only because you guys are so busy romancing the ladies. Or were.” Braden released Julie’s hand but continued to smile at her. “Why don’t you join us at the Triple-T for our after party, and maybe we can get past the Lily-inspired awkwardness.”

“What’s awk...awkness?” Lily’s question dissolved everyone into laughter, breaking any tension that remained.

“Seriously,” Braden said. “You don’t want to miss the after-show fun. Mallory? How about you and Caleb come, too?”

“I’ve got to get this little hellion home to bed,” Mallory answered. “Sorry to miss out.” She turned to Julie. “You really should go. A lot of people will be there, and it’s always a great time. Vanessa can take you, or I can drop you to get your own car.”

“I’ll think about it,” Julie said, while firmly convinced that she was going to bolt. Then she met Braden’s friendly gaze again. Or maybe not.

She had apparently recovered a memory tonight. Maybe getting out more into larger groups would jar something loose.

With her heart in her throat, she agreed to go. But only for a short visit, she promised herself.

* * *

Braden knew his brothers were going to rib him about inviting Julie to the Triple-T, but he was so used to being ribbed about his dating life—or lack thereof—that he really didn’t care. He’d dated before, he’d date again when the time was right. Just now it didn’t feel right.

But something about Julie Smith had managed to reach out to him. For some weird reason, she made him feel like she needed a protector. Yeah, she was beautiful all right, but with an aura of innocence that cried out for shelter. And something else, something uneasy. Julie Smith was not a truly happy young woman, and that affected him.

She touched him, striking some kind of responsive chord, and it wasn’t just those huge blue eyes, her soft face, her great figure. Those things were just a package, and at thirty-four, Braden wasn’t often deceived by the packaging. He’d managed to learn a few lessons over the years.

But he’d always been a sucker for someone or something that needed protecting, whether a friend or a new foal. He could be all wrong about her, but he supposed he’d figure that out quickly.

At first he left her pretty much alone among the family and friends at the Triple-T. A party was underway, and he was one of the hosts. But he kept seeking her out with his eyes, and every time he noticed how uncomfortable she looked. The folks in his home were all friendly, but apparently, as a newcomer, she felt awkward. In fact, she looked as if she wished she could melt into the walls. He was sure people weren’t trying to ignore her or make her feel out of place. Instead, she seemed to be creating her own bubble, emerging only when she had to so she could return a greeting or shake a hand. Welcomed but not feeling it.

His curiosity about her began to grow. She was definitely not just another one of the women who had showed up here hoping to find a husband as they rebuilt the town after the flood. Not to say all those women were bad or anything. But this one seemed to be looking for escape more than company.

Curiosity might be his worst failing, he thought with some amusement as he realized he was steadily circling through the room toward her. He just loved a mystery.

He amused himself even more because he’d seen this woman around town a few times but had never felt the least urge to meet her, until tonight. Ah yes, mystery. Well, he’d try to find out what it was, kill his curiosity and move on. Things were too hectic on the ranch with all his brothers distracted by their families and girlfriends for him to spare the time for much more anyway.

He saw his parents get to her first. It was mostly a family party, and apparently they didn’t want her to feel like a loose end. As he drew nearer, he heard them greeting her as if she were some kind of celebrity guest, glad she had taken the time to join them, hoping she would visit often. They even threw in a little matchmaking of their own, extolling Braden’s virtues.

And Julie, whether they knew it or not, was beginning to look almost frightened. What the hell?

His parents moved on finally, and he prepared to step in. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want her scared.

She started to walk around the room, looking at family pictures on the dark wood wall. His opening, if he could catch up to her. He didn’t miss the fact that she was drawing ever closer to Vanessa, who was her escape route.

He quickened his step and caught her finally as she stopped to look up at the portrait of his grandfather.

“My grandfather,” he said to her.

She started, then looked at him with those huge blue eyes. “You have a big family.”

“Yeah. When I was a kid, I sometimes wished I was an only child. Now everyone’s moved out with their new families and when I stay here, I sometimes feel like I’m rattling around in this place.”

She gave a tentative laugh.

“What about you?” he asked. “Large family?”

“Only child.”

The brevity of her response invited no more questions, but he was determined. “Parents?”

“Gone.”

God, he thought, that was sad. She was truly alone. Friends couldn’t make up for the absence of family, something he’d learned as his brothers moved out to be with their brides and girlfriends. “I’m sorry.”

Just then Dallas appeared at his side, having left his wife Nina to talk to their mother, and bumped his shoulder. “Coon dog smelling possum?” he asked.

“Damn it, Dallas.” Some women wouldn’t appreciate that kind of rough humor. “Go back to your wife and lay off.”

Dallas simply grinned.

Braden glared at him then turned to apologize to Julie. Too late. In just those few moments, she’d managed to reach Vanessa. The two women were talking, and Vanessa nodded. They were leaving.

“Strike out?” Dallas asked.

“I’ll never know, you big idiot. You scared her off.”

“Looked to me like you were doing a pretty good job of that yourself.”

Braden paused. Had he been?

His instinct told him to go to the door to say good-night, but Dallas’s words held him back. That woman didn’t need any more scaring. Instead, he watched as his parents bade the women good-night and made them promise to come back again soon.

“Damn it,” he said again.

“You can always invite her to help at Presents for Patriots. Innocent enough.”

“I don’t need your advice.”

“Wanna bet?” Dallas asked.

Braden realized the room had nearly emptied. It looked even emptier with most of the furniture moved back against the walls to make room. The gals had apparently gone to the kitchen to help with cleanup. That left the merciless crew of Sutter, Dallas, and Collin to stand around with him, converging like vultures who spied a meal. They’d tussled and teased with each other since their earliest days, and Braden didn’t need a map to know what he was in for now. He’d actually talked to a single woman.

“Brother Braden,” Sutter said, “has the hots for a cute little blonde.”

It was hopeless, but Braden argued anyway. Silence might only make it worse. “I was just trying to make her feel welcome here. I said maybe a half dozen words to her.”

“Yeah, but it was all about what was in your eyes,” Collin retorted.

“Since when did you read eyes?”

Dallas snorted a laugh. “Since you started broadcasting. About time you looked at a woman that way. Stuck here all by yourself as a bachelor. Mom and Dad are worried.”

“Mom and Dad are less worried than you four. What is it about people who get married? They want everyone to join them? Doesn’t matter if you’re happy or not?”

“You don’t know if you’d be happy,” Clay remarked. “You never stuck with anyone long enough.”

“Because I wasn’t happy.”

“I think you should go for that woman,” Dallas opined. “Get on your horse and ride over to her place and make her swoon at the sight of a real cowboy.”

Braden reached for a throw pillow from one of the couches and threw it at him. “I don’t think she’s in the market for a cowboy. Besides, I’m not in the market, either. Now will you just lay off? I was trying to be courteous.”

Of course it didn’t end there. It never did. His brothers continued to razz him until the his mom and the growing crowd of his sisters-in-law and soon-to-be sisters-in-law reappeared. He took a few more verbal jabs, but the presence of the ladies toned them down.

And that, thought Braden, was a good reason not to get involved with a woman. Next thing you knew, you’d be leaving your boots outside the door and turning all proper-like.

That was just an excuse and he knew it. His brothers changed a bit around their ladies because with them they could show a different side, a gentler side, than they did with each other.

A good thing, he supposed. But sometimes he really did feel like the odd man out, now that they’d all found their mates. Hell, he was the last man standing. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips.

But he was sure his interest in Julie Smith had entirely to do with the aura of mystery around her and nothing to do with how pretty she was. He almost asked if anyone knew anything about her, but stopped himself just in time.

He could take the razzing, but right now he didn’t feel like taking it about Julie. She’d reached some place inside him that he didn’t want anyone else to touch.

Some dangerously protective place, which meant keeping his brothers out of this as much as possible. More remarks like the one Dallas had made tonight, and Julie Smith might vanish from town as suddenly as she had arrived.

* * *

Later, though, in a quiet moment as he was getting ready to sleep in his old bedroom rather than head over to his own place, his mother spoke to him.

“Braden?”

“Yeah?” He had one foot in the doorway of his bedroom.

“That Julie Smith.”

He tensed. “Mom...”

“Just listen to me. She’s very pretty and seems very nice. I know Vanessa, Mallory and Cecelia all like her. But no one knows anything about her, really. So, while I’d like to see you settled and happy...”

He looked into the face that had loved him since birth and turned to give her a big hug. “I’ll be careful, Mom. I always have been, much to your disappointment.”

Ellie Traub laughed. “Maybe. I’m surprised she hasn’t dated while she’s been here. And it’s not for want of guys asking, I believe.”

“She’s a wounded bird, Mom. That’s all. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Ellie’s smile faded. “That’s dangerous, Braden.”

“I know.”

“Just be careful. If I’d known how you were going to turn out, I’d probably have named you Parsival.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” He laughed. “I’m no knight errant on a quest, just a frustrated detective.”

“I hope you’re right.” She put a hand on his shoulder and drew him close for a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, my boy.”

He watched her disappear toward her room then entered his own and closed the door. The woman who’d earlier been acting as if the answer to her prayers had arrived that night was now cautioning him.

He didn’t miss her point. Not at all.

Chapter Two

For the next few days, Julie felt as if the inside of her head had become a huge jumble. Her memory, if that’s what it was, of being an angel in a Christmas pageant when she was young, was really niggling her.

She pulled up that flash over and over, trying to wring every possible detail out of it that she could. Standing on stage, wings on her back, scanning a sea of faces trying to find her parents and not seeing them.

“Damn,” she cussed out loud. If that was a real memory, why couldn’t she see her parents?

But even if she had, could she rely on what she thought she remembered? She’d had some counseling since the amnesia, but it had mostly been pithy claims about how she just had to trust her memory, such as it was, and perhaps her past would return to her.

Trust it? She couldn’t even be sure it was a true memory. It might have been some kind of daydream, resulting from a desperate need to fill in the huge hole her past had become.

But maybe, just maybe, there was some link in her head with the holidays. She should make more of an effort to enjoy the season as it ramped up. Maybe it would jar some more memories loose for her. Maybe little shards would grow into big pieces.

But somehow, one little girl in an angel costume had managed to throw her entire being into some kind of blender. Conviction and doubt warred within her, alongside hope and despair.

Then there was Braden Traub. She told herself he’d just been being nice to her, but he might as well have warning flags all over him. For the first time since she lost her memory, she felt attracted to a man. Seriously attracted. Forgotten urges had wakened in an instant. Dangerous, because she had no memory. She was sure that the instant a guy found out she was amnesiac, he’d head for the hills. But apart from that, she was a babe in the woods. No memory to guide her about dealing with men. About dating.

Hell, she couldn’t even carry on much of a conversation unless it was about the last few months. So why take a risk?

She sighed and rubbed her aching head. Again and again she had been warned about trying to force her memory, but she kept trying anyway. Desperation gnawed at her.

Like looking at those family portraits at the Triple-T. She’d hoped one of them would jog her in some way, but none of them had. Instead, all they had done was make her feel even lonelier. She didn’t even have one photo tied to her past.

But then, she didn’t even know what had happened to her. The doctors theorized she might have been mugged or had an accident, but she’d been found wandering with nothing to show for her experience except a cracked skull and no memory. And her necklace. Her talisman.

And a desire for cold and snow that had led her to New England, where she’d met the man who had researched her necklace and told her the last owner had lived in Montana. Then she’d come across that blog and felt drawn here like a homing pigeon.

But what did any of that mean? Again, she was without context. In some ways that was the most frustrating thing of all: urges and impulses that drove her without having any idea why.

If she couldn’t explain herself to herself, how could she explain herself to anyone?

When she realized she was thoroughly cleaning the cabin again for the third time in as many days, she stopped and tried to give herself a wake-up call.

One of the two rooms she was working so hard on was a bathroom. Otherwise the cabin contained a larger room that held a small kitchen at one corner, an alcove beside the bathroom where she had a bed, and a beastly woodstove that terrified her because she’d never had to use one before, at least not that she could remember. As winter deepened, she prayed the power would stay on, because if it didn’t the heater wouldn’t work and she was going to get very cold. Maybe she should buy a kerosene space heater, although those were dangerous, too.

Sighing, she rubbed her temples. For three days she hadn’t gone out her front door, not since the party at the Triple-T. What was with her? The town was familiar enough now that she felt all right when she walked the streets and shopped. The woods around the cabin were like a personal cathedral for her, offering peace and serenity. So what was she doing being a hermit?

She stuffed her feet into her warm winter boots and pulled her parka off the peg. A bracing walk would do her good, clearing out cobwebs and probably settling her frantic ramblings. The winter snow was not yet deep, although she had been warned that it would get there soon enough. For now, though, she could walk in the woods or into town.

She locked up the cabin behind her, then hesitated on the stoop. The woods or town? She needed a few things from the grocery, and increasingly she had a desire to find some splash of color to add to the cabin. The inside of it was almost dismal; age had faded everything so much. A throw pillow or two, or maybe just a small throw she could wrap herself in when it became drafty. The bedding was her only addition, and sadly she’d chosen a wintry look that right now didn’t help at all.

Why did winter call to her anyway? What she needed as the days grew shorter, colder and darker, were some really bright colors.

God, she couldn’t even bring herself to put a mark on the place where she lived. She seemed to spend all her time feeling as if she might have to bolt at any moment, a purely ridiculous idea. Certainly no one had made her feel that way.

She figured she’d winter in this town then perhaps move on again if she unlocked nothing about herself. That, she thought, was her real problem: trying on places and people, then hitting the road to search for the key to her memory.

But how could she put down roots? She had two huge fears: that she might plant herself in the wrong place and thus lose any chance of finding out who she was, and that she’d find out and not like what she learned. Given that those were polar opposites, she sometimes wondered what the heck she was doing.

She turned toward the woods then changed her mind. If nothing else, she could bring at least one piece of cheer into that cabin. Maybe something Christmasy, given her reaction to Lily’s costume. Maybe Christmas held some kind of key for her.

She’d bought a battered, secondhand car with some of the money she’d received for the sale of her coin, and she climbed into the blue monster now in case the day turned colder, or in case she actually splurged on something besides a few groceries. A Christmas tree? But then she’d have to decorate it.

Shaking her head at her own indecision, she turned over the ignition. This heap might not look like much, but it had turned out to be amazingly reliable so far. Probably the good thing about buying locally. The garage owner had a reputation to maintain in a relatively small town.

She was driving up Cedar toward the Crawford General Store when she spied that psychic Winona Cobbs, her white hair flying in the breeze. That woman made Julie uneasy, although she wasn’t sure exactly why. When Winona had given a talk back in August about listening to inner voices, she’d seemed slightly dotty but not crazy. Afterward, as Julie had been drawn forward to meet the woman, she had felt an almost electric zap. In that instant Winona had snapped her head around, looked at her then shrugged and returned to her conversation.

Whatever it was that had happened, Julie had no desire to repeat the experience. It had been weird, even creepy.

On a weekday morning, finding parking near the General Store was easy. Julie slid into a spot then pondered exactly what she intended to do there. Most folks here drove to Kalispell for major shopping, but the General Store had a bit of everything. She could not only get a few chicken breasts and veggies for dinner the next few nights, but she could also wander through a miserly selection of Western clothing and even some decorator items. She was almost positive she could find a pillow and a throw in here, although she’d have a bigger selection in Kalispell.

That didn’t entice her to pull out. Small things that mattered very little weren’t enough to drag her to a bigger town. Her needs, both psychological and physical, could be met here.

At least until she decided she needed to move on again.

Shaking her head at herself, she climbed out and headed into the store. Although it hadn’t been destroyed in the flood last year, some repairs had obviously been necessary regardless, because the store had clearly been freshly painted not that long ago. It was certainly jammed with merchandise. The Crawford family was doing their best to give people a reason to shop locally.

She didn’t get two steps inside the door before she was greeted by Nina Crawford Traub.

“Nice to see you, Julie. Can I help you find something?”

“Groceries, eventually, but I’m looking for a little color to add to my place.”

“I can help with that,” Nina said cheerfully. “Got a whole bunch of new Christmas stuff in.”

Which would be useless in little more than a month, Julie thought as she followed Nina. On the other hand, she was wondering if Christmas might hold some kind of key for her.

Nina finally waved her hand expansively at an area clearly marked out for the holiday season. Thanksgiving items were marked down as the big day was nearly upon them. Christmas colors shrieked from a heaped table and some nearby racks.

“Christmas tree decorations are in the back.” Nina pointed to her right, then her left. “If you want nonseasonal, look over there. Call if you need me.”

A pretty impressive display for such a relatively small space, Julie thought as she began to wander around the table. Stockings, pillows, tree skirts, even some holiday-themed costume jewelry. Someone had tried to hit every possibility, including a basket of inexpensive stocking stuffers.

But nothing struck her. Nothing touched her. Nothing seemed to jar anything within her. Well, if she was going to spend any money at all on brightening the place, she guessed the nonseasonal area would be the place to look.

She was just fingering a bright blue throw, almost electric in its brilliance, when a familiar voice caused her to freeze.

“Hi,” said Braden Traub. Then when she didn’t immediately answer, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Suddenly galvanized, embarrassed by what might appear to be rudeness, she turned and saw him half smiling at her. “You’re not,” she blurted, once again struck by how attractive he was. He wore a shearling jacket with gloves hanging out of the pockets, jeans and boots. An iconic man most women would drool over. She hoped she avoided that embarrassment.

“I tore up a couple of shirts over the last week,” he said casually as if he didn’t mind starting a conversation in the middle. “Damn barbed wire. So I’m replacing them. That’s a pretty color you’re looking at there.”

She glanced at the soft wool fabric between her fingers. “Yes, it is.” Then she made an effort. “I need to brighten my place up a little.”

“You’re at the old cabin outside town, right?”

“Yes.”

“It needs brightening,” he agreed. “I haven’t been in there for a few years, but it needed some back then, too.”

“Um...”

“Yes?” he said encouragingly.

“How could you tear shirts on barbed wire? Did it cut through your jacket?”

His smile widened. “No jacket. I was dealing with some rolls in the barn and got careless. I’m lucky I didn’t need stitches.”

“Shirts might cost almost as much.” It pleased her immensely when he laughed.

“There is that,” he agreed. “And the fact that I was careless more than once. I ought to know better.”

“I hope they were old shirts.”

“On their last legs. Are you thinking about decorating for Christmas? I could help you get a tree to your place.”

She blinked. A man whose own brothers claimed he was a recluse was offering to help her get a tree and bring it to her cabin? Then it struck her they might have been joking. “You and your brothers joke a lot.”

Surprise widened his dark eyes a bit, then he laughed again as he apparently caught her reference. “Oh, you mean what Dallas said about me being a recluse. Yeah, we joke a lot. The teasing is merciless. That’s the only thing I don’t mind about them all being at their own places now. It’s so dang peaceful.”

She felt a smile begin to dawn on her own face. “Things can be too peaceful.”

“Well, sometimes, but they come back often enough to keep me on my toes. I think they’ll all calm down when they have their own little Noelles.”

“That’s your niece? She’s so cute.”

“I think so, but I’m biased. Well, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m going to be in town for a few hours.” He started to turn away then paused. “Are you coming to the church to help with gift wrapping for the troops?”

“I’ve already promised Vanessa I will.”

“Great. See you there.” Then he paused again. “Unless you’d like to get some coffee when you’re done here?”

The invitation completely startled her. She’d been asked out a few times since she arrived here and had turned down all the offers. But it felt different to be casually asked for coffee. Part of her wanted to flee, because it was so tiring to conceal all the gaps in her memory, but another part of her wanted to keep looking at him, listening to him.

Becoming a hermit, she told herself sternly, wasn’t going to do the least thing to solve her problem. In fact, it might hinder her.

“I’d love coffee,” she answered, hoping her hesitation hadn’t been too noticeable.

“Great!” His smile widened again. “How long do you need?”

“Well, I have to pick out...” She stopped herself. Delaying tactics weren’t going to help anything. “I need to grab some groceries. Nothing that won’t keep in the car for a while. Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes. Just enough time for me to pick and pay for my shirts. See you at checkout.”

She envied him his easiness, his ability to seem comfortable in his own skin. She often hoped she didn’t look as skittish and frightened as she sometimes felt.

On impulse, she grabbed the electric-blue throw and a couple of red, glittery Christmas pillows, both with angels on them. Cost be hanged, she thought as she headed over to the groceries. Color seemed imperative now, and it was apt to get more so as the winter deepened and darkened.

* * *

Coffee with the mystery lady, Braden thought, feeling as if he’d just made a huge leap. Of course, if anyone saw him having coffee with Julie Smith, the teasing was going to go through the roof.

Oh, well. He was used to it. Being the last Traub bachelor in town had not only increased the teasing, but had taught him that he seemed to be under some kind of local microscope, too. All the women who had come into town in a veritable wave looking for husbands had added to the local curiosity about a guy who seemed impervious to all those wiles.

He could just imagine what some folk suspected, although he didn’t really care. When the right woman came along, well... It was as his mother had once said, “Dating is a series of no, no, no until you finally get to yes.” Well, he’d had a few nos, enough to realize that dating could be a huge investment. Better to be picky before you really got started.

He pulled four plain Western shirts off the rack, glad that he hadn’t given in to a whim to go to Kalispell for a few hours. All he’d wanted were work shirts, and now he was going to have coffee with Julie Smith. His curiosity quickened again. At the very least he wanted to know why such a beautiful young woman seemed to hang back in some very noticeable ways.

Sort of like him, he thought humorously. Maybe she had some bad romances in her past.

“Stocking up again,” said Nina as she checked him out. “You’re hard on shirts, Braden Traub. Dallas takes better care than you do.”

“Blame it on the barbed wire.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Once his shirts were in a paper bag, he saw Julie approaching with a cart that contained two red throw pillows, the electric-blue blanket she’d been admiring, and some packaged chicken breasts, frozen vegetables and a couple of potatoes.

Bachelor fare, he thought as he stood back and waited. And given how cold it was outside, sunshine notwithstanding, if she put everything in her trunk, it would probably freeze before she got home.

Assuming he could keep her from bolting before she’d spent ten minutes with him.

God, she was pretty. Each time he looked at her, he felt it anew. And it wasn’t just those big blue eyes, blond hair or figure. It was an aura of, well, innocence. She reminded him of a lamb exploring the world for the first time, trying bravely and then showing huge timidity at something startlingly new. But she had to be somewhere in her early twenties, and that didn’t seem to fit with the whole innocence thing. More innocent than he was, certainly, but not a child.

He hoped he’d find out something about her. If he could quiet his curiosity, maybe he wouldn’t feel so drawn to her, and he could safely escape another entanglement doomed for failure.

He offered to help with her bags, although he was sure she could have carried them herself. Manners had been ingrained at an early age. A kind of old-fashioned chivalry, judging by much of what he saw of the world today. He had no doubt, however, that Nina would report back to Dallas, and he’d take another round of ribbing. Sometimes this town could be too small.

She blushed, but let him take a couple of the bags and carry them to her car. Then she lowered the boom he’d half expected.

“I should get this food home and into a refrigerator.”

Braden didn’t often give anyone a hard time, but some stubbornness reared in him. “It’s freezing out here. You put the chicken and frozen vegetables in your trunk, and it’ll stay colder than it would in your fridge while we have coffee. Not the potatoes, though. Don’t want them to freeze.”

In the bright morning sunlight, with the air as clear as fresh-washed glass, she looked even prettier. He saw emotions chase across her face, and she bit her lip.

“It’s just coffee,” he said gently.

“Just coffee,” she repeated. Then, at long last, “Okay.”

“Let’s go to Daisy’s donut shop on North Broomtail,” he prodded gently. “You can bring your own car and run as soon as you need to.”

Her face darkened in a way that told him he’d said exactly the wrong thing, but then, making an effort, she smoothed it over. “Sure. I’ll see you there.”

Wondering if she’d even show up, he went over to his mud-splashed truck, climbed in and left it to her to follow. He wasn’t going to force himself on any woman, even for a chance to talk.

* * *

After Braden drove off, Julie dithered in her car for a few minutes, letting it warm up. Well, that was her excuse anyway. Braden appealed to her, undeniably. She felt a jolt of sexual awareness every time she saw him. But was that enough to take this kind of risk?

What did she have to talk to him about? Her few months here in Rust Creek? His family, whom she did not really know? Maybe she could ask enough questions to keep him talking. But what if he asked questions?

She sat like a terrified rabbit for maybe five minutes until she realized the heat was blasting in her face, and if Braden was waiting for her, she was being rude. He’d helped her load her car. He must be wondering why she hadn’t followed right away. That’s what any normal woman would have done, wasn’t it?

She put the car in gear and headed for the donut shop. There’d be other people there, limiting their topics of conversation, she assured herself. Besides, as she’d been arguing to herself this morning, being a hermit was unlikely to get her any closer to the answers she wanted.

Stupid, she thought, to so desperately want to know about her past yet be equally frightened of finding out. Normal reaction, the psychologist had said, but how could anyone really know what was normal for someone who’d lost all memory of her past until she woke in a hospital unable to even remember her name? Her kind of retrograde amnesia was extremely rare, so rare that at first the doctors hadn’t seemed to believe her.

Some memory loss happened. Total memory loss was in a class of its own, evidently.

It didn’t take long to reach the donut shop. Braden’s truck was there, and she glimpsed him through the window. He waved when he saw her pulling in. The gesture warmed her a bit, and took the edge off her nerves. At least her knees didn’t feel like rubber as she climbed out and walked toward the door. She’d get through this, the way she had gotten through everything so far.

She had certainly gotten through a lot. Her memory of the last four years, short though it was, reminded her that she was made of sterner stuff than she sometimes thought. Maybe she should congratulate herself on getting this far, instead of fearing the next twenty minutes.

But his remark about her being able to run as soon as she wanted returned to her, and she wondered if she was giving everyone the impression that she wanted to bolt. Well, sometimes she did. Sometimes she seriously wanted to bolt from this whole situation. But where could she go? This was one of those things she would take with her wherever she went. No escape.

To her surprise, Braden opened the door for her. She hadn’t expected that, just walking into a coffee shop. His smile was welcoming, his voice kind as he teased, “I thought I’d lost you.”

His eyes were warm, just like his smile, and she felt some inner tension let go. “I just warmed up the car a bit. The guy I bought it from said I shouldn’t make a habit of running with a cold engine.”

“Good advice, usually. You can see how well I pay attention to it.”

He motioned her to the booth, and she loosened her coat.

Braden remained on his feet until she slid into the bench facing where he’d been sitting. Only then did he sit facing her. “I’m going to have a latte,” he said. “Don’t let anybody know. I’ll be hearing from my brothers how I need to drink real coffee. The manly stuff.”

More of her tension seeped away, and she laughed. “Grow-hair-on-your-chest coffee, huh?”

“Something like that, although that day is long past. Did you ever wonder why they tell you coffee will stunt your growth when you’re young, and then when you get older it’ll make you manly?”

She laughed again. “No, sorry. Wrong gender.”

His head tipped a little, a laugh escaped him, then he leaned toward her a bit, his eyes dancing. “The things your gender has spared you. What will you have? My treat, and the sky’s the limit.”

She looked up at the menu hanging over the counter. “I’ll have the mocha cinnamon latte,” she decided, then nearly patted her own back for finding it so easy to order. So natural. Some things didn’t feel at all natural to her anymore. So maybe her previous self had liked that kind of coffee?

Pointless question.

Braden called the waitress over. “Candy? When you have a sec?”

She returned her attention to Braden as he ordered for them, adding a couple of blueberry muffins. “I hope you like them,” he said to her as the waitress walked away.

“I do,” she admitted. Then a thought occurred to her. He’d called the waitress by name. “Do you know everyone in town?”

“Certainly not you,” he said lightly. Then more seriously, “No, I don’t know everyone. We’ve had a lot of new people come to help with the floods and other things.”

“And you’re very busy at the ranch?” Keep asking questions, don’t give him a chance to pry.

“These days, yes. My brothers are busy with their personal lives. They have their own businesses and families to take care of these days. Can’t say I blame them.”

Her smile came easily. “Me neither. Which is how you came to be wrestling with barbed wire?”

He grinned. “Exactly. And wrestling is a good term for it. Are you ready for our winter?”

The change of subject seemed abrupt, but at least she could answer truthfully. “I love winter.”

“Maybe not winters here so much. We get dang cold. Where’d you come from?”

“New England.” Which was truthful insofar as it went. “Part of what drew me out here was the idea of snow-capped mountains. Real mountains. And Lissa Roarke’s blog, of course. Though I gather she’s now Lissa Christensen.” Julie had learned from local gossip that Lissa had married her own Rust Creek cowboy, Sheriff Gage Christensen, a few months after her arrival in town last year.

“I never had much time to read her blog,” he said, leaning back as the waitress, Candy, served them. He thanked her. “I hope she didn’t make us seem overly romantic.”

“Depends on what you mean by romance. I just knew I wanted mountains and snow, and this place sounded friendly.”

“Do you ski?”

She blinked. A blank wall answered that question. “Not really,” she hedged.

“Most people who like snow do. Just asking. I don’t have a lot of time for it, myself, but if I can arrange it, I like cross-country. I don’t need a slope and don’t have to risk permanent disability.”

He was cute, she thought, and he made it so easy to laugh. She wanted to keep her guard up, but she was beginning to feel safe with him. For now, at least. Growing warm, she slipped the coat off her shoulders and reached for her coffee.

“Want me to cut the muffins up?” he asked.

“It might make it easier.”

Again that twinkle in his eyes. “Depends on who’s eating and where.” But he unwrapped the flatware that was rolled in the napkin and cut the two muffins into bite-size pieces. Crumbs tumbled all over the plate, but he didn’t seem concerned.

“That’s an interesting necklace you’re wearing,” he said, pushing the plate toward her in invitation. “It looks old.”

“It is,” she admitted. She at least knew something about it for certain. “It’s an heirloom.” She reached for a piece of muffin and pulled a napkin out of the dispenser to place it on, while she tensed for the next question.

“It’s nice to have something like that,” he said, picking a piece of muffin for himself. “I like things that pass down through the generations. They create a great sense of connection.”

A cowboy philosopher, she thought, and wondered what he’d think if he knew that necklace was her only connection. Probably find an excuse to head back to his ranch and pretend they’d never met.

She picked up her coffee, nearly hiding behind it, wondering why she was so ashamed of her amnesia. It wasn’t some kind of personal failing. She’d been severely injured, probably in some awful accident, and should just be grateful to be alive. Why did she feel so embarrassed by it?

Because she wasn’t normal. She wasn’t anything approaching normal. Missing a limb was more normal than missing your entire past, and most people would probably think she was making it up, or crazy in some way. That was the problem. Her dirty little secret.

“I’ve never experienced winter in New England,” he said when he’d swallowed more muffin and coffee. “I wonder how it compares.”

“I can’t answer. This is my first time here.”

Again that devastating grin came to his face. “Maybe we should track the weather this winter and compare the two places. Betcha we get colder.”

Remembering the last winter, she felt a smile play around her mouth. “I wouldn’t be so sure. We got pretty darn cold last winter. Colder than normal, though.” She knew that because she’d heard it countless times.

“Then maybe we beat you in the snow department.” When she didn’t answer immediately, he winked. “Say, aren’t you willing to get into an argument about whose home has the worst winter?”

“You might have better luck with your brothers.”

He laughed with pure pleasure. “Good one. Points for you.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his approval. Maybe this would become easier.

“You seem thick as thieves with Vanessa.”

“She’s great. She and Mallory and Cecelia and Callie. They’ve all been wonderful to me. And I just adore little Lily.”

“She’s easy to adore, although I suppose I should defend the Traub honor and claim that for Noelle.”

“She’s adorable, too.”

“I just hope she doesn’t grow up quite as mouthy as Lily. That girl! Whatever pops into her head comes out of her mouth. I actually like it. Caleb does too except for when it seems to bother Mallory.”

“She’ll grow out of it. I kind of like knowing where I stand with her.”

“Until she tries some matchmaking.”

Julie’s cheeks flamed. “That was a little awkward.”

“Actually, it might have been a good idea.”

Julie froze. The urge to flee warred with the urge to stand her ground and not look like a fool by running.

“People do need friends,” he said as if he didn’t notice her reaction. Maybe he hadn’t. “So, that kind of ended the awkwardness. Then she was so cute when she couldn’t say that word.”

“She was,” Julie said around a thick tongue.

“I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He looked out the window. “Winona Cobbs keeps saying we’re going to get a heckuva blizzard soon. One to remember. I wonder if she’s right.”

At last, a topic that made Julie feel safe. “Do you believe her predictions? I don’t know why, but she makes me a little uneasy.”

He returned his attention to her. “We’re at the time of year for blizzards. I won’t put much stock in a prediction like that unless it flies in the face of meteorology. As for being uneasy around her...well, some folks are. She’s essentially a harmless, nice person, but when those eyes settle on you, it’s possible to feel like she sees your soul.”

Remembering the strange electric tingle she had felt when Winona fixed her gaze on her, Julie could only nod. “There’s something about her...”

“Which is why some people listen more than maybe they should. But she means well, I’ll give her that. If she’s psychic, I don’t really know, but she’s not cheating widows out of the life insurance, if you get me.”

Julie didn’t know. She had no memory of psychics. “What do you mean?” she dared to ask.

“Oh, there are some scam artists around who’ll charge an arm and a leg to give you some ridiculous reading. Never knew one, just read about them. At least we don’t have one of them around here. Winona gets paid for speaking, but never charges for any information she volunteers. To my way of thinking, that makes her honest, even if it doesn’t necessarily make her right.”

Julie nodded, stuffing some more of the blueberry muffin in her mouth, savoring it then washing it down with her latte. “Great flavor combination,” she said after dabbing her lips with a napkin. She didn’t want to gossip about local people, even if gossip sometimes seemed to be a favorite pastime. She was willing to listen, but talking was a dangerous thing. There was no way to know, if she said something wrong, whether it would come back to haunt her. And sometimes she feared she simply didn’t know what the wrong things to say might be. She seemed to have retained most of her skills from her past, but she couldn’t be sure, without memory, how many of them were working right.

“So where in New England are you from?” Braden asked.

At once she tensed, and her mouth started to dry out. Now would come the questions she couldn’t answer because there were no answers. At least she knew the last place she had lived. “Outside Boston, in a town called Worcester.”

“I always liked the way that word doesn’t sound like it’s spelled. I had a terrible time when I was a kid learning to say Worcestershire, that sauce. Love it on my steaks. Anyway, mastering that one took long enough that my brothers were merciless. I think I finally got it.”

“I’d say so.”

“You must be missing your friends.”

She felt her face start to freeze. Time to go, before he grew too personal. “I moved a lot,” she said finally, glancing at her watch. “And I really need to go.”

“So soon?” He studied her. “I said something wrong.”

“No, really. I just have some other things I need to do.” Like examine her own head, explain to herself why she’d been stupid enough to accept this invitation, even if the guy awoke her entire sexual being. What the hell was she thinking? Yes, she needed to be out more and talk to more people if she was ever going to jog her memory, but her few friends here had stopped asking most questions a while back. A new person meant more questions, and each question caused her to evade and face the blank wall all over again.

“I wasn’t trying to pry,” he said, lifting his hand for the waitress. When she came over, he asked her to put both coffees in takeout cups, and the blueberry muffin remains in a bag.

Afterward, he passed the bag to Julie. “Sorry I cut it into mostly crumbs. I thought we had a little longer. It’s been great getting to know you. Thanks for the company, Julie.”

“Thank you for the coffee and muffin.” She stood and pulled her coat on quickly, not so quickly that she appeared to be in headlong flight, she hoped.

He stood, too, offering to shake her hand. She took it reluctantly, and once again met those brown eyes. They seemed to hold some kind of understanding, although what he was understanding she couldn’t imagine. She was acting like a nut.

“See you soon,” he said, and let her make her way out on her own. He watched her get into her car and drive off, and it wasn’t until she was out of town and nearing her cabin that she realized just how tense she had become; that reaction was making her shake.

One man, one coffee, a few casual questions and she became a basket case? God, she had to get over this. He appeared interested in her. She knew for a fact that she was interested in him. Then she turned into a nut and ran from what she wanted?

Oh, she definitely had to get over this, at least enough to reach for the future.

But the only way over it seemed to be recovering something that remained stubbornly elusive: her past.

Chapter Three

Braden wasted a lot of time over the next couple of weeks wondering about Julie and what her problem was. Since he spent the time doing manual labor around the family spread, the mindless kinds of tasks he needed to do for the most part opened up his mind to wander—and no matter what he did to distract himself, it kept wandering right over to the mysterious blonde.

Pitching hay and stacking bales didn’t exactly require many brain cells. Making sure it would be easy to feed the cattle when the snow got deep, making sure the bales provided windbreaks against the worst weather, took a lot of time but not a lot of thought.

So he was thinking about Julie and telling himself he was a fool. At least Dallas was over on a different section of their pastures, because he would have noticed his woolgathering and given him a hard time about it. Someplace deep inside, he did not want to be teased about his fascination with Julie Smith.

That alone should probably have warned him, he thought almost grimly.

What was it about the woman anyway? She seemed frightened of almost everything, poised on the edge of taking flight...and then she’d relax briefly, and he was sure he saw the real woman peek through. Maybe.

Will the real Julie Smith stand up? he thought with sour amusement. She looked so innocent, so angelic with those big blue eyes, that he couldn’t believe there was anything bad about her. She’d been in town since June, and there sure hadn’t been any unkind whispers about her. If she were a bad sort, he’d have heard something by now.

But even on the rumor mill it was almost as if she were invisible, which was kind of hard to do. People who knew her mentioned her briefly; she did things with the Newcomers Club; she’d made some good friends. Upstanding friends. If they thought there was anything wrong with her, they wouldn’t keep her in their circle.

So whatever was going on had to be something other than that she was a fleeing felon.

He almost laughed at that thought. Yeah, right.

But the urge to protect her remained; the desire to know more about her goaded him. The coffee experience...well, he didn’t know for sure how to characterize that. Maybe she had just had something to do. After all, the meetup had been impromptu, and she could well have had some chores awaiting her.

He slung another bale onto the wall he was building to give the cattle a windbreak, and hoped like hell that Winona Cobbs was wrong about a record-breaking blizzard on its way. The weather reports certainly showed no indication of any big front coming, even as far away as the Pacific Coast. So far it looked as if they were in for a relatively normal December.

He didn’t want to ponder Winona, however. She could be intriguing at times, but mostly he thought of her as a character, part of the charm of the place. For some reason, that brought his thoughts around to another character, Homer Gilmore. The old coot was a little crazy, wandering around and telling everyone he was “The Ghost of Christmas Past.”

Weird, but the weather was going to take a severe turn for the worse eventually, and he couldn’t imagine that Homer could get by relying on charity handouts. Lord only knew where the guy was sleeping. Grunting as he hefted another bale, Braden decided that something needed to be done for the man. Surely there was a warm hidey-hole somewhere in this town where they could shelter him for the winter. If it came to it, Braden would pay for it himself.

It would be heartless to leave the man’s fate to the elements.

His mother’s remark floated back to him, and he suddenly grinned. Parsival, huh? If she had any idea where his thoughts wandered on the subject of Julie Smith, she wouldn’t liken him to a “pure and perfect knight.” Hah!

A laugh escaped him even as Julie rose in his mind’s eye. That wool sheath she had worn to the pageant had draped her gentle curves in a way that drew a man’s thoughts far from the angelic. Her face might bring to mind an angel, but the rest of her called to a man’s demons.

He paused for some coffee from his thermos and wiped his brow. Cold or not, a man could work up a sweat doing this. And apart from sweat, there was the damn prickly hay. It had managed to get inside his jacket, and probably his shirt.

He scratched a bit, letting his mind wander over Julie’s gentle curves. Closing his eyes as he sipped warming coffee, he imagined running his hands over them. Even through that wool sheath they’d be able to set him on fire. Hell, picturing them was enough to put his motor in high gear.

Leaning back against the wall of hay, he gave himself up to the daydream for a few minutes. Julie in his arms. Her lips welcoming his kiss, her soft curves pressed against his hardness. He imagined pulling down the zipper on that dress, reaching inside to feel warm, silky skin.

Damn it! His eyes popped open, and he stopped himself in midfantasy. Just that little bit, and he was ready to bust out of his jeans. Over a woman he hardly knew, one who seemed a damn sight too skittish to be interested in any kind of intimacy. In fact, she seemed to be avoiding it.

Mentally, he stomped down on his male urges as if he was trying to put out a small grass fire. Cool it, he ordered himself.

It might have been easier to call a halt if he hadn’t remembered that tomorrow was the Presents for Patriots event at the Community Church. Holy hell. He was going to see her again, and it suddenly struck him that she might spend the whole time avoiding him.

He drained his coffee, wondering if he should skip the whole evening, then realizing he’d never hear the end of it if he let down the Traub family by failing to appear.

Stuck, he thought. Shaking out his cup, he then screwed it back onto the thermos and hit those bales again with every bit of energy in him.

Work could drive out demons, even if it couldn’t make him forget an angelic face.

* * *

Living a lie didn’t make Julie happy. And while she was mostly engaged in just surviving while she hunted for some evidence of her past, it didn’t make her happy to realize that she was surrounded by a web of deceit of her own making.

Vanessa and Mallory called a couple of times, asking what she was up to, and the lie came too easily to her lips. “Writing,” she said.

Because that was her cover story. She had to explain why she was hanging out here, why she didn’t have a job—mainly because she wasn’t at all sure she could hold much of a job successfully. She’d managed working in retail shops and one antiques store, but the strain had overwhelmed her. All the strangers, her uncertainty about so many basic things, the other employees who asked way too many questions about her...well, she had a little money now, thanks to selling that coin, and that meant she didn’t have to try to pull off the role of a shopgirl while she was here, a huge relief for her. In a town this size, her seeming standoffishness would eventually be noted and commented on.

So she claimed to be working on a novel on the cheap laptop that sat on a wooden table. It explained how she survived, why she didn’t have an ordinary job and why she disappeared sometimes when she felt too troubled.

But it was a lie. She hated the lies so much that she’d even taken a stab at writing something. The problem was, fiction seemed like a way to escape the really important things she needed to deal with, and nonfiction all came down to “My journey as a woman without a memory.” As if.

It didn’t help that her life seemed like a plot ripped out of the pages of a novel, or that her writing was mostly a meandering diary.

So she wasn’t being honest with her new friends, which didn’t make her feel one whit more comfortable. Maybe she should just blurt the truth, tell everyone that she’d been born and given a name only a short time ago. Yeah, they’d probably call her crazy and drop her like a hot potato. Who was going to believe that?

So much had happened in the weeks after she returned to awareness of where she was, things that had made her feel that even professionals suspected she might be lying, and finally just made her feel like a bug under a microscope.

Go forth and build a life sounded easy, but it was hard.

Like coffee with Braden. It should have been so simple, but the evasions began to get to her. You couldn’t have a relationship based on lies, and the truth was too painful.

Pulling on her outdoor gear, she decided to take a walk in the woods. She left her phone behind, even though she knew she should take it in case she had an accident, but she didn’t want another call reminding her about tomorrow, asking how her writing was going, and did she ever intend to come out of her cave.

For the first time she wondered how anyone wrote a book when people were so disrespectful of a writer’s time. But maybe writers learned not to answer the phone, not to go to the door, not to feel guilty for ignoring a friend’s call.

Somehow she doubted it. Her acquaintance with guilt was growing by leaps and bounds. She seemed to be building it constantly and adding to it with every evasion.

Telling herself it was necessary didn’t much help.

They’d tried to convince her that she would be building a new past for herself each day that went by. It sure wasn’t enough of a past to satisfy her. Yes, she could talk lightly about the few jobs she’d held in her wanderings, some of the people she’d met, but there was always that wall she couldn’t surmount.

Dang, she thought, scuffing her toe in the light layer of snow and bringing up some loam from beneath.

Braden. He was another problem. Though she didn’t have a lot of experience she remembered so she could call on it, she was almost certain that he’d looked at her several times with male interest.

Well, she’d looked at him the same way. He drew her, attracted her, made her want to be a normal girl who could just date and get to know a guy. But since there wasn’t much he could get to know about her, she was a fool to even cherish such dreams, and even more of a fool when he hadn’t tried to reach her in over a week.

But she couldn’t help wishing, and Braden made her wish. The warm, roughness of his palm when he shook her hand seemed to have imprinted itself vividly on her memory. She liked just looking at him, which she supposed was utterly silly, and she reacted like a woman to his scent, to his broad shoulders, to the sight of his butt in those snug jeans he wore.

Oh, man, the bug had bit, but it couldn’t go anywhere. Not unless she told him the truth, and she could just imagine the horror that would come to his face. “You don’t know who you are?” The question that most terrified her.

For heaven’s sake, she didn’t even know how old she was. When her birthday was. Who her parents had been. Where she had gone to school. All those simple but important things. Not even whether she was a virgin.

Man. Self-disgust filled her again, even though she knew it wasn’t fair. She’d been seriously injured. She was lucky to be alive.

Except that she had only part of a life.

Tomorrow was going to be another rough day unless she found a way to excuse herself from the big community gift wrapping. But no, she wasn’t going to excuse herself. She had no idea what had drawn her to this town, what had made her feel so compelled to come here, and hiding out wasn’t going to answer the question.

But that compulsion... As she stepped out of the trees and looked up, she saw the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, like the Alps, although how she knew that, she had no idea. They called to her, those mountains in all their majestic height and cragginess. They seemed to be a part of her.

They felt more like home than anything else since her accident. They kept her here.

* * *

The church hall was full of people by the time Julie arrived. So many people, all very busy at sorting through gifts and wrapping them, then labeling them for “A soldier” or “A soldier’s family.” Ages were placed only on toys.

Vanessa grabbed her at once and dragged her to the table where she, Mallory and Lily were busy wrapping things.

“The others will be here later,” Vanessa told her. “Except Jonah, who has a bad cold. Caleb’s finishing some work, and Cecelia and Nick got delayed. I don’t want to know how they got delayed.” Vanessa rolled her eyes suggestively, drawing a laugh from Julie, who then greeted everyone and asked, “If we were going to do toys, why not send them to Toys for Tots?”

“We work with what people give us,” Mallory explained. “Sometimes I think we send enough cologne and aftershave to perfume the entire military.”

Julie laughed and allowed herself to relax. This wasn’t going to be so hard. “So it really gets to the troops? I thought the military was difficult about that, and these are wrapped.” Where that came from, she had no idea.

“It’s all going to nearby bases. No problem there. They know who we are.”

“Ah.”

Lily spoke. “I can’t get the triangle right.”

At once Julie leaned over to her and showed her how to fold the paper at the end of the package. Sometimes it amazed her that she could remember to do things like this without remembering she had ever done them before.

“I like the triangles,” Lily said. “They’re prettier than just sticking lots of tape on.”

“You’re right about that,” Julie agreed.

Lily triumphantly placed the last piece of tape and looked up with sparkling eyes. Then she looked past Julie. “Hi, Braden. Are you and Julie friends now?”

“We’re working on it,” came the answer.

Julie was almost afraid to turn around, but after taking a breath she did, and found him smiling at her.

“Room at this table?” he asked.

“Of course,” said Vanessa, scooting over before Julie could respond, making room for him right beside Julie.

It seemed more than Lily were involved in a little matchmaking, Julie thought. Her cheeks heated.

“Hi,” he said, still smiling.

“Hi,” she managed to answer, then quickly dragged her gaze back to the half-wrapped package in front of her. He looked good enough to eat, and her heart speeded up nervously. He smelled good, too, fresh from a shower, not wearing any aftershave or cologne that she could detect. For some reason she had never found that attractive in a man. At least not in her present incarnation.

He chatted pleasantly with the others who joined the table, appearing comfortable with everyone. She envied him that comfort. Sometimes she wondered if she had ever been someone who had a circle of family and friends that she had known for a long time, a group of people where any reasonable conversation was easy. Small talk certainly didn’t come easily to her now, not at all.

And less so, being crowded against him at the table. Inevitably their arms and shoulders brushed, and sometimes they reached out simultaneously for the tape. Each contact, however minor, seemed to zap her with electricity.

A different kind of electricity than she had felt from Winona Cobbs. This kind made her start wondering what it would be like to have this man’s arms around her, his lips on hers.

She tried to imagine it and wondered if her imaginings had any basis in experience, or if she was just making it up. How would she know? The not knowing was apt to drive her crazy. She ought to be getting used to this discombobulation, but it didn’t seem to be getting any easier, not with a handsome, sexy man standing so close.

“Julie? Julie?” Vanessa’s voice punctured her preoccupation. She snapped her head up.

“I’m sorry. Woolgathering.”

“Nothing new in that,” Vanessa teased. “The tape, please?”

Julie leaned over and passed her the dispenser. Somehow that twist and lean brought her hard up against Braden’s side.

In an instant, everything else vanished. A web of desire cast its spell, making all her worries and wondering seem like a waste of time. All that mattered was that man and what his closeness was doing to her. What she’d like him to do with her.

Mallory excused herself to take Lily to the bathroom. Vanessa went off in search of a cup of coffee. All of a sudden she was alone with Braden, who was busy cutting paper for the next package.

Desperate not to appear like a dummy, and certainly not disinterested when he was filling her thoughts so much, she hunted for something to say. “Does everyone in town help with this?”

“Of course not.” He flashed her a grin. “Some folks are working, some don’t have time, some don’t care, and could you imagine trying to fit all of Rust Creek into this place? Nah, we’ll stay a short while, and you’ll see new faces start to arrive.”

“That makes sense. How did you find time?”

“I worked extra hard the last few days.”

She dared to eye him. “Not with barbed wire, I presume.”

He laughed. “Nope. Hay. And you know what? That’s almost as bad when it finds its way inside your clothes. Prickly and itchy.”

“But no danger of stitches.”

He looked up from the package he was wrapping, and their gazes engaged. Julie felt as if the air had vanished from the room.

“No stitches,” he agreed. Then, “Julie?”

“Jennifer.”

He looked startled, but probably no more than she. Where had that come from? She stared at him without seeing him as her mind once again jumped on the hamster wheel. Jennifer? Somehow that sounded right, better than Julie. My God, was that her real name? But for once, something felt as if it fit.

“Julie?” he repeated. “What’s wrong?”

She shook herself out of the moment, promising herself she could ponder this revelation later. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I used to go by Jennifer. I don’t know how it came about, it just did. I haven’t used it here.” Because she didn’t know it. “I shouldn’t have blurted that.”

“Well, if it’s the name you prefer, I don’t mind using it.” His smile was friendly as he returned to wrapping. “Jennifer it is. I like it. Or can I call you Jenn? I like that, too.”

Only then did it strike her how many people were going to wonder about this name change. How many questions she might have to answer. Oh, God, she needed to stop blurting things like that. Not that there were too many of them so far.

“Oh, just stick with Julie,” she dared to say. “If I go changing my name now, everyone’s going to get confused.”

“I doubt it. It’s your nickname. I think most of your friends would like knowing that.”

“I don’t know. It seems stupid after all this time to come out with that.”

“Let me handle it.”

She was glad to, but wondered why he should even bother. Or why she should let him. God, she’d like to find some backbone and take control of this roller-coaster ride she lived on.

Then she reminded herself that she’d had the gumption to move clear across the country on her search to make a new place for herself in an entirely strange town. That wasn’t cowardly. She only grew skittish when dealing with people who came close, close enough to figure out that something was wrong with her.

Maybe she should stop making such a big deal out of that. Maybe it was high time she let go of all her anxieties, stiffened her shoulders and let the chips fall wherever.

It sounded good. Not so easy to do.

The room was becoming truly crowded with people now, everyone talking and wrapping presents. Exactly the kind of situation that made Julie nervous. She returned greetings pleasantly enough and began to wonder how soon she could gracefully bow out. Wrapping gifts for the troops and their families seemed important, so she forced herself to attend only to the work. Still no Caleb or Nick.

Vanessa returned with coffee in a covered cup, and Mallory and Lily returned only long enough to bid everyone farewell. “Bedtime for the pip-squeak,” Mallory said.

“I am not a pip-squeak,” Lily insisted. “I don’t squeak much.”

Mallory squatted. “No, you don’t. And it was meant to be affectionate, not a bad name.”

Lily frowned. “I don’t like the way it sounds.” Then she looked at Julie-Jennifer and Braden. “You keep making friends,” she said. And an instant later she was skipping toward the coatroom with her aunt in tow.

Vanessa’s cell phone rang, and a frown lowered on her face. “Well, I’m outta here, too,” she said after she disconnected. “There’s a problem at the hotel. See you later.”

“Watching that woman work on the hotel design is purely an experience,” Braden remarked. “She sees things I’d miss.”

“Artistic eye.” Or maybe Jonah needed her. Now she was alone at the table with him, and her discomfort grew. Surely someone else would join them? But they were almost done with the rack of gifts that had been given to them. Nobody, it seemed, had to do that much. Many hands and all that.

“Say,” he said as he reached for the last gift, this one a set of scented soaps. “Why don’t we try the coffee thing again, Jenn? I hate to head home without my latte.”

Considering how she’d fled the last time, she might have said no. But temptation was standing there in a fantastically gorgeous package, and he had just called her Jenn. Hearing that name on his lips warmed some place inside her that hadn’t felt warm in a long time. She couldn’t resist, though some wiser part of her cried that she might be making a big mistake. Blowing her cover. Revealing her inadequacies.

“Sure,” she heard herself say. “I’d like that.” Who was running her mouth now? Julie or Jennifer?

“Good.” He wrapped paper around the last package and asked her to hold it with her finger while he reached for the tape. “I was afraid I’d offended you last time.”

“Me? No!” The thought horrified her. “No, Braden. I just had...something I needed to do.”

He turned his head, and his eyes smiled at her. “I’m glad to know that. I don’t usually send people into headlong flight to get away from me.”

She felt her cheeks burn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“Which you just proved by agreeing to go out with me again. Hey, lady, it’s my evening out, my day off. I’d enjoy it a lot more with your company.”

A very kind and flattering thing to say, and pleasant heat shot through her. Maybe she was walking on a tightrope, but in this instance, the fall might even be fun.

Twenty minutes later they once again sat in the donut shop. It being Saturday night, it was packed, but they managed to grab one of the few small tables. Once again they both ordered the same things.

“I’ve been talking to Homer Gilmore,” Braden said. “Do you know who he is?”

“I’ve seen him around, but no one seems to know his story.”

“No one does, at least, no one I’ve talked to,” Braden agreed. “I’m working on getting him a place to stay, maybe at the church, before he freezes to death out there.”

Jenn—she really did feel better thinking of herself that way, perhaps another piece of the mystery solved?—shook her head. “He seems sad. I hear he doesn’t even say anything intelligible.”

“That’s part of the problem. He wanders around mumbling unintelligible stuff, and nobody knows what to make of him. He seems harmless. I mean, he’s been hanging around and hasn’t really bothered anybody, unless mumbling crazy things to people is bothersome.”

Jenn felt herself warm to him even more. “It’s kind of you to try to find a place for him to stay.”

“Not really. He deserves at least as much care as any stray, don’t you think?”

Considering she was a stray of sorts herself, she nodded. “Don’t diminish what you’re doing. I don’t see anyone else running around trying to find the guy a home.”

He leaned back as they were served and gave her a crooked smile. “If Winona’s right, I need to get cracking.”

“She’s still predicting that blizzard?”

“Not only that, but every time she gives a prediction, it seems to have grown bigger and worse. Which brings me to a question. Are you going to be okay in that cabin if the power goes out?”

“I was thinking of getting a kerosene heater.”

He shook his head. “Better to use the woodstove. If you want, I’ll check it out for you when we leave here, make sure the chimney is clean.”

“That thing looks like a monster to me.”

He laughed quietly. “It’s not. I’ll make sure it’s safe then show you how to light a fire. Have you got any wood out there?”

“Some, alongside the cabin.”

“I guess you couldn’t tell me how much.”

Surprisingly, she felt herself smile then laugh. “What I know about wood you can put on the head of a pin. There’s a stack. I have no idea how much or how long it would last.”

“A very good reason to take advantage of a willing neighbor. Me.”

Take advantage of him? She hoped he had absolutely no idea the visions that wording brought to her head. “Well,” she said, “if you’re going to do that for me, I ought to stop by the grocery before it closes and pick up what I need to feed you a late meal. Unless you’ve already eaten.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.