A Cowboy to Remember
Author
Stella Bagwell
Reads
15.3K
Chapters
13
His second chance… With a woman who no longer remembered him. Traveling rodeo entrepreneur Hunter Hollister can't believe his eyes when he runs smack into his ex-wife — literally. But after their chance collision, he's flummoxed when the woman he's never forgotten can't recall the man she left without a word four years earlier! Plagued by amnesia, "Anna Jones" may not remember Hunter — but the spark igniting between them? All too familiar. With Hunter's slow and steady help on his once-familiar ranch, Anna begins to rediscover who she really is. And as the truth about her identity beckons, she's even starting to remember how much she loved the man she once let go…
Chapter One
Hunter Hollister parked his truck in a slot not far from the portico covering the entrance to the hotel and shut off the engine. However, he didn’t immediately climb out of the vehicle. Not because it had started to rain and he was reluctant to get wet. No, he was staring blindly out the rain-splattered windshield, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.
He’d quit searching the rodeo crowds for her face a long time ago. He’d believed he’d grown past the aching urge to catch a glimpse of her. He’d pretty much convinced himself that seeing her again would only make the ache inside him even worse. But tonight, when the performance had ended and the spectators had begun spilling out of the stadium, he’d stood to one side and hopelessly scanned the crowds for a tall, curvy brunette.
Damn it! Being back in Red Bluff, California, must be causing his mind to dredge up these old, painful memories. Especially with Christmas only a little more than a week away. Nearly four years ago to the day, he’d been right here in this same town putting on one of his first large-sized rodeo, the River Bend Christmas Stampede, while his wife had been packing up and leaving their home on Stone Creek Ranch in Beaver County, Utah.
Heaving out a weary breath, Hunter shoved away the dark thoughts and departed the truck. He’d been going since four thirty this morning and now it was well past midnight. Which was actually an early night for him. Usually, he’d be at the rodeo grounds until two or three o’clock in the morning. Thankfully, his right-hand man had insisted he could finish up and make sure the livestock was cared for and settled in for the night. Hunter was grateful to the younger man. He was dog-tired. All he wanted now was a stiff drink and a bed.
The entrance to the hotel was well lit with a row of foot lamps lining each side of the covered portico and colorful Christmas lights hanging from the protective awning. However, Hunter had his head down to shield his face from the rain and missed seeing the woman about to step down from the curb in front of him.
As soon as his shoulder collided with hers, he instinctively reached out and wrapped a steadying hand around her arm.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you!” he swiftly apologized. “Are you okay?”
“Uh—yes. I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.”
Lifting her head, she looked directly at him and Hunter very nearly staggered backward.
“Willow! Is that you?”
Shock had caused his voice to lower to little more than a whisper, but she must have heard him because she continued to stare at him blankly.
“Willow? Excuse me, but—do you think you know me?”
Wind was beginning to blow cold rain onto the portico and he instinctively drew her deeper beneath the awning to prevent the both of them from getting soaked.
“You’re Willow. Aren’t you? If you’re not, you could be her twin.”
Her head shook slowly back and forth as though she was struggling to absorb his words. Hunter wondered who she was trying to fool. Him or herself? In any case, he didn’t appreciate the confused act she was giving him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You must have me mixed up with someone else.”
Hunter came close to blurting out the words burning on the tip of his tongue. He knew exactly who she was—the wife who’d walked out on him four years ago! But the dark, frantic look in her eyes held him back. Maybe he was being delusional, but some sixth sense was telling him that she honestly didn’t recognize him. How could that be?
His heart was beating in his throat and he tried to swallow away the rapid throb before he attempted to speak again. “Oh. My mistake. If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?”
“Anna Jones.”
Really? Where had that come from? Why wasn’t she Willow Hollister or using her maiden name of Anderson? If she’d remarried a man with the surname of Jones, he could understand the change in the last name. But Anna made no sense at all. Still, a little voice in his head was yelling at him to be cautious and go along with this woman. Otherwise, she might run hard and fast and he wouldn’t have a clue as to where to find her.
“Nice to meet you, Anna Jones.” He extended his hand to her. “I’m Hunter Hollister. I own the Flying H Rodeo Company and I’m here in town producing the River Bend Christmas Stampede.”
There wasn’t one iota of recognition on her face as she slipped her hand into his, but as for Hunter, the contact of her soft fingers was assaulting him with endless memories. Four years was a long time, he thought. But not nearly long enough to forget.
“Yes, I’ve heard about the rodeo. The town is in full celebration for the event, plus all the added holiday festivities,” she said. “How do you do, Mr. Hollister? I hope you enjoy your stay here in Red Bluff this week. Now, it’s getting very late. I need to be on my way.”
Until this moment, there’d been too many other questions hurtling through his mind for him to wonder why she’d been leaving this plush hotel at this time of night. And the questions were still striking him from all the directions. She couldn’t just walk away, he thought desperately. Not without learning how he might contact her again.
Deliberately retaining his hold on her hand, he asked, “Do you work here at the hotel?”
Her expression turned wary. “I do. I’m secretary to the hotel manager. I was working extra late tonight. Our computer system is being upgraded. Are you a guest of the hotel?”
His mind was whirling at such a high rate of speed, Hunter could barely think, much less talk. Yet somehow he managed to make his voice sound normal when he finally answered, “As a matter of fact, I’m booked here for the whole week. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”
She eased her hand from his and adjusted the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. “Perhaps. Good night, Mr. Hollister.”
Mr. Hollister. She’d called him plenty of things during their marriage, but never Mr. Hollister. Oh God, did she really not recognize him? As far as he could tell, there wasn’t one sign of recollection on her face, or a light of dawning familiarity in her eyes. He couldn’t believe it! Nothing about this, or her, made sense.
“Good night.”
Feeling as though someone had just sucker punched him, he watched her step from beneath the awning and jog off through the falling rain.
He didn’t wait around to see her climb into a vehicle and drive away. What was the point? She was gone. At least, for the night. Tomorrow, he might be able to come up with a reasonable excuse to look her up here at the hotel. But should he? Wouldn’t that just be asking for trouble?
His senses were too scattered to answer that question. At the moment, his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking. After four years, he’d given up on ever seeing Willow again. She’d disappeared and he’d decided there wasn’t any point in trying to find a woman who’d wanted to end their marriage. To practically stumble across her path on a dark, rainy night felt like a dream. Or a nightmare. He couldn’t decide which.
Inside the hotel, he strode past the large lobby furnished with several plush couches and armchairs, along with two large fireplaces with fake burning logs situated on opposite walls. A giant Christmas tree ablaze with lights and colorful adornments took up a lot of space, while nearby a long table draped with a red garland held a large bouquet of red poinsettias. Normally, he appreciated the holiday decorations. And considering the cold, rainy night, the cheery sight of the fireplaces would have warmed him. But Hunter wasn’t feeling cheered or warmed. Seeing Anna or Willow, or whoever the hell she was, had left him chilled to the bone.
At the entrance to the elevator, he dug the pass card from his wallet and was about to slide it into the entry slot when the rapid sound of approaching footsteps sounded behind him and a female voice called out.
“Mr. Hollister! May I speak to you for a moment?”
Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder and stared in stunned fascination as she hurried toward him. What was this about? Had she decided to come clean and confess that she’d been faking not remembering him—and having some new name he’d never heard before? This was getting more surreal by the minute.
Quickly, he jammed the pass card back into his wallet, then turned to face her. With the two of them now standing in a pool of overhead lighting, he could see the details of her soft features and a faint spark of fire in her dark hair. Her eyes were the same warm brown and so was the bow shape of her full lips. Were those the lips he’d kissed hundreds of times? The same lips that had drove him crazy with desire as they slid against his skin, whispered loving words in his ears? They had to be. He couldn’t mistake them. But what if it was just nostalgia playing tricks on him, making him see a resemblance that wasn’t real? How could this be Willow when she looked at him with no recognition at all?
“Sure, I have a moment,” he told her, then, deciding to get straight to the point, asked, “What did you want to speak to me about?”
She looked a little distressed and he braced himself for the truth to come spilling out any second.
“Uh—well, first of all, I apologize for taking up your time. But out in the parking lot, I decided I couldn’t drive away. I kept thinking there might be a tiny chance you could possibly help me find the truth.”
The truth? He’d definitely appreciate hearing the truth of why she ran away and ended their marriage so callously. But he’d look pretty damn stupid if he spewed those bitter words at her and it turned out that she wasn’t actually Willow.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Perhaps we could go to the bar and talk over a drink?”
She glanced over her shoulder to where an arched open doorway led into a spacious bar before turning her attention back to him.
“Yes. That would be nice,” she said with a grateful little smile. “And I promise not to keep you long.”
After four years of searching, wondering and trying to forget, a few more minutes was nothing, he thought. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I was planning on having a drink before I went to bed anyway.”
Instinctively, he cupped a hand beneath her elbow and urged her in the direction of the bar. She glanced up and gave him a tentative smile.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I realize the night is getting late and I shouldn’t be detaining you. But I was afraid I might not have the chance to see you again. And then I’d be—well, I’ll explain once we get our drinks.”
That voice, Hunter thought. It had the same husky quality he remembered. And he couldn’t help but notice how the top of her head was level with his shoulder, just as hers had been. But those details didn’t prove this was his ex-wife, he tried to tell himself.
Are you blind, Hunter? Everything about her screams Willow. Are you afraid to admit to yourself that this is actually her?
Ignoring the questions sounding off in his head, he escorted her into the dimly lit bar furnished with small round tables and chairs, plus a long bar that ran the length of one wall. They chose to sit at a table situated near the entrance. Other than the two of them, there was only a handful of customers scattered around the room. A loop of standard holiday music filtered over the sound system, while behind the bar, a basketball game with the sound muted was playing on a flat-screen TV.
As soon as they’d taken their seats, a waitress appeared and took their orders. Hunter lifted his black cowboy hat from his head and placed it on the floor next to his chair.
He was raking his fingers through his hair when he noticed she was watching him closely. A tiny frown marred the space between her brows and he wondered if she was worried that he might press her to come clean about her identity.
“This is—”
“I don’t—”
They both spoke at once and she laughed. The sound was a bit awkward, he thought, but he appreciated her attempt to lighten the moment.
“You go first, Mr. Hollister,” she said.
“Just call me Hunter,” he told her. “And ladies first, so you go ahead.”
One hand reached up and clutched the throat of her coat together as though she was chilled. Hunter could see the shoulders of the olive green fabric were soaked from the rain. He started to suggest she’d be more comfortable if she slipped off the wet garment, but it was hardly his place to advise her about her clothing.
“I—uh, really don’t know where to start. I’m sure you’re thinking I’m a weird woman or something. But believe me, I don’t normally go chasing after men.”
He gave her an easy smile in hopes it would ease the tension on her face. Even if this truly was Willow and she was trying to fool him, he didn’t want to see her suffer. He didn’t have time for revenge, hate or spite. Those sorts of feelings crippled a person.
“Especially on a rainy night, huh?”
A wan smile touched her lips as she nodded. “Right. When we collided out there on the portico, I wasn’t thinking too clearly. I heard what you said, but it didn’t really have a chance to sink in. Then by the time I reached my car, it dawned on me that you—well, that perhaps you did actually recognize me.”
“Is that important?” He supposed his question sounded inane, but how was he supposed to respond to this woman who might—or might not—be the woman who’d been his wife for two short years?
“Probably not to you,” she answered. “But it’s very important to me.”
At that moment, the waitress arrived with their drinks and Hunter didn’t hesitate to reach for the squat tumbler filled with bourbon and soda and take a sip. When he put the glass back down again, he carefully weighed his words before he spoke. “I’m not sure I understand why my recognizing you would be important. You said you didn’t know me.”
She reached for the glass of wine and Hunter noticed her hand was trembling. The sight of her distress bothered him far more than he wanted to admit.
“I don’t know you. But as far as I’m concerned that doesn’t mean a whole lot. You see, as far as I can remember, I didn’t exist until about four years ago. Before then—well, it’s all a blank slate.”
This was Willow! His Willow!
Hunter swallowed a hefty drink of the bourbon and soda and hoped it would slow the whirling in his head. Questions were hurtling at him from all directions. The main one being what would happen if he blurted out her true identity? Would it throw her into some sort of mental shock? Damage the bit of memory she had now?
Oh God, he needed help.
Swallowing another drink of the bourbon, he asked, “What happened? You suffered some sort of medical issue?”
“Sort of. I was involved in a serious car crash. When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors told me I’d been in a coma for three weeks. They explained I had brain swelling and bleeding.”
Hunter couldn’t absorb what he was hearing. All these years he’d never thought of Willow being ill or injured. He’d always pictured her living happily with a family of her own. To think of her being that close to death left him dazed and even a little sick.
“Must have been a horrific crash.” He sounded like a robot, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never been so stunned.
“I was unconscious when the first responders rescued me. But I remember nothing about the wreck. They tell me my car skidded off a rain-slick mountain road and crashed down to a creek below.”
“Somewhere near here?” he asked, while wondering if she’d been in this area ever since she’d left Stone Creek Ranch.
“North of here. Toward Redding. That’s where I remained in the hospital for a month before I was well enough to leave. The doctors told me that I had amnesia, but at the time, they believed it would probably go away on its own. It hasn’t.” She leaned slightly toward him. “So you see, when you called me by that name—what was it?”
His throat was so tight it was a struggle to swallow. “Willow,” he said.
“Oh, yes. Willow. Well, I thought you’d mistaken me for someone—or, forgive me, but that you were just using that as an excuse to talk to me. And then, after you’d entered the hotel, I realized I had to find out if maybe I was someone you knew in the past. Am I?”
From the moment he’d bumped into her and she’d stared at him with blank brown eyes, something had made him pick and choose his words. Something had made him hesitant to say anything that would tie her to him, or the past. Slow. Careful. Cautious. The words had been revolving around in his head, warning him not to make a hasty step. Now he was glad he’d not blurted out the truth. Springing something like that on her might do more damage than good. He needed to talk to a medical professional for advice before he said anything.
“Well, I—to be honest it was dark out there on the portico and I thought you looked exactly like someone I used to know. But now that we’re inside under the light I can’t say for sure. You see, I haven’t seen the woman in years. She’s probably changed, and you’ve probably changed, too.”
“What was her surname? Was she around my age?”
He hated to lie outright, but maybe he could work around her questions without actually lying. It was for her own good, he told himself. At least, until he could talk to a professional who could advise him on such matters as amnesia.
“I’m not sure. How old are you?”
She shrugged one shoulder, then took a sip from the wine goblet. “You can’t imagine how it feels not to know your age or your birth date. It’s maddening. Not to mention lonely.”
He looked across the table at her and their gazes clashed. The contact caused Hunter’s heart to lurch, then jump into a slow, anxious thump. How could she look into his eyes and not remember the times they’d made love? The nights they’d slept with their bodies wrapped closely together?
“Lonely?” He turned the one word into a question.
“That probably doesn’t make sense to you,” she said wanly. “But I feel as though I’m the only one in the world like this and no one understands how isolated it makes my life.”
Her forefinger was absently tracing the base of the wine goblet, and Hunter noticed her nails were perfectly manicured and painted a pale pink. While they’d been married, she’d never worn nail enamel. Nor had she worn anything like the sexy black sweater dress she was wearing tonight. Showcasing her perfect curves had never been Willow’s style. She’d been a quiet, modest woman who’d never wanted to draw attention to herself. Apparently, she’d changed since their divorce—or maybe just since her accident.
“No. Unless a person has experienced such a thing, it would be impossible to understand,” he replied. “But maybe you should look at it this way. You survived and you’re healthy now. You have a lot to be thankful for.”
Nodding, she picked up the wine goblet. “True. I’m blessed to be alive and healthy.” She took a sip of the wine, then glanced over at him. “You asked about my age. Well, the doctors gauged me to be around thirty at the time of my accident. That makes me around thirty-four or thirty-five.”
The doctors had gauged right, he thought. She was thirty-five now. He wanted to tell her the exact date of her birth and so many other things, but he didn’t feel he could—not yet.
Feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life, he said, “Well, that’s a good age.”
“I suppose. How old are you, Hunter?”
She remembered his name, he thought. Clearly there was nothing wrong with her short-term memory.
“Forty-one.” By most accounts, he was still a young man. But tonight, as he faced his ex-wife, he felt as though he’d already lived the life of a ninety-year-old.
“Oh. I thought—uh, you look younger. Do you have a family?”
The question chilled him and he swallowed the last of the bourbon in an effort to chase the coldness away. “No. I’m single. What about you?”
Her soft laugh had nothing to do with humor. It was more like self-mockery.
“No. I’m afraid to let myself think about marriage.”
Her answer caught him off guard and he frowned as his gaze slid over her beautiful face. She’d never have a problem finding herself another husband. The fact that she was still single amazed him. “Why?”
“Why?” She shook her head. “It seems simple to you because you can remember your past. You know whether you have a family, a wife or a girlfriend. I don’t. For all I know, I could already be married with children.”
Yes, he could see how the blank spaces in her mind would be preventing her from taking steps forward. How tragic, he thought, that she’d been living in limbo these past years. No matter how much it had hurt to lose Willow, he wanted her to be happy.
You could change her situation this very minute, Hunter. All you have to do is open your mouth and tell her all about her life back in Utah.
Yeah, but would that make her happy, he silently argued with the voice in his head. Would that fix her loss of memory? Or would it just make it worse? He had no way of knowing for sure, and he wasn’t ready to take that chance. At least, not until he talked to a physician.
“If you had a husband or children, don’t you think they would’ve been searching for you? That they would have located you long before now?” he asked.
“Believe me, Hunter, I ask myself those same questions every day. In fact, when I was in the hospital, recuperating from the accident, I kept expecting and hoping that someone would show up—a family member, a friend or even an acquaintance, but no one ever came. And I had to face the fact that I hadn’t been important to anyone.”
Hunter struggled not to groan out loud. She’d been more than important to him. But pride had kept him from trying to locate her after she’d proven that she’d not loved him enough to stay in their marriage. The only reason he might’ve elected to track her down would’ve been to simply ask why she’d divorced him in such a backhanded way. Now, after all this time, and in light of her current situation, her method of divorce hardly seemed to matter.
“I’m sure there were people in your past life who cared about you. But they probably never heard about your accident or knew where to start searching for you. As for a husband, he—uh—surely would’ve reported you missing.”
“You’d think.” She grimaced, then, with a wistful sigh, reached for her wine goblet. “Unless he was relieved to be rid of me. I simply have no way of knowing.”
She’d not only been living in limbo, Hunter thought, but she believed the person she used to be had been unwanted. Dear God, this whole situation was unimaginable. But what could he do? How could he fix anything for her? And if she did learn her true identity, she’d probably resent him. She’d most likely tell him to get out of her life and stay out. On the other hand, if he kept the truth to himself, at least for a while, it might give him a chance to make her fall in love with him again. Wasn’t that really what he wanted?
The questions were buzzing around in his head, sending him into such deep thoughts he didn’t realize she was speaking until the last of her words caught his attention.
“...a photo. Someone might recognize me.”
Mentally shaking himself, he said, “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
Sighing, she said, “You look very tired and uncomfortable. And I’ve kept you far too long. I really should be leaving.”
She started to rise, but he quickly reached over and placed his hand over her forearm. “Don’t worry about me. You were saying something about a photo?”
Nodding, she said, “I was thinking if you took a photo of me and showed it to some of your friends back in your hometown one of them might recognize me. Do you think it’s possible?”
Yeah. About three-fourths of the population in Beaver County would recognize Willow. She’d lived there her entire life. Until the need to get away had sent her packing, he thought ruefully. So how was he going to handle this innocent suggestion of hers?
Unable to hold her gaze, he glanced down at the empty tumbler. At the moment, he could use a double bourbon or even a triple. Anything to calm the chaos going on inside of him.
“I can’t see it would hurt anything to try,” he said. “Unless—”
“Unless what?” she urged him to continue. “You think I’m some sort of fugitive from justice or something?”
Her question put a wan smile on his face. The only crime Willow Anderson Hollister had ever committed was breaking his heart.
Lifting his gaze back to hers, he said, “No. I was only thinking that all my friends in Utah will think you’re Willow. But resembling her doesn’t prove you are actually her. You understand what I’m trying to say?”
The hand she had resting on the table top turned palm up in a helpless gesture. “Of course. But I can’t just give up on trying to find my past identity. Even if it’s an inkling of a chance, I’m willing to grab it. And you’re the first person I’ve run into who’s come close to recognizing me.”
He could see desperation in her brown eyes. The same sort of desperation he’d seen when she’d argued and begged for him to give up his career as a rodeo producer. He’d refused and she’d walked out. On the surface, the problem between them had been as simple as that. Yet beneath the surface, there’d been so much more dividing their wants and wishes.
“Well, I don’t suppose it would hurt to try.” He pulled the phone from the pocket of his western shirt and snapped a close-up of her face. “I’d better take another one. Be sure to smile this time. Folks might remember you as a happy young woman.”
“Okay.”
She flipped her long hair back over her shoulders, then spread her lips into a wide smile. The expression transformed her lovely features and all he could think about were the days back when he’d made her happy enough to smile like that. He thought back on endless kisses they’d shared, the way she’d tasted, the soft little breaths that had brushed his skin.
Clearing his throat, he said, “That should do it.”
He started to put away his phone, but she quickly stopped him. “Wait. I’ll give you my cell number so you’ll know how to contact me. Just in case you get a response about the pics,” she added.
Once she was confident he had the number safely stored in his contacts, she stood and tugged the strap of her handbag onto her shoulder. Hunter politely rose to his feet.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked.
Feeling slightly dazed, Hunter stared at her. Because she wanted to see him, or because she hoped he might give her answers about the photos?
What the hell does it matter, Hunter? This is Willow. You want to be with her for any reason!
Shoving the mocking voice aside, he explained to her, “I probably won’t get away from the rodeo grounds until very late. But if you think you might be here at the hotel, I’ll look you up.”
She extended her hand to him. “Thank you, Hunter. I’ll try to be around. Good night.”
“Good night, Anna.”
He gave her hand a squeeze, then she turned and quickly walked away.
As soon as she was out of sight, Hunter motioned to the waitress, who was passing nearby his table.
Balancing a tray of beer mugs against her hip, the petite blonde maneuvered her way over to him.
“Want something else, cowboy?”
The blue-eyed woman was giving him all kinds of flirtatious signals, but he wasn’t interested. All he could see was Willow’s brown eyes. Willow’s face. Why was this happening to him? He’d been growing closer to being over her, or so he’d thought. At least over her enough to go through a whole day without thinking of her more than twenty times. Hell, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Yeah. Another bourbon and soda and make it a double this time.”
The young woman’s brows lifted perceptively. “Trouble with your woman?”
He grimaced. “I don’t have a woman,” he said bluntly.
“Maybe that’s your problem,” she suggested. “You need one.”
He needed one, all right. But he also needed one particular woman to remember him and how very much he’d loved her.
“Not tonight,” he said curtly.
Disappointment flashed across the waitress’s face. “I’ll go get your drink.”
The waitress walked away and Hunter immediately pulled out his phone. At this late hour of the night, his sister Grace would already be in bed and he wasn’t about to disturb her with a call. Being a doctor in a small town like Beaver County kept her going at full speed from early in the morning until late at night. She needed all the rest she could get. So instead of calling, he tapped out a text message with hopes she’d read it early in the morning and call him.
Need to talk with you. It’s kinda urgent. Call whenever you can.
