Page 5 of When I Forgot Us (Blue River #1)

Chapter Three

How was it possible she’d lived in this world and had no memory of the people or the stories being thrown at her?

An itch spread across her hand, and she scratched absentmindedly at the spot where her skin had touched Chase’s.

She envied his easy confidence, the way he walked into a room and took possession of it with his presence.

If she’d ever had anything like that, she lost it along with her memories.

“Could I take a walk around the ranch?” The need to move caused her nervous feet to tap across the linoleum. She pushed to her feet and gathered up her dirty dishes, prepared to carry them to the sink.

“Of course.” Maude took the dishes from her. “Why don’t you sit outside while I wash these and then we’ll take a stroll.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose. Aunt Sarah was excited to visit with you.

The two of you should have time to catch up without having to keep me entertained.

” She flapped a hand toward the front door.

“I can handle this on my own. Pretty sure I won’t get lost going from here to the barn.

” Trying to smile, she tapped her temple.

“It’s a blank slate up here, but I can remember directions, especially since the house will be in sight. ”

Sarah choked on her laughter, covering her mouth with both hands.

A snort burst out, and she slapped the table hard enough for the silverware to jump and rattle.

“There she is.” Her bun shook loose with the guffaws that rippled through Sarah’s body.

“Honey, you might have lost your memories, but your sense of humor is still intact.”

She added that to her list of characteristics about herself. Gratitude welled. Maybe all wasn’t lost after all.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she didn’t have to turn around to know that Chase had walked back into the kitchen.

He’d bolted so fast earlier it left her breathless and uncertain.

He looked at her with so many emotions in his dark eyes.

She had no context for how to unravel the mixture of sadness and hope she’d learned to recognize in her own features after waking up in the hospital.

“I was headed to the barn to check the horses.” He paused and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome to walk with me.”

Michelle turned slowly to face Chase. He’d been so polite and careful throughout dinner.

He smiled and chuckled at the stories of Uncle Fred but hadn’t added to any of the tales.

The feel of his hand around hers sparked and sizzled, but nothing more than the physical reaction rose in the blank space that hid her memories.

“I’d like that.” She meant it, and the warmth made its way into her voice.

“Your mom says you’re the ranch manager. What does that mean?”

He walked backward to the front door. “It means I oversee the entire operation. I’m in charge of making sure all the animals are taken care of, the bills are paid, and that we have enough to get us through the winter.” With his attention locked on her, he grabbed his hat and settled it on his head.

Having him stare at her like that made everything else fall away.

“You two have a good time.” Maude tossed a hand towel over her shoulder and pushed up her blouse’s sheer sleeves. “The horses will be glad to see you.” Something in the statement caught her attention, but like everything else, it raced away into the blackness.

She joined Chase on the front porch and followed him down the steps. “Why does it feel like I should know you?”

He shrugged with an easy carelessness. “We both grew up here.” When she opened her mouth to respond, he held out a hand in a gentle ‘stop’ gesture. “Can I ask for a favor?”

“I don’t know, can you?” The question surprised her as much as the sarcasm seemed to delight him.

Why did she feel so comfortable around him?

In the days since leaving the hospital, the only emotions she’d felt were anger, resentment, and a few others that anchored a weight to her heart.

A couple hours around Chase and she was snapping quips like it was her job.

His lips quirked upward, which made the skin around his eyes crinkle. It was the kind of smile she couldn’t resist matching. How could she forget a man like him?

Amnesia didn’t pick and choose. She understood that on a fundamental level, but her heart argued back that true love conquered all.

Whoa. She stopped in her tracks. Her throat constricted, and she gasped for breath.

Where had that come from? She didn’t love Chase; she didn’t even know him.

Love needed time to develop. Sometimes years and years.

What she felt when she looked at him had to be nothing more than her body’s reaction to the stress and overwhelm she’d experienced.

He offered a sense of calm in the middle of the chaos.

“You had a question?” Her voice did that thing where it lifted at the end, turning what she’d intended to be a statement into a question.

His steps slowed, his stride shortening, making it easier for her to keep up on the downward sloping driveway. “I’d like to try and help you settle in here.”

“And see if I regain my memories?” Confusion swirled through her. That was all anyone seemed to want to talk about. She couldn’t blame them when she tended to bring it into every conversation even without trying.

“We both know you can’t force yourself to remember. You either will, or you won’t.” It was a cold, painful truth, but he said it with such softness that she gave him her full attention.

Gravel rolled beneath her shoes, and she kicked a loose pebble to the side of the driveway.

Her hands slid into her pockets as the steady movement of her heels hitting the firm ground rocked through her.

“I’d like to think I’m more than just the woman who lost her memories.

Aunt Sarah talked me into coming here, and I think we both hoped I’d remember everything by now.

At this point, I’d like to know who I am. ”

“You’re Michelle Baker.” He flourished his hand in her direction, inviting her to join in.

They crossed from gravel to dirt, stepping over the wooden threshold that separated the barn from the yard. “Former bank executive and owner of a rather bland apartment in Detroit.”

“Former?” His eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared.

Not the kind of opening conversation most people enjoyed.

“Still figuring things out. Since I can’t remember most of my clients, or my original training, it’s kind of difficult to function in an executive role.

” The horse in the stall closest to her pricked up its ears and slung its head over the stall door.

She smoothed a hand over the sleek neck and up over a fluffy ear.

His grunt sounded closer than she expected and a long-fingered hand reached past her to fix the latch on the stall door. “Sorry. Looks like Samson here has been playing escape artist again.”

“Horses do that?” She eyed the horse with a critical lack of experience.

Chase moved to the next stall and checked the latch on that door.

“He does. And he tries to free his neighbors. I almost resorted to a padlock, but I’d rather have something quick for me to maneuver in case of an emergency.

All the ‘horse-proof’ locks have been a failure.

” He air quoted horse-proof with a wry look at Samson.

The motion of patting Samson’s neck had that same vaguely familiar feeling she’d experienced off and on all day. “Why did you become a ranch manager?”

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and fed the gray horse in front of him a piece of carrot from his pocket.

“Always loved ranching. Dad taught me how to ride before I could walk, and I spent every spare minute helping him with the horses and cattle. That whole thing about ranching being in the blood is true for me.”

“You never wanted anything else?” She tried to imagine what that felt like.

Since waking up, all she wanted was more.

Different. The one day she’d tried to return to her office ended in disaster when she had no clue how to talk to half the people who came to see her.

She’d been distracted, on edge, and short-tempered every single second.

By the time she made it home, she’d been ready to quit. Some part of her dug in and refused to give up. A sensation of being too stubborn to let life run roughshod over her had sunk in as she’d listened to Aunt Sarah, agreeing to make a clean break from the city and try something different.

Light danced through the low-roofed barn and dappled Chase’s hat. He nudged it up with his thumb and stared into the distance where a line of barbed wire fence stretched all the way to the horizon. “I’ve wanted a lot of things.”

She waited for more, waited until the silence stretched as long as the fence they stared at.

The house stood to the left of the fence, its off-white paint turning gold as streaks of color painted the sky.

Clouds filtered past the sun and gathered on the edge of the horizon.

The depth of space available here created a sensation of ineptitude and inadequacy in her.

She was such a small part of a great, big world.

And she had nothing to show for her years spent on it.

“When I was five, I had a brief stint where I wanted to be a policeman.” He moved from the stall to a bale of hay and cut the strings using a pocketknife.

“That lasted about a week.” He picked up a stack of hay and flung it into a wooden box in the stall.

“In high school, I wanted to be the star quarterback. Never mind I’d never played football or had any real interest in the sport. ”

“So why did you want it?”

He worked in slow, methodical steps, picking up the hay and adding it to each stall. “Why else?”

“A girl?” Her heart did that funny lurching thing again.