something to do, someplace to be.â
She was sure that he did. But his other life had been temporarily denied him.
âThat may be a good sign,â she said.
âMe wanting to get out of here? Or feeling like Iâve dropped the ball?â
âBoth. Your injuries are healing, and youâre a healthy man. Lying around all day has got to be boring.â She entered his room and took a seat at the edge of his bed. âYou had a life prior to the accident. There must be a lot of things that need doing. And if you feel pressed about something, then one day soon it will all come back to you.â
âI hope youâre right.â
She nodded at the built-in wardrobe where patients could keep their personal property. âDo you mind if I take a look in there?â
âWhy?â
âBecause the clothes you were wearing the other night are in there. And because theyâre dirty and bloody. I thought Iâd wash them for you so you donât have towear a hospital gown homeânot that it doesnât look dashing.â
He glanced down at his chest, then tugged at the cotton fabric. âI guess this isnât what all the ranch hands are wearing this year.â
âNo, Iâm afraid youâd get a couple of laughs. Especially if you add a pair of cowboy boots to round out your ensemble.â
A grin tugged at the side of his mouth, and his eyes glimmered. âNow thatâs a lousy visual.â
âOn you? Iâd have to see it,â she began, then reeled in her thoughts. What in the world was she doing? Flirting with him?
As much as sheâd hoped to avoid John Doe for the rest of his stay in Brighton Valley, she had to face the facts. Heâd been invited to stay at Docâs ranch, and heâd accepted.
He also had nowhere else to go.
So she crossed the room to the little closet and pulled open the door. A white plastic bag in which one of the nurses had packed the dirty clothes heâd been wearing sat next to a dusty pair of expensive Italian shoes.
Again, she was reminded that he hadnât been dressed like any of the men who called Brighton Valley home. He was going to need something suitable to wear on the ranchâjeans and boots for a starter.
Leaving the loafers behind, she removed the bag and shut the closet door.
âCan I look at those before you take them?â he asked.
âOf course.â She carried the bag to him, then waited as he peered inside.
âDo they look familiar?â she asked.
He slowly shook his head and handed them back to her. âI wish they did.â
Her heart went out to him, even though she wished it hadnât. And she felt herself being drawn closer to him, more involved.
âThen if itâs all right with you,â she said, âIâll take these home with me, wash them and bring them back this evening when I come to work.â
âI hate to have you go to the trouble.â
She offered him a smile. âDonât worry about it. Youâll be carrying your own weight before you know it.â
âYou can count on that. â
Heâd said it as if he meant it, and she believed him.
Or did she just want to believe that he was conscientious and responsible?
She lifted her wrist and checked her watch, even though there really wasnât any reason to. The motion had become a signal she used to make her excuses and leave, to let people know that she had a schedule to keepâwhether she did or not.
âWell,â she said, âIâd better go. Iâll see you tonight.â
âThanks,â he said. âI really appreciate all youâve done. Youâve gone above and beyond for me, and you donât have to.â
No, she didnât. And she probably shouldnât. But every time she gazed into his eyes, every time she spotted his vulnerability and sensed how lost he was, she couldnât seem to leave well enough alone.
âJust pay it