Under the Mistletoe with John Doe by JUDY DUARTE Read Free Book Online Page B

something to do, someplace to be.”
    She was sure that he did. But his other life had been temporarily denied him.
    â€œThat may be a good sign,” she said.
    â€œMe wanting to get out of here? Or feeling like I’ve dropped the ball?”
    â€œBoth. Your injuries are healing, and you’re a healthy man. Lying around all day has got to be boring.” She entered his room and took a seat at the edge of his bed. “You 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€œI hope you’re right.”
    She nodded at the built-in wardrobe where patients could keep their personal property. “Do you mind if I take a look in there?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause the clothes you were wearing the other night are in there. And because they’re dirty and bloody. I thought I’d wash them for you so you don’t have towear a hospital gown home—not that it doesn’t look dashing.”
    He glanced down at his chest, then tugged at the cotton fabric. “I guess this isn’t what all the ranch hands are wearing this year.”
    â€œNo, I’m afraid you’d get a couple of laughs. Especially if you add a pair of cowboy boots to round out your ensemble.”
    A grin tugged at the side of his mouth, and his eyes glimmered. “Now that’s a lousy visual.”
    â€œOn you? I’d have to see it,” she began, then reeled in her thoughts. What in the world was she doing? Flirting with him?
    As much as she’d hoped to avoid John Doe for the rest of his stay in Brighton Valley, she had to face the facts. He’d been invited to stay at Doc’s ranch, and he’d 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 he’d been wearing sat next to a dusty pair of expensive Italian shoes.
    Again, she was reminded that he hadn’t been dressed like any of the men who called Brighton Valley home. He was going to need something suitable to wear on the ranch—jeans and boots for a starter.
    Leaving the loafers behind, she removed the bag and shut the closet door.
    â€œCan I look at those before you take them?” he asked.
    â€œOf course.” She carried the bag to him, then waited as he peered inside.
    â€œDo they look familiar?” she asked.
    He slowly shook his head and handed them back to her. “I wish they did.”
    Her heart went out to him, even though she wished it hadn’t. And she felt herself being drawn closer to him, more involved.
    â€œThen if it’s all right with you,” she said, “I’ll take these home with me, wash them and bring them back this evening when I come to work.”
    â€œI hate to have you go to the trouble.”
    She offered him a smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be carrying your own weight before you know it.”
    â€œYou can count on that. ”
    He’d 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 wasn’t 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 keep—whether she did or not.
    â€œWell,” she said, “I’d better go. I’ll see you tonight.”
    â€œThanks,” he said. “I really appreciate all you’ve done. You’ve gone above and beyond for me, and you don’t have to.”
    No, she didn’t. And she probably shouldn’t. But every time she gazed into his eyes, every time she spotted his vulnerability and sensed how lost he was, she couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone.
    â€œJust pay it