Victoria Pade - Willow in Bloom

“Luckily, I’d been socking away prize and endorsement money for a lot of years,” Tyler continued. “So I bought this place and came here to settle down.”

“How did you end up choosing Black Arrow for that?” she asked, since when she’d told him that fateful June night that this was where she lived, he’d never heard of it before.

Tyler laughed again and inclined his head in a way that made Willow think he was confused by the choice himself.

Then he confirmed that by saying, “I don’t know for sure how I chose Black Arrow. Here’s the thing, the concussion blanked out some of my memory. It left me with some holes. When it came time to pick a place to settle down, Black Arrow popped into my head. I’m pretty sure it’s connected to some other things I’ve forgotten, things I’m trying to remember, but one way or another, something about it just seemed right. Right enough so that I contacted a Realtor here and bought this place sight unseen.”

“You lost your memory?” Willow asked, seizing on that part of what he’d said because it was so vital to her.

“Not all of it. Mostly I’m blank about things that happened in the weeks just before the accident.”

“People, too?”

“Places I’d been, rodeos I’d ridden in, prizes I’d won, a commercial for cowboy hats that I did, and yes, people, too. Friends my brother tells me we spent time with I have no memory of having seen, people I’d just met, people I wish I hadn’t forgotten.”

Willow didn’t know exactly what that last part meant. “How could you wish you hadn’t forgotten someone if you’ve forgotten them?”

“It’s kind of like the way it was with Black Arrow. Almost like an itch I can’t reach. Something tells me things were important, but I don’t know why or what or who, and I just keep hoping something will happen to bring it all back. Or at least some of it.”

It was slowly sinking in that it wasn’t only her and their night together that he didn’t recall. That it wasn’t a matter of her being unmemorable or of him having so many one-night stands that they didn’t mean anything to him. She and their night together were a part of a bigger picture. A part of many things that he’d lost.

“So you actually have a medical condition?” she asked, just to have it confirmed.

“A part of the memory portion of my brain was damaged from the concussion and induced a limited amnesia, yes. I know it sounds incredible, but that’s what happened.”

I could tell him, Willow thought. Right now. I could tell him he’s already met me. On that Friday night before his accident. That we were together all night and that was where he heard about Black Arrow.

But would that bring it all back to him? she wondered. Or would it only seem like a story to him? Maybe not even a believable one, since she hadn’t mentioned it before now.

She had no way of knowing.

But what she might have was an opportunity, she thought suddenly. The opportunity to let him get to know her. The real her—Willow. Not the dressed-up, drinking, partying Wyla who had spent the night with him before she even knew him.

And if she used that opportunity to let him get to know the real her, maybe he would like her for who she was.

The idea appealed to her.

It was as if she could erase—at least temporarily—the one thing she’d done that she was most ashamed of. The one thing that gave the absolutely wrong impression of her and of the person she truly was.

It was almost like having a clean slate. For a little while, anyway. And at this point, she thought, she should take what she could get.

So she didn’t tell him that she was one of the people he’d forgotten. That they’d spent the night together in Tulsa. She held her tongue and allowed herself to take advantage of an opportunity that maybe fate had offered her. Instead of telling him anything, she said, “Are the headaches from the concussion?”

“Yeah. The doctors say they’ll probably go away eventually, and they are getting better. But still, when one hits, I’m in a world of hurt.”

“I should go then, and let you rest. You’re probably wiped out after you’ve had one.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her again.

But Willow was so relieved, so thrilled that she hadn’t been just one of many unnoteworthy one-night stands that she almost felt giddy, and she was afraid it might show if she didn’t get out of there.

So she set her glass on the floor, too, and stood. “No, really, I should be going.” Then she screwed up her courage for the second time and said, “But if you want, we could do some furniture shopping tomorrow evening. After I close up the store.”

He stood again, too, pausing to smile down at her as if he liked not only the suggestion, but what he saw, as well. And it did fluttery, feminine things to her insides.

“You’d do that for me?” he asked in a flirty tone she remembered well.

“Sure. Just consider me Black Arrow’s welcoming committee,” she flirted back, surprising herself by how easily she’d fallen into it.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

She wouldn’t have minded even if she didn’t have a secret agenda. “No, honestly, I don’t mind.”

“That would be great, then. I really need a couple of tables—like a coffee table and maybe a kitchen table. I’m sick of standing at the counter to eat.”

“Good. Then it’s a date.”

Why had she said that? She could have kicked herself.

“Not a date date,” she amended in a rush. “I wasn’t asking you out or anything. I mean I’m not coming on to—”

“I know,” he said, stopping her before she made things any worse. Then he leaned slightly forward and confided, “It would have been okay even if you were.”

Willow was not a person who blushed. She’d grown up with four brothers, after all. She would never have survived if she had been overly sensitive. But she could feel her cheeks heating and she didn’t seem to be able to stop it.

And worse yet, she knew he was seeing it because his agile mouth stretched into an amused grin.

Unlike her brothers, he didn’t say anything about it, however. “When’s closing time? I’ll meet you at your store.”

“Six. Closing time is at six,” she managed to reply.

“Maybe after we’re finished shopping I could buy you dinner. As payment for your decorating services.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“How about if I just want to?” he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I guess that would be okay,” Willow conceded. “Nice, even.”

“Then it is a date.”

He was teasing her. She could see it in the sparkle in his eyes. In that quirk of his lips that let her know he was enjoying himself.

And then, from out of nowhere, Willow had a burst of memory from their night in Tulsa, and what hadn’t been clear in her mind before—how she’d gotten from the blues club to his room—became vivid.

It had started with a kiss. A good-night kiss he’d asked if he could have when he’d walked her outside after the club had closed and they were facing each other just the way they were at this moment. A simple good-night kiss that had lit a fire between them and gone on from there.

And in that instant Willow wondered if, were he to kiss her now, it would be as combustible.

But of course, he wasn’t going to kiss her.

She also knew it absolutely shouldn’t happen, even if it were a possibility. That she shouldn’t let it happen, since she was trying to amend the impression he would have of her if he could remember her.

But still she couldn’t help wondering…

“I’d better go,” she said more forcefully, heading for the front door. “Thanks for the tea.”