Kelsey Roberts - The Best Man in Texas

Obviously satisfied with the first step, he scooted the stool around and braced her injured left foot against his chest.

“This might be uncomfortable,” he warned casually.

But there was nothing casual about the feel of his solid chest beneath her foot. She was aware of its systematic rising and falling as he breathed steadily, in and out. Conversely, her breath was were coming in shallow near gasps.

With slow deliberation, Dr. Dale began to wrap her foot and ankle in cool, wet fiberglass. Every time he stroked and smoothed the wrap, her heart fluttered. Molly was awash in conflicting emotions and a sense of self-loathing.

He was merely doing his job and she was mentally turning it into some sort of torrid moment. Her eyes were riveted to his handsome profile. The man’s face was an attractive combination of sharp angles and expressive compassion. Deep lines formed at the corners of his chocolate eyes as he continued his task.

Molly tried to redirect her thinking by glancing over at Julie and her baby. Apparently the baby was sleeping because Julie was seated, reading The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas.

Depressing reading, Molly thought. At the same instant, she heard selected passages of Thomas in her head. That meant she was either educated or well-read.

“Is that frown due to pain?” the doctor asked, startling her.

Molly shook her head. “I know Thomas.”

“The baby?” he asked, crooking his head toward the sleeping infant.

“The poet.”

Justin dazzled her with a wry smile. The flash of perfectly straight white teeth was accompanied by a glimpse of his very sexy dimple.

Molly struggled to keep her thoughts on task. “If I know poetry, that must mean something.”

“Yeah,” he said as he applied the final touches to her cast. “It means, unlike me, you have the ability to understand poems that don’t rhyme.”

She found herself smiling. “It is something, isn’t it?”

Justin met her eyes and held them. “Yes, it’s a good sign. It most likely means that your amnesia is a temporary reaction to the trauma you suffered. You should expect to get snippets of memory, then most things will come back in time.”

“In time? And what do you mean, ‘most things’?”

He patted her hand. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you never regain a clear memory of the accident. It’s your brain’s way of protecting you.”

Molly stared, stunned. “How am I supposed to know what happened to me?”

He shrugged. “You’ll probably never know unless they find the driver or a witness.”

“Great! I’d really like to know if someone was just irresponsible or trying to hurt me.”

“My educated guess is the latter. I don’t think it’s coincidence that you were beaten and hit by a car in the same week.”

“You have no idea how not comforting that is.”

A man in uniform stepped into the clinic just then. He greeted Julie in passing as he came over to where Molly was still stuck on her paper-covered bed.

Tipping the brim of his hat to her, he first addressed the doctor. “How’s the patient?”

“Um...forgetful?” he suggested with a sheepish wink in Molly’s direction.

“Sheriff Alec Younger,” he introduced. “I need to get some information, if you’re up to it, ma’am.”

“You won’t need a pencil,” Molly quipped.

Her joke was lost on the sheriff. “Ma’am?”

She looked at Justin, silently conveying that she would prefer him to supply an explanation for her strange circumstance.

He picked up on her unspoken need immediately. “Physically, I’ve done everything possible, but there’s a hitch.”

“Hitch?” the sheriff asked.

“There’s been a slight, probably short-term complication from the concussion she suffered.”

“You moving her to Fort Worth?”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

The sheriff rubbed the shadow of a beard on his chin. “So what exactly is this hitch?”

“Memory disruption.”

“Come again?” Sheriff Younger pressed.

“More commonly known as amnesia.”

The sheriff’s dark brows drew together. “Is this a joke, Justin? I’m not really in the mood for games. I was late getting here because of a suicide in Pinto.”

“You don’t have jurisdiction in Pinto,” Justin said.

“The Pinto suicide is related to this investigation,” Sheriff Younger explained. “I got a call from the Harrisons.”

“How are Kathy and David?” Justin asked.

Molly felt as if she were watching a Ping-Pong match. Couldn’t these guys stick to one topic of conversation?

“Bummed,” the sheriff answered. “They had a runner last night, then woke up this morning to find their latest guest had committed suicide.”

“I hope you aren’t talking about a hotel,” Molly said.

“The Harrisons run a shelter,” Justin explained, but his attention remained fixed on the sheriff. “So what does the suicide have to do with Molly getting hit by a car?”

“I’ll get to that,” the sheriff answered. He moved slightly closer to Molly and his piercing black eyes met hers. “I ran your name through our computer.”

Molly stilled, curious, anxious and panicked all at the same instant. “Am I in trouble?”

He shrugged. “Nothing came back. Not in this county, at least. Where are you from?”

“I don’t know.”

The sheriff looked annoyed. “This is serious, young lady. This isn’t a time for faking.”

“I’m not faking!” Molly insisted rather haughtily. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Sheriff Younger turned to Justin. “This is a pretty big hitch.”

“Yep.”

“Great. Well, you had a Texas license, Austin address. I’ll run a check there.” The sheriff turned as if to leave.

“Wait!” Molly grabbed his sleeve. “I think I need help.”

“She’s right,” Justin added. “I found some old injuries.” He went on to detail the results of his physical examination.

The sheriff took some time absorbing the information, then said, “Well, that might fit with what I learned at the Harrisons.”

“Which was?” Justin queried.

“That Ms. Parker is their runner. But there’s a problem.”

“Problem?” Molly repeated.

“Yep. The woman who committed suicide at the shelter last night was a woman named Sara Pierce.”

“What does that have to do with Molly?” Justin pressed.

“She killed herself with an overdose of prescription drugs.”

“Unfortunately a common means of ending one’s life,” Justin offered.

“Sure,” the sheriff said, speaking directly to Molly, “but the prescription belonged to you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“SO, AM I like a suspect or something?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Depends on the results of the Pierce woman’s autopsy.”

Molly felt an odd sensation. It was like a flashbulb going off in her mind. It was so quick she couldn’t hold the image.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked as he took her hand in his. In one fluid motion he had managed to shove the sheriff off to the side to give her his full attention.

“Y-yes.” Molly rubbed her palm across her forehead. “I just blanked for a minute.”

Justin turned to the sheriff and said, “Alec, maybe now isn’t a good time for this.”

“I’ll be back.”

The sheriff’s proclamation did little to calm Molly’s frazzled state. Who were the Harrisons? Who was Sara Pierce and what did any of them have to do with her?

Without dropping her hand, Justin pulled his stool to the edge of her bed and lowered his more than six-foot frame onto it. “Don’t make yourself crazy, Molly. Just relax and things will probably fall into place.”

She felt herself frown. “Probably?”