Her Unexpected Cowboy (Unforgettable Cowboys Book 1) Read online

  The man grunted as his weathered face twisted in pain.

  A massive white dog came running towards them, growling in threat.

  “No, let him go!” a woman yelled as she ran toward him with a plate of food in one hand.

  His mind swirled, memories fighting to force their way to the surface. He blinked his eyes several times before finally focusing on the fierce multi-colored eyes of the woman in front of him. His brow furrowed, and slowly he relaxed just a tad.

  “Sydney.” His voice crackled as he blinked his eyes rapidly.

  “Yes, that’s me. Please let Homer go.” Her soft voice soothed the shaking inside of him. She held his gaze and walked slowly, calmly towards them.

  “You know him?” he asked her.

  “I’m the foreman,” Homer’s raspy voice shot out gruffly.

  He looked to Sydney. She nodded. He gently released the older man, never letting go of her gaze.

  “What...” he started and shook his head before grasping the stall gate for support.

  “You leave your date to sleep in the barn, Syd?” The foreman rubbed his arm, watching him as he backed into the stall.

  “He’s not my date.” The blush that crept across her cheeks faded her freckles, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her even with nothing making sense at the moment.

  “Oh, you already found my replacement? I have until June, ya know. My son could do without me until August if absolutely necessary.” The older man kicked at the straw at his feet.

  “I know, Homer. I appreciate you staying this long even though you planned to retire last year.” Sydney set down the plate, walked over to the older man, and checked his arm.

  “It’s fine,” the foreman said gruffly before he turned and hobbled out with the tools he had come in to fetch.

  Sydney watched him until he disappeared out the barn door.

  “Replacement?” he said in a halting voice. He had watched the interaction, doing his best to piece together what was happening.

  Sydney turned quickly toward him. He had lost most of the daze that had ahold of him just moments before. Sleep slowly faded away, yet his brain still buzzed with a strange emptiness.

  “Yeah,” she said, watching him intensely. “Why did you grab Homer like that? He’s no threat.”

  “I, uh.” He looked down at his feet. “It was pure reaction.”

  “Still no memory?” she sighed.

  “No.”

  She handed him the plate from where she had set it on the fence post. He looked at her as he took it and gave her a slight smile. Did her gaze just soften slightly?

  The smell of the food in his hands distracted him. Without preamble, he inhaled the breakfast she had brought.

  Sydney leaned against the fence and watched him. When he finished, he handed her the plate with a sheepish grin.

  “Thank you, I was hungry.” He cleared his throat. “I would say those were the best eggs I’ve ever had, but I guess I don’t really know.”

  “Have you thought about what you are going to do?” she asked him, her eyes seeming like she actually cared.

  “No, ma’am. I truthfully haven’t had the chance. Exhaustion overtook me.” As his situation came back to him in full force, that buzzing anxiety flared inside of him again.

  “I could still call Wil...I mean Sheriff Whitmore.”

  He cocked his head and watched her. By her comment he knew that this sheriff was more than just law enforcement to her. Watching her freckles fade in her blush confirmed his suspicion. “He a friend of yours?”

  “No. Yes.” She blew out a breath. “He kind of used to be. It’s a small town.”

  “I see.” He continued to watch her. “Do you trust him?”

  “No.” The word exited her quickly, and she threw a hand over her mouth.

  “That settles it. I would rather you didn’t involve him then, if you are comfortable with that?”

  She watched him for several moments. Yet, it didn’t seem uncomfortable. He knew she needed to feel him out. He wouldn’t blame her for not trusting him. He was a stranger, and a stranger with no memory and no idea what trouble he might bring upon her.

  “So what are you going to do?” she asked him.

  He shifted his weight, the anxiety becoming almost physical. A few deep breaths later, the buzz eased and he felt confident in his own skin again. He had no idea what past he had come from or what he would do for the future since he had no idea of even his name. Though, he knew he could work and hold his own, even as banged up as he was.

  “Well, I heard you need a replacement.” He looked at her from under his arched brows.

  “I, uh...” She hesitated, looking from him to the barn door and back again.

  “At least until I remember something? I’ll sleep out here. I won’t bother you, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Somehow it felt right to be here. This woman had opened her barn up to him and helped calm the anxiety of not knowing, well, anything.

  “Do you know anything about goats?” She cocked her head to the side, and he couldn’t help the softening he felt inside of him for her.

  “I don’t remember anything right now, Ma’am. Looking at these hands, though, I would say I know how to work.” He held his massive paws up, and he caught her licking her lips. Putting his hands back down caused him to grimace, and he pulled his arm closer to his chest again.

  “Let me have a look at that shoulder.” She took two steps over to him and slid her hands up his arm and around his shoulder.

  Heat filled his body instantly, awakening a part of him that was definitely not lost. Focus, you have nothing to offer this lady. He took in a deep breath and with it came the smell of her—sweet and pleasant.

  She pushed gently around his shoulder, and he took in a sharp breath. “Can you feel this?” She traced her finger down the inside of his palm to his finger tip.

  “Definitely,” he breathed out as her touch left a trail of fire that seemed to consume him. “You a doctor or something?” he asked to distract himself.

  “No, but I know dislocated shoulders.” Her eyes were focused and her voice had taken on a professional tone.

  He twisted to see her, a question in his eyes.

  “Swimming.” She shrugged. “I used to be a swimmer.”

  He nodded and grimaced. “The pain seems familiar, so it probably isn’t the first time I’ve done it. You know how to put it back in?”

  “Yeah, but you should probably let a doctor do it.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen.” He braced his legs. “How do you want me?”

  A small smile curved up the corners of her mouth, and she turned quickly to hide it.

  Heat filled him, distracting him from the pain he knew would come.

  “On your back,” she said, a bit abruptly. “It’s going to hurt like the dickens.”

  “Figured.” He blew out his breath as he lay back on the makeshift bed. “Do it.”

  Quickly, as if she were afraid she might change her mind, she gently pulled his arm alongside him and bent his elbow so his hand pointed towards the roof. With increasing, but tender, tension she pulled his arm down. Soon it popped back into place with a sickening smacking thump. He sucked in a sharp breath and ground his teeth, but he uttered no sound. Her grip and strength surprised him, and he tried to focus on that rather than the pain that lanced through him.

  “Better?” she asked as she laid his arm back on his chest.

  He rose and moved around a little. His arm, though sore, felt a million times better. “Yeah. Yeah, it is!” He squeezed her shoulder with a full smile. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” She looked at him, really seemed to take him in and read his eyes.

  He hoped she saw the truth, that she could trust him.

  She disappeared for a moment and then returned with a cloth. Without asking, she wrapped his arm in sling-like fashion and stood back.

  “I will need a fully functional replacement.” She crossed her arms across he
r chest. For being such a slight woman, her movements held strength.

  “Really?” he asked, feeling the right side of his mouth turning up.

  “Trial basis only. I will call Sheriff Whitmore the second I feel something not right.”

  “Deal.” He nodded.

  “What else is injured? Let’s have a look at that head.” She spent the next several minutes checking his injuries.

  His head was actually not as bad as he had originally feared. The leg that he hobbled on last night seemed to be able to bend this morning, yet it pained him. He had probably twisted his knee. He had road rash in multiple places on his arms, back, and it felt like on his legs and hips, but he hadn’t had the chance to inspect those.

  “You should clean these abrasions out.” She sized him up again. “I’ll show you to the bathroom.”

  He followed her towards the house in shock that she would allow him to invade her space. He could be a criminal escaping the law. He could be a psycho, but he didn’t think so. She had no idea though. Either she was naïve, trusting, or she felt the undercurrent between them as much as he did.

  “I do appreciate this, Sydney.” He kept his voice calm, hoping she could hear his gratitude. Things could have gone really badly had she called her sheriff friend.

  “Just don’t make me regret it.” She threw the words over her shoulder.

  A smile warmed through him. He liked her spunk.

  At the door, he took off his boots and put them to the side on the porch. Whoever he was, he had manners that had been ingrained in him.

  “Bathroom is the first door on the left. Towels are in the cupboard. I’m going to try to find you some clothes.” She turned away and headed back outside.

  The basic bathroom didn’t have a counter full of makeup or a blow dryer and curling iron. A peek in the shower showed simple shampoo and a bar of soap. It could be just a guest bathroom, but it smelled like her so he didn’t think so. The older, small home probably only had the one bathroom. Although there wasn’t an overall female presence to the room, there also was no sign of a male presence.

  No boots were outside, no sign of other vehicles to show someone else lived here and was just gone. This woman really did run this ranch on her own. Well, and the man whose arm he had almost ripped off. What was his name? Homer. Yes, he seemed like a decent guy though. He didn’t whine about the mistake.

  He took off the sling and grunted as he pulled his tattered shirt over his head and injured shoulder. It proved to be a difficult feat. Road rash lined his side and back. Removing his ripped pants showed more along the left side of his thigh as well. Bruising discolored a good part of him, his chest and stomach, arms, and the left side of his body. He was a mess.

  The hot water felt good even as it stung his abrasions. His muscles began to relax as he stood under the stream. He took in a haggard breath. What had happened to him? Who was he? Not knowing these most vital answers left an uneasy quelling inside of him.

  A soft knock on the door woke him from his perplexing.

  “I found some clothes that might fit,” Sydney said through the door.

  His heart thundered as he heard the door slowly open. Was she really coming in here? He peeked around the shower curtain, sure to keep his lower half hidden behind it.

  Sydney set a stack of clothes on the counter. Their eyes locked for a moment, before hers traveled down his chest and then raced back up to meet his gaze.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice deeper than normal.

  “They were my uncle’s, I hope they fit. Okay, uh, enjoy the rest of the shower.” Her voice quivered slightly, and she hastily slipped back out into the hallway.

  He stared at the door for a second more before dropping the curtain and returning to his shower. No longer did he stress over who he was or what had happened. The only thoughts that stayed active in his mind involved multi-colored eyes and freckled cheeks washing out under the pink of her blush.

  ~3~

  Sydney stopped struggling with the wire on the chicken coop for a moment to soak in the warm sun topping over the trees. She breathed in the fresh scent of new life, budding leaves and grass sprouts, and the beginnings of blossoms opening on the fruit trees.

  Guardian, who lay close by, lifted his head and let out a low woof.

  She followed the dog’s gaze to the stranger exiting her house. Biting her lips, she swallowed the giggle that wanted to burst forth. Guess the no-name cowboy was bigger than her uncle. He walked uncomfortably in high water jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it was painted on.

  As funny as it was, her breath caught as he closed the distance between them because she could see how the shirt hugged each perfectly sculpted peck and his washboard stomach.

  “A little tight,” he said with a shrug, letting the one-sided smile cross his lips. His limp was barely discernible now. She should have checked out his knee too.

  “Yeah, just a little.” She did her best to avert her eyes, and Homer rounding the corner gave her the perfect escape.

  “Hey Syd, I...what in the world, man? You let her do your laundry? This girl didn’t catch that gene.”

  Sydney’s face flushed, and she busied herself with the stubborn wire on the coop. Homer was right though, it wouldn’t have been the first batch of clothes she had ruined.

  “I’m headed into town for supplies. Want me to pick up some clothes to replace those?” Homer asked.

  “That’s actually a great idea, Homer. Thank you. Just put them on the ranch’s tab.” Relief flooded Sydney with a way to sidestep the embarrassment.

  “What are you, Hotshot, an extra-large? And definitely a thirty-six in length, not a thirty-two.” Homer wheezed out a chuckle.

  She couldn’t help but smile. It had been awhile since she had heard the older man laugh.

  “Sounds about right, sir. Thank you.” The cowboy sounded gracious, but he pushed back his shoulders as much as he could with being injured. Must be hard on the man’s ego to accept gifts.

  “Oh, it’s sir now...?” Homer turned, mumbling to himself.

  “Oh, and a hat. Yeah, a wide brim,” Sydney called after him.

  The older man nodded and walked out to the ranch truck.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” No-Name said, locking onto her gaze with those dazzling green eyes of his. “I’ll make it square as soon as I figure what’s going on.”

  “I’ll take it out of your pay.” She shrugged and focused on her task.

  “Good deal.” He nodded. “I’m going to walk back out to the road to look for evidence where I, uh, woke up last night. Now that it’s light I might be able to see something.”

  “Do you ride?” She smacked her forehead. “Sorry, would you like to ride? The horses need exercise.”

  “I would, but...” He pointed to his shoulder.

  “Yeah, so that’s twice I wish I could put my foot in my mouth.” She shook her head and dropped the wire she had been messing with. “By the way, where is the sling?”

  “I couldn’t get it back on.” He pulled the fabric from where he had tucked it into his back pocket.

  “Come on. I’ll fix up the sling, and then we’ll take my truck.”

  “I don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

  She laughed. “It’s my ranch, and I decide when to do my duties. Do you want a ride or not? As you said last night, it’s quite the driveway.”

  “If you’re sure. Thank you.”

  She wrapped the sling around him again, doing her best not to let his clean scent intoxicate her. Every time her hands brushed against his hard chest, fire sparked through her. By the time she finished situating the sling to support his shoulder, her breath came in quick bursts. Before he noticed, she took off at a brisk walk towards the truck.

  They hopped into the truck and bounced down the gravel drive. She wondered what it felt like to not remember anything, not have an identity, a history, even a name. This guy took it all so coolly. There were some days she wouldn’t
have minded losing her memory. Yet, she thought of all the happy moments she had here on the ranch as a child...no, she would never want to lose that.

  At the crossroads to the highway, she stopped the truck. Last night he had said he which way he came from, but she couldn’t remember.

  “Left,” he said simply, a small smile in his voice.

  “So, I’m directionally challenged.” She shrugged.

  “I didn’t say a thing.” Though the smile on his lips said enough.

  “Just tell me where to pull over.”

  “Slow down.” He leaned past her scrutinizing the road. “Keep going.”

  She could smell her shampoo in his hair. It mixed with his own scent and formed an aroma that had her squirming in the seat. His large hand held the dash in front of her as he leaned over to look out the window. Watch the road, Sydney.

  “Here,” he said, throwing the door open and jumping from the still-in-motion truck.

  Sydney pulled over in the gravel and put the truck in park.

  He crossed the road and walked up and down, and then bent to touch some dark skid marks. He pushed through the gravel on the side of the road, fingered a section where bare ground showed through. Standing back up, he looked up the road, the way they had been headed, towards town. Then he turned back to the marks and followed them in to the trees.

  Sydney jumped out of the truck and crossed the road to join him. Keeping out of his way, she stood back and just watched. He was focused, checking broken branches and smudges in the dirt that could be footprints. He didn’t seem to miss any detail, and didn’t seem to be hampered doing this with one arm in a sling. He headed off further into the forest. A couple minutes later he returned with a torn and smashed, black hat. Her heart raced...and a cowboy hat.

  “I would say this was probably mine.” He inspected the lost hat.

  “You seem to know how to track. Think you’re a hunter or something?”

  He shrugged, carefully punched the hat with his good arm in attempt to straighten it back out, and looked up and down the road again. “It looks like the subject pulled into this area without really slowing down and tossed me out of a truck, I would say, from the distance where I landed from the tire marks.”