CHAPTER 3
Morgan’s thoughts were drawn back to present as she sat bedside, staring at the man found on her property, not entirely sure how she got there or how long she had been sitting in his room. He was clean-shaven, revealing a firm chiseled jaw and prominent cheekbones. His dark raven hair was well kept in a clean close cut style that was slightly longer on top.
She couldn’t help but notice his hands. They were big, strong even, but what stood out more so was how clean and smooth they were. Even his nails were nicely trimmed and even.
He lay in a hospital gown now, but she recalled his attire when they found him. He wore crisp new looking jeans, a white V-neck t-shirt under a blue flannel that matched the eyes she was able to see briefly, and a soft leather jacket. He looked the part of a common town folk, or even a rancher at first glance, but she saw through the designer duds and man salon grooming. This guy wasn’t used to working with his well-manicured hands, and although she couldn’t help but notice the fine outline of a well-defined physique, under that gown, she imagined it was the result of a high paid trainer, rather than a hard day’s work.
He screamed pricey suit and tie, expensive lifestyle, and high-rise city folk. Not that there was anything wrong with that. In fact, she imagined he probably looked mouthwatering in a good suit. This imagined life she’d manufactured while sitting there could explain why he ended up in the predicament that he did – inexperienced city boy. Perhaps. It didn’t explain why he was in McKenzie, on her property, or where he came from though.
As if question cued his awareness, the sound of a gravely throat clearing and restlessness in the bed had her on her feet. Her stranger was tossing and turning in agitation as awareness sunk in. The pull in his arm, from the IV that had been placed, caught his attention quickly and had him upright scanning the room.
Obvious confusion washed over him, as his hands rose to his head as if to steady the dizziness his sudden movement caused. His breath caught on what must’ve been pain, given the grimace he wore across his face. He began to cough a dry cough, holding his right side as he did.
“Whoa, easy there,” Morgan said, in a gentle tone as she lifted a cup of water with straw to his mouth, “drink this, it’s just water. Small sips – it’ll help.”
The man complied, and began to relax with each sip of water, quenching his thirst and hydrating his scratchy throat. Morgan lifted the head of his bed and fluffed his pillows before helping him lay back. “There ya go, is that better?”
“Yes,” came a deep husky voice. “Where am I? What’s all this?” he finished, motioning to the IV before finding the gauze on his head that he discovered moments prior when his head had protested his rapid movement.
“You were hurt. Thrown from a horse, we believe,” she answered gently.
“Who-who are you?” he asked, clearly still confused.
“Morgan Jameson. You were found on my property. You hit your head pretty good,” she said, motioning to his gauze wrapped head, “you also have a few bad ribs, and sprained knee. Doc said you’ll be sore for a while, but should heal just fine.”
“That explains the headache, geez,” he replied in a pained tone, letting out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe they told you all of that, so much for privacy.”
“Well, like I said, you were on my property and I also happen to be the investigating officer on the case.” She winked, trying to keep the mood light. “So, my turn. Who are you? Who should we call for you?”
His stare froze, and his face paled as his eyes grew large and his body tensed. Something was wrong.
“What’s your name?” Morgan clarified, remembering his concussion and possible confusion it could cause.
He turned his head away, ever so briefly, “I…I,” his startled gaze returned to Morgan with a furrowed brow and expression of concern, or maybe fear, etched on his face. “I don’t know.”
“We haven’t had a single missing person’s report, Doc,” Blake said, catching up Doc Charles on the stranger’s case. “We’ve expanded nationally…nothing.”
“Surely someone’s missing him? How can that be?” Doc questioned.
Blake shook his head, baffled himself. “No clue. Ran prints and everything – not a single hit.”
“We’re in a tough spot then. I should’ve released him yesterday, at the latest, but…” Doc Charles crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head. “He’s all there, smart guy, just doesn’t know who he
is.”
“I made some calls, cashed in favors, nothing,” Blake offered, referring to his connections
that nobody really knew anything about other than they were somehow connected to his secret suspected undercover special ops military past. Nobody asked questions about it because they would just go unanswered.
“Look, there’s no reason for me to keep him, medically. My assumption is that he has subconsciously forgotten for some reason and it will all come back. I just don’t know when,” Doc replied.
“Pfft,” Morgan guffawed, “assumption? How science-y
of you, Doc.”
“We’ve run the tests, done the scans – no medical reason other than a hit to the head that’s healing nicely. We’ve seen stuff like this before; I think there is a psychological factor weighing on the physiological aspect, complicating his overall circumstance,” Doc recited, matter of factly.
“So…you’re saying this guy doesn’t want
to remember?” Blake questioned.
“Perhaps. What I can confirm without a doubt – it’s not entirely from the injury, and I need to release him…but to whom or where?”
Morgan’s stare met that of the stranger’s through the hospital room door window that stood between them. Doc’s words raced through her head while she took in the timid smile he cast her way. Something about this man had her attention. Something more than his polished good looks.
There was something genuine, wholesome, and maybe even a bit lost, dancing in his eyes. She believed Doc, there was something more. His wounds were more than skin deep; she could see it – something that made him want to forget his own name and where he belonged. Whatever it was, it was pulling her in, and she hoped she wouldn’t regret what she was about to do.
“He can stay with me – release him to me,” she said with urgency while shifting from foot to foot as her fingers rubbed together in an anxious manner.
“Pffft…have you lost your
mind, Jameson? No, won’t allow it,” Blake scolded with crossed arms and what felt like a fatherly tone.
“Excuse me?” She gasped, completely offended by his audacity. “I’m your partner, not your child, Blake Cooper.”
Blake tossed his head back and released a deep sigh. “Morgie, we don’t know anything about this guy. If Doc’s right…”
“I’m right,” Doc interrupted with a sly grin, amused by the banter before him.
Blake gave him a side eye warning before finishing. “If Doc’s right
,” he paused, daring Doc to interrupt with another cocky claim, “then this guy may not be – all together, if you catch my drift? It may not be safe…at all.”
With her hands now firmly placed on her halfcocked hips, Morgan questioned, “So are you going to take him in? Offer him a place to stay while we sort all of this out and find out where he belongs?”
“Hell no!” he quickly retorted. “I live alone and like it that way.”
“Then that settles it!” With a quick shrug of her shoulders and a sassy grin that read challenge accepted, she made a brisk pivot to her left and entered her mysterious stranger’s hospital room.
“Aww, shit,” Blake conceded with a dramatic eye roll.
“Well, that went well,” Doc chuckled. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a John Doe to release to Jameson there.”
“I can’t accept your offer Morgan, it’s too much,” the stranger admitted. “It wouldn’t feel right.”
“It’s no trouble, you fell on my property. It’s only fitting I offer you a place to stay until we figure out…who you are and where you belong,” she insisted.
The stranger sat, speechless, fully aware that if he did have somewhere to go, though he hadn’t a clue where that was at the moment. Morgan’s offer sounded more of a done deal than an option. He felt like a burden, though her offer didn’t feel like one of obligation, but more one of genuine concern.
“You know I don’t hold you responsible, right? I may not know how I got there, but it certainly wasn’t your fault. You aren’t responsible for me,” he gently said, hoping his message was understood.
“I know,” Morgan retorted. “Where will you go instead? Doc here is giving you the boot.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“See, it’s settled. Granny Lou has your clothes; she’s washing them for you. I’ll be back later this afternoon with them when I pick you up. “Gentlemen…” She offered a nod to each as she left the room, not leaving opportunity for anymore resistance from any of the men who were quickly becoming a pain in her ass.
“Is she always like that?”
Blake and Doc both laughed and said, “Yep!” in unison.
Blake’s smile quickly transitioned to an intimidating frown, zeroing in on the town’s new anonymous guest. “I want you to know I am not a fan of this plan,” he began in a dark tone, full of promises, not threats. “Jameson is a hardass. She can hold her own, but she’s my friend. You’re not, and I’ll be watching.”
Appreciating the moment for what it was and feeling a deep connection to the situation himself, Doc stepped forward, crossed his arms and chimed in, announcing his agreement. “Yeah, me too…” he began, losing his tough guy presence just as quickly as he found it, “besides, you’re my patient so I really will be lookin’ in on you from…time…to time.”
Blake’s stern head shake and disappointed expression in Doc’s quick to soften attitude knocked the wind from Doc’s tough guy sail.
“What?! I’m not as good at this as you! I’m a doctor, I fix people. I leave the ass kicking and bone breaking to you – you keep me in business.”
“Hey, I understand,” the stranger said with both hands up in front of him, surrendering to their strong arm declarations. “I’m not a threat, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be gone just as soon as…I can.”