“My colleagues are not completely wrong about me. I can be impulsive. I can be naive about the crime committed out here in the desert, away from the big, bad city.” He stepped over the coffee table to avoid squeezing past her on his way to the kitchen. “I’ll even admit that some part of me did believe your story—a woman on the run from an angry ex. I’ve seen enough of that in my childhood. I could relate. I could sympathize.”
“I had no idea I’d be pressing your buttons with that story. It just came to me as a possibility.” She pointed past him. “We didn’t finish cleaning up.”
“That’s where I was headed.” He made a stop at the table to collect the rest of their dinner. “I hate leaving a mess to clean up in the morning.”
“I do, too.” When Rob’s head swiveled around, she held up her hand and said, “I think I do.”
He tossed a dish towel over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make you anxious about recovering your memories if I jump every time you make a statement about yourself.”
“I don’t mind. Maybe it will all come back that way.” She yanked the dish towel hanging down his back. “I’ll dry.”
He rinsed suds from a plate and handed it to her. “Memory’s a weird thing, isn’t it?”
“If I didn’t think so before, it’s taken on a whole new dimension of weirdness for me.”
“I mean—” he handed her the second plate “—you don’t remember your name or where you’re from or who you are, but you clearly knew where Tucson was. And you remember how to speak Spanish.”
She rubbed a circle on the plate until it glowed. “Maybe the psychiatrist can explain that. I imagine it has something to do with the parts of the brain injured.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter, as long as someone can help you get on track. Then we can deal with those two men...and the rest of it.”
She slid a glance at his profile as he worked at the sink, his jaw tight. Was he as worried as she was at what discoveries her true identity might bring?
As she dried the last of the dishes, he sprayed some green liquid on his granite countertops and ran a paper towel over the surface until it gleamed. Was he really this particular or just stalling for time?
He didn’t think she’d fall into his arms or request they share a bed for the night, did he? Would she?
She said, “You can have your T-shirt back. April even threw in a couple of nightgowns with the tags still on them.”
“Yeah, she really came through.” He tossed the paper towel in the trash and rubbed his hands together. “I felt kind of crummy lying to her.”
She touched her fingers to her lips. “I’m sorry. That’s on me. She’s not the cop, right? Maybe we can tell her the truth.”
“April would help anyway. It doesn’t matter to her. It’s not like the woman hasn’t told a few lies in her time—all for the greater good, of course.”
“And that’s what this is, Rob—the greater good. The fewer people who know my identity, or lack thereof, the better. It’ll help me keep a low profile. Can you imagine the stir an amnesiac woman would cause in this town?”
“Everyone would be talking about you for sure. I agree, the greater good.”
He held out his fist for a bump, and she tapped her knuckles against his awkwardly. Were they buds now?
“Tomorrow we’ll visit Dr. Escalante at the hospital for some advice. Sound good?”
“Great—sounds great.” She wiped her hands on the seat of her pants, even though she’d just hung up a perfectly good towel. She backed out of the kitchen and spun toward the hallway. “Same bedroom? I mean, the same bedroom I had last night?”
Rob coughed and made a job of intricately folding a dry dish towel over the handle of the oven door. “I just have the two bedrooms. The third I use as an office.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I mean, the room I had last night.” She waved like an idiot and snatched up the pad of paper from the living room. “Okay, good night. Thanks for your help, Rob.”
She rounded the corner of the hallway and stubbed her toe on the edge. She bit her lip to suppress a cry and hopped on one foot to the bedroom.
She fell across the bed on top of April’s generous donation, covering her face with one arm. She hoped Libby wasn’t this lame in real life.
She pushed the pile of clothes onto the floor, knowing full well Rob would have a heart attack if he saw the tangled mess on the floor—but he wouldn’t be in this room. Two rooms. He had two bedrooms and this was hers, for now.
With her ear to the door, she listened to the splashing water and electric toothbrush from the master bathroom buried deep in Rob’s bedroom. In the midst of it all, she slipped into a coral-hued sheath with spaghetti straps and grabbed the little plastic bag containing the toiletries she’d purchased with her first salary.
Clutching the bag to her chest, she tiptoed into the bathroom next to her room and flossed and brushed her teeth. If Libby weren’t a flosser, she’d start some new habits with her new life.
Rob’s cell phone rang from his room and she heard his low voice rumble in answer. Maybe it was some woman wondering why he hadn’t called her back, or maybe someone he’d met on one of those online dating apps setting up a first date.
She couldn’t make out his words and didn’t try. The man deserved some privacy in his own home.
As she spit into the sink, he rapped on the bathroom door.
“Ja...Libby?”
Frantic eyes flew to the mirror, her gaze dropping to the skimpy nightgown clinging to and outlining her braless breasts. What was April thinking?
“Yeah?”
“Can you open the door?”
He seemed to be forcing his words through clenched teeth.
