“Of course, yeah, regroup. I have more water at my place and some leftover food, and even some ibuprofen, which seems to be missing from my first-aid kit.”
He closed the door of the truck and went around to the driver’s side. Sliding behind the wheel, he glanced at the petite woman in the seat next to him, her dark lashes creating two perfect crescents on her cheeks.
Maybe it would be better if he didn’t call his coworkers on this one. They were always telling him how impulsive he was, and this would give them more ammunition.
He studied Jane’s profile, convinced she was faking sleep, and started the truck.
The woman had to be about a 110 soaking wet. He’d feed her, let her get some rest and get her bearings.
How much trouble could she be?
THE BORDER PATROL AGENT...Rob...prodded her shoulder. “Are you awake? Conscious?”
She stretched her arms and rubbed her eyes. She’d been awake the whole way but didn’t want to face any more of his questions. How could she? She didn’t have any answers.
She’d learned she was somewhere between the Mexican border and Tucson, but how she got here, she hadn’t a clue. Scratch that. She’d been driving that car when it crashed. She hadn’t even thought to grab anything from the car before she scrambled out of it.
Now she had nothing...except that knife, which he’d taken. She slid a gaze at the earnest young man beside her. Well, nothing except this hot Latino with his soulful dark eyes and ready sympathy.
“Feeling any better?”
“Not much.” She clapped a hand on the back of her neck and twisted her head from side to side. “I’m feeling stiff.”
“This is my place.” He pointed out the windshield as they pulled into the driveway of a small house with lights burning in the front windows. “I’ll get you some ice, ibuprofen, food and water—in whatever order you want—and then you can make your plans in the morning.”
“Water, pain meds and ice first.” She finished off the bottle of water still clutched in her hands. Her plans for the morning swam in her head in a misty fog with all the other confusing thoughts—including her identity.
Jane—what an idiot. Why didn’t she just call herself Jane Doe? Rob didn’t believe her for a second. What else hadn’t he believed?
At least he hadn’t run to the cops. She’d felt sure a Border Patrol agent would be duty-bound to call the police and report the accident and its strange victim.
His face had softened when she’d told him the story about the violent ex-husband. She cringed a little inside when she saw how her lie had affected him... But it could be the truth.
Maybe one of those men who’d planned to kill her by setting fire to the car was an ex. She couldn’t remember their words right now, but they’d come to her later—unless she had some sort of weird short-term memory loss where she couldn’t remember even recent events.
She remembered Rob Valdez, though, and his kindness. Her gaze flicked over him. And the way that shirt from his green uniform hugged his shoulders and tightened across his chest when he moved. She couldn’t be too messed up if she could still appreciate a handsome man in uniform.
She jumped when he put his hand on her arm. His touch sent some sort of electric current through her system, or it made her nervous.
He snatched his hand back. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m still on edge.”
“If you’re nervous about coming into my house, I can check with my coworker and his wife. You might feel more comfortable there.”
She doubted she’d feel more comfortable with another Border Patrol agent. She couldn’t possibly get lucky a second time with a law enforcement official who wouldn’t run straight to the cops.
“It’s not that. I’m still nervous about my ex...and what he did to me.” As she threw that last bit in there, Rob’s eyes turned into liquid velvet. His pumped-up frame housed a soft heart—and she had to take advantage of that soft heart right now, no matter how wretched it made her feel.
He snatched his keys from the ignition, and all that softness morphed into hard lines and a clenched jaw. “I can imagine, but you’ll be safe here.”
And she believed him—not only that she’d be safe with him but that he could imagine. Of course, what did she know? How could she read people when she couldn’t remember any people in her own life?
“I’ll help you out.” He clambered from the truck with his equipment belt squeaking and a backpack slung over one shoulder.
By the time he came around to her side of the truck, she’d unlatched her seat belt and grabbed on to the water bottle—her single possession at this point besides her dirty and tattered clothing.
He opened the door and held out his hand. “Hang on.”
She did hold on to his hand while he guided her out of the truck and walked her up to his house. The blue door with the light above it stood out against the beige stucco of the house. The door fitted into an arched entryway that led to a courtyard with potted cactus and chairs gathered around a wood-burning potbellied stove. He wouldn’t have need of that during what must be summer.
She placed a hand over her heart. She didn’t even know the season, but the intense heat marked it for summer.
“Are you all right?”
“You’re a kind person.”
A flush edged into his face just beneath his mocha skin, and he snorted. “Kind? Okay.”
They crossed the courtyard, and he unlocked the front door. The tile floors and adobe walls created a cool cocoon, and she released a long breath.
Rob dropped his stuff on a bench in the foyer and brushed past her as he strode into the living room. He gathered some throw pillows on the couch and bunched them up on one side.
