Page 67 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee
West gave an abrupt nod. Quinn rubbed her hands together, wishing she didn’t have to hurt him this way. She could only imagine what he must think—having a girlfriend/fiancée who held no memory of being with him.
Now was a good time to ask, without her brothershovering. “How long ago did we get engaged?”
“One day, before you...”
He fell silent, as if talking about the explosion proved too painful.
A secret engagement that was practically nonexistent. She didn’t know West Brand, didn’t remember anything about him. But those flashes of memory—teasing and seductive—of having amazing sex...
Surely that was West. Because Quinn felt certainshe was a one-relationship kind of woman.
Maybe if she got this taciturn man to talk about his past, his childhood, it would trigger a memory of their own relationship. Because surely West Brand had a better childhood than the one she recalled—a flurry of stepfathers blowing in and out of her life, her mother desperately searching for the one man who would make her happy, fulfill all her dreams.
Quinn was pretty sure that a man wasn’t the answer to fulfilling dreams. She remembered even telling her mother that at one point. Not that her mother had listened. A flash of memory surfaced—a pretty, but faded brunette woman looking at her with hurt eyes, and then shrugging as she applied lipstick, picked up a short jacket and told her to get into bed by nine o’clock.
A lump formed inher throat. There seemed to be more of those memories, along with the smell of cheap beer and wine and cigarettes, than there were of her mother tucking her in at night, reading to her, hanging her childish artwork on the refrigerator.
“What was your childhood like? Do you have sisters and brothers? Are your parents still together?”
West stiffened. Every muscle in his body seemed to turnto stone. His grip on the steering wheel became white-knuckle.
“Why are you asking?”
His voice was low and gravelly, carrying a hint of anger.
Quinn tensed, as well. “I thought...it was something we’d talked about before.”
He turned the truck left onto a dirt road, stopped and shifted the gears so the truck was in four-wheel drive. One hand on the wheel, West turned toward her.
“We didn’t. And I never talk about my family. They’re dead. An accident.”
Quinn felt a surge of horror and pity. This time she was the one putting her hand over his. “I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t know... I don’t remember.”
He gave a curt nod. “No problem.”
As they climbed upward, she struggled to come up with conversation that wouldn’t involve families, friends or delicate subjects.It was so hard. Quinn felt as if she treaded on emotional land mines—his and hers.
She gazed out the window. Weather and scenery seemed safe enough. “It’s very pretty here,” she noted, looking at the sweep of tall pines, white birch and cottonwood trees.
Odd how she could remember the types of trees, but couldn’t remember her own fiancé.
West nodded. “I used to come out here sometimes,relax and do some fly-fishing.”
Another memory struck her—sitting in flannel polka-dot pajamas before a stone fireplace, the flames flickering, as she dealt a deck of cards out on the floor. There was a redhead there, whose smile seemed strained.
“I have been in this area before,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Maybe a year ago.”
When she opened her eyes, West parked the truck ina gravel recess between two pine trees. He shut off the engine. “Here we are.”
Rex gave an approving bark from the back seat.
The pine-log cabin looked less rustic than she’d anticipated. Colorful pots of geraniums decorated a front porch, and pink and purple petunias filled a small planter set near the entrance. Inside, she examined the living room with its satellite television, comfortablesofa and chairs set before a rock fireplace, and the kitchen with a gas stove, refrigerator and microwave. There was a dining table for four, and the bathroom and bedroom looked remodeled.
As West dragged their suitcases into the cabin, she folded her arms. “This is how guys rough it?”
He grinned. “My friend’s idea of roughing it includes heat and hockey games.”
After they unpacked,they sat on the sofa, looking at the view from the floor-to-ceiling window. Rock canyon walls and pine trees surrounded them.
