Page 14 of Sheltered by the Lawman

“Those are mine.” He grabbed them and placed them next to the door. “Ma came in and grabbed my things for me and she must have overlooked them.”

“Were you staying here?”

“Yeah, for about a year. All my things are back over at the main house where I’ll be staying for the time being.”

“I thought this place was empty. I can’t take your apartment.”

“Trust me, you can. Your alternative is the ranch hand quarters. I’ve stayed there a few nights. You wouldn’t get much sleep. Those boys have no manners.” His twinkling eyes told her he was kidding. “The fire is going good now and I bet you’ll want to take a shower. You still have some soot and blood in your hair.”

Self-consciously, she swiped her palms down her hair, realizing she must look a mess. Although she shouldn’t care because she had no one to impress but standing in front of a Greek God wasn’t good for the ego. “You’re right. I’d love to take a hot shower.” Working her bottom lip, she thought of the few items she had in the backpack. What kind of an impression would she make with the Cade family wearing the raggedy items?

He swept his gaze up and down her, and although she didn’t read anything but matter-of-fact in his expression, she certainly did feel a tingling in her nipples and a new awareness between her thighs.

“I’ll come check on you later,” he told her.

“Okay.”

“You have everything you need in the bathroom, and clean linens on the bed. Ma made sure of it.”

“Thank her for me, please. And thank you, Cull.”

“Enjoy your shower.” He gave her a small smile and left.

Monica dropped down on the couch and pressed her face into her palms. How could she ever repay the Cade family for their generosity? She didn’t want to be indebted to anyone, especially when she had no clue if her memory would ever come back. The idea that there was a possibility it wouldn’t made her feel overwhelmed, uncertain. The only person she knew just walked out the door. Although warning bells went off inside her head telling her that she couldn’t rely on anyone, what choice did she have? All she had to her name was a bag filled with clothes that were too large, a can of mace, and a picture of her face…

Standing, she promised herself that she wouldn’t get too comfortable here. She respected the space, and this was Cull’s home. It was obviously a bachelor pad, but tidy and private. Outside of the framed family photographs and shots of the ranch, there were several beautiful sculptures placed around the living room. An eagle perched on a rock. A deer with huge antlers. And the one she liked most was a statue of a cowboy sitting atop a horse. The TV remote was placed on the coffee table and she switched it on. She didn’t care about flipping through channels or even watching, but the noise soothed her. For some reason the quiet made her uneasy.

Stepping down the hall, the first door on her right brought her to the bedroom. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, she walked across the threshold and the first thing she smelled was a pleasant scent of sandalwood and leather. Cull’s scent. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered and she laid a hand against her chest, hoping the beating of her heart would slow some. She needed to stop allowing her body to respond so easily, so wildly.

Clicking on the overhead light, she saw that the room was decorated like the rest of the house with a few western photos and a couple of statues, but nothing personal. Her eyes were drawn to the big, soft looking bed and a neatly stacked row of matching fluffy pillows. It was inviting and she couldn’t wait to crawl between the covers. An image of Cull, naked, lying sprawled on the bed monopolized her thoughts. She forced her brain cells away from the unsettling image as she left the bedroom and found the bathroom, suddenly needing a shower more than ever.

Turning on the water, she adjusted the temperature, and undressed. Stepping under the hot spray, she sighed in relief. The feeling was pure heaven. This was one of the simplest things in life and she found great joy in washing her hair with the coconut shampoo and conditioner and lathering her skin with the feminine body wash that she suspected Cull’s mother had placed in there just for her. He didn’t smell like flowers, but had a wonderful masculine scent. Monica also guessed the pink razor and can of sensitive shaving lotion was also added for her benefit. The fact that she hadn’t shaved in a while hadn’t gone unnoticed to her.

With wrinkled hands and feet, she finally shut off the water and stepped out, curling her toes in the soft, blue rug. Reaching for the towel from the stack on the shelf, she brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent of fabric softener. When Cull had hugged her at the hospital this was the smell of his shirt. Everything felt good, smelled good…and she felt welcome here at the Cade’s.

Drying herself off and hanging the towel on one of the empty hooks, she switched on the fan to help with the steam. She swiped a hand down the condensation on the mirror and bent closer to look at the cut at her hairline. It didn’t look as raw, but the black-blue bruising and stitches seemed stark against her pale skin. The doctor said they would fall out on their own so she wouldn’t need to go back and see him unless her symptoms worsened.

She had several other small bruises and cuts over her body, but no recollection on how they got there. Had she fought the person who struck her over the head? An image of a fire poker flashed through her mind and a sharp pain through her temples. She rubbed her forehead, trying to bring other images into her head. Nothing came.

Monica wanted to believe that the poker was from her past, maybe what the person used to hit her with, but in her heart, she knew it was the same poker Cull had used on the antique stove. How would she know the difference between real memories and fabricated ones?

How long would she have to live in the cage of her foggy brain?

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