Willow in Bloom

And he didn’t really buy it. She could see the doubt in his expression.

But he went along with it, anyway.

“No, there’s just me. I’ll be the only one on the account. Shouldn’t you be writing something down?”

Willow felt even more stupid—if that were possible—because he was right, she hadn’t so much as taken out a piece of paper or a pencil.

She did that now, filling in his name at the top of the form she used.

“You’ll have to give me the formal address. I know the Harris place, but I don’t know the numbers off the top of my head,” she said, trying hard to sound businesslike to counteract her total unprofessionalism up to that point.

Tyler rattled off the route number and zip code, and as Willow wrote those down, too, she worked to come up with more questions or conversation that might spur his memory without seeming completely inappropriate.

But she couldn’t think of anything, and instead just asked the usual things about his finances, references, and about how much feed and grain he thought he’d be needing per month.

And then the form was finished and all that was left was for him to sign it to authorize her to run a credit check on him.

When he’d done that, he stood. “Guess that takes care of it then.”

A sudden feeling of panic rushed through Willow at the thought that he was on the verge of leaving and she hadn’t made any headway whatsoever in getting him to remember her.

“So did you end up taking home all the prize money that weekend in Tulsa?” she asked in a last-ditch effort, hoping any mention of Tulsa or that weekend might spur something in him.

But it just seemed to dampen his mood again. “No, only Friday’s purse. The competition you must have seen,” he said, once more sounding as if he didn’t want to talk about it.

And maybe that was the problem, Willow thought. Maybe losing the following two days had caused him to block out the entire weekend. Her included.

Not that that made it any more heartening as she finally gave in and admitted she was failing miserably at making him remember her.

“You’ll let me know once you get the credit report and okay the account, so I can put in an order?” he asked as he made his way to the office door with Willow following him this time.

“I’ll be in touch,” she assured him, unable to keep her own dismay out of her voice.

Apparently he heard it, because he tossed her a small frown. But he didn’t question it. He just said, “I’ll be lookin’ forward to hearing from you. And to doing business with you.”

Willow could only manage a nod, at which point he headed down the main aisle and left the store.

And as she stood in her office doorway again and watched him go, she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

The one man she’d done something totally outrageous and uncharacteristic with, the one time in her life she’d ever done anything totally outrageous and uncharacteristic at all, had just strolled in, apparently without a single memory of ever even having met her.

And she didn’t know what to do about it.

It was so humiliating.

So humiliating that she wished that night they’d spent together could be left a secret she could carry with her to her grave, so no one would ever be the wiser. So her humiliation would never be known.

She wished she could steer clear of Tyler Chadwick for the rest of her life, in spite of those eyes and that face and that body.

And as she retreated back into her office and closed the door once again, she considered doing just that—steering clear of Tyler Chadwick for the rest of her life.

But she wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do. Even if he was the kind of creep who spent the night with a woman and then forgot all about it. All about her.

Because even if he was that kind of creep, even if he didn’t remember having met her, it didn’t change the fact that he had. That he’d done much, much more than just meet her.

It didn’t change the fact that she was now pregnant with his baby.

Chapter Two

“I’m sitting on my front porch with my feet up on the railing, drinking a steaming cup of coffee and watchin’ the sun rise. How’s that compare to a smelly motel room, a stale Danish and a cup of weak, lukewarm swill that’s supposed to pass for a cup a’ joe?”

“Mornin’, big brother,” the voice on the other end of the phone said when Tyler had finished his lengthy greeting. “Tryin’ to make me jealous, are you?”

“Yup.”

“Well, it’s workin’. This room smells like mildew, my complimentary continental breakfast is a muffin you could play hardball with, and I think the coffee was made yesterday.”

“And I wish I was there,” Tyler added, slightly under his breath.

Brick didn’t comment on that, and Tyler knew his younger brother didn’t know what to say to it.

But Brick didn’t let much silence lapse before he used Tyler’s utterance as a segue. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay. The headaches are still comin’ but they’re fewer and farther between, and the pills help when they do hit.”

“That’s something. What about the other? Are things clearin’ up on that front?”

“No. That’s the same.”

“And you haven’t found your mystery woman to help?”

His mystery woman. The woman he’d met at a blues club and spent that last night with. Whoever she was…

“If I have found my mystery woman it hasn’t helped,” Tyler said with a laugh to lighten the tone. “No, seriously, I’ve only met one woman—someone named Willow Colton. She runs the feed and grain store here and she isn’t my mystery woman.”

“Because she didn’t spark anything? You know what the doctors said about your theory that—”

“Not only because she didn’t spark anything. She recognized me from Tulsa in June because she was at the rodeo Friday afternoon and saw me ride.”

“So she’s not the one.”

“And she didn’t spark anything, so, no, she’s not the one,” Tyler said definitively.

But talking about Willow Colton brought her to Tyler’s mind. Vividly to mind. Something that had been happening every time he turned around since meeting her the day before.

She might not be his mystery woman, but she’d certainly struck a note with him. Of course, that shouldn’t have come as any surprise. After all, she was beautiful, so she would have struck a note with anyone. Beautiful with shiny licorice-black hair and skin as smooth as satin. High, broad cheekbones; a sweet little nose. Full, luscious lips the color of Colorado’s red rocks. And those eyes—luminous, ethereal, pale, pale dove-gray—those eyes could mesmerize a man….

“You’re probably right.” Brick’s voice broke into Tyler’s wandering thoughts. “Not only isn’t Miss Feed and Grain your mystery woman if she was at the rodeo, but if she’d been with you that night she’d have said it.”