A Cold Creek Christmas Surprise. RaeAnne Thayne

talk to the Bowman family,” she stated, still dreamily. “It’s really important.”

      This whole thing was so strange. What was she doing here? What did she need to talk to his family about? He frowned as he eased away from her, but she had already closed her eyes again.

      She didn’t look at all comfortable. After a pause, he reached down and slipped off her shoes, but that was about as far as he dared go.

      He grabbed a soft fleece blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked it under her chin, then stood back and studied her.

      What an odd day. Why couldn’t he shake the strange feeling that something momentous was happening? He didn’t like it, especially because he didn’t understand it.

      After a moment, he gave her one more careful look then turned and walked from the bedroom. The sun went down early on a late-December afternoon. In another hour, it would be dark, which meant he needed to hustle out to take care of chores. He was a rancher, which meant he didn’t have all day to stand and look at his mysterious guest, no matter how lovely she might be.

      Chapter Four

      Sarah awoke to a mouth as dry as the Mojave in August and, conversely, a desperate need to use the bathroom.

      She opened her eyes slowly and tried to make sense of where she was, why the room didn’t look familiar. A lamp glowed beside the bed, illuminating a comfortably feminine room. A plump armchair stood in one corner and just next to it, she could see an open doorway that looked like it contained the facilities she needed.

      When she sat up, a grinding wave of pain washed over her. Her head and her left arm seemed to be the focus of most of the pain but the rest of her body felt as if she had just ridden out the permanent press cycle on a front-loading washing machine.

      By the time she hobbled back out of the nicely decorated en suite bathroom, vague, rather unsettling memories were beginning to filter through.

      She was at the Bowman family’s River Bow ranch—she could tell by the log walls and the general decor of the place. She had fallen down the stairs while she was cleaning the ranch house after Caidy Bowman’s wedding.

      She remembered Ridge Bowman, suddenly—piercing green eyes, hard features, broad shoulders. He thought she was from a cleaning company, and she had been too much of a coward to tell him otherwise.

      She remembered an ambulance ride with a man who had Ridge Bowman’s same handsome features and those stunning green eyes.

      The actual trip from the clinic to the ranch house was mostly a blur of random impressions, pain and confusion and embarrassment. There had been a kind doctor, a painful procedure and then the rest was a blur.

      Why was she back at the River Bow and not at her room at the Cold Creek Inn? And how had she ended up in that bed with her shoes off and a pillow tucked under her arm?

      It must have been Ridge. Who else? Her stomach trembled when she thought about him taking care of her. Had he carried her inside? Slipped her onto the bed? Covered her with that blanket?

      She could hardly imagine it.

      She had to talk to him, right away, before things became even more complicated. She wouldn’t be in this mess if only she had been able to find the courage to tell him everything when she showed up on his doorstep, instead of letting her fear at what he might think of her overwhelm all her good sense.

      How long had she slept? She couldn’t see anything outside the fragile lace curtains. She found the clock radio beside the bed and was shocked to discover it was after 9:00 p.m. She must have been out of it for hours, though she wasn’t exactly sure how long she had been at the clinic in Pine Gulch.

      She was just trying to gather the energy and the courage to go in search of her unwilling host when she heard a knock on the door.

      “Ms. Whitmore? Are you awake?”

      Nerves trembled through her to join the aches and pains. “Yes. Come in.”

      He pushed open the door and stood there wearing a soft-looking blue shirt and jeans.

      You are one great-looking cowboy.

      The words seemed to echo through her memory, and she frowned, wondering where they came from. Not that it mattered—they were absolutely true. Ridge Bowman was even more handsome than she remembered, tough and rugged, with shoulders that looked as if they could bear the weight of the world.

      “I’m under orders from Doc Dalton to keep an eye on you through the night. I guess I’m supposed to make sure you’re not delusional or anything.”

      She thought of the crazy choices she had made since she showed up at the ranch that morning. Really. Cleaning the man’s house as an avoidance method. Could she be any more ridiculous?

      “I was half hoping this whole thing was some kind of wild nightmare,” she said. “Does that count as delusional?”

      The corner of his mouth danced up just a bit as if he wanted to smile, but he quickly straightened it again. “I’m supposed to check. Do you know your name?”

      “Yes. Sarah Whitmore.”

      “That’s what your driver’s license says.”

      He was holding out her bag, which looked incongruously feminine in his big, masculine hand.

      “You looked through my purse?”

      “I was trying to find a cell phone that had an emergency contact on it. I couldn’t find one.”

      She didn’t go anywhere without her cell phone. She frowned, trying to remember. “Did you check the car? It might be there. Otherwise, I probably left it at the hotel.”

      “I’ll look through the car again. Maybe it fell on the floor. I can also have Laura look at the hotel.”

      “Why don’t you just take me back to the hotel and I can look for myself?”

      He looked sternly implacable. “You can’t stay on your own tonight. Doctor’s orders. And as great as the service is now at the Cold Creek Inn since Laura took over, she just can’t send a desk clerk to your room every couple of hours to check on you. I’m afraid you’re stuck here, at least overnight.”

      She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t come up with the words, between the pain and her angst.

      Some of her distress must have shown on her features. He held out a water glass she hadn’t noticed before, along with a bottle of medication.

      “You’re also late for your pain pill. Sorry about that. I was supposed to give it an hour ago, but I had a problem down at the barn and now I’m running late.”

      She didn’t want to take it—she and pain medication didn’t always get along—but she could hardly think around the pain in her head and her arm.

      “Maybe I had better only take half. I sometimes get a little, er, wacky on pain meds.”

      “Do you?”

      Again, that little corner of his mouth twisted up, and she had to wonder what had happened during the time she couldn’t remember.

      He broke the pill in half and held it out to her. She swallowed it quickly, more grateful for the water than the narcotic, at least right at that moment.

      She drained the glass then handed it back to him. “Thank you.”

      “Need something to eat? I’ve got plenty of leftover food from the wedding last night and you haven’t had a thing for hours.”

      “I’m not really hungry,” she said honestly.

      “I’ll bring you a couple of things anyway. That pain medication will sit better in your stomach if you’ve got something else in there.”

      He was gone for only a few moments. When he returned, he had a plate loaded with little sandwiches,