LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I guess.”

      “You sustained trauma to the torso area. Do you remember them assaulting you?”

      “I...” He caught glimpses, flashes of images.

      “Scott, why did they shoot you?”

      “Enough, Ryan,” Bree snapped. “You’re upsetting him.”

      “It’s my job to get answers, Breanna.”

      “Well, he’s obviously not up to giving you answers, so back off.”

      “I’m calling the chief.” He turned and walked out.

      “You do that,” she muttered.

      It was like they were ten-year-olds fighting over the last peanut butter cookie. A rush of memories filled his thoughts. Scott cracked a smile. They reminded him of he and Emily when they were kids, always competing with one another.

      “What’s so funny?” she challenged.

      “You guys remind me of me and my sister.”

      “Hey, you remembered something, that’s great.”

      “Yeah, memories from twenty years ago,” he said. “So what’s the deal with you and the cop?”

      “Ryan practically grew up at our house, so he’s more like a brother than a cousin. And one thing I do not need is another overly protective brother-type in my life.”

      “It’s not their fault.”

      She cocked her head in question.

      “There’s something about you that makes us want to take care of you.”

      “Well, you shouldn’t. I’ve taken karate and carry a wicked can of pepper spray in my bag, police grade.” She cocked her chin.

      Yet he sensed trepidation behind her confident words.

      “Can I ask you something?” he said.

      “Sure.”

      “Why are you here?”

      “Do you want me to leave?”

      “No, of course not. I’m just trying to figure out how I got so lucky.”

      “You were shot, sustained a concussion and bruised ribs. What’s so lucky about that?”

      “The fact that a beautiful woman is sitting beside my bed.”

      She blushed and glanced at their hands. “You’re embarrassing me.”

      “Sorry, it was meant to be a compliment.” Scott didn’t remember a lot, but he knew that most women appreciated compliments.

      Wasn’t it obvious Bree wasn’t “most” women?

      “How’s Mr. Smith?” a doctor said, coming into the room.

      “Actually, he remembered his name,” Bree offered.

      “Excellent.” The doctor extended his hand to Bree. “I’m Dr. Vann and you are who, his girlfriend?”

      “No.” She blushed again. “Just a friend.”

      She looked even more adorable when she blushed. Scott’s chest ached with wanting something he could never have—a gentle, nurturing woman like Bree in his life.

      “Let’s take a look.” Dr. Vann flashed a penlight in Scott’s eyes and examined his head wound. “Head injuries are tricky. I suspect you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia, a condition where a patient forgets the events preceding and immediately following the head injury. The severity of the injury will affect how far back you can remember. Do you recall what happened leading up to your injury?” The doctor jotted something on a clipboard.

      “No, sir,” Scott answered.

      “What is the last thing you do remember?”

      A memory sparked in his mind of he and his partner, Joe, interviewing a witness. “I remember a case I was working on.”

      “And when was that?”

      “I’m not sure.”

      “Do you know why you’re in the hospital?” the doctor asked.

      “Someone shot me.”

      “So, you remember the shooting?”

      “Not really.”

      Dr. Vann glanced at Scott.

      “I told him what happened,” Bree said.

      “We should probably let him remember on his own,” the doctor said.

      “Oh, okay, sorry.”

      Scott did not want her feeling badly because of him and he knew the sooner he got out of here and away from Bree, the safer she’d be. “How long do I have to stay in the hospital?”

      “Overnight to keep an eye on the head injury.” Dr. Vann glanced at a pager on his belt. “I’ll check in later. The best thing for the patient is rest.” The doctor nodded at Bree and left the room.

      A phone vibrated in Bree’s pocket and she pulled it out, glanced at the text and frowned.

      “You need to go,” Scott said. “It’s okay.”

      “It’s not critical. It’s my brother pulling his boss card to get me away from,” she hesitated, “the hospital.”

      “You mean away from me?” He cracked a half smile.

      “Pretty much. Don’t take it personally. The perks of having an overprotective family.”

      “Sounds nice.” And it did, especially since he’d grown up in a single parent household with a mom who had to work two jobs to support Scott and his sister. There had been no extended family, no protective adults to keep an eye on Scott and Emily.

      He suddenly grew tired and couldn’t hold back a yawn.

      “I should let you sleep,” she said.

      “Okay,” he said, but he didn’t let go of her hand. His eyes drifted shut and his mind wandered, his imagination landing on a peaceful, majestic view of a valley from the top of a mountain.

      And beside him stood the adorable Breanna with the enchanting smile.

      * * *

      Bree decided to spend the night at the hospital. Her family and friends followed Mom’s lead and supported Bree’s decision to help the stranger. Once the police determined the gunman was no longer in the hospital, Bree sent everyone home while she hovered at Scott’s bedside. She was even able to convince Aiden to feed and walk Bree’s dog, Fiona, but not without a lecture.

      At first Bree wasn’t sure hospital staff would let her hang out all night, but Chief Washburn said it was okay and left 24-hour police protection outside Scott’s room. Bree felt safe and was where she needed to be—beside Scott’s bed.

      When they’d come in to check his vitals he’d wake up with a panicked look, asking where he was and what had happened. Bree would tell him he was safe, everything was okay, and he’d drift back to sleep.

      But morning came and Aiden demanded she show up at work by noon or find another job. It was an empty threat, of course, but she respected his position and did as ordered, leaving Scott alone. She hoped he’d sleep most of the day to give his body a chance to heal.

      She didn’t like being away from Scott, but couldn’t rationalize blowing off an entire day of work to babysit a grown man, a stranger. Still, when she thought about the vulnerable look on his face she knew she’d get back to the hospital. She only wished it was earlier than eight in the evening.

      Thanks to big brother Aiden, she had extra holiday lights to string along the split rail fence bordering Resort Drive. No surprise that he’d

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