the rancher and the rose

Chapter Two

The story so far: Handsome rancher Dylan Lowry and hotshot commercial Realtor Rose Ryan were once very much in love, and planned to marry. But he wanted a stay-at-home wife, and she wanted a high-powered career. Dylan thought that he had forgotten about Rose, but when her sporty red Mercedes interrupts the movie set he's working on and crashes into a pole, Dylan is the first to reach her side — only to discover that Rose has forgotten him, and everything else!
Dylan stood in the waiting room of the hospital, wiping his clammy palms against the denim of his Wrangler jeans. Until today, his last memory of Rose Ryan had been her standing out in front of his house, sun glinting off her auburn hair, telling him to make a choice — he could have her or he could live in the 1950s. She'd been ticked off, but she had also been fiery and alive.
When Dylan had carried her into the emergency room earlier, she'd been pale and limp and hadn't even been able to recall her name.
Willy sat in an orange chair, watching Dylan pace. "I remember her now. I mean, I never met her but I remember you talking about her. You wanted that gal like I want an Oscar."
Dylan said nothing. What could he say? Rose's leaving had been like a horse kicking him in the gut, except that time hadn't eased the pain as much as Dylan had expected. When he'd seen her today he'd been terrified that she…that she…
"Dylan!"
He was immensely grateful that the sound of his name being called interrupted the unpalatable thought.
"Mom! I'm glad you're here." She hadn't been home when Rose had crashed back into his life, but Dylan had left a message for her.
"How is she?" June Lowry's face, lined with age but still beautiful, was the picture of concern.
Dylan shrugged. "They haven't told me anything yet."
"That poor, poor girl. I always loved Rose. You never should have let her get away."
He couldn't believe his mom was siding against him. "I didn't let her get away. She stormed out of my life. She didn't love me, not as much as she loved the idea of getting rich. You might never have had grandchildren if I'd married Rose and her career."
His mother shook her head. "At the rate you're going, I'll never have grandbabies anyway. Besides, a woman can be a wife and mother and still be a person of her own. Rose didn't want to get rich, she just wanted a life."
"I would have given her a life." He would have given Rose anything she wanted if she'd stayed.
His mother sat next to Willy, muttering under her breath. Dylan realized she'd been muttering to herself a lot lately.
A man in a white coat who looked impossibly young for a doctor stepped into the room. "Mr. Lowry? You can see your friend now."
Dylan's heart thudded against his chest. "How is she?"
"She'll be fine. She does have a concussion. The nurse will give you a schedule for tonight. You can't allow Ms. Ryan to sleep for long. She seems to be suffering from a form of retrograde amnesia."
"How serious is that?"



Chapter Two: Part Two

"Each case varies, but Ms. Ryan should recover. There will be some swelling from her head injury and that will continue to affect her memory, but as the swelling goes down, things should start to come back to her. Right now she still has her behavioral memory — how to tie shoelaces and things like that — but she's unclear on specifics like who she is."
"And she doesn't remember me." Dylan couldn't keep the desolation out of his voice. Things may have ended badly between them, but he and Rose had shared some of the best times of his life. The memories that eluded her now haunted him — their first kiss, the first time she'd told him, in a shaky whisper, that she loved him.
The doctor pointed out her room, and Dylan stopped at her bedside, wondering if she was asleep. "Rose?"
Her eyelashes fluttered and he found himself drowning in eyes as blue as the Montana sky. "You." Her mouth curved into a smile. "The man who said he was going to marry me."
"I'm Dylan, Dylan Lowry."
"They say I'm Rose, but you already know that." Her eyes were alight with curiosity, and he was relieved by her alert expression. She might have a helluva headache, but she was going to be okay. "You probably know a lot about me, don't you?"
"All kinds of stuff," he croaked. Like how she tasted, how soft her hair was, how it might be a blessing if she forgot her hard childhood, how she'd chosen a job selling off the land he loved over a life with him. Now was probably not a good time to get into all of that. "Rose, I think it would be best if you stayed out at my ranch for a little while until you get your bearings. I've got friends and family there and we can look after you."
Her lips pressed into a thin line and Dylan almost laughed. Even now, she had a stubborn independent streak.
Hastily, he corrected himself. "Not that you can't take care of yourself. I just thought my family could try to help you remember things."
Appeased, she nodded. "I'd appreciate that."
He glanced to the doorway behind him. "I'll go see the doctor about checking you out." As he was leaving, her voice stopped him.
In a mischievous tone that reminded him of why he'd originally fallen in love with her, Rose said, "If I didn't have firsthand experience, I never would have believed a girl could forget a man who looks like you."
He turned back toward her. "And how do I look?"
Her gaze slid from his face down his body, and his skin warmed as though she were touching him.
"I don't remember the word for it," she deadpanned.
For a moment the old familiar habit of flirting with Rose battled Dylan's common sense. Rose had broken his heart; he'd be crazy to get involved with her again. Or would he? How often did people get a second chance like this? Her 100-mile-an-hour life had almost got her killed today.
Maybe this was his chance to show her things from his point of view before she remembered everything and left him. Again.

Chapter Three
!
"My god. It's fabulous!" Rose's breath caught as Dylan helped her down from the cab of his pickup. The expanse of open sky above stretched like black velvet over the Lowrys' ranch, broken only by the delicate diamond pinpricks of stars. The soft lowing of cattle drifted on the evening breeze.
Dylan felt a tug at his heart as one hand supported hers, the other placed gently at the small of her back. Memories of dancing at the county fair flooded over him. She had always been light as a feather. Still was.
"I just can't help feeling that somehow, in some way, this land means a lot to me." Rose's voice broke Dylan's reverie. If she only knew, he thought.
Rose gave Dylan a grateful smile. "Thank you for bringing me here."
He stared at her face with its smattering of dainty freckles. How many nights had he dived into those azure eyes, losing all care, all reason?
Dylan floundered for an appropriate response. The simplicity of "you're welcome" eluded him. His mother appeared on the porch and rescued him from the potentially awkward moment.
"Well, it's about time. I was beginning to wonder if you two had run off together." June Lowry jogged down the wide wooden steps toward the couple. Dylan flashed his mother a dark look that went unheeded as she wrapped one arm around Rose.
"I'm June Lowry, dear. Much as it grieves him to admit it sometimes, I'm this big lout's mother." She nodded her silver head in Dylan's direction. Dylan grimaced.
"At the risk of sounding rude, have we met before?" Rose asked.
June paused and looked at the young woman. "Why, yes, dear, we certainly have. You might even say you were almost a daughter to me." June looked over Rose's shoulder and gave Dylan a knowing wink. Dylan cringed.
Rustic elegance described the interior of the ranch house. Open beams and a mammoth stone fireplace testified to the masculine presence on the ranch, but subtle traces of femininity wove themselves deftly into the pattern. Lace curtains on the windows, fine crystal in the china closet, and pastel throw pillows on the sofa lent a civilized air to the mounted game heads on one wall and fully stocked gun cabinet in the corner.
The gentler details seemed to soothe Rose who, for a moment, looked to Dylan like a doe caught in the headlights of a present she did not know.
His mother hadn't helped matters with her veiled attempts at playing Cupid. That was something Dylan was determined to put a stop to. He knew his mother had always favored Rose, and was just as devastated as he when their engagement broke off; but he was not above hog-tying his mother if she didn't cease her meddling.
"We'll set you up in the guest room. Do we have any idea how long you'll be staying?" June directed the question more to her son than Rose.
"The doctor gave instructions not to let her sleep for more than a couple hours at a time, and we should watch for certain things like vomiting or persistent confusion."
"Well, that's a comforting thought," Rose began. "I've been persistently confused since I woke up in the hospital."
June patted her arm. "Don't worry, dear. Dylan's been persistently confused for years, but we haven't committed him yet."
The two women shared bubbling laughter at Dylan's expense as June led Rose toward the guest room. "Let's find you something comfortable to wear. You must be exhausted."
Dylan flopped into an overstuffed armchair. He let out an exasperated sigh as the front door suddenly burst open. Shep, Dylan's dog, scrambled across the hardwood floor as Willy rolled in like a tumbleweed, brown hair in a wild tangle.



chapter Three: Part Two

"Dylan! We've got to talk about my film!"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "Look, Willy. I'm sorry your shoot was ruined, " Dylan began.
Willy shook his head vehemently. "No, no. Not that film. Okay. I admit it. After I left the hospital, I went to a diner and cried in my cappuccino. But then, bam! It hit me. I'm always looking for ways to cut the costs of filming. Well, what's the cheapest type of film to make, huh?"
Dylan stared blankly at his friend. "I guess you're going to tell me?"
"********aries! You don't have to worry about the cost of casting, 'cause you're not using real actors. There's minimal scripting. All you need is an interesting subject."
"And what 'interesting subject' did you have in mind?" Dylan narrowed his eyes.
"Amnesia, of course!"
Dylan and Shep groaned simultaneously.
* * *
Dylan stood in the doorway of the guest room. The clock in the living room chimed three. Dylan had taken over the watch from his mother at one. They had worked out a rotating schedule to keep an eye on Rose. He gazed at her longingly now as she slept. Even sleeping, she still fueled the fire that nearly sent him over the edge.
His eyes traveled from her auburn tresses down to the graceful curve of her hip. She wore one of June's thick flannel nightgowns, but even in the practical garment, Rose managed to look sexy as hell. Her white ankle peeked from beneath the ruffled hem, leading down to her red polished toenails.
"Is it time to wake up already?" Rose's soft voice sneaked across the room. Startled, Dylan nearly dropped the stoneware mug in his hand.
"Why, Mr. Lowry. If it wasn't dark in here, I would swear you were blushing," Rose teased.
"No, I j-just thought you might like a cup of tea." He held out the steaming mug.
Rose sat up. "I hope it's Earl Grey. That's my favorite!"
Rose and Dylan both froze, realizing the implications of what she had just said. Rose's eyes grew wide.
"I remember! I remember Earl Grey is my favorite tea!" She touched the bandage on her forehead. "I guess the swelling must be going down. The doctor said I would start remembering things when it did. I must be on my way to recovery, huh?"
Dylan's heart sank. She was on her way, all right. If he didn't do something soon, she was on her way right back out of his life.

Chapter Four

"Dylan!" Rose called from the top of the landing. Dylan had run out of her guest room earlier, just when she had been on the verge of remembering something about him.
When he didn't respond, she hurried down the steps, then paused uncertainly in the center of the comfortable family room. A feeling of familiarity washed over Rose, giving her a fleeting sense of belonging, then vanished.
She walked over to the stone fireplace and extended her hands to the crackling fire, noting with a frown that her fingers were trembling. Lifting her chin a notch, she willed her hands to stop shaking. Gut instinct told her that she was a strong-willed, confident woman, and with a little help, she could conquer this amnesia thing.
Rose placed the heel of her palm on her forehead and concentrated as hard as she could on the faint stirrings of memory within, but her mind remained blank. With a frustrated groan, she backed away from the fireplace. A 12-point buck mounted over the mantel stared down at her. "If only you could talk," she muttered.
The sound of clanking dishes caught Rose's attention, along with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She hurried in the direction of the kitchen, hoping to locate Dylan. Although she preferred tea, Dylan was like a grumpy grizzly until he had his morning coffee.
Rose skidded to a stop on the shiny hardwood floor as the significance of that memory slammed into her brain. If she knew what Dylan needed in the morning, she must have spent the night with him at some point.
"Come on in, Rose," June Lowry said with a smile. She dusted flour from her hands and popped a tray of biscuits into the oven. "Hope you're hungry."
"I'm famished," Rose admitted as she stepped into the cozy kitchen.
"That's one of the many things I liked about you, Rose. You'd sit down and enjoy a hearty meal, not like some of those women who are afraid of gaining an ounce," she said with a wave of her hand in the air. "Of course, you were always burning the candle at both ends. You never stood a chance at gaining weight."
"I was?"
June nodded. "You must be real successful by now. I always envied your spunk and ambition. I told Dylan —" she began, then clamped her mouth shut.
"Go on," Rose urged her. She was eager to find out as much as possible about herself.
"Can't. The doctor said we should let you remember a little at a time so you don't get too overwhelmed," she said gently and patted Rose's shoulder. "I'm glad the clothes fit."
"Thank you." The borrowed jeans and denim shirt were a little snug and the boots a bit big, but they would do. "Where's Dylan?"



Chapter Four: Part Two

June nodded toward the sliding doors that led to the deck. "Having his coffee out on the deck just like always. Dylan is a creature of habit, just like his daddy was. Head as hard as a mule, too. Would you mind telling him breakfast is almost ready?"
* * *
Dylan braced the toe of his boot against the railing and gazed up at the majestic mountains. He swallowed the last sip of coffee and turned to go into the house just as the sliding glass doors opened with a whoosh. Rose walked toward him while taking a deep breath of the fresh air.
"Could you ever get tired of this view?" Rose asked, shading her blue eyes against the bright sun glinting off the jagged snow-capped peaks.
"Never," he answered gruffly, his eyes locked on her profile. The cool morning breeze blew strands of auburn hair across her face. Without thinking, Dylan reached out and tucked the silky tresses gently behind her ear.
She slowly turned and looked at him, searching his face for clues to her past. Their past. They had been engaged to be married, that much she knew from what Dylan had already told her. Somehow she sensed that there was more to the story — if they had been engaged, what had changed between them?
"Tell me, Dylan," she pleaded. "Tell me about us."
Rose's soft husky plea was almost his undoing. Her face, washed clean of makeup, reminded him of the young free-spirited girl he had fallen in love with. He wanted to gather her in his arms.
Instead, he turned away from her and gripped the railing. "We used to ride our horses up into those mountains on mornings like this. On the other side of that ridge is a pristine lake jumping with trout. That was our favorite spot. Mom would usually pack us a lunch."
"Tell me more, Dylan. I want to know what happened between us." She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to come. Her heart beat faster as she waited.
"No."
"Please." She said softly.
"I'd fish and you'd pick flowers," he said tersely and turned for the door.
Rose grabbed his arm. He would have shaken her off but her next words stopped him.
"I'd weave wildflowers in my hair," she began uncertainly then closed her eyes. "There was a patchwork quilt. We'd spread it out for our picnic."
"On hot summer days, we'd swim in the lake," he offered hesitantly.
"The water was so cold," she said with a delighted laugh. "But you would warm me up when we…" she began. Her eyes opened wide. "Dylan!"
"I'm going inside."
She grabbed his arms and pulled him close. "Kiss me, Dylan. I have this feeling.… Kiss me and I'll remember everything."
Dylan lowered his head, intent on capturing her trembling lips, but he abruptly pulled back. He didn't want her to remember everything. Not now. Not yet. Not when he had a second chance to win her love — forever this time.
"What are you afraid of, Dylan?" Rose asked angrily, letting go of his arms. "Why don't you want me to remember what happened between us?" She pushed past him and stormed into the house, nearly knocking over Willy, who had a mug of coffee in one hand and a tiny camcorder in the other. He filmed her progress as she stomped up the stairs.
"Remember anything yet?" he called up to her.
"Yeah, that I don't like you!" Rose shot back.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Willy said. If he wasn't mistaken, there were sparks flying between Rose and Dylan. Maybe if he gave them a little push, they'd fall in love all over again before Rose got her memory back!
"The plot thickens." Willy grinned. "A love story with amnesia — I smell an Oscar!" With a toss of his long hair, he headed toward the deck to see Dylan.

Chapter Five
.
"You did what!" Willy exclaimed. He moved his camcorder away from his face so that he could gaze at his friend in astonishment. "The love of your life practically threw herself into your arms, and you turned her down?"
Dylan shrugged, his eyes scouring the rough contours of the land he loved. An image of Rose as she'd looked moments ago, before she stormed off, came to him. Her glorious auburn hair a river of gold flecked with fire in the morning sunlight, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement, her lips pink and full and oh so inviting as she begged him to kiss her.
Dylan shook his head to bring himself back to reality. "She only wanted to jog her memory, Willy. It was hardly a romantic gesture."
Willy readjusted his camera and it whirred softly as he pointed it at Dylan's profile. "And you felt you couldn't oblige her because...?"
Dylan sighed and studied the empty coffee mug in his hand. "Because I can't afford for her to remember. Not just yet. I need more time."
Willy peered around the camcorder at him. "Time for what?"
"Time for her to fall in love with him again." Willy swung the camera so that it framed June Lowry peering at her son from the open doorway. "The only thing is, sweetheart, Rose never stopped loving you. It was the lifestyle you had all mapped out for her that she took offense to."
Dylan groaned. Even his own mother felt she had the right to stick her nose into his business.
"But this is my life," he growled.
June stepped toward Dylan and cradled her son's face in her powdery soft hands. "Yes, Dylan. And Rose was quite happy to be a part of that life. She just wasn't prepared to be consumed by it, that's all."
Dylan shook his head, aware that Willy was filming his every move. "She chose her career over me. It's as simple as that."
"Is it?" June asked. "What other choice did you offer her, son?"
Dylan whirled away and strode to the end of the porch. He didn't want to impede Rose's returning memory, he assured himself. He just wanted... What? For her to give up her job and be a housewife? Dylan shook his head. No, that wasn't the Rose he'd fallen in love with.
Behind him Willy tapped a foot impatiently. "So, what's your plan of action, buddy?" he prodded. "Rose is eventually going to remember that your goal to keep her barefoot and pregnant isn't exactly her lifelong ambition. If you ask me..."
Dylan rounded on his friend. "I didn't ask you," he snapped, stalking forward and jabbing a finger at the camcorder. "And if you don't put that thing down I'll be forced to..." Suddenly he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a horse and rider cantering off into the distance.



Chapter Five: Part Two

"Who is that?"
"Oh, yes," June suddenly recalled. "I originally came out here to let you know that Rose decided to go riding this morning."
Dylan's brow furrowed with concern. "You know she isn't supposed to be left alone!"
"Good gracious." June and Willy exchanged a knowing glance. "You'd better hurry after her then, hadn't you, dear?"
* * *
June was right, Rose had decided. If Dylan wasn't going to help her, she would have to do the next best thing — visit their favorite picnic spot by herself. She had been a little unsteady on the horse at first, but she was soon lulled by the rhythm of the gentle mare's steady stride. She admired the green countryside as it rolled past. Insects hummed and high above, a lone hawk sailed the thermals.
She crested a hilltop. Below, the lake Dylan had spoken of twinkled prettily amid a sea of waving grass and wildflowers.
The thundering of hooves dragged her attention from the splendid sight. Dylan drew his horse to a halt. Swinging a leg over his mount, he jumped easily to the ground. Rose marveled at the graceful way he moved, his muscles rippling under his shirt.
He turned and caught her rapt gaze.
Rose blushed and averted her eyes. "Just admiring the view," she admitted, head held high.
Dylan grinned and, placing his hands on her waist, helped her to dismount. She slid from the horse and found herself pressed against Dylan's chest, her hands resting on the bunched muscles of his upper arms. His palms slid to her hips, drawing her even closer.
Rose's breath caught in her throat. What had it been like to love and be loved by this man?
Abruptly she pulled away. Dylan had made it perfectly clear that, whatever they had once shared, it was now a thing of the past. She didn't want to make a fool of herself by swooning in his arms now.
Dylan drew a shuddering breath. God, she was beautiful. Intoxicating. And quite plainly not interested in him. He kicked moodily at the dirt under his boot.
"I don't want you to go off like that again, Rose. You shouldn't be alone."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, don't go...."
Her stunning blue eyes flashed fire. "I heard what you said, Dylan. Still trying to run my life, as always."
Dylan's blood ran cold at her words, but Rose obviously didn't yet realize the implications of what she'd said.
"This is not the dark ages," she went on. "You are not my master and I will not follow your every command."
"Rose! Stop it."
"Loving you doesn't mean I have to give up everything else, does it, Dylan?"
"No, of course not! I only meant —"
"I can't even bake a pie," Rose cried. "How on earth could I ever make you happy?" Her trembling fingers fluttered to her lips as realization struck and her memory came flooding back. Tears sprang to her eyes.
In two strides he was there, pulling her to him, his hand winding in her hair, lips softly kissing the tears from her cheeks before claiming the soft sweetness of her mouth.