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She looked at the boots. “How do you know that?” She checked the label. “Genuine Ostrich leather. Size eleven.” She cocked her head at him. “I assume that means they’re expensive?”
“Damn expensive. But I have no idea why I know that.”
When John told her he needed to use the bathroom, Ember helped him to the door.
He held onto the frame for a moment. “I got it from here.” He hesitated a moment. “Is there a mirror in there?”
“Yes. Do you think it might help?”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
“I’m waiting right here. If I hear you hit the floor, I’m coming in.”
He nodded and went into the bathroom, then closed the door behind him.
She leaned against the wall. She couldn’t tellfor sure with the black eye, messy hair, and a few days’ worth of whiskers, but she’d guess he was in his forties. There was gray in his facial hair and at his temples. He was tan like he spent time outside. And he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was bent over a little from the pain he was in, but she figured he was a little over six feet and in good shape other than the fact he was mugged and couldn’t remember who he was.
When the door opened, she smiled at him. “Did you recognize the man in the mirror?”
“No, other than the fact he’s a damn good-looking son of a bitch.”
She laughed as she helped him back to the bed. “You’re taking this rather well.”
“I’m just following doctor’s orders. He said not to panic yet.” He groaned as he sat back down. “I have to admit. I was a little surprised by the gray. I don’t feel like an old man.”
“You’re far from being an old man. I’d say you're forty-something.”
“Hmm. You’re probably right. That makes it seem more likely that I have a wife and a family out there.”
“Yes. Maybe.”
“You need to stop agreeing with everything I say. Play devil’s advocate. Give me something to think about.”
“I will when you say something that doesn’t make sense. This is new territory for me. I’ve never held the hand of someone with… I don’twant to use that word. Temporary memory loss.”
He held up his hands. “I don’t see you holding my hand.”
She took his right hand and held it between her two. “I wonder if you’re always this grumpy.”
He looked at her. “Don’t I have a right to be grumpy?”
“I suppose.”
He smiled. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Do you have a husband and kids waiting for you?”
“Nope.”
“How is that possible?”
She smiled. “I’m still waiting for Mr. Right.”
“I see. And what characteristics are you looking for in Mr. Right?”
She thought for a moment. “Compassion, respect, loyalty, heart-stoppingly good looking.”
