The Princess Has Amnesia!. Patricia Thayer

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The Princess Has Amnesia! - Patricia  Thayer


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if no one was looking for her? In her head, she conjured up all kinds of scenarios, none of which helped calm her anxiety.

      A loud knock broke through her reverie. Then the door swung open and Jake appeared. He had changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a blue and green flannel shirt. He’d washed up, too. His long hair was damp and his face free of any beard stubble.

      He frowned. “You all right?”

      She nodded and quickly blinked away her threatening tears.

      “Don’t give me that.” Looking concerned, he walked to the bed and sat down next to her. “Are you in pain? Is it your head?”

      “No, I’m feeling fine.” She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her.

      “You’re not fine if you’re crying.”

      “I’m not crying.” She just felt like it. “I have a reason to be upset…I still can’t remember anything.” Now the tears rushed out along with the words.

      “You need time. It’ll happen,” he promised. “It’s only been a few days.”

      “It’s been four.” Ana suddenly felt weepy. She hated weepy women. She’d never resorted to tears before, but now she couldn’t seem to stop them.

      Jake scooted closer on the bed and she breathed in the familiar scent of soap and the man. When his hands gripped her by the shoulders, she looked up at him. His coal-black eyes locked with hers, and she could see compassion and concern. A strange stirring erupted in her stomach, and she was oddly disappointed when he released her.

      “Come on, chère, don’t go all mushy on me.”

      She stiffened. “Mushy? I’ve got news for you, Yank. You’d be a little upset if you didn’t even know your name.”

      His eyes turned dark and dangerous. “And I got news for ya’ll. I’m not a Yank and never have been. I was born and raised in the south,” he said with a heavy southern drawl. “Ya’ll got that?”

      She nodded, knowing better than to push him any farther.

      “Good.”

      “And you may stop calling me silly pet names.”

      “Fine. Then you tell me what to call you.”

      She took hold of her charm. There wasn’t much of a choice. “Call me Ana.”

      He stared at her. “Okay, Ana it is. Now, let’s get some breakfast.”

      “Is that all you think about, food?”

      He cocked his eyebrow and she caught a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. She felt that strange feeling again.

      “Believe me, I think about other things,” he said in a husky voice. “But my stomach has been talking to me since before sunrise.”

      He tugged at her arm. “Come on, it’s your turn to cook.”

      She resisted. “And I explained to you before that I don’t know how. Besides, you seem very capable of doing the job.”

      “Well, capable or not, I’m tired of doing it. Your turn.” He got her off the bed and into the other room. “If you need to make a trip to the facilities, you better be quick. I’m hungry.”

      Ana grumbled the whole time she put on her rainwear. She purposely took her time, but that didn’t seem to change Jake’s mood. When she returned to the cabin, he was leaning against the counter, waiting for her.

      “You could have started without me. I’m not very hungry.”

      “Too bad, you need to eat and so do I. So don’t think you’re getting out of cooking. Since you seem to be recovered, we’re going to share the chores.”

      “Maybe I should rest one more day, because of my head.” She touched the bandage.

      He paused, looking concerned. “You said it didn’t hurt. Look, if you aren’t feeling well, then go back to bed.”

      Here was her chance to get out of cooking, but something inside wouldn’t let her lie. Besides, she’d be bored if she had to spend the day in bed.

      “No, my health is fine,” she said.

      “Good.” He led her over to the woodstove. Using a metal poker, he removed the round plate and exposed the fire below. After adding some more kindling, he replaced the cover.

      “This baby is a little tricky, but when she gets going the place heats up fast.”

      Ana followed Jake’s instructions. The food was simple. He had cooked her eggs in the past along with some ham.

      “I have something special I brought along with me from the States.” He held up a large box of pancake mix.

      “Isn’t that dessert?”

      “Not where I come from,” he said.

      He showed her how to stir it all together. That was simple, the hard part came later. The first four pancake attempts she put on the griddle burned. Even Max turned his nose up at her efforts.

      “I told you I can’t do this,” she complained.

      She wanted to give up, but a persistent Jake wouldn’t let her. “Come on, give it another try,” he encouraged.

      Again she poured more batter onto the griddle. Then, with Jake’s hand over hers, guiding the spatula, they scooped up the cake and managed to flip it over and have it land back on the griddle.

      “That’s it,” he cheered.

      “They aren’t burnt,” she cried happily.

      “A perfect golden brown,” he said, then handed her a plate and she slid one cake after another off the griddle.

      They sat down at the table with butter and syrup. After Ana watched Jake doctor his cakes, she did the same. She took a big bite.

      “Oh, my, these are delicious.” She swallowed and forked up another bite.

      “You sure seem to be enjoying your breakfast. For someone who wasn’t hungry, that is.” He took a big bite of his own.

      “I didn’t know I was so hungry, or that these would taste so good.”

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