His Marriage to Remember - By Kathie DeNosky Page 0,19

glad to see her mood had improved a little and that he was apparently out of the doghouse for the time being.

She pointed to his untouched plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I told you upstairs what I wanted for breakfast,” he said, grinning as he took a sip from the cup he held. “But since that’s not on the menu, I think I’ll just settle for this cup of coffee.”

She nodded. “Very wise choice, Mr. Rafferty.”

* * *

As they walked the short distance to the creek behind the barn, Bria watched to make sure Sam wasn’t becoming overly tired. She could tell he was feeling a lot better, but there was still the possibility of him having a bit of vertigo and although he would never admit it, he tired easily.

Sighing, she thought about their earlier disagreement and chastised herself for bringing up things that they had argued about for the past couple of years with no resolution. There was really no point in revisiting them, because he couldn’t seem to get what she was trying to tell him and probably never would. But she had been so frustrated with his stubbornness and refusal to admit that he might need her help, she had verbally lashed out before she could stop herself. That was something she couldn’t let happen again. He had already questioned her several times since coming home from the hospital about what was going on and she wasn’t sure how many more times she could keep her cool and dance around telling him.

She glanced up at his handsome profile. Sam certainly wasn’t making it easy for her, either. There was obstinate and then there was Sam Rafferty obstinate. He managed to take pigheadedness to a whole new level and could no doubt push Job past his limit of patience.

That’s why Sam hadn’t realized, and she wasn’t going to tell him, that after taking his breakfast to the kitchen, she had gone back upstairs to wait outside the bathroom until he finished his shower. Nor did he know that she had been standing in the hall just out of sight to make sure he navigated the stairs without problems. He might like to think that except for his memory he was almost back to normal, but she knew better. If the truth was known, he did, too. But he would never let on. It would be the ultimate sin for him to admit to any kind of weakness, even if it was a temporary condition.

“Why don’t we sit down under the cottonwood tree,” she asked, pulling a blanket from the picnic basket she had packed before they left the house. It was close enough to the creek for Sam to fish and provided a nice amount of shade to protect them from the early-summer sun.

“It looks like it’s going to be a hot one today,” he said, putting his fishing pole down to take the blanket from her. Spreading it out, he nodded toward the creek. “Any self-respecting catfish is going to be lying in a hole in the creek bed where it’s cooler.”

“You aren’t even going to try?” she asked, setting the basket down. “I thought you liked to fish.”

“I do. And I never said I wasn’t going to try,” he said, grinning. “I’m just warning you not to be surprised when I cuss a blue streak, vow never to go fishing again, then give up and take a nap.”

She laughed. “In other words, we won’t be having fish for supper tonight.”

“It’s highly unlikely, sweetheart,” he said, lowering himself to the edge of the blanket.

His easy grin and the teasing conversation caused a longing inside Bria that she did her best to ignore. This was a side of Sam she hadn’t seen often enough in the past couple of years and she had missed it.

Watching him bait the hook with some kind of big, ugly bug, she rested her back against the tree and opened her book. Getting lost in a good story was much easier than allowing herself to get wrapped up in memories of what Sam used to be like or the fantasy that there was a chance for them in the future. As soon as the doctor released Sam to go back to work, whether his memory had returned or not, she knew he would revert to his workaholic ways, go back out on the road, and she would end up spending the majority of her time alone. She sighed. It was inevitable because