Why was he so hell-bent on settling this woman’s problems? He had enough responsibility in that truck. Let the mystery woman snag a nap and come to her senses. She would either find someone to help her or accept his offer for a ride. No sweat either way.
Jacob pushed to his feet. He had better things to do than freeze his butt off for someone he didn’t even know.
But first, he would shovel the walkway one more time. Just to wait for his sister to finish so he could help with her baby daughter. Right?
Damn.
He kicked through the snow and yanked free the shovel embedded in a four-foot drift. Ouch. Just what his healing arm needed. The gunshot wound was six weeks old, the fractured bone about healed, but the incision from surgery still pulled like hell.
His muttered curses filled the air with puffy clouds. Jacob scooped a trail along the walk and flung it to the side, burying the spot where she’d thrown up. He kept shoveling, losing himself in the mundane task.
Dee didn’t move. The wind kept howling down from the mountains.
Jacob shoveled past her and stopped, resting his arms on the handle. “How bad are things?”
“The worst.” She dabbed her face with the tissue again, grandma-style.
He believed her. Hell, he’d been there in this very same place. Which made him wonder where she was from. Somewhere close by? He tried to recall what state the Suburban plates had sported, but he couldn’t remember having read what Mr. Smith wrote on the check-in form. He’d only made sure all the boxes were filled out. Regardless of how close or far away she lived, how damn sad to be this alone.
Jacob let the icy air clear away the bitterness. He couldn’t be like his old man and turn a blind eye to other people’s needs.
“I have a job open here to tide you over for a few days. Doesn’t pay much, but you can have a room to sleep in and all the Continental breakfast doughnuts you can eat until you figure out what to do.”
She opened her mouth. “But—”
“Wait before you answer. The job’s nothing glamorous. You’ll be cleaning rooms. It’s dirty, hard work, even when there are only a few rooms filled. You’ll earn every penny I pay you.”
Her lips pressed tightly together before she blurted, “There’s something you should know.”
More secrets? More obligation. Not a chance. “Hold on. I don’t need your life story or anything.”
She laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sort of sound. “Don’t worry. I’m not likely to spill it anytime soon.”
“Are you in trouble with the law?”
She twisted her wind-raw hands together. “Not that I know of. But I may not be around long.”
“To be fair, this motel might not be around much longer, either.” Selling the place—if he could even find a buyer—was an option, if he could persuade his sister to leave. “Let’s just get through this next batch of tourists.” He leaned forward on the shovel handle. “And no drugs.”
Her nose tipped with an air a mite too haughty for a woman in her position. “Of course not.”
Yet, again, he believed her, with not even one good reason to call upon, and a thousand bad ones telling him she was trouble. “Then that’s all I need to know for now. About the job?”
“I’ll take it. Thank you.” Her eyes met his, lit with hope and gratitude.
Her pretty face shone with a gentle beauty that threatened to draw the air from his lungs more effectively than the biting wind. What the hell had he just done?
Lord, she hoped fate would cut her a break. Dee wrapped the coat tighter around her legs and considered her options.
Jacob Stone’s offer had seemed the perfect answer, but “Mr. Smith’s” fake registration and apparent desertion led her to believe her instincts on men hadn’t been stellar even when she’d possessed a full set of memories to draw upon. God, she was so scared.
What kind of person was she? Someone who stayed in cheap motels with men who slipped away the next morning? She tried to wrap her mind around that image of herself, and it didn’t fit.
Did amnesia change a person’s basic nature? Perhaps.
Hopefully the phone lines would be up soon. She could put in a call to the cops, even if the roads were impassable. Maybe she had a big, fat account full of money somewhere and could spend her hundred dollars without concern while she waited.
Except that didn’t feel right, either. Just as she knew she wasn’t the one-night-stand kind of woman, she also knew she needed to cling to every penny of that hundred dollars.