Daphne reached up and gently wiped the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “We need to get you a bib for these occasions, hunk o’ mine.”
“What the hell does one day mean?” Ezra croaked. “One day he’ll damn well remember my girl? One day left to beat his ass and make him remember my girl?”
As though Ezra’s words were the remote control to animate Fate, he moved across the room and wrapped his fingers around Calla’s upper arms, lifting her right off her feet until they dangled.
“Fate!” Nash knocked his shoulder with the flat of his palm. “Put her down, man, or I’m gonna forget we’re friends!”
“Stop!” Daphne yelled, latching onto Nash’s arm just as Greta grabbed her whistle to blow. “He would never hurt her, Nash. Don’t break his mojo. Let him speak.”
Fate stared deeply into her eyes, his own gaze stormy and wild, transfixing her. “Show him,” he said from a locked jaw and clenched teeth, the words urgent. “One. Day. To. Show. Him.”
His final words—just before he went slack again and almost dumped her on the floor—came at a cost. She was sure of that from the way he ground them out as though he was in some kind of physical pain.
Ezra jumped up to steady her, still as swift as he’d ever been, the blur of his movement leaving a haze of color.
He pulled her close and hugged her hard, cupping her jaw. “You okay, kiddo?”
“One! Day!” Fate shouted again, making the coffee cups and the glass vases on the buffet quake.
And then he fell forward like some crazy tent revival evangelist tree, chopped down deep in the middle of sermon forest.
Chapter 8
Nash dived for Fate, grabbing him around the waist and hauling him upward. Daphne rushed in, her hands fluttering about her husband’s forehead as Nash set him on the couch.
While everyone hovered over his friend, Nash watched Calla—this woman who said they were in love—and he felt an odd, deep pull on his heart; a strange twinge as she ran to her small apartment kitchen to get a cold cloth.
Her movements were fluid, just like Ezra’s, but prettier for the obvious reasons, and when she raced past him to hand Daphne the cold cloth, he found he was gawking at her.
She was beautiful—tall and leggy with graceful limbs and dark hair falling to the middle of her back in loose curls. He hadn’t stopped to really notice her until now, what with whatever was happening to him going on, but the impact of her presence nearly knocked him for a loop.
One day to show him.
What the hell did that mean?
Show him what?
And why could he remember every single person in the room but this gorgeous woman named Calla?
If this was some damn joke, it was an elaborate one.
“You really don’t remember, do you?” Greta asked, her round face red from the chaos.
“Swear it on my mama’s peach pie, Greta. Have I ever lied to you? You’ve known me since I was what? Two?”
“Yup. You used to take a bath with my nephew Clem as kids. You were always a good boy, Nash Ryder, and I believe you when you say you don’t remember Calla. But I’m here to tell you this. You were nuts about that girl. Plumb head-over-heels, drooling-in-a-corner nuts. Now, the boy I knew, and the man I know today, wasn’t one to give his heart lightly. She meant something to you—something big. We just need to help you rediscover her.”
Then out of the blue, his friend’s muttered words hit him like a freight train. “Do you think that’s what Fate meant? One day to show him? Maybe she has to show me how I felt about her?”
Greta slapped her hand on his back, the strength of it jolting his shoulders, the light in her eyes so bright she might as well have a light bulb over her head. “You might be on to something there, big guy!” Placing her infamous whistle in her mouth, she blew on it, effectively stopping all sound and motion.
“Dang it, woman!” Ezra yelped, rubbing his ears. “Sensitive wolf ears over here.”
But Greta began to pace, her sensible shoes making a distinct pattern to and fro. Clearly an idea had set in. “Listen up, everybody! Nash here might be on to something. Maybe whatever Fate was rambling about has to do with showing Nash his relationship with Calla?”
Daphne’s blonde head popped up, her eyes bright as she haphazardly wiped Fate’s cheeks. “Showing him? Like reenactments?”
“Exactly!” Greta shouted. “Maybe taking Nash to some of the places they’ve been, seeing some of the things they’ve done—except the, you know, chitty-chitty-bang-bang last night—will help jar his memory!”
He couldn’t believe he was in a room with people he’d known almost all his life, nonchalantly talking about the sex he couldn’t remember to save his soul, which everyone in town had apparently bet on him having. He pulled his Stetson down over his eyes.
Greta had seen him naked in the bathtub when he was two, for Christ’s sake.