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A Wyoming Christmas To Remember
Melissa Senate
She couldn't remember anything… Except her love for him. Maddie Wolfe can’t remember a single thing about her life…or her husband, Sawyer. But when they find themselves caring for his newborn twin nephews, and with electricity crackling between them, will Sawyer finally give Maddie the family of her dreams—and his?
She couldn’t remember anything...
Except her love for him.
Stricken with temporary amnesia, Maddie Wolfe can’t remember a single thing about her life...or her boy-next-door husband, Sawyer. But even with electricity crackling between them, it turns out their fairy tale’s careening toward disaster. When Sawyer’s unexpectedly thrust into caring for his newborn twin nephews, will he finally change his mind about being a dad and give Maddie the family of her dreams—and his?
MELISSA SENATE has written many novels for Mills & Boon and other publishers, including her debut, See Jane Date, which was made into a TV movie. She also wrote seven books for Mills & Boon True Love line under the pen name Meg Maxwell. Her novels have been published in over twenty-five countries. Melissa lives on the coast of Maine with her teenage son; their rescue shepherd mix, Flash; and a lap cat named Cleo. For more information, please visit her website, melissasenate.com (http://www.melissasenate.com)
Also by Melissa Senate (#u43e19ee9-d3e8-55a5-86cd-8c2b490a5703)
The Baby Switch!
Detective Barelli’s Legendary Triplets
Wyoming Christmas Surprise
To Keep Her Baby
A Promise for the Twins
A New Leash on Love
Rust Creek Falls Cinderella
Mummy and the Maverick
The Maverick’s Baby-in-Waiting
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A Wyoming Christmas to Remember
Melissa Senate
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09176-3
A WYOMING CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER
© 2019 Melissa Senate
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u43e19ee9-d3e8-55a5-86cd-8c2b490a5703)
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As always, for Max, with love.
Contents
Cover (#ub0a4bdfd-4430-5e27-ab35-fe65ab384611)
Back Cover Text (#uad4705fe-5c28-5b7b-9eba-81405a9f9987)
About the Author (#u79580f56-9225-507c-ae2b-0287529c88aa)
Booklist (#u73ffcb2d-fd4d-5ae1-9061-0e376be4ea02)
Title Page (#u5e4bf39d-1380-5cc2-8e5a-783b0e903c9b)
Copyright (#ue296c292-6b5f-5697-856f-3f744c8c87b3)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u86e630c9-f464-52ca-a90b-fdaef3d79093)
Chapter One (#ue561635f-6650-5bc9-bb04-9184e69cc244)
Chapter Two (#u059d80e4-db8b-56eb-9e70-c4673d42a4a2)
Chapter Three (#uee9dde68-1517-53bc-b959-875306c34c17)
Chapter Four (#uf5a5716b-b71d-5dc1-af90-62821415eb98)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u43e19ee9-d3e8-55a5-86cd-8c2b490a5703)
“You’re my husband?” Maddie Wolfe asked.
She tried to latch on to the word, for something, anything, to associate husband with the total stranger sitting at her bedside. The stranger holding her hand in both of his and looking at her with worried green eyes.
“My name is Sawyer Wolfe,” he said. “We’ve been married for seven years.”
“Sawyer Wolfe. Seven years,” she repeated. “And I’m Maddie Wolfe?” She hadn’t even known that until he’d told her when she’d woken up just a couple minutes ago with no idea who she was, where she was or who he was. Her mind, where her identity and memories should be, was a big blank nothing.
She glanced from him to what was beside her bed—quietly beeping hospital machines, an IV pole. A television mounted on the beige-yellow wall. A long, wide window. A miniature Christmas tree decorated with garland and ornaments on the windowsill and so many poinsettia plants—pink, red, white—she couldn’t even count them. There were even more bouquets of flowers.
I’m in a hospital, she realized, reaching up to the goose egg on her forehead and the deep scratch beside it. That would explain why her head felt so woozy and achy. And maybe why her mind was so blank. I’m...she thought, trying to come up with her name on her own. Maddie Wolfe? Didn’t ring a bell. She tried for her age. Nothing. Where she lived. But there was just that nothingness again.
Sawyer Wolfe nodded, his eyes shimmering with tears, relief, concern. When her own eyes had fluttered open, the first thing she saw was him. He’d jumped up, shouted, “Maddie’s awake! My wife is awake!” and then grabbed a white call button attached to her bed and pressed it three times before sitting back down and taking her hand, kissing the back of it over and over.
“Your wife?” she’d asked.
He’d glanced up from the kissing of her hand, clearly confused. “Maddie?”
“Maddie?” she’d repeated, more confused.
He’d sat up very straight. “Maddie, do you know who you are? Who I am?”
She’d looked at him long and hard, and believe you me, he was something to behold. But nothing about this man was familiar.
She’d shaken her head, which had her reaching up to the goose egg, the deep scratch beside it.
“Your name is Maddie Wolfe,” he’d told her. “I’m Sawyer Wolfe, your husband. You were in a car crash—it was snowing hard and you hit a guardrail.”
Now, before she could ask him anything else, two women came rushing in, one in blue scrubs, the other in a white lab coat with a name tag: Dr. Louisa Addison.
The nurse began taking her vitals: temperature, blood pressure.
“Maddie doesn’t seem to know her name or who I am,” Sawyer said to the doctor.
Dr. Addison asked her a bunch of questions she didn’t know the answers to. What is your name? What year is it? Who is the president of the United States?
As the doctor jotted things down on her chart, Maddie wondered how she knew what a chart was if she didn’t know what year it was. She glanced at the four pink poinsettias on the windowsill, clearly knowing what those were. Her gaze moved to the little Christmas tree. There were two Woodstock ornaments—the little yellow bird from Peanuts, Snoopy’s buddy. Why would she know that but not even know it was Christmastime if the tree hadn’t clued her in?
Ow, my head, she thought, letting the questions, the confusing buzz go. The blankness came back, and she instantly felt better.
She glanced at the man—six-two, maybe six-three, dark hair, a scar above his left eyebrow. If she thought he looked worried before, it didn’t come close to the concern on his face now.
“My mind is blank,” she said to both of them. “Why is my mind blank?” She tried to think what day it was, but as she ran through the days of the week, none registered as the right one. She bolted upright. “Why don’t I know my name? Sawyer said I was in a car crash?”
Dr. Addison nodded. “You’ve sustained a head injury that seems to have affected your memory. But rest assured, you’re in good hands. You are Maddie Wolfe, thirty-two years old. Your husband, Sawyer Wolfe, is right here—he’s the chief of police in Wedlock Creek. You’re in Brewer County Hospital in Wyoming, transferred here from the Wedlock Creek Clinic.”
No memory: amnesia. She knew what that was. It explained why her mind was full of holes. She grasped on to what she was told. My name is Maddie Wolfe. My husband is Sawyer Wolfe. Police chief. Wedlock Creek.
Nothing. Her own name was unfamiliar. Her husband was a stranger.
She swallowed, glancing over at the Woodstock ornament. She kept her focus on the little yellow bird, and for some reason, it comforted her.
“Maddie,” Dr. Addison said, “Sawyer hasn’t left your side in the two days since you were brought in.” The doctor offered an encouraging smile to both Maddie and the man. “Your parents and sister were here this morning and said they’d be back this afternoon.”
Parents and a sister! She couldn’t even remember her own family.
“I’ll go text them that you’re awake,” Sawyer said, leaping up and heading near the door, where he pulled out his phone.
As the doctor typed instructions into a computer monitor against the wall and the nurse checked her IV, Maddie stared at Sawyer. Surely if he were her husband, she would remember something. A familiarity. A flash of their wedding day. The two of them at home. Something, anything.
“Will my memory return?” Maddie asked the doctor.
Dr. Addison turned to her. “Amnesia is a tricky thing. There are a few different kinds, and yours is likely caused by trauma. We’ll have to wait and see. I did have a patient a few years ago who’d suffered temporary amnesia from a bad fall. His memory returned to full function within three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” she repeated. “I might not remember anything about myself for three weeks?”
Dr. Addison gave her a reassuring smile. “Could be sooner. But we’ll run some tests, and based on how well you’re doing now, I don’t see any reason why you can’t be discharged later today.”
Discharged where? Where did she live?
With your husband, she reminded herself.
