A Forever Christmas(20)

“Seriously?” she pressed. And then she saw that the corners of Gabe’s mouth were curving ever so slightly. He was pulling her leg. “You just made that up, didn’t you?” she accused.

“See?” he pointed out. “And now you remember how to read people.”

She didn’t see it that way. “Not people,” Angel corrected. “You.”

Despite her protest, Gabe saw no contradiction. “Well, the last I checked, I do fall into that category,” he told her.

“But you’re not typical,” she protested with feeling that surprised her.

They were traveling at a steady speed now and the road was wide open before them. Gabe looked at her pointedly for a brief moment.

“And you would know that how?” he prodded.

“Because…”

Her voice trailed off, losing its steam. She realized that she had no explanation, no way to answer his question. All she had, she became aware, was just the faintest glimmer of a feeling that this deputy, who had come to her rescue, who was even now putting himself out to help her regain her memory, was not like other men.

At least, not like other men who she knew…

What men did she know? Angel couldn’t help wondering as frustration continued to mount within her.

No names came to her, no faces. Nothing except some half-gelled, prickly feeling that refused to take on a recognizable form.

For all she knew, her reaction was based on just a guess on her part.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips.

Without being fully aware of it, she fisted her hands in her lap. An overwhelming feeling of being trapped within this wall-less world with no other inhabitants save for her all but cut off her air and threatened to strangle her.

“Just because,” Angel finally told him helplessly.

To her surprise, Gabe laughed softly.

Almost immediately she felt her back going up. Okay, something else to know about herself. She didn’t like being laughed at.

“What’s so funny?” she challenged.

“‘Just because,’” he said her words back to her. “You answered with the exact same argument that my sister uses when she can’t come up with something concrete to use.”

He had a sister. Why did she feel she was supposed to know that? Had he already mentioned her? Or had she seen her?

Was it ever going to get any clearer, or at least less obscure? Or was she always going to have this haze inside her brain?

“Your sister?” she asked, hoping he’d offer a little enlightenment without her having to play more word games. His cheerful approach was beginning to grate on her nerves.

Or maybe her nerves were in a state because she found herself depending on this man and she didn’t like that feeling.

Dependence led to entrapment, or disappointment. Or both.

How did she know that?

There were no answers, just more and more questions, it seemed.

Gabe nodded, his manner neither condescending nor impatient. “You met her earlier. She was the other deputy who came with Mick, the mechanic who towed away your car,” he added when he saw that the man’s name meant nothing to her.

“My car,” she repeated, waiting for some sort of image to occur to her.

It felt as if she was straining her brain, but she continued to focus, trying to summon the image up, to have something come to her that at least felt as if it was vaguely familiar.

With a sigh, Angel surrendered with a shake of the head. Pointless. Gabe could have been talking about an old Roman chariot for all the difference it made.

Okay, she needed help here, Angel decided. She forced herself to ask, “What did it look like?”

“Like a piece of charcoal last I saw it.”

Gabe knew that wasn’t being very helpful, but he had to confess that before the explosion that had reduced Angel’s vehicle to a charcoal briquette, he’d been so focused on getting her out of the precariously perched car that he hadn’t noticed any actual details about the vehicle.

He thought back to the scene now, doing his best to remember when he’d first glimpsed the tottering sedan. “White—I think,” he qualified. “Does that do anything for you?”

Angel shut her eyes, thinking that might help. It didn’t.

Opening her eyes again, she looked at him and shook her head. The sigh came on its own accord. She was sighing more and more today, she thought. But who could blame her?

“Nothing,” she told him.