Kate Little – Husband For Keeps (страница 2)

The old truck sputtered ominously, and Carey nearly lost heart. Then suddenly the engine turned over with a roar.

She carefully put the truck in gear and headed down the long ranch road, the wipers and weak defogger doing only a passable job on the rain-drenched, fogged-up windshield. The truck bounced along through the ruts and holes, giving Carey a ride like a rodeo bronco. But despite the punishment, she didn’t slow down.

When she reached the main road, she turned left. If her groom had followed the careful directions from the airport, she knew he would be approaching from that direction.

Carey spared a quick glance at her image in the rearview mirror. Ophie, bless her soul, had been right. She did look a sight.

Some bride. More like the bride of Frankenstein!

If only this was a real wedding day, with a man I could truly pledge my heart to, could lovingly promise to honor and cherish, Carey thought wistfully. It would certainly make Ophie happy.

And my father, rest his soul.

She shook the errant thought from her head. As if she had ever met a man she would want to marry—truly. Oh, she’d had some romances, some that even seemed serious for a time. But when it came down to the question of marriage, the very idea of a pledge so permanent, so all encompassing, scared her silly. She wasn’t quite sure why, when part of her seemed to yearn so for such a union.

Perhaps it was the idea of giving up so much of the independence she’d struggled so hard to win and preserve, but which lately had provided little more than cold comfort on a long lonely night. Especially here, out on the ranch, where there were far fewer escapes and distractions from that empty, aching feeling than there’d been in Los Angeles.

Still, she wasn’t ready for marriage. Not now. Maybe not ever—though she did love children and often felt an urge toward motherhood. But a woman didn’t necessarily have to be married these days to have children. Hollywood stars were going the single-mom route every day. And once she sold the ranch, Carey reflected, the money would give her the freedom to do as she wished. To map out a whole new plan for her future.

As Carey’s thoughts wandered, her gaze searched the road for any sign of Kyle. All she had to do was find Kyle and bring him back before the judge flew the coop. Once the stroke of midnight sounded, marking her thirtieth birthday, she would lose everything if she was still single.

But if Kyle was stuck someplace in the rain, or worse yet, if his flight had been forced to land at some distant airport, she was sunk. Who in the world could she find to marry her at this late hour in the game?

Carey took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the worst possibilities. You have to think positively, she coached herself, trying to pump up her positive energy as she’d learned to do from stepping into a tough audition. You have to picture yourself standing in front of that judge, saying “I do!”

As Carey coaxed mental images of her nuptials, the wipers struggled to keep up with the driving rain. Carey leaned forward and whisked some fog from the windshield with the edge of her sleeve. She could barely see even a few yards ahead of her.

Not that there was much to see. The road was not well traveled even on the fairest days. This morning, she reasoned, anyone with any sense in their head had pulled over to wait out the worst of the storm.

Then suddenly she spotted the dark form of a vehicle up ahead, parked on the side of the road. Kyle’s rental car! Yes! Her heart lurched hopefully. See what a little positive thinking can do? She congratulated herself.

Then she drew closer. A flash of lightning illuminated the scene. Not Kyle’s car as she hoped. Her spirits sank again as she took in the sight of a black flatbed pickup, its emergency lights flashing. A blue bandanna was tied to the radio antenna, hanging limp and drenched with rain. Clearly the troubled traveler had been sitting there for some time.

“Oh, drat.” Carey slapped the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

Just what I need, a chance to play Good Samaritan. Don’t I have more important things to do than rescue stranded neighbors right now? If I don’t find Kyle out here somewhere within the next fifteen minutes, my entire life is down the toilet.

She approached the truck and carefully applied the brakes. Her own truck skidded and veered to the side but finally stopped safely on the road shoulder. She cut the engine and pressed on her emergency lights.

When she looked back at the black pickup, she caught sight of a small face, staring at her through a circle in the fogged window. A little boy’s face, his dark eyes wide and frightened.

She forgot about her missing groom and spoiled plans and was suddenly happy she’d stopped. She pushed her door open, and a gust of rain hit her with a blast as she hopped out of the truck. Her boots sank into the mud several inches.

The door of the black truck swung open, and Carey found herself staring at the driver. His serious, impassive expression, strong features and compelling dark eyes made her breath catch and froze her in her tracks.

“Thanks for stopping,” he said, unsmiling. His voice was deep, rough, disturbingly masculine.

“No problem,” she replied evenly. “Why don’t you leave your truck here, and I’ll give you a lift back to my place? It’s only a few miles west.”

As Carey spoke she felt increasingly self-conscious under his assessing glance. She realized what a sight she must seem, from the garland of wilted flowers in her matted hair, to her long, wet, mud-splattered skirt.

Suddenly the boy’s dark head popped up from behind one broad shoulder. Carey smiled at his wide-eyed expression. She’d forgotten all about him for a moment.

“Hey, Luke, has that lady come to help us?” she heard him whisper into the driver’s ear.

“Sure thing, pal,” the driver said. “I told you someone would come,” the man named Luke added in a quiet, reassuring tone. “Tyler doesn’t care much for thunderstorms,” he explained, glancing with a sympathetic gaze at the boy.

“Oh…I see.” Carey peeked over Luke’s broad shoulder at Tyler’s small, wary expression. “Well, here I am. Your official rescue squad.” She offered a wide smile in the boy’s direction. “When I was a kid I didn’t like storms, either. But my mother used to tell me it was only angels bowling.”

Tyler’s uneasy expression slowly changed to a smile. “That’s silly,” he said.

“Yeah, isn’t it?” Carey agreed with a little laugh.

Then she met Luke’s gaze and felt mesmerized as a slow, reluctant smile transformed his hard, impassive features. Not the sly, come-on smile Carey normally drew from members of the opposite sex. This was different. Completely different.

Deep dimples creased his tanned cheeks; even, white teeth flashed against tanned skin, a sudden light in his dark eyes glowed as he met her gaze. Carey smiled back, feeling a curious, punched-in-the-gut sensation again. As if, during that instant his gaze had met and held hers, somehow he’d tapped a direct line to her heart.

Gratitude, perhaps, for the comfort she offered his small scared companion. Or simply the glance two adults exchange when caring for a child.

But just as quickly his expression returned to the shuttered mask that had first greeted her. She had the oddest feeling he regretted allowing himself even that single, simple instant of intimacy.

He turned abruptly to the boy. “Let me help you out on this side, Ty. There’s a big puddle on yours. And don’t forget your hat.”

“I’ll wait in the truck for you,” Carey said curtly. She turned and tramped off to her truck, putting some much-needed distance between herself and her newfound passengers.

Her reaction to this guy had been…ridiculous. It had to be the stress of this everything-gone-wrong day—when so much depended on things going right for her, just this once.

Luke and Tyler soon appeared at the passenger side of the truck, and Luke opened the door and helped the boy climb in.

“Just wait here with the lady a minute,” Luke instructed him. “I need to go back to the truck. I’ll just be a minute,” he told Carey.

Once Carey and Tyler were alone, he glanced up at her warily. “My name is Tyler,” he offered politely, reminding her that she hadn’t introduced herself by name yet.

“I’m Carey,” she returned. “Carey Winslow.” Then, not knowing what else to say as he continued to stare up at her so solemnly, she added, “How old are you?”

“I’m four. Almost going to be five.”

Carey, who wasn’t around small children much, didn’t know how to keep the conversation going. Thunder rolled loudly nearby, and she saw the child grow tense again.

“Do you like horses?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

“I guess,” he said hesitantly, his answer surprising her. What four-year-old boy didn’t like horses?

“I’ve only seen a few close up. I never rode one,” he explained. The he looked back up at her, his expression very serious. “Luke has. He’s been on a lot of horses.”

Carey, who knew a full-blooded cowboy when she saw one, laughed lightly. “I bet he has. Maybe he’ll teach you to ride them someday, too. You’d like it. It’s fun.”