Sara Orwig – Kissed by a Rancher (страница 2)

She shook her head slightly. “You don’t have to show more identification,” she said, stepping away. “All right, you can stay tonight. You can sleep on the sofa in my suite, but I will not share my bathroom, so you’ll have to go across the hall to a central one.”

“That sounds like paradise,” he said, smiling at her. “Thanks, Abby. This means a lot to me, because it’s a deplorable night.” He wondered if he could talk her into going to dinner with him some night. The cold and relief of acquiring a room must have affected his judgment, because she definitely didn’t look like his type of woman. He didn’t know her, either, and he didn’t ask strangers to go out with him. “I’ll get my bedding and pay the cabbie. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“The front door will be unlocked. I’ll lock it after you’re back inside.”

He stepped closer to her. “You’re not going to regret this.”

She blinked as if startled. “I certainly hope I don’t,” she replied breathlessly.

He turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Holding his hat squarely on his head again, he sprinted to the taxi and climbed inside. “I got the room. Thanks for the ride,” he said, drawing bills out of his wallet. “Thanks for getting me back into town after seeing about the horse. And thanks for your encouragement and for stopping so I could buy a pillow and blanket.”

“Glad you found a place. Sorry I couldn’t help more, but with the kids plus my in-laws staying, my two-bedroom duplex is not the best place, although you could have come if nothing else had turned up. Good luck to you. When the roads open and you’re ready to go back to the airport, call—you have my card. I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks, Benny,” Josh said, glancing at the man’s identification card attached to the visor, knowing he would have stayed anywhere he could find before imposing on the cabbie and his family with four little ones plus in-laws in a tiny place. “I won’t forget all you’ve done.” Josh tucked an extra-large tip in with the other bills he gave the cabdriver.

“Mister, you made a mistake,” the driver said, seeing how much money he had in his hand.

“No, I didn’t. That’s a thank-you. Take care of yourself and your family,” Josh said.

The man smiled. “Thanks. That’s a generous tip.”

Josh started to step outside but stopped and looked back. “Does Ms. Donovan have a husband who helps her run the inn?”

“No. She’s single—from a big family. Her grandmother used to run the place. Now Abby does, and Grandma Donovan lives up on the top floor with some other elderly relatives or over at her daughter’s house, which is next door.”

“I see,” Josh said, deciding the town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else. “Thanks again.” He stepped out into the snow to dash back to the inn.

Abby appeared instantly to lock the front door and switch off the porch light. Wind whistled and howled around the house.

“I’ll show you where to put your things,” she said, walking down the hall and turning as it branched off. “This is my suite.” She stepped into a room and turned on a ceiling light. The room had a polished oak floor with a hand-woven area rug, antique mahogany furniture and bookshelves filled with books and family pictures. Green plants gave it an old-fashioned, cozy appearance that made him think of his grandparents’ house. A stone fireplace had a smoldering fire with a screen in front of it.

“I started the fire a while ago so my room would be warm after I told everyone good-night,” she said. “Most of the guests are in the big living room, and they go to their own rooms about eleven, when I shut everything down. Tonight is a little different because no one can get up and leave in the morning, so I think some will watch a movie. Suit yourself about what you do. You can leave your things and join us, or if you prefer, you can stay in here. There is a door from my bedroom into the hall, so I can come and go that way and not disturb you. You’ll have this room to yourself. As soon as I get towels for you and get you registered, I’ll go join them again.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said, placing his pillow and blanket on the sofa before shedding his coat. He wore a thick brown sweater over a white dress shirt, jeans and boots and was glad he had dressed warmly.

“You’ll be too long for that old-fashioned sofa. Would you rather sleep on the floor?”

“I’ll be fine. Just to have a roof over my head is paradise. I don’t mind my feet hanging off the sofa,” he said, smiling at her. Once again he received a riveting look that momentarily immobilized him until she turned away.

“I’ll get your towels,” she said and left. He watched her cross the hall and disappear into a room. She returned to hand him clean towels and washcloths.

“If you’ll come with me, you can register.”

Josh followed her to the front desk of polished dark wood with scratches from what must have been years of use. He glanced around at the decorative staircase rails. “This place looks Victorian.”

“It is. It’s been in my family for five generations now.” She turned a ledger toward him. “Please sign your name. I’ll need a credit card. Since you’ll be on the sofa, I’ll just charge you a discounted rate. Here are the rates and details about staying here,” she added, handing a paper to him. “And here’s a map of the inn and a map of the town of Beckett, although you won’t be leaving tomorrow, because we’re supposed to get a lot more snow and possibly sleet.”

“No, I’m stuck probably through tomorrow at least.”

“Everything has shut down—highways, roads and businesses will be closed tomorrow. They’ve already had the announcements on television and said schools will be closed Monday.” She reached under the desk and produced a small flashlight. “We heard on the radio that half the town is without power because of ice on electric lines. I’m giving all the guests flashlights. This is an old house, and candles are dangerous.”

“Thanks.” Pocketing the flashlight, Josh barely glanced at the papers she handed him as he studied her instead. Her smooth, flawless skin and rosy cheeks added to her appeal. What was it about her that fueled this tingling awareness of her? It wasn’t her personality, because he barely knew her and had spoken with her only briefly. Her fuzzy sweater came to her thighs and hid her figure, so that wasn’t the electrifying draw. She was a nice person who was being helpful. That should be all. Instead, he had a scalding awareness of her that made him think about asking her out, fantasize about dancing with her and holding her, and wonder what it would be like to kiss her and make love with her. She was providing shelter and comfort; maybe it was his long hours of work over the past few days and now the storm that caused his reaction to her. He had slept little for over a week.

When she turned the register around, she read what he had signed. “This gives a Dallas address. Do you consider Dallas home instead of Verity?”

“I live and work in Dallas most of the time. I also have a ranch in west Texas. The closest town is Verity,” he replied. She nodded as she gathered more papers to hand to him.

“So you’re a hobby rancher,” she said.

“Yes, at least for now. Someday I’ll move to the ranch and do that full-time and let someone else run the hotel business for me. I go to the ranch when I get a chance, but that rarely happens,” he admitted, thinking there weren’t many people who knew he missed ranching and wondering why he was telling a stranger.

“Here’s the schedule for tomorrow,” she said. “Normally breakfast runs from seven-thirty until 9:00 a.m. Since no one can get out tomorrow, we’ll start at 8:00 a.m. and go until nine-thirty.”

“Thanks. The breakfast time is fine.”

“I’ll be going back to join the others now unless you have anything else you want to ask me about,” she said, looking up, those wide eyes capturing his full attention again.

“Thanks, no. I’ll follow you.”

“We’ve been singing. I play the piano or leave it to a guest.”

They entered a large living room that ran almost the length of the east side of the house and was furnished in early American maple with a hardwood floor and area rugs. A fire burned low in the fireplace, adding to the inviting appeal of the room. Two small children slept in adults’ arms. Five children sprawled on the floor or in an adult’s lap. A couple of men stood to offer Abby a seat. Smiling, she thanked them and asked the men to sit.

“We’ve been waiting. Let’s sing some more,” someone said.

“Folks, this is another guest—Josh Calhoun of Dallas, Texas,” Abby said, smiling and glancing at him while he acknowledged her introduction with a nod and wave of his hand.

People said hi as Abby crossed the room to slide onto the piano bench. She played a song Josh had heard his grandmother play, a song from his childhood that he was surprised to discover he still knew when he joined in the singing.

As they sang, he watched her play. She was not his type in any manner, other than being a woman. He couldn’t understand his reaction to her. She was plain, with her hair in an unflattering thick ponytail, and she wore no makeup. She ran a bed-and-breakfast inn in a small west Texas town. He would never ask her out.