Cowboy Crazy(6)

He cocked a long, dark brow. “That so?”

She raised her jaw a notch. “Yes. What are my options? I don’t even have cell service.”

At that, he laughed again. The sound was becoming too familiar, and her body reactions were taking over her thought processes. “It’s not likely you have cell service anywhere in this valley.”

“How far does the valley stretch?”

“Nine miles give or take a few footsteps.” He tapped the hood. “I don’t see any way around this.”

Around what? Her heart sank, and those tears she’d battled earlier were too close to the surface. “I was thinking I’d spend the night in the car.”

His jaw shifted, showing a bulge of tendon in the crease. He shook his head. “My momma raised me right, and you sleeping in your car don’t set well with me. Look, I live about ten minutes that way. I can take you to my house and you can use our phone.”

Our phone. He’s married, has a family.

She eyed his truck. Would a family man hurt her? She made her decision. “I’d appreciate it.”

Of course, once she had a phone in hand, who would she call? Her parents were in Phoenix, and they’d scoffed at her notion to go in search of a different kind of life. Calling for help would make her seem weak. More than ever, she needed to stand on her own after what Stephen had done to her.

She’d figure out who to call once she crossed that bridge.

“I can see you aren’t from around here. What are you traveling with? Do you have a suitcase?”

“Uh, yeah. Why would I need it?”

When his smile appeared, she wasn’t ready for it. Her breathing hitched. Quickly, she stamped on her attraction. While he wasn’t wearing a wedding band, he worked with his hands and might not wear it regularly.

“Sweetheart, we’re a good two hours from a town with lodging, and even then it’s going to be booked full for the big rodeo this week. I’ll take you home with me to use the phone. My brothers are out of town, and I’ll put you up in one of their rooms until you can make arrangements.”

Tears clung to the roots of her lashes, and she pressed a thumb and forefinger into her eyes, hoping he didn’t see her distress.

He sagged at the knees to peer into her face. “Look, it’s not so bad. My brothers are messy, but Momma will make sure you have clean sheets.”

For some reason, that made her laugh. Relief coursed through her that she was getting help she needed. No, her sudden happiness didn’t have anything to do with him living with his mother and brothers.

“Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” In fact, she couldn’t pay for car repairs. She was on a shoestring.

“Call it Texas hospitality.” He didn’t let his gaze wander over her. She was so used to men ogling her back in Phoenix, his indifference to her appearance seemed odd. She didn’t know whether to feel happy that he wouldn’t rape her or annoyed that he didn’t find her as attractive as she found him.

When she reached into the car and got her purse, her skin prickled. Were his eyes on her? Was he looking at her ass?

She straightened and tossed a look over her shoulder, but found him examining the tire. “Everything okay there?”

“Yes, it’s solid.” He kicked it as if to prove his point.

She retrieved her suitcase from the back seat. Before she wrangled it out completely, he was there, nudging her aside. “Let me.”

He hefted all her belongings in the whole world as if her suitcase weighed as much as a feather pillow. He twitched his head toward the truck, indicating she should walk in front of him.

The inside of his truck was clean but shabby. He placed her suitcase in the bed and got behind the driver’s wheel, taking up so much room, she marveled that he could drive comfortably. And how much denim fabric did it take to clothe him?

Suddenly he turned to her, eyes shining from under the brim of his hat. His coloring was dark, and she wondered about his hair. It was completely obscured under his hat. “Make yerself comfortable...” He floundered. “I don’t even know your name. I’m Hank. Hank Dalton.”

Lord, what a dreamy name, and the way he drawled it sent dark pleasure creeping through her belly.

She stuck out her hand and he clasped it, his touch warm and dry. Hard-working hands. “Charlotte Masterson.”

His eyes twinkled. “Well, Charlotte,” he dragged her name out as if he was tasting a cold beer after a day of backbreaking labor, “welcome to Paradise Valley, population of seven.”


* * *

“Seven? Are you kidding me?”

Damn, she was pretty, especially now that the fear had left her eyes. Somewhere between the time he’d looked under her hood and carried her suitcase for her, she’d come to realize he wasn’t going to molest her.