As Luke looked down the dark road, a sliver of fear burrowed under his skin. He doubted it was a coincidence that he’d been looking for a pickup, heard a vehicle as he was leaving Buzz’s—and one had just run McCall off the road.
What worried him was the fear that the pickup—and McCall being run off the road—had something to do with not only Buzz’s truck, but also his uncle.
MCCALL HUGGED HERSELF against the cold Montana April night and the emotions Luke Crawford had set off like fireworks inside her.
He made her heart beat too fast, her pulse race, her body ache. He had when she was seventeen. He was even more desirable now, she thought, remembering the feel of his arms around her and the kiss. She reminded herself that this was the man who’d broken her heart, but that old bitterness didn’t have the bite it used to.
“I’m sorry I accused you of running me off the road.”
He was standing so close she could smell his woodsy male scent. She could see that her accusation had hurt more than the slap.
She hugged herself tighter at the memory of his arms around her, the solid, strong feel of his body, his mouth on hers. “And I’m sorry I hit you.”
His gaze locked with hers. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”
Damn the man. She wanted to smack him again.
“Yes, I’m sorry you did, too.”
“I should get my tow rope,” he said, clearly upset. “I think I can pull you out with my truck.”
She nodded and felt something break inside her as he brushed past her, anger in every line of his body. “Thanks,” she said.
He mumbled something under his breath she couldn’t hear as he headed for his truck.
McCall leaned against the cold metal of her pickup and stared at his broad back silhouetted against his headlights. How could she have thought he would want to hurt her? Because he’d hurt her before.
She took a deep breath of the cold night air and, touching her finger to her lips, felt her traitorous heart quicken at the memory of the kiss.
His kiss had brought back the past in one fell swoop. That night beside the campfire, the stars glittering overhead, the night she’d been seventeen and so wonderfully in love.
Her skin ached at the memory of their lovemaking beside the campfire.
“McCall? You ready?”
Lost in the past, she started at the sound of his voice. Hurriedly, she climbed back behind the wheel and slammed her pickup door.
With a jolt, she realized that she’d been so shaken earlier she hadn’t bothered to turn off the engine. Her hands trembled as she was reminded of the near head-on collision before she’d swerved and lost control, ending up in the ditch.
It could have been so much worse.
She saw that Luke had turned his truck around, hooked up the tow rope and was just waiting for her to give him a signal that she was ready.
She whirred down her window. “Ready when you are.”
He gave her a thumbs-up before disappearing into the cab of his truck. She waited as he pulled forward, the tow rope tightening until she felt the tension stretch between them.
All these years of being apart and now they’d been thrown together how many times in the past two days? If she believed in fate...
When she felt the tow rope grow taut, she gave her truck some gas. She could hear the dirt and gravel scrape against the undercarriage, then she was hauled up and out of the ditch and onto the road, forced to hit her brakes to keep from running into the back of Luke’s pickup.
Putting the truck in Park, she got out and stood between their two rigs as he unhooked the tow rope, trying not to notice the way the fabric of his shirt stretched over the hard muscles of his shoulders. “About earlier—”
“Forget it,” he said, rising to his feet with the tow rope coiled in his hands.
If only she could forget.
“If you remember anything about the truck that ran you off the road...”
“Sure,” she said, although she knew that wasn’t going to happen. All she’d seen was dust, then bright headlights.
“I’m glad you’re all right.”
Both feet firmly planted on the ground. That was her.
He turned and started toward his pickup, all broad shoulders, long legs, slim hips and cowboy boots. But it was the way he moved, a long, lanky swagger...
“Luke?”
He stopped and looked back at her, waiting though wary.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just...thanks.”
He nodded, climbed into his pickup and drove away, leaving her wanting to pound her head against the side of her truck.
LUKE KNEW HE had to be dreaming because McCall lay next to him on the bed in his new house—the one he hadn’t finished building, let alone moved into.
She was in his arms, her body warm and silky soft, scented with the sweet smells of summer. Her limbs were lightly suntanned, a sprinkling of freckles along the tops of her shoulders and the bridge of her nose.
He drew her closer, breathing her in, amazed that he hadn’t lost her. He didn’t question how it was that she was here with him. All those years apart seemed to melt away and he knew in his heart that this was where McCall was destined to be—with him.
Something jarred him. He closed his eyes tighter, fighting whatever was trying to pull him from the dream, knowing that the moment he came fully awake, McCall would be gone. Gone, just as she had been for the past ten years. Only this time, lost to him forever.
The ringing of his cell phone dragged him up from the dream. He stirred, still keeping his eyes closed, still fighting that moment when he would know for certain it had all just been a dream.
The phone rang
