he swept his arm toward his truck. “Where are you headed?”
Taking a few tentative steps on the chunky gravel, she called over her shoulder, “North is good.”
Rod resisted the urge to sweep her off her feet, which must be hurting. Better to let her tough it out than suspect him of improper designs on her. Although accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem to bother her.
Reaching the truck, she grabbed the door handle before he could, and pulled herself onto the running board. Nudging her hand out of the way, he opened the door for her. She launched herself inside, dropping onto the leather interior of his truck with a rustle of silk and a soft sigh.
By the time he slid into the driver’s seat, the woman had adjusted the seat back as far as it would go, stretched her legs out and closed her eyes.
He studied her face in the creeping gloom, the headlights of the passing cars illuminating its planes and curves. She’d obviously ditched a wedding and, judging by her dress, it was her own. But why the full-scale flight in complete bridal regalia? She couldn’t stop to change clothes, grab a credit card, get her own car? The whole thing smelled worse than a truckload of manure.
She opened one eye. “Are you going to put this behemoth in gear and get moving?”
For a woman in her position, she didn’t show much gratitude. He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Rod.”
She placed her delicately boned hand in his and, with the grip of a truck driver, she said, “Callie.”
He extracted his fingers from hers and cranked on the engine, Bach immediately cascading from the speakers. She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and he jabbed the button to turn off the CD player.
Blowing out a breath, he pulled onto the highway. “So, how’d a nice girl like you wind up on the roadside in a wedding dress?”
“Who said I was nice?” She clicked open his glove compartment and rummaged inside with one hand.
“Looking for something?”
“Food. I’m starving. Didn’t stick around long enough for the canapés at the reception.”
Despite being an intruder, she’d made herself right at home in his truck. “There’s a bag in the backseat with some granola bars and beef jerky, and a cooler with some bottled water.”
“Even that sounds good to me right now.” She unsnapped her seat belt and twisted in her seat to paw through the paper bag on the floor of the truck.
Rod shot her a sidelong glance as she ripped into a piece of jerky with straight, white teeth. If he had any sense, he’d turn around and deliver her back to the bridegroom. Poor sap. What kind of woman leaves her man stranded at the altar?
She chugged the water and then rested the bottle against her cheek, staring at the highway as his truck gobbled it up. Her pretty blue eyes, shadowed by the dark interior of his car, had a haunted look. Her porcelain skin stretched too tightly over her high cheekbones, and her full lips pursed into a tight knot.
Okay, maybe she didn’t dump a poor sap. Rod always jumped to the most unsavory conclusions about women and their motives—a legacy from mommy dearest.
He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? Because I’ve been driving all afternoon, up from Austin, and I could use a meal.”
Callie flashed him a smile, and his heart almost came to a crashing halt in his chest. The woman could crack wise with the best of them, but that smile didn’t contain an ounce of artifice or bitterness.
“That would be great. And once we get to the next town, maybe you could loan me some money so I can hop on a bus, or at least loan me your cell phone to call a friend back home to wire me some money or something.”
“Back home? You’re not from around here?”
“L.A.”
His brows shot up. “What’s an L.A. girl doing in New Mexico?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She tugged at the sides of the wedding gown, ripping off a little more lace.
“Okay, let me get this straight.” He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and flexed his fingers. “You came out from L.A. to New Mexico…Arizona…Texas to get married, decided you couldn’t go through with it, hightailed it out of your own wedding and hopped on a motorcycle to escape. Is that about right?”
She flashed him two thumbs up. “You got it.”
“So, are you heading back to L.A. now?”
“Uh-huh.”
He didn’t believe half of that story, but once he dropped her at the next bus stop, her story wouldn’t matter anymore. Then he could get back to his own problems of raising enough money to turn his working ranch into a dude ranch.
Since his father and stepmother moved to Palm Springs, taking most of the capital out of the ranch for their retirement, he’d have to rely on loans to get his dude ranch up and running. He hated being indebted to anyone, even a bank.
The McClintock spread had enough space for a modest dude ranch, but he needed more land to really make a go of it…. Not that he could afford to buy more land. Or more horses.
He rolled his shoulders and glanced at his silent companion. It didn’t look like she had any intention of satisfying his curiosity, but at least she had a plan. He didn’t want her depending on him to come to the rescue.
“Truth or Consequences.”
“Huh?” She swiveled her head around and held up her hands. “I’m not up for playing any games.”
He chuckled and pointed to the illuminated sign looming ahead. “That’s the name of the next town. Ever been there?”
“No. How’d it get a name like that?”
“Has something to do with the game show. It used to be called Hot Springs.”
“What a relief. I thought the name might be a requirement for entry into the town.”
Rod curved around the off ramp to Truth or Consequences, gripping the steering wheel. Callie definitely had something to hide. He didn’t find it surprising that a woman had secrets. He never met a woman who didn’t, but he couldn’t figure out why he was so hell-bent on discovering hers.
He pulled into the parking lot of a casual restaurant on the main drag. “I’d offer you some other clothes, but all I have is a sweatshirt. Do you think you’d look more, or less conspicuous with a sweatshirt pulled over that dress?”
Callie pulled down the visor and flipped up the mirror to check her reflection, the first time she did so since climbing into his truck. Pretty women usually worried more about their appearance. Of course, she had other issues on her mind.
Wrinkling her nose, she plucked some tissues from the box in his console. She dabbed at the few smudges left on her face and ran her hands through her tangled hair.
“Sitting at a table, nobody will even notice the bridal attire.
