“You don’t understand.” Arianna stepped closer, certain he’d drawn the wrong conclusion. “I’m the reason his horse reared. I mean, my car… It wasn’t his fault.”
“It wasn’t yours either,” Caleb said again. He motioned toward his brother. “Winston, meet Arianna Hart. Arianna, my brother Winston.”
“Wyn is fine.” The doctor managed a halfway agreeable nod for Arianna. “Caleb is the only one who calls me Winston.” He waved toward the windows, indicating the road beyond. “Whatever happened out there, I’m glad you stopped to help.”
“I think Arianna should spend the night,” Caleb said, tilting his head against the rear of the sofa and cupping a hand over his forehead.
“What?” She laughed, startled by the suggestion. Damn, if she hadn’t been staring, focused on the way the light defined strands of white-gold and ash in his longish hair. It didn’t help he sat with his legs braced apart, his jeans pulling taut, defining the muscular lines of his thighs. Unlike Lauren, she’d never been attracted to blond men. Lauren’s ex-husband, Rick Rothrock, was the perpetual golden boy of Sagehill–young, handsome and successful.
Feeling her checks flush, she cleared her throat. “I live in Sagehill.” She was thankful neither man had noticed her straying glance. “Twenty minutes and I’ll be home.”
Caleb lowered his hand long enough to meet her eyes. “The fog is growing worse and it’s late.”
“He’s right.” Absently, Wyn laced his fingers through his rumpled black curls. He looked like he’d only woken up, sloppy in comparison to his fair-haired brother. She guessed he’d dressed in a hurry when he heard Caleb’s horse outside. The physical resemblance between the two was slight, and Arianna would have never pegged them as being related.
“I’ll be fine driving home,” she said.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Caleb cast his brother a pointed glance, but his words were for Arianna. “It’s not safe tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
“The fog,” Caleb clarified with an easy smile. “It’s building.”
Before she could protest, he stood and gathered her hand in his, the touch igniting sparks along the pads of her fingertips.
“I’d feel better if you stayed here. If you need to call your husband–”
“I’m not married.” Normally she could tell when a man was fishing, trying to discover if she was involved with someone. She’d been on the singles’ scene long enough to know the rules and spot the players, but Caleb bewildered her. Her eyes dropped to his left hand, noting the absence of a wedding ring.
“I live alone.” She cringed as soon as she said it, realizing her blunder. Nothing like announcing she lived by herself and wouldn’t be missed. Why not ring the dinner bell for anyone unscrupulous enough to ditch her body in a remote area where the remains wouldn’t be found for months or years? “Uh, but I’m still friends with my ex-boyfriend. He’s a detective with the Sagehill Police Department and we check in with each other regularly.”
“I see.” Caleb released her hand. “You can call him over there.” He nodded to a table where Arianna noted a wireless handset among a clump of other items–car keys, pens, a pocketknife, unopened mail and a handful of loose change.
She shook her head, embarrassed to appear distrustful when he’d been nothing but understanding. Caleb had a way of looking at her that made her feel like an awkward teenager. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-two or thirty-three, yet seemed older.
“I should go now.” She didn’t believe either man was a threat. They would have harmed her already had that been their intent, but she didn’t want to spend the night with strangers. The only danger outside was a naturally occurring fog, something she’d encountered countless times before.
“I’ll leave my insurance information in case there’s a problem.”
Caleb traded a glance with Wyn, something nonverbal passing between them. “The least I can do is escort you to your vehicle and ensure it wasn’t damaged.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Rummaging a pen and paper from her purse, she jotted down her contact information and left it on the table by the phone. Afterward, both men walked with her outside, Caleb holding the door as she stepped onto the porch.
Chapter 2
The moon was almost completely hidden when Arianna walked outside, cloud cover blotting what few stars remained. Rain lingered on the air, carrying the promise of a brewing storm. The wind scattered the hair around her face and sent the long tails of Caleb’s coat flapping back from his legs.
“I don’t like the weather,” he muttered to Wyn. He offered Arianna his hand and guided her down the steps. She smiled, unable to remember when a man had last shown her such elegant courtesy. At the bottom he released her, his eyes narrowed on the horizon.
“Winston.”
Arianna felt a shift in the weather, followed by the touch of something inexplicably cold. The darkness thrummed with a low-level vibration, climbing in pitch until it crashed over her in a whistling shriek. Confused, she covered her ears, looking about for the source of the sound. At her side, Caleb hissed in a breath.
“Winston!”
The authoritative crack of his voice jarred her. All around her, the darkness erupted in short bursts of light like a string of exploding flashbulbs. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The stench of ozone and sulfur filled the air.
Wyn muttered a curse and raced for the driveway. Arianna was too focused on the appearance of four glowing spheres to pay attention to what he was doing. They dipped to the ground, pulsing with a ghost-white light before soaring upward to vanish in the blink of an eye.
“Did you see that?” she cried. “That was ball lightning!”
Caleb ignored her excitement and steered her briskly toward her car. In the darkness his hair glimmered coin-bright, as eerily luminescent as the lightning had been. “I wish you’d reconsider and spend the night. The weather is turning foul.”
“Who cares?” Arianna jerked free. “Caleb, do you realize how many people flock to this area hoping to see what we did?”
He frowned, towering over her. “Annie, it’s nothing more than lightning.”
“My name is Ari!” She glared, irked he’d use his height to intimidate her.
“Not that I want to get in the middle of your argument,” Wyn called from the driveway. “But I think you’ve got a flat, Arianna.”
“What?” Wrenched from her anger, she whirled to find Wyn crouched by her car. In the glow from the porch lights, she saw the right front tire was flat, the Sebring leaning to the side. “That’s just great!”
“Looks like you might have punctured it on a nail,” Wyn said. “Do you have a spare?”
“In the trunk.” She’d probably run over something when the
