Chapman would have a field day with this. Only a couple of hours ago, her rival had offered to buy Adventures in Pink.
Talk about nerve. Granddad started this company thirty-five years ago with a dream. A passion for sharing the splendor of these mountains with others. And he left Adventures in Pink to her. She couldn’t imagine selling.
Dan let go a low whistle, distracting her from thoughts of Ross Chapman. “You walked away from that?”
“Piece of cake.” Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the other person—tall, dark and definitely not Gran—rounded Dan’s vehicle.
Oh. My.
She blinked twice, her pulse racing once again.
His dark brown hair was shorter than she remembered, but those root beer eyes that had haunted her dreams for longer than she cared to admit hadn’t changed one bit.
Tugging at her jacket, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Blakely....” Dan dragged out her name as though she’d embarrassed him. If he only knew. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Lockridge. I was at the doctor’s office in Ridgway when you called. He offered to come along and help.”
Of course, he did.
“Hello, Blakely.”
She visually traced the outline of his face, the high cheekbones, his lazy smile. The last time she heard from Trent Lockridge he was in Albuquerque, riding off into the sunset with someone else. So he’d made it through medical school after all.
“You two know each other?” Dan’s gaze flitted between them.
“It’s been a while, but yes.” Trent’s scrutiny had her feeling like a disfigured bug under a microscope.
No telling how many kids he and his wife had now. Probably a whole houseful. Aside from becoming a doctor, Trent’s greatest dream had been to have a family.
Looked like he’d gotten everything he ever wanted.
Jutting her chin out, she said, “I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”
His stare faltered as he toed an embedded rock. “I thought Dan explained that. I work at the clinic.”
“Since when?”
He looked at her now. “Since Monday.” Was it her imagination or did Trent’s shoulders drop a notch?
“Well, you’re not working on me.” Simmering anger and more what-ifs than she could count propelled her toward the SUV. A few swift steps into her escape, though, her head swam. Flashes of white light darted through her vision. She tripped.
“Easy.” Strong hands grabbed her by the arms and kept her steady until she regained her wits. When she did, she quickly extricated herself from Trent’s grasp.
“Looks like somebody’s had a little too much excitement.” He turned to Dan. “Let’s get her to your truck.”
To her dismay, they flanked her, wet gravel crunching in surround sound. Her mud-covered jeans had begun to dry and were slapping against her legs like a sandwich board. Miserable. And oh so unattractive.
Dan opened the door and Trent offered his hand to help her inside. She ignored the gesture. The last thing she needed was help from Trent Lockridge.
“You probably ought to give her a once-over, Doc.” Dan adjusted the brim of his faded Broncos cap. “Rose Daniels would have my head if I let anything happen to her granddaughter.”
Great. Trapped between two wannabe heroes.
She settled sideways in the backseat, keeping her filthy duck boots on the threshold. “I’m fine.”
“What were you doing up here anyway?”
“Checking out the four-wheel drive.” Not to mention venting after Ross Chapman’s visit. Still, with all the rain they had yesterday, she should have been on the lookout for rock slides.
“And?”
“Works just fine.” She glanced over the edge. “Or did, anyway.”
“Let’s just be grateful you’re okay.” The sincerity in Trent’s expression sparked something deep inside of her, but she stomped it out like a wayward ember on parched grass. After all, he was a married man. Along with a multitude of other things.
“He’s right.” Dan visually scaled the face of the mountain. “Things could have been a lot worse, regardless of how well you know these roads.”
Focusing on her grubby hands, she picked at the dirt imbedded under what little fingernails she had. “How long do you think the truck will be out of commission?”
Dan shrugged. “Can’t say until we get it back to the shop.”
While Trent disappeared around the back of the vehicle, she slid the elastic band from her ponytail. “Were you able to call the wrecker?”
Dan nodded. “Promised to get up here as soon as possible.”
“Good.” She worked her fingers through the tangled tresses. “What do you think the odds are of us keeping this little faux pas under wraps?” In a town as small as Ouray, news like this spread faster than butter on a hot griddle. Damage control would be imperative.
“I’ll certainly do my part.”
Blakely grimaced and sucked in a sharp breath. Pain radiated from a hefty lump on the left side of her head. Regrettably, Dan caught her pained expression, too.
He inched closer, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Uh, Doc, I think we’ve got a problem.”
“It’s nothing. Really. Just a little bump.”
Trent pushed in front of Dan and set a small bag on the floorboard. “Why don’t I have a look? Just to be safe.”
“She’s all yours, Doc. I’m gonna go check on the truck.”
“Be careful,” she said as Dan turned away. “The gas smell was pretty strong.”
“Did you shut off the ignition?”
She cringed. That should have been her first instinct. She shook her head. “Guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” With a quick smile, Dan disappeared over the ledge, leaving her alone with the one person she never wanted, or expected, to see again.
Trent’s broad-shouldered physique hovered over her now, so close she caught a whiff of his aftershave.
“Where does it hurt?”
She pointed to the side of her head, eager to be anywhere but in Trent’s presence.
His fingers ran along her scalp, unleashing a flood of emotions.
“Ow!”
