driving—he was fairly certain it was a woman, but he was judging on size alone, since it was difficult to see in the dark—barely glanced his way. Focused on what was right in front of her, she barreled forward as if she’d had a hard journey and would finish it, this uneven surface be damned.
Who was that? And where was she going? The only other house nearby was the ranch house to which his own converted bunkhouse had once belonged. And it had sat empty for the past three years or longer. According to what Gavin had been told, it wasn’t even for sale—not that he could’ve afforded the bigger property, anyway.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched the truck bounce and sway past him. Although the road was supposed to be privately maintained, it hadn’t been maintained at all, not in a number of years, which made the potholes deep and difficult to miss—and she seemed to be hitting most of them.
Did this mean he had a new neighbor? If so, how would she get through to her house? The bridge over the creek that ran between the two properties had washed out in the last heavy rain.
She didn’t seem to be aware of that, though. At least, she wasn’t slowing down...
He took off running to warn her before she could wind up in the water. Banging on the truck as he came alongside, he attempted to get her attention before she could crush him against one of the trees that gave him so little room as it was. “Whoa! Hey! Stop!”
She seemed reluctant to let him waylay her. Either that, or she was afraid of what encountering a strange man out here in the middle of nowhere could mean. Because even after she hit the brakes, she barely cracked the window so that they could hear each other speak. “Something wrong?”
He edged around a thorny bush in order to get close enough to see her. About his age, with a riot of thick, copper-colored hair and light-colored eyes, she studied him with more caution than he’d ever seen before. Two children—a boy and a younger girl—leaned forward to peer around what he could only assume was their mother.
“You can’t go down that way,” he explained, gesturing at the road ahead. “The bridge is washed out.”
“What bridge?” she asked.
He blinked in surprise. “The bridge that goes over the creek.”
She scowled. “You mean before you reach the house?”
He swatted a mosquito. It’d been a wet year, and now that spring had arrived, the vicious little monsters were coming out in force. That was the one downside to living in the country. “Haven’t you ever been here before?”
“No.”
He wiped some blood from a scratch on his forearm. That darn bush had gouged him before he could avoid it. “You’ve got all your belongings with you, right? You are moving in.”
She finished rolling down the window. “Yes, but I’ve only ever seen the pictures my father sent.”
“So he’s the one who owns the house.”
“Not anymore. He passed away in a boating accident a little over a year ago. The property belongs to me and my younger brother now.”
“I see. I’m sorry for your loss.”
She frowned. “Not as sorry as I am.”
Gavin’s gaze shifted to the children. “Where you all from?”
“I was born and raised in LA—Long Beach. But I’ve been living in Utah since I left for college. That’s where both my children were born.”
“In Nephi,” the boy piped up, seemingly proud that he could add this bit of information.
“Nephi, huh?” Gavin said. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s small but not too far from the Salt Lake Valley, if you’re familiar with that,” the woman said. “About two hours south.”
Gavin whistled. “Sounds like a long drive from there to here, especially in a moving van.”
She blew a strand of curly hair out of her face. “You have no idea. We left at four this morning and have been on the road ever since. According to MapQuest, it was only ten hours, but it took nearly twice as long traveling with two children in a vehicle that can’t go faster than fifty-five.” She peered through the front windshield again. “So...how do I get in? Do I go around? Is there another road or—”
“’Fraid not,” he said. “This is it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean I can’t reach the house?”
“Not tonight. Someone will have to repair the bridge before you can cross, especially driving this beast.” He tapped the side of the heavy truck.
She looked crestfallen. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...no.” She was obviously disappointed, but there was no way he could change reality.
She picked up her phone, then tossed it back in the seat and cursed under her breath.
Her little girl’s eyes widened. “Did you say a swear word, Mommy?”
“I said ‘shoot,’” she grumbled.
“No, you didn’t,” her boy insisted.
Gavin tried not to smile at the exchange. “What’s wrong?”
“The battery on my phone is dead. I haven’t been able to charge it. The cigarette lighter in this truck doesn’t work. Neither does the air-conditioning, probably why they gave me such a good deal.”
They’d been without air-conditioning on a day like this? That had to be another reason they appeared slightly frayed at the edges. “If you need to make a call, you can use mine.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket and put in the passcode before offering it to her. “Is someone planning to meet you and help you unload?”
She waved off his phone. “No, it’s only me and the kids. I wasn’t planning to make a call. I was going to look for a motel. But maybe you know of one I should try.”
“The Mission Inn is nice and reasonable.”
“Is it far? How do I get there?”
“Wait! We’re not staying?” her son broke in. “You said we were home. That we’d be able to get out!”
“I have to go potty,” her daughter added in a whine.
“I wasn’t expecting to run into a washed-out bridge, okay? Let me... Let me figure out where we can spend the night. It shouldn’t take much longer,” she told them, sounding exhausted.
Gavin wiped the scratch on his arm again. “Look, why don’t you come in for a few minutes? I’ve got some soda—or juice if you prefer—for the kids. They can go to the bathroom and have a drink while we use my laptop to book you a room.”
Her son opened the door as if he’d only been waiting for the invitation, but she grabbed hold of his arm. “Stay right where you
