anymore. She’s out in the sticks, ten miles farther down the road.”
Chapter Two
The truck’s headlights detected little movement as Tom drove out of town. An occasional larcenous raccoon was the only night-life in Brushy Creek. The beer joint locked up at ten o’clock during the week because good farmers went to bed with the chickens. Even the convenience store closed at nine.
“Must feel good to sit down.” He was still trying to figure out the logistics of carrying that belly around.
“Yeah. Haven’t done much of that lately.”
“The bus?” He decided pert best described her features. Disheveled summed up her appearance. Her personality was pure spunk with generous helpings of sass and vinegar.
She shuddered dramatically. “Have you ever ridden a bus?”
“Just to school when I was a kid.”
“Oh, no. That doesn’t even begin to count.”
He stole another glance. Despite her tart tongue and bossy manner, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable. The thought of her making a long trip alone aroused feelings he’d forgotten he had. Protective feelings. When was the last time he’d been tempted to reach out to a woman? And why was he so tempted by this little bouncing ball of trouble?
Before long they were riding through rolling hills. The Department of Tourism called this northeastern corner of the state “Green Country.” Tom had traveled extensively on the rodeo circuit, all over the west and north to Canada. He’d seen a lot of fine country, but always figured someday he’d settle down in Oklahoma, close to his roots.
In his big-money days, he’d bought eighty acres of prime grazing land a few miles south of town. There was a pretty, wooded knoll on the property, and he’d dreamed of building a log home on top of it. One of those sprawling, lodge-pine jobs like he’d seen in Colorado. He thought it would be the perfect home for Mariclare. For their children.
Besides kids and dogs, he planned to raise and train horses. Turn his acreage into a tidy little quarter horse operation. Someday.
He never quite pinned it down, but someday was always that time in the vague future when he’d made enough winning rides. When he’d worked the rodeo out of his system. When he could retire from the circuit and never look back.
He’d learned the hard way that it was a mistake to put dreams on hold. They had a short shelf life. He’d postponed until everything was gone. Rodeo. Mariclare. Kids. All of it. Maybe he was a clabberheaded fool. He should have seen it coming. She’d begged him to quit and he’d kept riding.
Since he was unwilling to choose real life over rodeo, a wild-eyed bucker had chosen for him. Ten charmed years with no injuries more serious than sprains and scrapes, and he’d ended his career with a bang.
A concussion, two compound fractures, and three broken vertebrae. Multiple surgeries to repair the damage. Weeks in rehab. Months of casts and canes. Bottles of pills for the pain and inevitable depression.
It had taken a year, but he finally looked whole on the outside. Inside, something vital had been severed. And that wound wasn’t even close to scabbing over.
“I’d forgotten how far it is to Birdie’s.” Ryanne was not as comfortable with quiet as the strong, silent cowboy beside her. He watched the deserted road like a freeway at rush hour.
“As they say around here. It’s a ‘fur piece.’”
Light from the truck’s space shuttle instrument panel cast a greenish glow over his face. She’d been eleven the last time she’d seen Tom Hunnicutt. It was in the café, the day he left for New Mexico State on a rodeo scholarship. He’d been excited. His parents had been proud. Heck, the whole town had been proud. Local boy makes good.
He’d been a lanky, smooth-cheeked teenager then. Now a mature thirty, he’d finally grown into his masculinity. Strong chin, straight nose. Couldn’t beat a combination like that. She couldn’t see his eyes, but recalled that they were so dark pupil and iris were one color. A boyish dimple and a crooked grin wrapped up a very appealing package.
She might be eight months pregnant, but she wasn’t quite brain dead. Or body dead, for that matter. Her pheromone receptors were alive and well and capable of going on full red alert. But she’d made a decision during the grueling bus ride. She didn’t need another man in her life. She needed to learn how to enjoy being alone. All urgent twinges would henceforth be ignored. They were nothing but trouble.
Giving in to twinges, urgent and otherwise, was what had set her on the fast track to disaster. It would pay to remember that.
“What were you doing in town so late?” she asked.
“I was driving back from Tulsa. When I saw the bus pull out and you standing there all alone, I thought I should do something.”
“Do you always brake for damsels in distress?”
“No,” he admitted. “But you seemed to be in a bit more distress than most of the damsels I run into.”
And he had a killer smile. Which she would also ignore along with all ensuing twinges. She sighed. Good thing she was enceinte and he had The Clairol Girl.
The truck hit a hole in the road and bounced Ryanne’s head to the top of the cab. “Ow!” Startled by her yelp, Tom slammed the brake and she pitched forward.
“Jeez, Louise!”
“Are you all right? I didn’t see that pothole.”
And she thought he was watching the road. She grasped her belly with both hands. “Are you prepared to midwife, cowboy?”
“You mean you’re—?”
“No, I’m not in labor. Just don’t hit any more of those craters.” She frowned at his queasy expression. Big, strong men were so squirrelly about childbirth. “Good thing males don’t bear children or the human race would be extinct.”
“If men had babies,” he said as he accelerated, “we’d have figured out a better way to do it by now.”
She laughed at his serious tone. “Something less time consuming, perhaps?”
“And not so messy.”
“You have strong opinions. Which are based, I assume, on your extensive experience with…”
“Dogs and horses.”
The truck rounded a curve and trapped a deer in its headlights. The animal froze in the classic pose and Tom tapped the brakes to give it time to gather its wits and leap into the underbrush.
“It’s been a long time since I saw a deer in the road,” she said quietly. It gave her hope that the world was not such a bad place, after all.
“So tell me about Nashville,” he said. “I was in town the summer after you left and I remember Pap moaning about how his favorite waitress had lit out to make a big splash in the country music business.”
“You
