see anything more of the approaching vehicle. Twin headlights floated closer on the unlit two-lane road, and she felt a little too alone and vulnerable.
Maybe whoever it was would just keep going, she prayed, but of course, the lights slowed and, through the rain sluicing down her side window, she could see the vehicle ease to a stop on the road beside her. Her heart dropped as his passenger window slid downward, revealing a man’s face through the dark sheets of rain.
She eased her window down a crack.
“Got trouble?” he asked. “I’d be happy to give you a lift into town.”
“No, thanks. Really, I’m fine.”
“Sure about that?” His door opened.
Years of living on her own in big cities had fine-tuned her sense of self-preservation. Habit called out to her to roll up her window and lock her doors. But instinct kept her from it. For some reason she didn’t feel in danger.
“Don’t be afraid, I don’t bite.” He hopped out into the road, stopping right there in the only westbound lane. “If you don’t mind, let me take a look at your engine first. Maybe I can get you going again.”
Relief spilled through her. “Thanks.”
Through the slant of the headlights, she could see the lower half of his jeans and the leather boots he wore, comfortable and scuffed. He approached with an easy stride, not a predatory one, but she couldn’t see more of him in the darkness, and he disappeared behind the Jeep’s raised hood.
Maybe it was something easily fixed. Maybe this man with a voice as warm as melted chocolate was a guardian angel in disguise.
Then his boots sloshed to a stop right beside her. “Hope Ashton, is that you? I can’t believe you’d step foot in this part of Montana again.”
And then she recognized something in his voice, something from a life that felt long past. When she was a millionaire’s daughter from the city lost in a high school full of modest Montana bred kids. She searched her memory. “Matthew Sheridan?”
“You remember me.” His voice caressed the words, as rich and resonant as a hymn. “Good, then maybe you’ll stop looking as if you expect me to rob you. You’ve got a busted fan belt. C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’m not sure—”
“This time of night you’ll be lucky to see another car. Lower your pride a notch. Unless you think being seen with me will ruin your reputation.”
She winced, remembering with a pang of shame the prideful schoolgirl she’d once been. “My reputation has survived worse than accepting help from an old friend.”
“We were never old friends, Hope.”
“You’re not one to sugarcoat the past, is that it?”
“Something like that.” Lightning broke through the dark, flashing bright enough for her to see. He appeared taller, his shoulders had broadened, and his chest and arms looked iron strong.
“That was too close for comfort,” he said above the crash of thunder. “Let me grab your bags and we’ll get you to your grandmother’s.”
“I can manage on my own.” She hopped out, and wind and rain slammed into her. She wrestled with the back door, but a strong arm brushed hers.
“All three bags?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
She trembled and nodded. Words seemed to stick in her throat. It was the cold weather, that was all. That had to be the reason her heart sputtered in her chest.
“You’re shivering. I’ll come back for the bags. Let’s get you inside the truck where it’s good and warm.” One strong, warm hand curled around her elbow, seeing her safely through the slick mud at her feet.
His behavior and his kindness surprised her so much, she didn’t even argue. “You’re a gentleman, Matthew Sheridan. I won’t forget it.”
He chuckled, warm and deep. “I do what I can. Hop up.”
The warm interior of his pickup wrapped around her like a hug. She settled onto the seat, dripping rain all over his interior. The dome light overhead cast just enough of a glow to see the rolled up bag of cookies at her feet.
Matthew reached past her and flicked the fan on high. “There should be a blanket behind your seat. Just sit back and take it easy. I’ll be right in.”
He shut her door, and the cab light winked off. Rain pummeled the roof overhead, and she saw the faint shadows of tall trees waving angrily in the gusty wind. Lightning blazed, thunder answered. She found the blanket behind the seat, just as Matthew said, and noticed three empty car seats in the back seat of the extended cab.
Funny, how life changed. It seemed everyone she knew was married with children and, while she wished them happiness, she certainly didn’t believe that marriage could bring happiness. She felt colder and snuggled into the soft thermal cotton blanket that smelled of fabric softener and chocolate chip cookies.
The driver’s door snapped open and the dome light illuminated Matthew’s profile. Strong, straight, handsome. He’d grown into a fine-looking man. He stowed her luggage, then joined her in the cab and slammed the door against the bitter storm.
“I’ll give Zach at the garage a call first thing in the morning.” Matthew didn’t look at her as he slid the gearshift into second.
Her teeth clacked in answer, and she snuggled deeper into the blanket. The blast of the truck’s heat fanned hot air against her, but she couldn’t stop shaking.
“I heard about your grandmother’s fall. I bet seeing you will cheer her up some.”
“I hope so.” Her fingers curled around her purse strap. “I plan to stay as long as she needs me.”
“Is that so?” He quirked one brow. “I heard you’ve never been back to visit her.”
“How do you know?” His question set her on edge, as if she didn’t love her grandmother. As if all the times she’d flown Nanna out to California for every holiday didn’t count. Or the vacation they went on every year.
“You didn’t show up for the ten-year reunion. Everybody talked about it.”
“They did?” Except for a few close friends she’d made, she hadn’t even thought of the small town where she’d spent one year of her teenage life. But it had been a pivotal year for her, emotionally and spiritually. “I got an invitation, but I was—”
“In Venice,” he finished with a lopsided grin. “I heard that, too.”
“I was working.”
“On a new book. I know.” He slowed down as a pronghorn antelope leaped across the road.
“Look at that.” Hope’s chest caught. The fragile animal flew through the air with grace and speed. The light sheened on the antelope’s white flanks and tan markings. In a flash, it was gone, leaving only the dark road behind.
