“Like I just told you, ma'am,” Stoney Buxton said, glancing up through squinted eyes at the fair-skinned woman standing over him. “I’m a rancher. I don't do wilderness tours. You'll just have to find someone else to guide you through that terrain.”
Though
the sun floating in the cloudless sky in front of him made it difficult to see,
he tipped the brim of his well-worn cowboy hat with the edge of the hammer he
gripped between his fingers to get a better look at the young woman.
Now
what in hell’s blazes is this?
She
stood there, all legs, eyes, and lips pouting down at him. A picture of beauty,
polished and gleaming like Sunday silver. Her long legs--he noticed every inch
of them as his eyes trailed the length of her--would do better wrapped around a
man's waist. Even hidden beneath her smooth fitting jeans he could tell those
legs were much too refined and delicate to take the hard living of trailing
through Wyoming wilderness. Her red manicured nails shone bright in the mid-day
sun and matched the vibrant shade of her full lips. Her eyes, a soft shade of
cinnamon brown, held a determined fire that told him she wasn't going to back
down, no matter what he threw at her.
Something
was seriously wrong with this picture.
“Gerald
Hammond from the General Store said that you were the best guide in the area. I
want the best.”
He
saw her jaw set as a gentle breeze blew a wisp of hair over her forehead. She
quickly brushed it away with an air of grace that spoke of money. Lots of it.
Family money that paid for the designer clothes caressing every curve and valley
of her body.
Pulling
himself up to a stand, he stretched out the ache in his leg and his shoulder.
That nagging ache was a constant reminder of the long days he now spent working
the family ranch. And why he'd quit rodeo over a year ago.
“Old
man Hammond said that, did he?”
“Yes.”
“Well,
he was mistaken. There are plenty of guides on the reservation that can take
you safely through the Wind River Mountain Range.”
Her
chest heaved with an impatient sigh. “Yes, I know. But I need something a
little more than what they’re offering. Much more, in fact.”
She
didn't blink, even when he shifted closer. He had to admire that she didn’t
appear intimidated by him, seeing how he stood a good ten inches taller than
her. Lord, but she smelled good, all sunshine and fresh rain mixed with a hint
of vanilla. Bailing hay and stringing barbed wire didn’t afford him much
opportunity to be in the company the likes of this pretty little eyeful standing
before him. It was just one more thing to remind him of what he was missing now
that he was off the road and home for good.
“I
don't think you understand, Miss...?” He flipped his hand, palm up and waited
for her reply.
“Ms.
Summers. Melanie Summers. And I understand perfectly. I understand that I am
in need of a guide for the next four weeks.” She sucked in a deep breath as he
moved a step closer.
“What
you're asking for is impossible at best.” He shook his head at the absurdity of
her request. “Have you ever been in the wilderness? Have you ever even saddled
a horse?”
She
lifted her chin defiantly, the spark in her soft brown eyes fired up like the
heat of the sun beating down on them. Her voice was sure. “I know perfectly
well how to ride, Mr. Buxton.”
“I'm
not talking equestrian jumps that a poodle could land at the country club. I'm
talking wild terrain where you are no better than the animals that consider you
their prey. Have you ever had eight hundred pounds of snarling grizzly
breathing down your neck? Ever felt a hungry mountain lion's eyes on your back
as she stalks you?”
She
gasped softly, a small flash of uncertainty creeping into her sun filled
eyes.
Stoney
sputtered. “Just as I thought. Lady, roughing it isn't staying at the local
motor lodge-”
Her
eyes flew open in sudden surprise. “Wait a minute. The local motor lodge? My
father got to you.” She said the words as a statement, he noticed, as if she
was already convinced that it was fact.
Stoney
arched an eyebrow.
“This
just stinks!” Balling her fists, she spun on her heels, muttering something
unladylike under her breath as she took a few steps along the corral he'd been
repairing in the feed yard. Her soft red cotton shirt clung to her back,
defining the lines of her slender figure as she took each labored breath. He
couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to run his hand along her small
back.
As
she turned to face him again, he saw that her determined fire was back. “No
matter. This isn't between you and my father; it's between you and me. If
you're holding out for more money, then fine. Whatever it is that he promised
you for turning me away, I'll top in return for getting me safely through the
next month.”
“Look,
lady, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. But my refusal has nothing to
do with money.”
She
cocked her head in disbelief. Her anger had vanished with the dust and was
replaced with blue-blooded charm. “Oh, it’s always about money, isn't
it?”
His
jaw tightened. Yes, there was something definitely wrong here. And money had
nothing to do with it. It had everything to do with this beauty standing in
front of him, who was clueless about what she was getting her pretty little hide
into. “No,” he replied tersely.
“Mr.
Buxton, I need your help.”
“Tourist
season is in full swing. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”
He
turned his back to her and began walking along the fence toward the barn, almost
forgetting... Abruptly, he glanced up and saw the charred remains of the barn.
The place where all his troubles had started just one year ago. It hadn't taken
but a second for him to hear her boots digging into the dusty gravel behind him,
jarring him from his thoughts.
“Then
I'll do it myself,” she said to his back.
His
whole body stiffened. He angled back to read her face, to see if she was just
being a spoiled rotten rich kid, trying to get her way, or if she was actually
serious. Seeing her head held high and her arms crossed in front of her, he
realized she was dead serious.
And
dead she'd be if she stepped one boot into those mountains alone.
“You'll
do no such thing.” Frustration flaring, he lifted his dusty hat and forced his
fingers through the thick crop of black hair before returning the hat to his
head. “You just don't get it, do you? You're not asking me to take you on a
theme park ride where you'll get to see the wonders of the world at a nice safe
distance. This is God's country. The creatures that live up there don't know
civilization, and you are no better than them. You could--probably will--get
killed if you go out there alone.” His lips twitched, taking a good long
appraising look at the woman in front of him. “You might even chip a nail on
that pretty hand of yours.”
The
condescending bastard! Melanie fumed inwardly. If there was one thing she
didn’t need right now was an overblown ego for a guide. Unfortunately, she knew
it was foolish to venture out in the wilderness on her own, given her medical
needs. She exhaled, feeling a prickly heat, caused by the sun and jet lag,
settle along her spine. “I’m not exactly a babe in the woods, Mr. Buxton. In
fact, I probably know more about those wild animals you fear will eat me alive
than you do.”
He
tilted an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
Okay,
he was kind of cute, she admitted to herself, in a primitive sort of way. She
probably would have thought more about it if he didn’t smell so much like a
barnyard. Lord only knew how long he’d been baking out in the sun, gaining
steam. But then again, cowboys in the rough and tough real world held little
resemblance to the glamour that Hollywood gave them. “I’m a zoologist. I’ve
studied all about animals and the wilderness-”
“Yes,
but have you ever ridden that kind of terrain before? Met the beast face to
face?”
He
had her there. The only beast she’d ever encountered was him! Leading the
sheltered life she had--albeit with protest--she hadn’t had the chance to
venture into anything more dangerous than a walk through the Bronx Zoo. But she
was determined to change that starting now. The deal she’d made with her father
held only one requirement. She needed to stay one month in the wilderness, and
he’d keep the funding for the Kenya project alive. Now that her dreams were
within reaching distance, she wasn’t going to let some arrogant cowboy keep her
down.
She
answered honestly, with reluctance. “No.”
His
mouth twitched, then gave her a half grin that made her insides stir and her
mouth go dry. “Just as I thought.”
“But
that doesn’t mean--”
“After
I’m done here, there’s a long line of fence to repair before the weekend, Ms.
Summer. I don’t have the time to waste baby-sitting some city girl with
romantic notions about experiencing the wilderness. I’ve got work to do.”
Her
blood burned through her veins. His dismissal of her may have signified the end
of the conversation to him, but she was far from through with this overbearing
cowboy.
Melanie
followed his skinny little butt past the corral and all the way down a row of
barbed wire rolled out on the ground along the fence, ignoring the reason she’d
taken notice of his behind at all. “So do I. That’s why I need to hire
you.”
He
stopped short, and she almost plowed right into his back. Dust from the ground
heaved up in a cloud, choking her. He twisted around and with his hard body
mere inches from her, she had to crane her neck to look up at his
face.
Immediately,
she was sorry she’d taken a closer look. His rugged good looks and appeal were
all too evident now. His shoulders seemed as wide as he was tall, giving him
the kind of strength and power that had a woman longing to be wrapped in his
arms. His thick dark hair, sweaty from working in the heat of the sun, curled
around the edges of his cowboy hat. His features were sharply defined and his
jaw was square. Although he’d yet to give up more than a quirk of a smile, she
had the feeling that deep dimples marked his cheeks when he laughed.
He
touched his hat by the brim and adjusted it on his head. “Look, there are more
than a handful of outfitters in this territory. Any one of them would be more
than willing to give you what you need for the right price.”
Sure
they would, Melanie groaned inwardly. And then all it would take would be a
quick phone call from her father, promising a hefty deposit to the bank account
of their choice and the deal would be over. She’d be on a plane back to Long
Island before her lipstick wore off her mouth.
No,
she needed Stoney Buxton. From what Gerald Hammond had said, he was good on a
horse and solid in the range. Most of all, he was invisible. No matter how
hard her father tried or what kind of money he tossed around, he’d never find
Stoney Buxton. That was the only way she’d get a fair shot at proving
herself.
Melanie
snapped her gaze back toward the house on the opposite side of the corral with
the sound of the screen door slamming. On the front porch she saw a man sitting
tall in a wheelchair, glaring down at Stoney. “What in tarnation has got hold
of you, son? Why don’t you bring the girl in for a drink of something cool?
Don’t leave her baking out there with the animals.”
“That’s
what she wants,” she heard Stoney mumble under his breath. When she glanced up,
his dark blue eyes met hers, and he grew flush. “Leave it to Pop to keep me in
my manners. I’m sure Ma saw your car drive in and has something already set out
for company. That is if you’d like something.”
Well
at least she wasn’t getting hauled off the ranch like she’d suspected she
would. It gave her more time to work on convincing Stoney to take her up on her
offer. “That would be nice.”
They
walked to the small farmhouse in silence. When she’d arrived, she’d noticed the
ranch was smaller than some of the others she’d passed in the area. But the
farmhouse had a nice welcome feel about it that put her at ease. She hadn’t
noticed the ramp leading up to the front entrance when she’d pulled onto the
property earlier. Stoney had been working by the corral, and she’d zeroed in on
him as the point of contact.
A
woman Melanie guessed to be Stoney’s mother greeted them at the door and
welcomed her with a wide smile. Melanie suddenly felt completely out of place
in a world she’d never known. The house was simply decorated with a mix of
Indian rugs, beaded crafts and old furniture that had seen years of wear. As
simple as the home appeared, with its lace drapes and braided rugs, it felt warm
and cozy, like the Velveteen Rabbit who’d been loved a lot. A lump formed deep
in her throat and she didn’t know why.
“My
name is Adele,” the woman said warmly.
“It’s
nice to meet you and...” Melanie swung around to greet the man in the
wheelchair. She was caught by his overt appraisal of her, not quite sure it she
met with approval or with censure.
“Wally
Buxton,” he said, finally rewarding her with a wide smile, revealing deep
dimples. Melanie returned the smile, again wondering if Stoney had inherited
the same gene.
“It’s
nice to meet you.”
Stoney
stood at the kitchen door, filling it completely with his height and bulk,
holding his hat in one hand, his hammer in the other. “Well, if it’s all the
same to you, I’ve got some barbed wire that’s been needing my attention.” He
put on his black hat and tipped it cordially before spinning through the door.
Adele did nothing to hide the disappointment of his dismissal. Melanie fought
to keep hers in check.
“Why
don’t you come into the dining room?”
Still
looking at the empty doorway, she said, “I don’t want to be any
trouble.”
“Oh,
don’t be silly. It’s no trouble at all. I rather enjoy having the company.
Since my daughter, Delia, got married and moved away, I don’t get the
opportunity to entertain much, except for these sweaty cowboys and they’re not
fit to be in my dining room half the time.”
Melanie
was raised with the finest that life had to offer. That included attending the
best finishing schools that had groomed her to polish and shine herself for the
world to see. What was expected of her all her life and given her parents pride
at the many social functions she was forced to attend had always been the bane
of Melanie’s existence. Still, in unpretentious company, she was glad her good
manners and grace were something she could draw on to put her hostess at ease.
She only hoped that when she was finished visiting with Stoney’s mother, Stoney
himself would still be around for her to deal with on her own terms.
*
* *
Stoney
shook out the pain in his throbbing thumb for the second time in the last
fifteen minutes. Damn that hammer. Damn the fence. Damn Melanie Summers for
showing up here, flashing easy money around as if he was some mongrel sniffing
for tidbits.
He
tossed the hammer to the ground and inspected the raw skin on his thumb. No
doubt the nail would be black and purple by nightfall. Serves him right for
thinking about Melanie sitting with his mom, no doubt telling her things a
mother wants to hear. He had a hard enough time trying to convince his folks
his decision to go back to rodeo was good for the ranch. He didn’t need the
likes of some city princess to do in all his hard work.
He
heard the familiar sound of his father’s wheelchair rolling over gravel and
swung around to greet him.
“Almost
done?” the elder Buxton asked.
“Done
breaking my hand, if that’s what you mean.” He shook out the lingering throb in
his thumb. “I still have the section of fence in the far side where the herd
broke through yesterday. There’s nothing but that old broken tree limb propped
up, keeping most of the cattle inside the property line. After I’m through,
I’ll take a ride out to see if I can round up the strays.”
He
finally stole a quick glance at his father, who was just sitting in his chair,
nodding his head. No outward emotion registered on his father’s face, but
Stoney knew it was there, buried somewhere, eating at him.
Before
the accident, it would have been the two of them riding out together. But since
a falling beam that struck him during the barn fire left him without the use of
his legs, Wally Buxton was limited to what he could do at the ranch from the
confines of his motorized wheelchair. Knowing his father’s spirit would be
broken if he couldn’t do anything but watch from the porch as he worked the
ranch, Stoney had constructed as many wheelchair friendly devices to allow his
father to work his ranch. Given his father’s determination and
stubbornness--something both father and son shared--he’d made the best of it
without much of a fuss. Still, there were times when his injuries were all too
apparent and confining.
“I’m
assuming the lady has some business with you,” Wally said, eyeing Stoney with
amusement. “You know her from the circuit?”
“Does
she look like the kind that hangs at a cowboy bar?”
“No,
but I can’t figure how you’d meet up with a girl like her otherwise.”
He
tossed his father a wry grin. “Thanks a lot, Pop.”
“She’s
got some accent. Sounds like she’s from the East.”
“I
didn’t ask.”
“But
you’re wondering. I can tell. You’ve got Buxton blood running too strong
through your veins not to notice a pretty thing like her.”
“And
Mom’s no doubt pouring tea and planning my wedding, right?”
Wally
laughed hard. “When was the last time you brought a woman out to the ranch for
your momma to meet?”
“Never.
And I’d like to keep it that way.” Stoney couldn’t help but laugh himself. The
kind of woman he’d met during his time with the rodeo weren’t fit for meeting
mother.
Buckle
bunnies. That’s what some of the other cowboys called them. It was almost his
due as a bull rider to have the prettiest offerings, and he’d taken what was
offered when the time seemed right. No promises. No talks of commitment. It
was the way it was.
It
was the way he liked it.
Stoney
watched as Wally stared out at the horizon for a moment, looking at the line of
fence that bordered the property. This was the ranch he’d grown up on and his
father before him. It was small in comparison to some of the other ranches in
the area, but it earned them a good living, and it made them happy. Working
together, they’d worked on expanding the ranch before the barn fire changed
everything. But all those dreams died when the barn went up in
flames.
“You
going to tell me what her business is here?” Wally finally asked. “Or is she
some well-kept secret?”
Stoney
began hammering away at the barbed wire against the stake. “She wants a trail
guide through the Wind River Mountains. I told her to go to the
reservation.”
There
was a silence made unbearable by the sun beating down on him, showing no mercy.
And Stoney knew what his father was wondering. How on earth had she landed
here?
Stoney
answered his unspoken question, finding it hard to look his father in the eye.
“Gerald Hammond sent her.”
There
was another strained silence. Wally cleared his throat. “That was kind of him
to be thinking of us.”
“I
guess.”
“What
did you tell her?”
“I
don’t have time for this. I’ve got too much work and with Mitch gone and...”
Stoney blew out a frustrated breath and hammered with more force than
necessary.
“Hammond
must have thought it would be worth your while if he went out of his way to send
the girl here.”
Stoney
stilled. He knew exactly what was on his father’s mind. Medical bills left in
the wake of Wally’s injuries threatened to take hold. Although the money
Melanie was offering to pay for his services would go a long way toward bailing
out the ranch, it still wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He’d weighed all
their options, run the numbers backwards and forwards until his head hurt, and
none of it looked good. Going back to rodeo seemed liked the answer to his
prayers. A step in the right direction anyway.
The
cowboy’s Christmas is what they called it on the rodeo circuit. The biggest
rodeos and the best purses were up for grabs for the best of the best during the
month of July. Stoney would be up against the best bull riders the circuit had
ever seen. Up until a year ago, he’d been considered one of the best. He was
banking on that still being true.
“This
last year was worse than we’ve seen in a long time for the ranch. Taxes are
higher. Medical bills are out of control. We’re running out of choices, son,”
Wally said, still looking out at nothing in the horizon.
Stoney
felt his chest tighten. This ranch had Buxton blood and sweat all over it. He
didn’t want to think about what would happen if they lost is all. “I know,
Pop. That’s why I’m going back to rodeo. I made some good money before, and
it’s helped the ranch. There’s no reason-”
“You
know how your momma feels about you riding rodeo again. One cripple on this
ranch is enough.”
Fire
spit through Stoney. He straightened his spine and towered over his father in
the wheelchair. Before the accident, they use to meet eye to eye. “You’re not
a cripple, Pop,” Stoney said, softer than the fire in him would have allowed if
he hadn’t taken control of it. Despite his obvious position over his father,
Stoney felt like a little kid defending his hero. And his father had
been--still was--his hero for all of his twenty-eight years. Being confined to
a wheelchair had wounded his father’s heart, but not his spirit. Wally Buxton
still had the power of an ox.
They
stared at each other for a long while, not needing words to hear their
thoughts. That’s the way it had been with them for as long as Stoney could
remember. Wally was the one to break through the silence. “Come on. Your
momma made some cherry pie and I’m sure Ms. Summers isn’t going to touch it, so
we might as well have at it.”
He
didn’t have time for another break today. He’d already wasted too much time
warding off Melanie Summers and her wild ideas. His work load had doubled since
Mitch Broader, their only ranch hand, left to take care of family business back
east. With his father out of commission, that left the brunt of the ranch’s
workload on Stoney’s shoulders.
He
blew out a resigned breath, knowing it was important to his father. “Sure,
Pop.”
He
walked alongside the motorized wheelchair. He was getting accustomed to slowing
his wide strides to keep in step with his father as the chair moved against the
gravel. He stayed at his father’s side out of respect the man deserved. His
father rolled into the house before him.
He
found Melanie sitting at the dining room table, one long leg draped over the
other, a smile that seemed curiously triumphant written on her face. His mother
wore an uplifted expression he hadn’t seen in her for the better part of a
year.
What
the hell was going on?
Adele
pushed the dining room chair aside so Wally could position his wheelchair at the
head of the oak table. “Melanie and I were just having a lovely chat about her
plans while she’s in Wyoming.”
Stoney
eyed Melanie, a nagging suspicion floating up his spine. “Oh? And what would
they be?”
Melanie
averted her gaze for just a moment before lifting her soft brown eyes to him,
shining a Cheshire cat grin, and giving fuel to that eerie feeling taking hold
of his gut. One bat of her dark eyelashes and he knew he’d been had.
*
* *
“Didn’t
you hear a damn thing I told you by the corral?” Stoney said, storming out the
door after Melanie. He’d held his anger in place long enough to make it out the
screened door, slamming it in his wake. “You’ve got no business coming here,
filling my family full of dreams that aren’t going to come true.”
Melanie
spun on her boot heels, propped her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, and
looked at Stoney over the wire rim. “I have every intention of fulfilling my
end of the bargain.”
“No
one in their right mind would throw around that kind of money. My family has
been through enough to-”
“Which
is why I think this business arrangement will work out well for both of
us.”
“Now
how do you figure on that? Who’s gonna do all the work around here for the next
month while I’m out there traipsing through the wilderness, keeping your pretty
little hide alive. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little short of hand
right now.”
“With
the money I’m prepared to pay, you’ll be able to hire someone to take your
place. As for keeping me alive, I don’t want any special treatment. I can hold
my own.”
Stoney
sputtered. “That one is still open for debate. Do you even know what it costs
to hire a ranch hand to work sun up to sun down for a whole month?”
“Fifteen
thousand dollars is not all that much for what I’m asking,” she said. It was
much higher than she’d originally intended on paying, but a lot lower than she’d
consider if Stoney could do for her what Gerald Hammond said he
could.
Stoney’s
face hardened. “Money like that may be nothing to you, but it keeps bread on
the table for working folks.”
“I
didn’t mean to imply-”
“I
know what you meant to do. You think you can buy me like a piece of stock at a
cattle auction. I’m not for sale. And I’d appreciate kindly if you’d leave my
family out of whatever death wish you have.”
She
stifled a retort about the death wish and kept to the pressing issue. I can’t do
that. This is much too important to me.” He shook his head and stared at her
like he was looking right through her.
She
was struck by his strength once again as he fought to keep his control in
check. The tight set of his jaw belied his control and she got the feeling he
could lift her without any effort and toss her over the fence if she pushed
him.
And
she’d push him, all right. It meant that much to her to prove to her father and
herself that she could last a whole month in the wilderness without the aid of
medical intervention. Only then would her father agree to keep the funding for
the Kenya project. But she knew her father. He was determined to keep her from
going at all cost. And he had a lot more money than she could combat with which
to do it.
“Adele
told me about the hard times the ranch has had. This money could help you and
your family. I’m glad to be able to do that for them. The only thing I ask is
that no one knows we’ve gone.”
“What’s
this all about? Why is this so important?”
“My
reasons are my business.”
He
crossed his muscled arms across the expanse of his chest and studied her for a
moment. “You wanted for something?”
She
giggled at the sidelong look of suspicion he gave her. Not only because of the
absurdity of it, but because he just looked too damned cute. “You’ve got an
imagination to go along with all that muscle. No, I’m not on the run for any
crimes.” Only from my father and his control. But that was none of Stoney
Buxton’s business, and she was determined to keep it quiet.
He
eyed her, the tick in his jaw twitching, telling her he didn’t find any of this
amusing.
She
coughed out the rest of her laughter, knowing she wasn’t going to get very far
irritating him. He was a business man. She knew how to handle business men,
although most of them wore designer suits and smelled of expensive cologne,
unlike the sweat and dirt she smelled on Stoney. Still, she turned on her best
charm. “Look, I don’t know you.”
“True
enough.”
“And
I don’t know what kind of struggles you and your family have gone through.
That’s really none of my business.”
“Right.”
“But
it doesn’t take much more than 20/20 vision to look around here and figure out
you could use a little help.”
He
rolled his eyes and stepped off the porch stairs. “I’m not looking for
charity.”
“You
need money,” she said to his back.
Stoney
swung around to face her again, tossing her a cool look. “And you’re just the
person to open the check book.”
She
cocked her head. “Don’t be foolish. This could help both of us. You don’t
look like the type of man to shy away from honest money.”
He
drew in a deep breath and could hardly look her in the eye. She knew he
wouldn’t step anywhere near her request if it held the stench of a handout. Men
like Stoney were as complicated as the earth was old and the ground ran deep.
For him, it had to be honest and earned. Nothing less would do.
“I’m
not looking for you to carry my bags or draw the bath water,” she said when he
didn’t respond.
His
laugh was rich and hard and he dipped his gaze beneath his dusty leather hat,
shaking his head. When he lifted his head again, she saw them. He had
dimples. Deep, and completely adorable. Her heart betrayed her confidence and
fluttered wildly.
“Good,
because you’d be sadly disappointed.”
She
forced air into her lungs and placed her hand on her chest to steady her rampant
heartbeat. “I’ve checked out the prices the other outfitters are charging for
extended trailing. It’s only right that I pay a little more since I’m asking
for a personal guide. This isn’t a handout, just a fair business arrangement.
I’m prepared to make the same offer to one of the other outfitters, too. That
is if you’re stubborn enough to decline.”
He
took a long appraising look at her, much like a man does when he finds a woman
attractive, as if he was weighing the option to pass her by or dip his head and
kiss her waiting lips. It filled her with a strange sense of longing she
couldn’t define.
“I
may be stubborn, lady, but I’m far from dumb.”
Her
eyes widened, almost afraid to believe her good fortune. “So what are you
saying? Will you help me?”
He
rolled his dark eyes, kicked his dusty cowboy boot in the hard, dry dirt, and
said almost under his breath, “I’m gonna live to regret this.” Then looking at
her straight on with sapphire eyes as dark as a moonless night, he said, “You’ve
got yourself a guide.”
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