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He turned abruptly to the boy. “Let me help you out on this side, Ty. There’s a big puddle on yours. And don’t forget your hat.”
“I’ll wait in the truck for you,” Carey said curtly. She turned and tramped off to her truck, putting some much-needed distance between herself and her newfound passengers.
Her reaction to this guy had been…ridiculous. It had to be the stress of this everything-gone-wrong day—when so much depended on things going right for her, just this once.
Luke and Tyler soon appeared at the passenger side of the truck, and Luke opened the door and helped the boy climb in.
“Just wait here with the lady a minute,” Luke instructed him. “I need to go back to the truck. I’ll just be a minute,” he told Carey.
Once Carey and Tyler were alone, he glanced up at her warily. “My name is Tyler,” he offered politely, reminding her that she hadn’t introduced herself by name yet.
“I’m Carey,” she returned. “Carey Winslow.” Then, not knowing what else to say as he continued to stare up at her so solemnly, she added, “How old are you?”
“I’m four. Almost going to be five.”
Carey, who wasn’t around small children much, didn’t know how to keep the conversation going. Thunder rolled loudly nearby, and she saw the child grow tense again.
“Do you like horses?” she asked, hoping to distract him.
“I guess,” he said hesitantly, his answer surprising her. What four-year-old boy didn’t like horses?
“I’ve only seen a few close up. I never rode one,” he explained. The he looked back up at her, his expression very serious. “Luke has. He’s been on a lot of horses.”
Carey, who knew a full-blooded cowboy when she saw one, laughed lightly. “I bet he has. Maybe he’ll teach you to ride them someday, too. You’d like it. It’s fun.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Tyler replied. He continued to stare at her and did not smile back.
Carey looked for Luke and saw him moving bags from the truck bed into the cab. She glanced at her watch, wishing she could deliver these two hapless travelers back to the house and get on the road again.
“Carey, can I ask you something?” Tyler’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“What’s that?”
“Are you…are you like a fairy princess or something? Like in a book?” His question would have made her burst out in laughter, if not for the solemn expression of his small round face and dark-brown eyes. Eyes a lot like Luke’s—though it was still unclear what the relationship was between the man and boy.
She shook her head, pursing her lips to keep from smiling too broadly. “No, not at all. Just a regular person… Whatever gave you that idea?”
He shrugged, a small movement under his thin, baseball-style jacket. “I just thought maybe you were. You look like the pictures of one in a book I used to have. Like that crown thing in your hair and your long dress and all,” he explained, seeming a bit embarrassed.
“Oh—” She glanced down at her long skirt, then remembered the garland of soggy flowers in her hair. “Oh, sure. I see…I’m just dressed…special today,” she tried to explain. “For a special occasion.”
He seemed satisfied with that explanation, his expression lighting up in anticipation. “Like a party you mean?”
“Hmmm. Sort of,” she hedged, thinking of the three-tiered cake and the bowl of punch.
The passenger side door swung open and a gust of rain blew into the cozy truck cab. Just outside the truck, Luke removed his Stetson, shook the water off quickly, then ducked inside and slammed the door. Tyler quickly scooted close to Carey to make room for him.
“Well, put it in gear and let’s see what we’ve got,” Luke said. “If we’re stuck, I’ll get out and push.”
He wiped his damp hair back off his brow with a quick, sweeping motion of his hand. She suddenly noticed he was in need of a shave, though the observation did nothing to detract from his dark good looks. Carey forced herself to look away.
“I think we’ll be okay,” Carey replied, as she slipped the transmission in low gear. The truck wheels spun for a long, agonizing moment, then suddenly gripped the mud as the vehicle lurched out onto the road.
Carey quietly sighed with relief and thought she heard the same from Luke’s end of the cab. “You shouldn’t have parked so far onto the shoulder like that. We might have been stuck in the mud,” he observed.
“Well, we weren’t, so that’s mud under the bridge in my book.” Her reply was delivered in a cheerful, even tone, though she actually felt put out by the need to explain herself to a stranger. For goodness’ sake, he was lucky she’d come along when she had and offered him a ride.
“My name is Carey, by the way,” she added. “Carey Winslow.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him glance her way over Tyler’s head. Then he looked back out at the road.
“Luke Redstone,” he replied. “And this is Tyler…my nephew.”
“Yes, I know. We’ve been getting acquainted.” Carey glanced down warmly at the boy.
Luke looked at him, too. A questioning look, as if he was worried about what the boy had said in his absence. “We were just talking about horses,” Tyler explained in a quiet voice to his uncle.
Luke seemed satisfied with that reply, his features fixed in the serious, thoughtful expression that was quickly becoming familiar to her.
“And I asked her about, you know, what I thought,” Tyler added in an even quieter voice. “And you were right. What you said. She’s not…one. She’s just dressed up that way for a party.”
Taking her eyes off the treacherous road for a moment, Carey noticed that this last comment caused a slight grin to soften Luke’s expression.
“Well, that makes some sense, I suppose,” he replied to Tyler. Then to Carey he said, “I did notice that you weren’t quite dressed for the weather.”
He turned, his gaze moving slowly down her body with an assessing, slightly amused light dancing in his dark eyes.
She knew she looked a sight, from the circle of wilted flowers in her long, wind-whipped hair, to the soggy skirt that clung damply to her legs. His appraisal of her appearance unnerved her. Annoyed her, actually.
“It’s not a party exactly,” Carey replied, unsure of how much she was willing to disclose about her present predicament. “I’m supposed to be getting married today.”
The words just burst out. Maybe just to shock that amused, slightly smug look off his handsome face, she realized.
And she’d succeeded, she noticed.
“Married? Today?” His gaze narrowed, attractive little creases forming at the corners of his eyes.
“Uh-huh,” Carey nodded, pulling hard—but carefully—on the wheel as the truck swerved on a wide stretch of flooded blacktop.
Carey was suddenly conscious of how her passengers held their breath for a second, waiting to see if she had saved them from skidding off the road.
She had. The truck bumped along in a straight path once more.
“Congratulations,” Luke said quietly.
“Thanks.” Carey wasn’t quite sure if he was congratulating her on her driving skills or her upcoming marriage, but she didn’t bother to ask.
He sat silently for a moment, then added, “Can I ask you what you’re doing riding around out here if you’re supposed to be getting married? High-tailing it from the poor groom?”
These last words were spoken lightly. But the underlying bitter note in his accusation was not lost on Carey. Not a man with a very high opinion of women, was he?
“Actually, it’s sort of the opposite,” Carey kept her eyes glued to the road, noticing that they were finally approaching the ranch. “So far, the groom is the no-show. I came out looking for him…and found you.”
She felt him looking at her, and she turned to meet his gaze. She couldn’t say he looked contrite or apologetic for assuming the worst about her, but a bit mollified, perhaps.
“Probably just stuck in the rain,” Luke offered.
“Probably,” Carey agreed. Though she knew Luke couldn’t imagine what this minor delay would cost her.
In most any other case, a delayed groom would be the cause of some inconvenience, some change in plans. But the show would go on. In her case, however, it was a pure and simple catastrophe.
But she didn’t need to explain that to Luke Redstone. Didn’t even want to try. Everything about him, from his worn, wide-brimmed hat to the scuffed toes of his black boots spoke of a practical man, a straightforward man, who would neither understand nor approve of her sham wedding plan. No, she thought, stealing a quick glance in his direction, he wouldn’t understand. Her plan was pure Hollywood, and he was clearly 100 percent all-American cowboy. The stuff legends were made of. And she had to admit that she herself wasn’t entirely proud of this plan: though not illegal, as her attorney assured her, it was certainly a willful misinterpretation of her father’s final wishes.
They drove on in silence, the wipers squeaking against the windshield and the truck’s thick tires making a muffled sound as they sped over the wet road.
She didn’t know why she should care what Luke Redstone thought of her. And quickly brushed the thought aside. She would take these two home, let them dry out and warm up, and as soon as they could get a tow truck out here, she’d never see them again.
Two
“Well, here we are. Almost,” Carey announced as she steered the swerving truck off the main road and into the turnoff that led to the ranch.
“This is where you live?” Luke asked her.
“Used to be my dad’s place. I grew up here but moved to California right after high school. Hardly been back since,” she added.
She glanced over at him, willingly answering his unspoken questions. A man like this, clearly private and guarded himself, would never be pushy about pulling out personal information. But she didn’t mind disclosing a few basic facts.
“Where’s your dad?” he asked. Did his tone imply that it seemed unlikely that a woman alone—especially one rushing around in a thunderstorm, dressed like a “fairy princess”—would be up to the task of running a ranch on her own?
“He passed on.” Carey replied without turning her head
“Sorry for your loss,” Luke replied politely.
Carey nodded. “Thanks.”
It had been over six months since her father’s death. But talking about it aloud was still hard for her.
The long months since Jonah Winslow had passed away had been filled with mixed feelings of regret and resentment. She and her father had never quite settled their differences. Or forgiven each other completely for past hurts. Always the stoic hale-and-hearty rancher, Jonah Winslow never once let on that his health was deteriorating so rapidly, his heart giving out like a burned-out old engine.
Heart failure, the doctors had called it. That was the information she’d finally received upon her return. Medication at that point was only delaying the inevitable and eventually wouldn’t have much effect. Nothing short of a complete transplant could help him, and he was too advanced in age and his body too weak to be a candidate.
She’d planned a visit home in the summer months, anyway, but it was a call from Ophelia that had finally alerted her to the dire situation.
And once Carey had returned home, she’d found a once-intimidating, giant of a man reduced to such a pitiful shell she’d hadn’t the heart or will to take up old grievances with him. Heavens, no. She’d been thankful enough to make it back in time to offer some comfort to him at the end.
Her father had died peacefully in his sleep, less than two weeks after her return. It was a few days after the funeral, while Carey still coped with the first wave of shock and grief, that she learned of the unfortunate—no, make that ridiculous, archaic, moronic—stipulations in her father’s will.
At no small cost she had hired lawyers to break the will, and the document was contested for months. But to no avail. Only a few weeks ago, Carey learned that the court upheld her father’s will and that his requirement for her inheritance would remain as he had decreed.
Just thinking about it made her blood simmer. The gentler, kinder feelings she’d developed for her father during his last days were shadowed by the knowledge that even after death, he would insist on controlling her, forcing her to conform to his standards, his plans for her life.
They drove beneath the arch that bore the words Whispering Oaks and Carey noticed Luke sit and up take notice.
“This is your place?”
“That’s right.” She turned to him, wondering why the news had inspired that look on his face.
He glanced down at his watch and smiled. “Then it looks like I won’t be that late for my interview after all.”
“Your interview?” Now it was Carey’s turn to be surprised. “Here?”
“I have an appointment with a fellow by the name of—” Luke reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper “—here it is, Willie Jackson. I heard you were in need of a foreman, and I called from town this morning. He told me to come right over. In fact, I was on my way when my truck broke down. Some coincidence, huh?”
Carey had to agree. “Yeah, a doozy.”
So maybe these two lost souls weren’t going to disappear as quickly as she had expected after all. The thought of Luke Redstone taking up residence on the ranch as her foreman flashed through her mind—both exciting and frightening at the same time.
If he passed Willie’s interrogation, the final decision would be left up to her, of course. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hire him. Though a man traveling in search of work with a small boy in tow was hard to turn away without a substantial reason.
She wasn’t sure why this man was so unsettling to her. She rarely met a man who managed to make any real impression, to penetrate her “force field.”
But this one—this one jammed her radar with a glance.
She liked it. And then again she didn’t.
She gave herself a mental shake. Living in Hollywood, she had been around some good-looking men. Some remarkably good-looking men. She believed she’d become if not numb, then certainly distant and carefully delayed her reactions, preferring instead to find out what was under all the attractive wrapping before she allowed herself to walk out of the store with the package.
But for some strange reason this man was in a different league altogether. His looks, not typically handsome at all, certainly not movie-star smooth or polished, were totally arresting.
His straight, thick, black hair, damp with rain and slicked back from his brow, emphasized strong features—wide cheekbones, a hard, square jaw and a straight blade of nose, set above a firm, sensuously wide mouth. And those eyes, nearly black in color and bottomless. She’d never seen eyes so dark, she thought.
Dark and deep enough for a woman to easily lose herself in them. But not this woman, she promised herself.
“Are we there yet?” Tyler murmured groggily.
Tyler. The boy had been sitting through the ride so quietly she’d nearly forgotten about him. As Carey glanced down, she could see that he was more than half-asleep, lulled by the stuffy warmth of the cab and the slow, steady beat of the wipers.
His small body was nestled cozily against Luke’s side, with Luke’s arm draped around his shoulders.
Luke roughed up Tyler’s hair with one large hand. “Almost there, pal. See, there’s the house up ahead.”
The ranch house had finally come into view, and Carey headed straight for it, thankful they’d arrived. Tyler sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Good,” he mumbled. “I really need to use the bathroom.”
Carey couldn’t help but laugh, and heard Luke’s deep chuckle, as well. They shared a quick glance over the top of the boy’s head, and she felt that peculiar ping in her chest when his gaze met her own.
She quickly looked away, steering the truck around the front yard and parking as close to the front door as she was able.
