The Cowboy on Her Trail Read online

  If no one came to her aid soon, she would have to try to kick out the windshield, or the back window, or the passenger window. She wondered if she could even do it. Sneakers weren’t the preferred shoe for such a stunt.

  Still, she would try, because she had no intension of sitting here and freezing to death.

  She wondered where Justin was. Nowhere near here, that was for sure. He was either up at Ponca City or halfway back to the Cherokee Rose by now. And he was probably ticked at her for running out on him again.

  She was none too pleased with herself for doing it, but it was a done deal now. And look where it had gotten her.

  If the damn forecasters had given a little warning on last night’s newscast, she might have been a little more prepared to survive the day. As it was, she had a medium weight coat, thin leather gloves, and that was it. Her feet, in her sneakers, were going to freeze when she got out. If she got out.

  No. Not if. When.

  So be it. Her only other option was to sit and wait for the spring thaw.

  She was saying a brief but sincere prayer for the well-being of her baby, when suddenly a large chunk of snow covering her windshield disappeared. A face loomed there.

  Blaire screamed.

  The face jerked away. “Blaire!”

  Justin? That couldn’t have been Justin’s voice.

  “Blaire!” His face reappeared. It was Justin!

  “Justin?”

  “Blaire! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assured. “I’m just trapped in here. I can’t get out.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. No, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for you. What happened? Were you hit? Are you hurt?”

  His obvious concern warmed her heart. Some of that had to be for her, Blaire, not just for the mother of his unborn child.

  “I’m not hurt,” she assured him. “I was driving along just fine, slow, but fine, when some joker in a semi whizzed by and rocked my poor little car like it was a toy.”

  “Well?”

  “Hey, don’t you make fun of my car.”

  “You can finish your story later,” he said. “Gather what you need and let’s get you out of there.”

  “How? The passenger door is jammed.”

  “Are you sure?” He gave the door a tug and nothing happened.

  “I couldn’t get it open,” she told him.

  “Hang on.” He tried it again, and still, nothing happened. “All right,” he said to the door. He braced his foot on the frame beside the door and pulled with all his might.

  The door popped open.

  Justin went sprawling, disappearing from Blaire’s view.

  “Justin!” she cried. She scrambled up the slope of the passenger seat until she could see out the newly opened door. “Justin?”

  “I’m here.” Disgusted, he pushed himself to his feet and brushed snow from his hair, his coat, his jeans. Dug it out of his ear.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he snarled. He had snow down his back. He hated getting snow down his back. And it was easier to deal with being angry about falling down than the fear he’d tasted when he had spotted her car down here in this ditch.

  “Pass your bags or whatever out to me,” he called.

  He heard a grunt, then a curse, then a midsize duffel bag appeared in the open door, followed shortly by a smaller overnight case, then by Blaire herself.

  For the first time since spotting her car, he was able to take an easy breath. He could now see for himself that she was all right.

  “Hold on.” He propped the duffel and overnighter on the front fender, then reached for her. “Let me help you.” He grasped her beneath her arms and lifted her out of the car. It took all his strength to stand her beside him on the snowy slope and release her, when what he wanted to do was hold her close and make sure she stayed safe.

  But he did find the strength, he did release her. He grabbed her bag and case and motioned for her to start up the slope ahead of him. “It’s slick, so take it slow.”

  She took it slow, but that didn’t stop her from sliding back down into his legs. He went down, and the two of them ended up in a pile against her car.

  When the grunting, groaning, and swearing was over with, they took stock.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded, helping her stand.

  “No.” She shook snow from her head. “You?”

  “I’m fine.” But he wondered how many times a pregnant woman could be bounced around—hit a tree, slide into a ditch, tumble down a slope—and still be truly fine. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m sure.” She put the strap of her shoulder bag over her head and turned to face the slope. “Ten bucks says I make it this time.”

  “No bet. Let’s just get up to the road and into the pickup before my nose freezes off.”

  Through the blowing snow she tossed him a grin over her shoulder. “Wimp.”

  Justin started up after her, telling himself that if she could grin at him under the current circumstances, she couldn’t be hurt too badly. In fact, she didn’t appear to be hurt at all. It was only his own worry that nagged at him.

  They made it to the top of the slope and the shoulder of the highway this time, Blaire more easily because she could use her hands to help her climb up, while Justin was hampered by her duffel and overnight case. Still, he was only a couple of minutes behind her.

  “Justin?” She turned toward him and squinted against the blowing snow. She had to shout to be heard over the howling of the wind now that they were up and out of the relative protection of the ditch. “Where’s your pickup?”

  “Up there.” Justin nodded toward where he had parked, then realized that visibility was even worse now than it had been a few minutes ago. He couldn’t see his pickup at all. “I think.”

  He slogged his way up the shoulder through the ever deepening snow, over the culvert, and there, abruptly, sat his rig. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  “Here we are,” he shouted. He led Blaire to the passenger door and helped her up into the cab. He tucked her bag and case around her feet, then circled the truck and climbed in. He started the engine and cranked the heat up to high.

  “I vote we go back to Stillwater and get a room until this blows over.” Justin glanced over at Blaire to measure her reaction.

  She sat huddled in on herself, her feet stretched out toward the hot air blasting from his heater.

  “Blaire?”

  “As long as it’s warm and comes with something hot to drink, and I’m trying to stay away from caffeine because of the baby.”

  “A warm room, and something hot to drink. You got it. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of. And Justin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t know how you found me or what you were doing on this highway, but thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he told her. “I was looking for you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked, surprised by the apology.

  “For causing all this trouble. Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask me anything. We’re trying to get to know each other better, aren’t we?”

  “I suppose.”

  “What did you want to ask?”

  “This morning. You were going to call me again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you? Call I mean. Or did you go to the apartment?”

  He smiled slightly. “I decided it was time to act like a grown-up and call, the way I said I would. So that’s what I did.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell. “While I ran off, acting childish again.”

  “That’s not what I said. And it’s not what I meant,” he assured her. “Anyway, acting like a grown-up nearly killed me.”

  She smiled slightly. “That’s comforting.”

  Justin pulled in at the
first decent motel they came to. The parking lot was filled with snow-covered cars. The chances of a vacancy looked slim, but Justin went into the office anyway to check.

  Blaire stayed in the pickup, trying her best to soak up the heat from the heater. She could barely see Justin through the layer of ice covering the motel window. He was filling out a form or card or something, so he must have gotten them a room.

  Blaire was relieved. She was no sissy when it came to driving in bad weather, but this was simply too dangerous. Plus, the stress of her accident had somehow sapped all her energy. She felt as limp as a noodle. And cold clear down to the marrow in her bones.

  Inside the motel office, Justin was told that because of the storm, he was getting the last available motel room in town.

  He doubted it was the very last one in town, but it appeared to be the last one in this motel, and he wasn’t inclined to drive from motel to motel to look for one with two vacant rooms.

  Blaire hadn’t said she expected a separate room and he hadn’t offered one. But it would have been nice if she’d had a choice. Now she would have none. She would have to share with him.

  Maybe, if he behaved himself, they could use the time together to get to know each other better.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her when he got back into the pickup. “I tried to get two rooms. I thought you might prefer your privacy. But they’re full up because of the storm. They had one room left.”

  “It’s all right, Justin. We’ll manage.”

  For her part, Blaire was not surprised to find herself sharing a motel room with Justin again. A little nervous. Okay, maybe a lot nervous. But under the circumstances, it seemed inevitable. He had trailed her all over the state, and now they were stuck in a blizzard nearly two hundred miles from home.

  There was a deeper concern at work in the back of her mind: Had she fled to Enid hoping he would follow?

  Ridiculous. She’d had no reason to think he would come after her. Why should he do such a thing?

  Why did he do such a thing?

  She sat next to him as he followed the manager’s directions to their room and parked near the end of the building.

  Blaire gathered her duffel bag and overnight case in her arms and prepared to get out.

  “I’ll get those,” Justin said tersely.

  She had accepted more help from him lately than she had ever accepted from another soul. It made her uncomfortable. “Thanks,” she said, “but I’ve already got them.” She opened the passenger door and climbed down before Justin could stop her.

  He joined her on the sidewalk with his own belongings carried in two blue Wal-Mart shopping bags.

  “Nice luggage,” she teased.

  “Like it?” He tucked one bag under his arm and unlocked the door to their room. “After you.”

  Blaire stepped into the room and placed her luggage on the only bed, a king.

  Justin followed her and plopped his two sacks on the dresser. “When I left home I thought I was only going to town. I had to do some shopping in Enid. I didn’t even have a toothbrush with me. Now I have everything I need.” He patted the blue plastic. “Are you warm yet?” he asked her.

  “Yes. Thank you. The heater in your pickup is great.”

  “Then I guess the next thing we need to see to is feeding you. I assume you’re hungry.”

  “Starving.”

  “There’s a restaurant right next door. You may think I’m crazy, but I think we should drive. It’s far enough over there to freeze your nose off on the way.”

  “I vote we drive,” she said.

  “It’s unanimous then. Just let me call home first and let them know where I am.” He reached for his cell phone. “Do you want to call your parents?”

  “No, thanks.” She shook her head. “I don’t think my father would appreciate hearing I’m sharing a motel room with you.”

  “Well, I would hope you wouldn’t put it quite that way.”

  “They think I’m with one of my cousins. I’ll just let them think that for a while longer,” she said.

  He made his call, then called Sherry, then they went back out into the storm and climbed into the pickup. Blaire was grateful for the ride, as the snow was even heavier, the temperature lower than it had been only a few minutes earlier.

  Over a meal of pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy for her and beef stew and corn bread for him, Justin entertained Blaire with stories of growing up on the Cherokee Rose the youngest of three brothers.

  An excellent swimmer herself, Blaire winced at the story of how Sloan and Caleb had taught Justin to swim at the age of three by throwing him head-first into the stock pond.

  “You could have been killed. Drowned, broken neck, water moccasin, anything,” she cried in protest.

  “Naw,” he said. “We were in the middle of a five-year drought. The water was only about two feet deep. I could have suffocated in the mud and the muck, but they dragged me out.”

  Blaire shuddered. “Remind me not to let our child around its uncles until after he or she learns to swim.”

  “Not to worry,” Justin told her. “When Grandmother found out what they’d done she made them go down by the creek and cut their own willow switches and gave them a licking they still talk about in whispers. Besides, they’re older and wiser now. Well, older, anyway.”

  Blaire chuckled as she knew she was meant to. Then she wondered aloud. “Do they know about the baby? Your brothers, I mean. The rest of your family.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “They know something’s going on, but not what.”

  Blaire frowned. “What do they think’s going on? What have you told them?”

  “I haven’t told them anything. They’re just observant, that’s all. They know that for the past couple of months, when you wouldn’t take or return my calls, much less go out with me again, I’ve been miserable.”

  Blaire started, blinked. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “My brothers read me pretty well, but there’s no hiding anything from Emily. That woman knows everything. She’s amazing. Scary, even.”

  Blaire hadn’t been questioning his family’s ability to determine his moods, she’d been astounded to hear him state so matter-of-factly that he’d been miserable—because of her.

  Wow. That merited some serious consideration. Did he perhaps care for her, a little? During those two months he said he’d been miserable, he hadn’t known about the baby. If he had indeed been miserable, it could only have been because of her. Couldn’t it?

  Unless he was stringing her along. Men did that to women all the time.

  Oh, she could drive herself crazy trying to read his mind. Or know his heart.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Sorry. My mind wandered.”

  “I must not be much of a conversationalist.”

  “It’s not that,” she said quickly. “I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and today’s been a little on the stressful side.”

  “When we get back to the room you should take a nap.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a wry smile. “But that won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can only sleep if it’s quiet and dark. Unless you want to sit in the dark without making any noise, I won’t get any sleep until tonight. Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can find a good movie on TV to pass the time.”

  “I’ve probably got a deck of cards in the glove box of my rig.”

  “That might come in handy.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” he told her. “Besides. After this meal, I may want a nap myself. You’re not the only one who hasn’t had much sleep lately.”

  The look he gave her told her she was the reason for his recent lack of sleep.

  Was he serious? Did he mean it?

  Why couldn’t she just take a man—this man, at least—at his word, take his words at face value? Why did she have to question everything, doubt him and herself, fear lies an
d deception where none were intended?

  “How about dessert?” Justin suggested.

  If it would delay the time when she would have to be alone with him… “Yes. Please. That sounds great.”

  Not that she didn’t want to be alone with him. That was the problem. She did want to. But she was so afraid of making a fool of herself that she feared to even try.

  “You’re zoning out again,” he said.

  “Sorry.” She shook her head. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “Are you sure it’s not something else?”

  The look in his eyes said if she gave him half a chance he could read her mind like an open book.

  “Something else like what?”

  “Like maybe you’re not feeling well?”

  “No, I’m fine, honest.”

  He let it go, and the waitress came and took their dessert order. A few minutes later the woman delivered Justin’s carrot cake and Blaire’s peach cobbler.

  “How do you feel,” Justin asked, “about my spending a little money on you?”

  Blaire frowned. “You want to buy me something?”

  “I want to get you a cell phone. If you’d had one today you wouldn’t have had to wait for someone to come along and help you.”

  “You want,” she said slowly, “to get me a cell phone?” The idea was too logical to argue with. She needed one. But she wasn’t prepared to start accepting gifts from him. She scrambled around in her head trying to figure out a way to afford not only the phone but the monthly service.

  “And the monthly service that goes with it,” he added, as if, indeed, reading her mind.

  Letting him buy her a phone was one thing, she thought, but allowing him to pay for the monthly service, too? That would give him a hold over her that she wasn’t quite comfortable with.

  “You’re right that I need the phone,” she told him. “I’ll check into getting one when I get home.”

  “Meaning you don’t want me to take care of it?”

  “Meaning I’m not prepared to let you start spending money right and left on me.”

  “I guess I can understand that,” he said. “But if I want to spend money on the baby, you’re going to find it impossible to stop me.”