by Suzanne Cass
On his way around to the driver’s door, he put the rope back into the rear bed and then pulled the knife out from his waistband. He felt a little silly, taking that thing, and he definitely didn’t want Stella to see it. She’d probably peg him as an axe murderer straight away. It surprised him she’d come with him as willingly as she had. Most people instinctively didn’t trust an ex-con. Perhaps she was different. He found a large bottle of water and two woolen blankets he kept stashed in there for emergencies—there’d been a few times where he’d had to bunk down in the truck bed over the past few months. The water would be frozen, but they could melt it in the cab of the vehicle. He checked his cell for reception. No luck. Shit.
He brushed off as much of the snow as he could before he jumped into the truck. Stella sat, small and quiet on the other side of the seat. Her hands were thrust under her armpits and she tucked her chin into the collar of her coat in an attempt to stay warm. He pushed the blankets across the bench seat toward her. It was murky inside the truck’s cab. When he’d checked for reception, he’d seen the time was a little after four in the afternoon. Being mid-winter, the sun wasn’t due to set for an hour or so, but with the blizzard raging outside, and the snow covering the truck, it was getting pretty dark in here.
“I’ll turn the truck on, so we can get some heat,” he said.
She turned her head sharply. “What do you mean? Aren’t we going back into town?”
He shook his head. Surely, she realized they weren’t going anywhere. Not unless this snow stopped, like, right now. “I can’t risk driving in this.” He gestured to the windshield which was completely covered in a dense layer of snow. “The snow is too thick. I can’t see the road. I might drive us straight over the edge.” He didn’t add they could end up like she had in Dean’s truck.
“But what else are we going to do?” There was a rising hint of hysteria in her voice. “We can’t stay here all night.”
Wyatt put the key in the ignition and started the truck, using the movement as a distraction from her question, regretting his gruff tone. He needed to keep reminding himself she was scared, and she was a woman. Talk to her like she was a spooked horse, not one of his inmate buddies. The vehicle rumbled to life and he let it idle to warm up the engine. Stella was shivering again, and he could feel his own body shaking in an attempt to warm up. Even his heavy-duty lace-up boots were soaked through, his toes completely numb. He’d noticed earlier that Stella was only wearing sneakers, her feet must be absolutely frozen.
Wyatt turned to face her. “This is the safest place for us to be, at the moment. It’s not ideal, but there aren’t many alternatives. We may have to spend the night here.” He drew in a deep breath and waited. Was she going to freak out? She’d been a real trooper so far. But this news might drive her over the edge. Some girls would be hysterical by now. Would he blame her if she did? She’d just been rescued from a car wreck and was now stranded in a snowstorm with a man she hardly knew, who’d also spent time in jail.
“Merde.” The word was said so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. He hid a smile at her French cussing. “Is anyone going to find us on this road? Perhaps a passing farmer?”
“No one will be out in this weather,” he said simply.
“Not even if they know I’m missing? I’m pretty sure Joseph or Dean will come looking for me when they realize I’m not back.” She frowned, her mouth turning down in a pout. Wyatt couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was, even with that troubled look on her face. “What about Levi? He’s the local park ranger? And your brother. Won’t he come looking for us?”
“Yes, they’ll be worried sick,” Wyatt agreed. “But no one will be able to drive in this whiteout. It would be complete suicide.”
Stella looked down at her gloved hands resting in her lap, seeming to consider his words.
“What if someone does come along and they don’t see us? Because the truck is covered in snow? What if they run straight into the back of us?”
He shrugged. The same scenario had crossed his mind, too. But right now, there was nothing he could do about it. “We have to hope that doesn’t happen.” They were stuck here, quickly being buried in a blanket of snow, and they’d just have to make the most of it. There was nothing he could do, and the quicker Stella realized that, the better. The words were on the tip of his tongue to tell her it was her fault they were in this predicament. If she’d been paying more attention and not run off the road, then he would most likely be sitting down to a home-cooked meal in a warm, dry house round about now.
Stella sat quiet and withdrawn, not looking at him. She was still shivering, her teeth chattering quietly, even though the heater was finally starting to warm the cab. The look on her face was one of absolute despair, and he suddenly felt like a callous thug.
Spending time in prison had hardened him. He’d learned to bury his true feelings deep. There was no call for emotions in lockup. But he wasn’t in jail anymore. A fact he had to keep reminding himself. The people around him weren’t seasoned criminals, either. They were normal people, with normal feelings and reactions. And at the moment, Stella was probably feeling frightened and isolated.
What should he do? In the six months he’d been out of jail, he’d been actively avoiding women. The absolute last thing he needed right now was to have to explain himself to someone. Women were needy and always asking questions. Questions he didn’t want to answer. When they knew he’d been incarcerated, they always wanted to ask what he’d done to end up in there. And he’d eventually tell them—because they wouldn’t leave well enough alone—and they reacted exactly the same way. They’d draw away from him in horror.
It’d make no difference that he’d been acquitted; wrongfully charged. That those two years he’d spent in jail for a crime he didn’t commit had forever changed him. That the justice system was broken, and he’d been left to suffer alone and for far too long.
Wyatt had nothing to offer a woman or a relationship right now. Women only caused trouble. They couldn’t be trusted.
Sure, he’d noticed Stella whenever he visited Stargazer Ranch with his brother. She was gorgeous, with her long brunette hair, usually tied back in a messy bun on top of her head and her luminous green eyes. She stood out amongst the other staff, and he could hardly tear his eyes away from her. Which is exactly why he’d started avoiding her.
He glanced over at Stella. She was biting her lip in an effort to stop her teeth chattering. She was trying to be tough, but he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Shit.
“Let me help you get your shoes off. They’re wet and we need to get dry and warmed up.” It was the only thing he could think of to distract her from her misery. He couldn’t very well avoid her now. They were both stuck in this together, so he may as well be nice. Wyatt turned up the fan, so heated air was blasting at their heads and feet.
Taking off his gloves, he tried to shake some feeling back into his fingers. He tapped his thigh and Stella glanced at him, her gaze unreadable. Eventually, she swiveled around on the seat and brought her foot up, so it was resting on his knee. It took him a few tries to undo her laces. Her socks were soaked through, so he took those off as well and chaffed her foot with his hands. It was like an ice block. She winced as he rubbed her foot. When your extremities were that cold, they were always painful before they finally warmed up. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched a woman’s feet. Anybody’s feet, for that matter. It was oddly intimate. Wyatt did the same with her other foot and then handed her one of the blankets to wrap her feet in, while he draped her socks in front of one of the hot air vents.
Then he did the same for himself.
Both of their clothes were wet, but they might just have to live with that, for now. Hopefully, the heater would help dry them out.
“Thank you,” she said with a tentative smile.
Stella removed her gloves and held her hands in front of the air vent nearest her. At least, that was one thing that worke
d in his truck. It was old, and pretty beat up; so old it still had a bench seat that ran the length of the cab instead of the more comfortable buckets seats most vehicles had nowadays. But it ran well, was reliable and sturdy.
“Are you thirsty?” He held up the bottle with the partially frozen water.
“I’d rather have a cup of steaming, hot chocolate,” she said. “But that’ll have to do.” She took it from him and unscrewed the lid.
“Unfortunately, I’ve got no food.” They were going to be cold and hungry if they had to stay here all night.
“There’re always the turkeys,” she quipped, and he surprised himself by laughing. It was good she had a sense of humor. She seemed to have gotten over her discouragement quickly.
“Mm, frozen, raw turkey.” He pursed his lips as if in deep thought. “I think I’ll pass on that one, thanks.”
She laughed. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh since he found her in the crashed truck. The mood in the truck lifted.
“Talking about frozen turkeys, how did you end up in the ravine?”
Her face fell, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t asked. Flicking her gaze away from him, she stared at the snow-covered windshield. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted. “I think I was driving too fast. The truck is so big and powerful. I haven’t driven a stick shift often. I just wanted to get home before the snow became too bad. You know?”
He nodded. Yes, he knew how adrenaline made you impatient; made you do things you knew you shouldn’t. Wyatt was secretly fuming that the head chef had sent out a young girl, unused to the mountains, and unused to driving in these conditions. Stupid fucker. He’d have something to say to the man when he saw him next.
“Then I got lost. The roads all look the same out here. And the road sort of…just…disappeared. I went into a snowdrift on the edge, and then before I knew it…” She made a smashing motion with her hands.
“Yes, well, you’re not the first person to get lost on these roads. Even the most experienced local who’s driven these mountains all their lives have been known to get overly confident and drive too fast or misjudge a corner. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“But I wrecked Dean’s truck. He’s going to be mad at me.” Her face crumpled and Wyatt had a sudden urge to take her in his arms.
“No, he’s not,” he said. “From what I’ve heard about Dean, and seen with my own eyes, he’ll be more worried about you than he will about a stupid truck. Don’t you worry about that.”
She looked up at him, leaf-green eyes considering him for a few seconds. “I think you might be right. Dean is a good man. A good boss.”
Wyatt had heard Levi say the same thing.
“Are you getting warmer?” He noticed some color finally coming back into her cheeks.
“Yes, I am. Thank you.” She rubbed her hands together and blew on them. “I can start to feel my toes. What about you?”
Wiggling his toes inside his woolen blanket, he was surprised to find they weren’t too bad. Not warm, exactly, but not a frozen block of ice anymore, either.
“That’s good. Because I can’t leave the engine on much longer. We need to conserve our fuel, so we still have enough to drive back to town tomorrow.”
“What?” Shock was written all over her face. “How are we going to stay warm if we’re stuck here all night? We’ll freeze to death.”
It was true, Wyatt had heard of people stuck in blizzards overnight in their cars, who’d been found dead the next morning. But that wasn’t going to happen to them. They’d just have to get creative. Body heat was the only thing that was going to work in this situation.
The idea of huddling together with Stella caused a spike of heat to surge through him. Shit. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Stella
IT WAS ALREADY getting dark inside the truck. Soon it was going to be pitch black. And cold. Stella might not be used to this weather, but even she knew the temperature would drop a lot more. When Wyatt had appeared next to the wreck and then proceeded to rescue her, she’d been so relieved and grateful. Had assumed that she was safe now and her ordeal would be over. Not once, not even in her wildest dreams, had she considered she wouldn’t get back to the ranch tonight; be able to spend the night in her warm bed. Penny would be worried sick about her. Penny was the ranch’s receptionist and helped with the administration. She and Stella shared room in the staff quarters and a like-minded outlook on life. Penny wanted to change the world and Stella wanted to help her. They talked for hours sometimes after they went to bed.
“I just want to go home,” she said in a small voice, cursing herself for letting her thoughts become words, but unable to stop herself, anyway.
“I don’t blame you.” Wyatt’s voice was unexpectedly soothing. Up til now, he’d been taciturn and a little unsympathetic, and Stella was wondering why she’d ever thought he was intriguing. He wasn’t a rough diamond. He was just rough, full stop.
“This isn’t my first choice for a place to spend the night, either.” He scooted closer to her along the bench seat and put a comforting hand on her arm. “I know this is probably frightening for you. But we’ll be okay, I promise you.” His grip tightened slightly. “I’ve survived through a lot worse. I’ll get you through this, too.” She wondered what he meant by that and was struck by the wounded look in his face.
With his obsidian eyes fixed on her, dark-gray knit cap pulled down low on his forehead and a sprinkling of stubble over his jaw, he might’ve looked more than a little intimidating if she’d met him on some dark street corner. Add that to his gruff, no-nonsense exterior and he came across as one scary dude. But she wasn’t scared of him. On the contrary, all of a sudden, she wanted him to come closer. She almost laughed out loud at her fickle turn of emotions. She was going to blame the car crash for her up and down feelings toward Wyatt.
“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to imply…” She broke off, not sure where to go with that. Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she severed their gaze. Neither of them wanted to be in this situation, but it was what it was, and they were both stuck here. Perhaps in other circumstances, she might enjoy being cooped up with Wyatt. He was attractive, even if he was more than a little mysterious. But right now, her head hurt, and all she wished for was a hot shower and a warm bed.
“I need to take another look at your wound, while we’ve still got sufficient light left.” Wyatt broke the silence that’d descended inside the truck, then reached down and opened the first-aid kit sitting between them on the seat.
Stella sucked in a deep breath. It was time to stop acting like a little girl and pretending this would all go away if she wished hard enough. Because this was real, and she had to get her reactions under control. Reaching up, she eased the knit cap off and placed it in her lap. Then she turned to face him, tilting her head slightly to let him see her forehead better.
He stretched up and flicked the cab light on, a soft glow enveloping them. Gentle fingers unwound the bandage he’d hurriedly put on down in the ravine. She winced as the last section came undone and tugged at the gauze, now stuck to the wound with dried blood.
“Hang on.” He tipped some water onto a clean gauze pad and dabbed at the caked blood until the padding came free. He continued to wipe her face with the wet dressing, cleaning most of the blood away. She could tell he was trying to be gentle, but she couldn’t help wincing a few times whenever he came close to the wound.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “My head is pounding, and I get a sharp pain if I turn around too quickly.”
“I’ve got some Tylenol in the first-aid kit, I’ll get you some in a second. There’s a fair bit of bruising. You’ve probably got a concussion,” he added bluntly.
She’d never had a concussion before. She’d never been the rough and tumble type. Her life had been spent indoors, in kitchens learning to cook, not out in the wild doing exciting, dangerous thing
s. There’d been the odd cut on her finger with a sharp knife, but nothing that required more than a few Band-Aids, so far. “Is that bad?” she asked.
He didn’t seem to notice her agitation, as he concentrated on cleaning her face. “You should be fine. There’s not really a lot we can do about it out here. I’ve seen plenty of guys when I was in—” He cut off abruptly, mid-sentence. “We need to monitor you for the next few hours, that’s all. Make sure you don’t fall asleep.”
“Okay.” That didn’t sound too hard, and he didn’t seem overly worried. But what had he been about to say? She studied his face as he continued to clean her up.
Wyatt’s problem wasn’t that he was shy, she decided. It was more like he was hiding something behind that gruff exterior of his. Something was burning behind his eyes; she’d seen it spark more than once. Something he didn’t want her to see.
Wyatt kept his features blank as he dabbed at her forehead. Either because her wound was really gruesome, and he didn’t want to scare her, or more likely, it was as if he’d seen this kind of thing before. That idea occupied her for a while, wondering where he’d become familiar with tending to injuries.
“It’ll need stitches,” he said, and she blanched.
She’d never had stitches in her life. Still, it could’ve been a lot worse. She could be lying down in that ravine, terribly injured. Left to freeze to death. She was grateful to escape with a mere bump on the head.
“I’ve got a few butterfly strips I can use until we can get you to hospital.”
“Okay,” she agreed, trying not to let him see how much of a scaredy-cat she was. Bracing herself, she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as he leaned in with a small bandage between his fingers.
“I won’t hurt you.” He sounded offended, and she opened her eyes to protest. Which was a mistake. Because his face was up close to hers. Her gaze wandered down over his strong nose and broad cheekbones, to his lips, tantalizingly near.
