by Peggy Webb
“It’s my body.”
He glanced at her. In the gray light, her face was set in the determined lines he’d come to know so well. He kept going.
“It’s also my money.”
His jaw tightened. Without another word, he pulled over to the side of the road. She jerked open her door and swung her legs down. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back into the truck. Then he leaned over her and slammed the door shut.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
“I don’t have any remedies for pneumonia in my duffle bag.” He took his handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped the water off her legs. A muscle twitched in the side of his jaw. “If you want to get soaked and catch your death of cold, you can wait until you get home to do it.”
She sat with her back rigid as he bent over her and dried her legs all the way down to her ankles. She held her breath as he lifted her feet, one by one, and wiped every drop of moisture from them.
The windows were fogged from their breathing. With the dark sky and the steamy windows, she felt as if she were in a cocoon. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Russ straightened and tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.
“Stay here. Don’t move.”
He pulled his jacket collar up and stepped into the rain. Within seconds he was back. Plopping the wet suitcase onto the seat, he climbed in.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t reply. Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he wiped his face. The damp cloth didn’t begin to soak up all the rain he’d collected on his errand of gallantry.
Bea couldn’t sit there and watch it any longer.
“Here. Let me do that.” She opened her purse and took out a lace-edged linen handkerchief.”
She leaned toward him, but the suitcase was in the way. In order to balance, she had to put one hand on his shoulder.
He sat very still as she lifted the tiny material to his face. The sweet scent of flowers wafted under his nose.
“That little piece of material is hardly big enough for a flea.” His voice was gruff. It had been a long, long time since anybody had cared enough about him to wipe his face.
“If you have any fleas in this beard, you’d better tell me now. I can’t abide fleas.”
Her quip lightened the mood. They laughed together.
“Then you’d better let me do that. I haven’t looked lately.”
He took the handkerchief and finished mopping his face.
She settled back into her seat, glad the suitcase was between them. “Who says there are no good Samaritans anymore? You’re a good Samaritan, Russ Hammond.”
“Don’t tell. My reputation would be ruined.” Absently he stuffed her little handkerchief into his pocket. “It looks like the rain is letting up some.”
“Can you see well enough to drive?”
“Yes. As long as I watch the speed.”
He pulled back onto the mountain road, and they crept along. Their respite lasted twenty minutes, and then the rain began to slash the truck viciously. Russ eased around the mountain curves, peering hard into the rain, trying to spot the potholes in the road in time to avoid a teeth-jarring encounter.
Suddenly Bea caught his arm. “Listen. Do you hear that?”
There was a rumbling sound coming up from the ground, as if the earth were growling its discontent.
“I hear it.” Automatically he slowed the truck.
“What is it?”
“It sounds like distant traffic.”
The sound became louder. Suddenly Russ knew what it was. Rock slide. It sometimes happened on mountain roads, especially during torrential rains. Judging by the sounds, rocks were tumbling some distance behind them and almost immediately ahead of them. They were trapped.
His jaw tightened and he leaned over the wheel, searching desperately for a place to pull over. Bea saw the change in him, felt the sudden tension.
“Russ?”
He didn’t answer her. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his knuckles turned white. He was tired of losing people. Even if Bea was not connected to him in any important way, he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to her.
“What’s wrong, Russ?” Bea gripped his arm.
“Hang on, Bea.”
There were no good places to pull off the road. No wide shoulders and safe havens presented themselves. Russ took the only way out. Shifting gears, he plunged off the road and started up a small, rocky incline. The old truck swayed, its tires spinning and squealing, seeking purchase on the slick ground.
Bea’s teeth knocked together, and she bounced around on the seat. But she held on. She braced one hand on the dashboard and kept the other one on Russ’s upper arm.
The incline leveled off, and Russ swung the truck into the shelter of a copse of trees. He cut the engine and covered her hand.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She held on to his arm a while longer, listening, but the distant roar of falling rocks had ceased.
“I think the sound we heard was a rock slide, Bea. Just up ahead. I’ll check as soon as the rain slackens.”
She shivered. “That makes twice.”
“Twice what?”
“Twice you’ve saved my life. Once from rock slide and once from a fatal cut toe.”
The laughter diminished the tension.
“Being trapped in the mountains is not my idea of fun, but I suppose if it had to happen, I’m glad it happened with you, Bea.”
“What a nice thing to say.”
“It’s Monday. I try to be nice on Mondays.”
“What about Tuesdays?”
“I live from day to day. I’ll let you know when Tuesday comes.” He glanced out at the rain, then back at Bea. “I don’t suppose you play poker, do you?”
“I happen to be the world’s best seven-card stud player.”
“We’ll see about that.”
This time he wasn’t even surprised. If Bea Adams had claimed to be a Japanese wrestler, he’d have believed her. He got a deck of cards out of the truck pocket and dealt their hands.
Two hours later, it turned out Bea had been right. She was good enough to beat him at every hand except one.
“It’s these damp jeans,” he said. “I’m off my game.”
“It’s your brain. Country music is bound to fry it.”
“What do you have against country music?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it without saying a word. Taylor Adams had been on the tip of her tongue. She bit back the words. Russ had already wormed his way into her emotions; she’d be darned if she let him work his way into her mind.
“Look.” She turned her face to the window. “It has almost stopped raining.”
“I’ll go check the road.”
“I’m coming with you.” She reached for the door handle.
“You are not.” He reached over and caught her arm.
“I most certainly am.” She look pointedly at his hand on her arm. When he didn’t take the hint, she gave a direct order. “Take your hands off me. I’m paying you to take me home, not to order me around.”
“Those roads are slick out there, and treacherous. What if you fall?”
“I’ll get back up.”
“You’re dressed for a party, not a trek on a wet mountain road.”
“I guess I could pull off my clothes and go stark naked, but I am going.”
“Stubborn woman.” He released her and got out on his side of the truck, still mad. “How in the hell she ever lived to be a grown woman is a miracle to me. Taking foolhardy chances. She must have a damned guardian angel watching over her.” He was still fuming when he came around to her side and opened the door. “Hop down.”
He took her elbow to help her out of the truck.
“You can let go. I’m not helpless.”
“I can’t stop you from going, but I can damned sure stop you from falling off this mountain.” He slammed the doo
r harder than he had to. “Now behave yourself.”
She didn’t protest any more. A hundred yards down the road, she was glad he’d insisted on holding her arm. The roads were muddy and her footing was uncertain. He’d been right. High heels were designed for a party, not mountain climbing.
Around the bend, they discovered a large pile of rocks blocked the road, one or two of them boulder size.
Bea’s spirits fell. Another delay. And from the looks of things, this would be a long one.
“Can we move them?” she asked.
“Yes. It will take a while, but I can do it.”
“We can do it.”
“Now how did I know you’d say that?”
“Experience?” She smiled up at him.
It was a smile he couldn’t resist. He brushed back her damp hair, letting his hand linger long enough to savor the touch of her soft cheek.
He was still touching her face, and he was getting ideas again. Quickly he withdrew his hand.
“It’s way past lunchtime, and I’m hungry. Why don’t we eat before we try to do anything?”
“Why don’t I see if I can get a phone signal?”
He didn’t even tell her it was useless. Why dash all her hopes in one day?
He waited patiently till she finally gave up on her phone, and then they had cheese and apples and two country-ham sandwiches he’d purchased at Freddy’s General Store early that morning. After lunch, Russ set up his tent in the shelter of the trees.
For once Bea didn’t insist on helping. She knew nothing about tents and didn’t want to learn. She hadn’t been camping since she was in pigtails, and then she hadn’t slept in a tent. Camp Piomingo had cabins with a row of bunk beds and a giggling bunch of little girls who became her best friends.
Bea wished the Dixie Virgins were there. Janet would be with Russ, making sure he lashed the tent to the poles, while Belinda cheered them on. Clemmie would be searching for ways to make turn their pitiful supply of food into something wonderful. Cat would be laughing her head off and Molly and Joanna would be figuring out some sort of rain dance.
And what was she doing? Sitting on a wet rock in torn clothes and muddy boots fuming because Russ had turned out to be right about so many things. That meant she had been wrong, and she hated being wrong.
As she watched the tent being erected—her paradise for the night—she remembered what he had said: I have only one sleeping bag.
Something warm unfurled inside her stomach and she glanced at her watch. Only a few more hours until dark. One tent. One sleeping bag. And a man whose touch made her hot.
She rose from the rock and walked away. She didn’t even want to think what might happen.
“Bea.” She heard him call her name, but she ignored it and kept walking. “Bea, where are you going?”
“Not far. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
His first instinct was to go after her, but on second thought, he decided to stay. He’d already made a fool of himself over her more than once today. What was she to him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He snapped a tent pole into place. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d be far down the road now, heading for the West Coast, getting as far away from LaBelle as he could get. And then what? What would he do when he got to the Pacific? Catch a freighter? Keep on drifting?
He put the last tent pole into place, then reached for his handkerchief. Instead, he pulled out Bea’s. He pressed the damp square of linen to his nose and inhaled. The scent was sweet. He wondered if her body smelled like that. Did she put the scent of flowers in the crook of her elbows? Did she cover that tiny network of blue veins with the smells of spring?
“Dammit.” He wadded the handkerchief into a tight ball and stuffed it back into his pocket.
If he had been near a gym, he’d have worked out. He’d have run until his legs were weak and his heart was pounding. He’d have battered a punching bag until his arms were sore. But he wasn’t. He was trapped on Quachita Mountain with an impossible woman.
Clenching his hands, he started after her. He had a good idea where she was.
Ten minutes later he discovered that he’d been right. That damned stubborn woman was standing at the bend in the road, tugging at a rock it would have taken two good-sized men to carry.
Without a word he went to help her. He’d learned the hard way that arguing with Bea Adams was useless.
o0o
By the time night came, they were both exhausted. They’d worked side by side on the pile of rocks, and still the road was blocked. They’d have to finish in the morning.
Perched on the front seat of his truck, they ate their meal in silence. Russ watched Bea out of the corner of his eye. She had smudges all over her face and hands. She’d broken the heel off one of her boots, torn her skirt and ripped her blouse. Her hair was damp and mussed, and her legs were muddy to the knees. But she hadn’t complained. Not once since they’d been trapped. In fact, once they’d started moving the rocks, she’d been downright cheerful.
Russ had never met a woman like her.
“You’re staring,” she said.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You.”
His honesty startled her. Usually the two of them resorted to word games or quips or even insults. She decided to be completely honest herself.
“I was thinking about you, too.”
They studied each other. Neither wavered under the scrutiny.
“What were you thinking, Bea?”
“That you’re a good man, Russ. A kind man.”
“Don’t pin any medals on me yet.”
“Why?”
“The night’s not over.”
His eyes were intense and piercing, almost iridescent in the darkness of the truck. She looked away.
“You can rest easy,” she finally said. “Even if one of us got any ideas, we’re both too tired to do anything about it.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“You told me you no longer believed in love, Russ.”
“I don’t. But I believe in lust.”
“Lust? For this?” Without thinking, she held one grubby leg up for inspection. “You must be joking.”
“You don’t know how sexy you are, do you, Bea?”
She hastily lowered her leg and smoothed her skirt down. Was he kidding? If he knew how many men had dumped her, he wouldn’t be so smug in his opinions.
“I guess lots of women like that line.”
“Don’t other men say those things to you, Bea?”
“No.”
“Then they’re fools.”
“I don’t date fools. I date sophisticated men.”
“Fops and fools.”
“You’re a fine one to talk.” Anger spotted her cheeks. “You, a drifter. A man who does nothing except ride a raggedy truck and listen to country music.” She reached for the door handle. “How dare you make derogatory remarks about the men I date.”
She jerked open the door.
“Going somewhere?”
“As far away from you as I can get.” She clambered down from the truck.
He leaned out the door and called after her. “Be back in twenty minutes.”
“I don’t see any earthly reason why I should.”
“Because that’s when I’ll have the bath water ready.”
She stalked off into the dark. He’d just have to trust her guardian angel to watch after her. He didn’t trust himself right now. For a few shaky moments, he’d almost pulled her into his arms.
“That’s what I get for taking up with Bea Adams in the first place,” he muttered.
He’d known better. He’d stepped into the situation with his eyes wide open. And now he couldn’t back out. He couldn’t climb into his truck and drive off. Much as he wanted to put some distance between himself and Bea, he couldn’t leave her stranded on the mountains.
“When we get to Memphis...” He realized he was talking out loud to himself,
and his voice trailed off.
That’s what he would do, wait until they got to Memphis, then help her rent a car and send her the rest of the way on her own. Forget about bargains and chivalry and fool talk of delivering her in one piece. He had to protect himself. What was there for him in Florence, Alabama, anyhow? For that matter, what was there for him at the end of any line?
Satisfied that he’d soon be on his way again—without Bea Adams—he got out of his truck and went to fetch wood for the fire and water for the bath. Her bath.
o0o
Bea was furious. She kicked a rock with her good toe and stood still long enough to listen to it tumbling down the steep incline. She kicked another one. Behind her came the faint sound of whistling. Russ. He was back at the camp, no doubt proud of the way he’d infuriated her. What had he said he was going to do? She’d been so upset, she’d barely listened. Then she remembered. He was getting water for a bath. A bath! How was she going to take a bath on a mountain with a madman?
She sat on a rock and looked out across the mountain. Chances were good there were all kinds of fearsome creatures lurking out there in the dark. But none of them could compare to Russ Hammond.
How had she managed to lose so much control? In Dallas, no matter what happened to her, she handled it well. Even when her boyfriends walked out on her, one by one, she still somehow felt as if she were in charge.
But not with Russ. She hadn’t been in charge of anything since she’d climbed aboard his pickup truck and rattle-banged her way into Pearcy, Arkansas.
Sitting on a rock on the mountain, she felt a million miles from home. She felt as if every familiar thing in her life had suddenly been sucked up in a giant vacuum cleaner, leaving her stranded without any point of reference. Her car was in Pearcy, her suitcase was in a tent on the side of a mountain, her job was in Dallas, her mother was in Florence, and her courage seemed to be on vacation.
She had no one except a blond, bearded giant with knowing blue eyes.
She looked up at the sky. It was sullen and heavy looking. She shook her fist at it.
“Don’t you dare rain. Don’t you dare,” she said, and then stalked back to camp.
o0o
Russ heard her coming before he saw her.
“You’d never make a stalker.” He looked up as she came into the circle of his campfire.
