Besides, he hated all the things dating involved—getting dressed up, making small talk, trying to figure out what was real and what was pretense, trying to keep from getting dragged down a wedding aisle.
Standing in front of him was a perfect example of what he most wanted to avoid and what was often so hard to detect—a marriage-minded woman with a lot of emotional baggage, still carrying a torch for another guy. At least with this one he knew what he was dealing with.
Another button came off in his hand. “I’m afraid I’m pulling off as many buttons as I’m unfastening,” he told her.
“That’s okay.” Her voice was muffled by the veil. “The dress is a loss, anyway. If it’s easier, you can just yank them all off.”
The thought of ripping off her dress had undeniable appeal—so much so that he deliberately resisted the urge, furrowing his brow in concentration and meticulously undoing the buttons one at a time.
“There,” he muttered when he’d finally unfastened the last one.
The fabric gapped to reveal something lacy and sheer underneath the dress. His imagination running wild, he swallowed hard and stepped back as she turned around.
She was shivering, he realized with a start. He’d attributed the trembling he’d felt as he’d unbuttoned her dress to his own shaking hands. “You need to get inside,” he told her. “Do you want me to carry in your bags?”
She rubbed her arms, her teeth chattering. “What I really want is to get thawed out as soon as possible. Would you turn around for a moment?”
Luke complied. Fabric rustled, the cabin door creaked and soft footsteps thudded on the wooden floor.
“You can turn around now,” she called from inside the cabin.
Her dress lay in a heap on the porch…along with two muddy, crumpled stockings. A trail of muddy footprints led inside the cabin to the closed bathroom door. He heard a rush of water from the shower.
Luke exhaled harshly and eyed the stockings again, wondering how she’d held them up. His tantalizing conjectures about her undergarments were cut short when his gaze fell again on the crumpled wedding gown.
It was a pitiful sight, all that lace and silk puddled in a muddy mess on the porch, and it sent a wave of sympathy surging through him. What had once been a beautiful dress was rumpled and ruined, and her dreams were no doubt in the same condition. What was supposed to have been the happiest day of her life had ended in heartbreak.
He wondered why the wedding had been canceled. Had she called it off, or had the groom? Obviously someone had—and at the very last minute, judging from the way she was dressed.
One thing was for certain: she was sure to be feeling awful. He should have been looking for ways to comfort her instead of leering at her like a cowboy Casanova.
A stab of guilt shot through him. No matter how much he disliked it, as long as the Lazy O was operated as a guest ranch, he had an obligation to care for his guests in a manner worthy of the O’Dell name.
The least he could do was take her luggage inside. And while he was at it, he might as well start a fire in the fireplace, too.
Wrapped in a large white towel, with another wound turban-style around her hair, Josie opened the bathroom door fifteen minutes later to find Luke squatting before the fireplace, laying logs on a blaze of kindling.
The tight ache in her chest loosened a little at the sight of him. She was glad he was still there; the idea of solitude had begun to lose its appeal. In fact, as she’d stood under the shower and castigated herself for ever getting involved with Robert in the first place, she’d dreaded spending the evening alone with her thoughts.
How could she have allowed herself to be pushed and persuaded into nearly marrying a man she apparently didn’t even know? All of the anger that had propelled her into action was fizzling into painfully familiar self-doubt.
Luke glanced up at her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob before he abruptly turned away and picked up another piece of wood. “I thought you might like a fire,” he said gruffly.
“Thanks.” Her face burning, Josie wrapped the towel more tightly above her breasts and angled her body against the door so that only her head poked out. The towel covered more of her than some of her summer dresses did, but she was acutely aware of the fact she wore nothing under it. Something in the way his gaze swept over her told her he was aware of it, too.
She saw her suitcases near the door, but didn’t want to parade across the room to get them. Her fingers tightened on the terry cloth. “Would you mind handing me the blue suitcase? I’ll throw on some clothes and be right out.”
Luke complied, and Josie ducked behind the door to rapidly pull on a sweatshirt, jeans and a pair of thick socks. Still toweling her damp hair, she stepped back into the living room.
The fire crackled and hissed, throwing a delicious warmth into the room. She walked up to it and gave a contented sigh. “This feels wonderful. Thanks.”
Luke jammed his hands in his pockets. “No problem. I brought in some extra firewood for you. When you turn in for the night, just be sure the screen is in place.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“There’s a path to the lodge on the right side of the cabin. Breakfast is served from seven until ten in the lodge dining room. There’s a map of the ranch and some other information beside the phone.”
“Great.”
Luke watched her sling the towel over a chair and stretch out her hands to the fire. Man, she was pretty. Her hair fell in damp ringlets to her shoulders. Without the veil, he could see that it was the dark, rich color of a chocolate velvet cake.
He needed to get out of here. The sight of her in that towel had just about done him in. “Well, if you’ve got everything you need, I’ll—”
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his words. He strode across the room and opened it.
“Consuela.” He pushed the door wider and stepped back, making room for a large, smiling woman who bustled in with an enormous tray.
“Manuel saw the lights on and told me our honeymoon couple had arrived,” the woman announced in a lilting Spanish accent. “So I brought the candlelight dinner over.” She gave Josie a sly grin as she set the huge tray on the pine plank dining table, then extended a plump hand. “Hello. I’m Consuela Perez.”
Josie shook Consuela’s hand. “I’m Josie Randall.”
The older woman looked around the room. “Where’s the lucky bridegroom?”
“I don’t—” Josie faltered for words. Silence hung awkwardly in the room.
Luke stepped forward. “Miss Randall’s wedding was canceled. She’s here alone.”
“Oh!” Consuela’s hands flew up, her face wrinkling with concern. “Oh, ¡Pobrecita! You poor darling. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Josie gave a self-conscious smile. “Thank you, but no.”
“Do you want to talk? I’ve got a good shoulder to cry on.”
“I’m fine.”
“It always helps to talk these things out. We can stay here, or you can come home with me—”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m fine.”
Consuela searched her face, her brown eyes large with concern. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”