“Savannah, we’re going to kiss,” Mike said.
“It might as well be now,” he added in a whispered Texas drawl. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.
Savannah placed her hands on his chest, ready to voice her protest when his lips brushed hers lightly and her heart thudded.
At that moment she wanted his kiss with all her being. She couldn’t think about what was best or if she shouldn’t or that he really didn’t want this either. The stubble on his jaw scraped her skin slightly while his warmth, his strength and his lean, hard body heightened her pleasure.
Finally, as she paused, he released her slightly.
“A kiss isn’t a binding commitment,” he said. “A long, warm kiss on a cold winter’s night even beats hot chocolate.”
She suspected he attempted to make light of the moment, but that was impossible. They both had kissed away wise decisions.
“Savannah, we won’t fall in love—I promise you.” So said him.
* * *
At the Rancher’s Request is part of Sara Orwig’s Texas-set series, Lone Star Legends.
At the Rancher’s Request
Sara Orwig
SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere, from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.
To David and my family with love.
Also, with many thanks to Stacy Boyd and Maureen Walters.
Contents
Mike Calhoun frowned, glancing briefly at the small mirror that allowed him to see Scotty in the backseat. Assured his almost-three-year-old son was okay, Mike peered ahead as sheets of gray rain swept against his truck. With the truck wipers maxed, he guessed visibility was less than fifty yards. He hadn’t passed a car or seen any sign of life for the past half hour. To his relief he spotted a small light shining on a sign and he turned, thankful to have reached the shelter of the only gas station between the closest town and his West Texas ranch.
He slowed to stop beneath the extended roof covering eight pumps. Ed had locked up and gone home and Mike didn’t blame him. On a stormy Saturday night in the last week of January, Ed wouldn’t have had much business anyway.
“We’re stopping, Scotty,” he said, turning to his son while he left the motor running and the car lights switched on so they would not be in complete darkness. “If we wait, the rain will let up and driving conditions will be better,” he said as he unfastened his son’s seat belt.
Solemnly, Scotty looked at him. “Can we cross the bridge?”
Smiling, Mike tousled Scotty’s black curls. “My little worrier,” Mike said. “I think so, Scotty. If we can’t cross the north bridge in the front, I’ll drive around to the west. It’ll take longer, but we can get home. Don’t worry. This downpour will slack off soon. It can’t rain this hard all night.”
Twin specks of light emerged from the rain and grew bigger as a car approached. “Here comes someone else. It may be someone from our ranch.”
When the car pulled into the lane next to Mike, smoke poured from beneath the hood. The driver passed the pumps, stopping beyond them, still sheltered by the roof.
The driver’s door opened and someone in a parka stepped out and shook the hood away, revealing a woman with a long blond braid.
“This isn’t anyone we know. Scotty, stay in the car while I see if she needs help.” Mike lowered the front window so Scotty could hear him easily. He cut the car engine. “The lady has car trouble.”
Pocketing his car keys, Mike stepped out and closed his door. “Hi, I’m Mike Calhoun. Can I help you?” he asked, looking at a blonde with big blue eyes.
Frowning slightly, she walked around her car. “Thank you. I’m Savannah Grayson. I do need help. I don’t know what’s wrong with my car. I was so scared it would break down while I was on the highway. It’s been clattering and smoke was coming out from beneath the hood. Thank heavens I saw your car in this station. It was like getting tossed a lifeline in a stormy ocean.” She looked past him. “You have a little boy in your truck. I shouldn’t take your time.”
Mike looked at Scotty and waved even though only a few yards separated them. Smiling, Scotty waved back. “He’ll be fine for a bit.”
“I don’t know what the trouble is—”
“Whoa,” Mike said, seeing a flickering orange flame curl from beneath the hood. He stepped to his truck, retrieved his fire extinguisher and opened the hood of her car. As flames shot out, Savannah gasped. He held up the extinguisher and in seconds white foam doused the fire.
“I’m sorry, but this car isn’t going anywhere until a mechanic works on it,” Mike said, bending over the smoldering engine. “Are you visiting someone around here?” he asked when he straightened. He was certain she didn’t live in the area or he would know her.