Slow Hand Luke. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
one side of his mouth hike up. “I’m not that much older than you.” She dropped his lunchmeat and bread into a bag. “But don’t you worry. I got a husband and two nearly grown boys of my own, but I can still look.”
“You best be careful, ma—, uh, darlin’,” he said. “It’s late, the place is deserted. You shouldn’t be talking to a strange man like that.”
She took the money he handed her. “Thought you might be from around here, but I guess not. This is East Texas, sugar. Anyway, I ain’t got nothing to worry about with you.” She winked as she handed him his change. “It’s all in your eyes. Decent men have that certain look.”
Luke snorted. Boy, she had no idea how wrong she was. All she had to do was ask anyone in Hasting’s Corner. Luke’s own grandfather could have set her straight if the ornery old buzzard hadn’t keeled over last year while trying to shoe a stubborn mule. “You ready for that escort outside?” he asked, gathering up his groceries.
She smiled. “You go on ahead, handsome. I still have another ten minutes of trying to make some sense out of these here numbers.”
Luke hesitated, but she came around the counter to shoo him out, getting to the door before him to unlock it.
Her gaze caught on his belt buckle, the one he’d won three years ago. “Hey, you on the circuit?”
He nodded, anxious to leave before she asked any more questions. Too late, he realized. He should have just lied and said it belonged to his brother.
“You somebody I would know?”
“Nah.”
“Well, you won that buckle. That’s no small thing. What’s your name?”
“Tom Black.”
“Hmm, we’re big rodeo fans. But I can’t say I recall your name. Sorry.”
“No problem. I’m new to the circuit.”
Her disbelieving frown was like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. Hell, he already knew he was getting too old to still be riding, much less be new to the game.
“Well, you drive careful, you hear?” she said, then opened the door and locked it behind him. His arms full, he nudged his chin in farewell when she waved, then deposited his groceries and himself into the battered white pickup.
Slouching down in the seat, he adjusted his hat and was surprised by a fleeting image of his grandfather. Luke missed him sometimes. The guy could be as stern and dour as a lemon-sucking preacher, but he was still the only father Luke had ever known. His own daddy had skipped town before Luke had taken his first step. Didn’t want no kids, no responsibility, he’d told everyone, then just up and left.
Now that he was older, Luke understood. He didn’t like being tied down, either, but he sure as hell wouldn’t leave a wife and baby behind to starve. Nope. The rodeo was his life and he made no apologies. And he sure as hell didn’t scatter regrets.
One by one the lights went out in the store and then the door opened and Luke straightened. He watched the clerk hurry toward a blue compact car and open the door, before he started his truck.
Once she was safely inside and had turned on her headlights, he put the truck in gear. She honked and waved as she reversed out of the stall. He pulled out onto the highway and headed toward Hasting’s Corner, not sure what he was going to do once he got there, besides sleep. He needed a solid twenty-four hours’ worth. Then, maybe he could come up with a plan to get to Joanne.
Then, too, if he laid low long enough, maybe Seabrook would cool off and admit that Luke hadn’t stolen the million bucks in prize money. He flexed his aching shoulder, wincing with the pain that shot to his neck. Hell, even if it took a month to straighten out this mess, it wasn’t as if he’d be getting on another bull soon. Not till Houston, anyway. For the money. Even if it ended up being the last time. The hell with what the doctors said.
He got to the familiar fork in the road and veered right toward Hasting’s Corner. The road, narrow and full of potholes, divided the flat idle land for endless miles. Without streetlights and with no moon it was too dark to see anything, but he remembered the road well, even though he’d only been back twice since he’d left home at sixteen.
The farther it went the land got hilly and more interesting. That’s where that bastard Seabrook lived. In a big white show-house on the side of a hill, facing a lake. The self-proclaimed king of the rodeo, big and mean as a Brahma bull, Seabrook ruled the county. And wasn’t it just Luke’s rotten luck that of all the counties this side of Texas, the bastard had to live here?
Something flashed up ahead. Luke caught it right before he rounded the bend. It was a car, still distant, but no mistaking the warning lights.
“Damn!”
He slowed down, trying to decide if he should stop. Ten miles out of town like this, it could be someone he knew.
“Damn!”
Whoever it was had to have a cell phone. Everyone did these days and, if not, ten miles wasn’t that far to walk. He got close enough to see that it was a small red Ford, its right rear tire stuck in a ditch. But no sign of a person. Good. Problem solved.
Just as he passed the car he saw her—a woman, slim, with long, dark, wavy hair. Standing in the beam of the headlights.
“Damn.” He couldn’t leave her out here.
But then again…
He turned the truck around.
2
“D AMN IT!”
Annie slapped at the fourth mosquito that had assailed her in the past two minutes, and watched the truck speed by. Too bad she didn’t have her gun. She’d shoot the dumb tires. Before she could get her purse and start hoofing it toward town, she saw the truck turn around.
She sighed with relief. Although the driver could be an axe murderer. Terrific thought. Nah, this was Texas hill country, not Brooklyn. Not that she was foolish enough not to worry some. But walking for ten miles in the dark didn’t seem smart, either.
The white pickup coasted to a stop beside her. She couldn’t see the driver until he reached over and opened the passenger door. The interior light was dim, but not enough to shadow his vivid blue eyes.
“Seems you have a problem, darlin’,” he said in a slow easy drawl. His sexy smile gave her a shiver where it had no business.
“I don’t suppose you’d be able to give me a tow out of that ditch.”
“Nope. Too dark. And I don’t have any rope. But I can give you a ride to town. Got two gas stations there.”
“Open at this time of night?”
“Nope. Hop in.”
“Give me a minute to get my bag.” By the time she opened the car door, he’d gotten out of his truck and met her there. His right shoulder brushed across her breasts as he beat her to the bag sitting on the back seat.
“You travel mighty light for a woman,” he said as he hauled out the black nylon overnighter. “That’s refreshing.”
“That’s sexist.”
“Just speaking from experience.” He gave her one of those sexy smiles again.
Her left calf tickled as if something had crawled up under her jeans. Probably nothing, but she leaned down and rubbed through the denim anyway. “I’m Annie Corrigan, by the way.”
He hesitated. “Luke. Where you headed?”
“Hasting’s Corner. Well, actually to my aunt’s ranch on the other side of town.”
“What’s her name?”
“Marjorie Wilson.”
“Oh, yeah, the