Montana Red. Genell Dellin

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СКАЧАТЬ sorry about your truck. Have your insurance people contact me about the damage and I’ll take care of it.”

      She shifted into Park and reached to open the console.

      “I’ll write down my cell number.”

      He opened the door and stepped out as he waited for her to write the number down on an index card.

      “They’ll need your last name,” he said.

      “Of course,” she said, but that hadn’t occurred to her. Usually the people she dealt with knew who she was.

      Above the number she wrote, Clea Mathison.

      Clea Mathison, whom Jake Hawthorne saw as an incompetent idiot—a dumb blonde. Well, she might just let her hair grow out to its natural chestnut.

      When she looked up to hand the card to him, she smiled and said, “Again, I’m sorry I shot your truck, Jake.”

      He barely glanced at her, just took the card with a muttered thanks, closed the door and walked away.

      She watched him go, the sunlight bright across the back of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. He no longer knew she was there.

      Since she was a teenager, every man anywhere around her always knew she was there. Even Brock. He’d ignored her plenty of times but he’d always been aware of her and so had every other man.

      Now, to Jake Hawthorne, she wasn’t even a sex object.

      She didn’t want to be one. But to be perfectly honest, at that moment she didn’t know who she was, either. And she didn’t want to be alone.

      When she ran away from home to another world, she’d had no clue how alien she would feel.

      The old Clea would have driven away and let that feeling get stronger. Especially if that was what she was expected to do.

      But the new Clea would do something positive. Whatever her heart wanted her to do.

      She reached down and turned off the motor. “Wait up,” she called.

      Jake, halfway to the barn, stopped in his tracks to look back.

      “I want to see the foal,” she said.

      He said nothing, just stood there and waited for her to catch up to him.

      “I’ve gotta ride,” he said.

      “Just point me in the right direction. I don’t expect you to give me a tour. I’ll see the baby and then I’ll check out the arena and the winter stalls.”

      He looked as if he didn’t know what to think of her. He was wary. Like the shy, lonesome cowboy in an old movie who’d be less afraid of a gunslinger than of talking to the new schoolmarm. Except he’d plainly told her she couldn’t shoot and couldn’t drive.

      Who was he, anyhow? He was going to be her neighbor. He was her neighbor. Solitude and self-sufficiency were fine but she’d seen just now that she might need her neighbors sometimes. And they’d have to have dealings about his truck repairs, so they might as well be on pleasant terms with each other. “Have you lived here on the Elkhorn for a long time?”

      “No,” he said. As if that should put an end to the conversation.

      She gave him a nice smile. “So. Where are you from?”

      “Never lived anywhere more than a year or two.”

      “By yourself?”

      He gave her a slanted glance that said it was none of her business.

      He turned toward the barn.

      “Then we’re opposites,” she said, matching strides with him. “I’ve never lived anywhere new before. You’ll have to teach me about living free and on my own in a brand-new place. I need to enroll in How to Start Over 101.”

      They walked across the graveled drive to the broad doors standing open at the end of the barn aisle. Without another word.

      That didn’t matter. She didn’t care if he wanted to talk to her or not because this was all about her. She was still jangled over the snake and the truck damage. And the reminder that she wasn’t quite as able to protect herself as she’d thought.

      But the main thing was aloneness. She just wasn’t ready yet to drive off and be by herself the rest of the day and all night, moving her stuff and her horse into yet another strange place that she’d try to make look like a home.

      She didn’t know another soul for fifteen-hundred miles in any direction.

       You don’t know this guy, either, Clea. Or the two old ones, friendly as they may seem. This is real life, remember?

      Clea Mathison stayed right beside him like they were joined at the hip while they walked into the barn and down the hard-packed dirt aisle between the two rows of stalls. She strolled along in those three-inch—or more—heels as easily as if she wore boots or sneakers, with that air of hers as if she owned the place, adding a wisp of flowery-lemon scent and a dab of shine to the old barn.

      And something in him kept his eyes on her in spite of himself. He could feel the tug of curiosity but there was something else underneath it. Probably just that she reminded him of Tori. Same kind of woman.

       Which means you better run, not walk, the other way, Jake ol’ boy.

      What was she doing? He damn sure hadn’t invited her in.

      He hadn’t invited the old guys, either, and they were still here.

       Get a grip, Hawthorne. This ain’t about you. She’s not moving in here, and she’s moving out of your house. She’s not staying all day. She just wants to see the baby. All women like babies.

      “The foal’s in there,” he said, pointing out the stall.

      “Great,” she said, turning to flash him a smile that nearly blinded him. “Thanks. I don’t want to hinder your work.”

      He felt more like he’d been dismissed than like he made an escape as he headed for the tack room to get his saddle. This whole deal gave him a bad feeling. Clea Mathison seemed way too comfortable, whether she was in his house or in his barn. And that was Buck’s and Teddy’s fault, being so helpful offering to move her and all. Those two oughtta get a life.

      He went to find the saddle for Sugar, a filly who was anything but sweet. She was one of a string of ten three-year-olds that belonged to a ranch over on the other side of the mountain, young horses he’d been hired to green break for ranch work. Getting some outside colts like that was adding a healthy amount of money to his Natural Bands salary and bringing him closer every month to paying off his place. His own place. He still couldn’t get used to the fact that he had one.

      At first when he came out of the tack room, he felt a little shock because he thought she was gone. But then he saw that Clea was in the little orphan’s stall with the door closed behind her as if she knew what she СКАЧАТЬ