Secret Agent Dad. Metsy Hingle

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СКАЧАТЬ turned down her request for a loan and she lost the farm?

      Acid churned in Josie’s stomach at the thought. She wouldn’t lose the farm. She couldn’t. Regardless of her disaster of a marriage, at least Ben had left her the farm. And despite its run-down condition, the place was her home. Home. For the first time in her twenty-nine years she actually had one she could call her own. And she wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. Somehow, some way, she would find a way to keep it with or without the loan. She had to.

      Suddenly a speed limit sign flew into her path, and Josie swerved to miss it. Her heart slamming in her chest, she pulled onto the shoulder of the road and noted for the first time that the storm was getting worse. When she’d left Royal there had only been a stiff wind. But now sheets of rain had joined the howling wind, whipping across the landscape and her truck. Josie shivered and turned up the collar of her denim jacket. Maybe she’d be wise to shelve her worries about the farm for the time being and concentrate on getting home in one piece.

      Shifting the truck out of Park, she carefully eased it back onto the road. She’d never seen weather like this before—not in this part of Texas, where rain was such a rarity. Thinking back on how often she’d wished for rain for her roses, Josie shook her head. She certainly had never wanted anything like this... this deluge. She could handle the occasional sandstorms common to the area, but she didn’t have a clue on how to deal with a flood. Suddenly nerves twisted like knots in her stomach, because judging by the amount of water already in the normally dry creek bed, she could very well be facing a flood by morning unless this stopped.

      Leaning forward to peer through the windshield, Josie tried to see the road between the swipes of the windshield wipers. Up ahead she could make out the arm of a windmill lying smashed in the middle of the road. A prickle of uneasiness skipped down her spine.

      As she approached the broken windmill blade, a glimmer of light to the left caught her eye. Her heartbeat tripled at the sight of a car pointed nose down toward the rising creek bed. Then she spied a body sprawled next to it. “Oh, my God!” Pulling her Explorer off to the side of the road, Josie set the emergency brake and quickly released her seat belt.

      Not bothering with an umbrella or slicker, she shoved open the truck’s door and broke into a run down the incline toward the wrecked car. Before she’d gone three feet, she was soaked to the skin and shivering from the cold. Slapping hair out of her eyes, Josie clamped her chattering teeth together and dropped down beside the man’s body. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer as she pressed her fingers to the pulse in his neck. Relief shot through her when she found it strong and steady.

      “Can you hear me?” she yelled to be heard above the wind. When he moaned, she tilted his head toward the light shining down from her truck. Josie’s breath caught as she saw him. Oh my. What a face. The face of a golden prince. High cheekbones, sharp jaw, sexy mouth. Even unconscious and with a nasty cut on his forehead, the man would make grown women drool. He stirred, moaned again, then his eyelids fluttered. Brown eyes with flecks of gold stared up at her.

      “Wh-what happened?” he asked, his voice as rough as sandpaper and barely audible above the roar of wind.

      “You’ve had an accident,” she fairly shouted, trying to make herself heard. Although the rain seemed to slacken, the wind had picked up considerably. “You must have hit that broken windmill blade in the road. Judging by that nasty cut on your forehead, you probably hit the windshield.” She glanced over at his car, then back at him. “It’s a wonder the air bag didn’t inflate,” she said and wondered if he had disconnected it.

      He looked at her as though he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Then he lifted his hand to her face.

      The unexpected touch of his fingers on her face sent a shock through Josie. Her stomach tightened. She wasn’t used to being touched—especially by a man, and it had been a long time since she’d responded so strongly to a man. Ben’s philandering and his catalog of her shortcomings had long ago killed any secret cravings she had to be touched by a man. An hour before she would have sworn that that part of her femininity had died long before her husband had. Evidently she’d been wrong, because her skin tingled where he’d touched her. Feeling foolish and embarrassed by her thoughts, she began checking him for other injuries.

      “Wh-who are you?” he asked.

      “I’m Josie. Josie Walters.”

      “I didn’t know angels had last names.”

      Josie’s hands stilled on his ribs. She shot her gaze back to his face. “I’m not an angel,” she told him.

      “Are you sure?”

      “Positive,” she assured him.

      “I always pictured angels with eyes like yours—the color of summer grass.”

      The conversation was absurd, Josie told herself. She was kneeling on the side of the road in a storm with an accident victim discussing the color of her eyes. Still, she couldn’t stop that fluttery sensation in her stomach. Noting the way he was watching her, she swallowed. She had to be imagining things, Josie told herself. Men didn’t look at her like that. Most men didn’t even look twice—at least not men like this one. There were too many beautiful women in Texas to settle for one with skinny curves, unruly hair and a forgettable face. Evidently the bump on the fellow’s head had affected his eyesight. “Sorry to disappoint you, cowboy, but I’m no angel.”

      “I guess that means that I’m not dead, then.”

      Josie bit back a smile. She swiped the sopping hair from her eyes again. “Nope. You’re not dead. And as far as I can tell, you don’t have any broken bones, either.” Still kneeling, she sat back on her heels. “You’ve got a few bruises and a knot the size of a lemon on the back of your head. But that cut on your forehead looks like it’s going to need stitching. Do you think you can sit up?”

      “Yeah.”

      She slipped one arm behind his neck and eased him up to a sitting position. As she did so, her breast brushed his arm. A flicker of heat licked through her at the innocent contact. Surprised and confused by her reaction, Josie bit back the urge to jerk away. But as soon as he was sitting up on his own, she dropped her arm and eased back a fraction. “Even if your car will still run, I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive. My truck’s parked up there on the road.” She motioned to where she had left the Explorer running with the lights on. “I’m no lightweight, but I doubt that I can carry you. Do you think if I help you that you can make it up to my truck? We need to get you to a hospital.”

      The dazed look in his eyes cleared for a moment, then sharpened. A fierce scowl transformed his face from the GQ label she’d pegged him with, to someone dangerous, untamed, a man who defied any label. His response to her was quick and razor edged, but it was lost in another rush of wind.

      “What?” she asked, leaning closer.

      “No hospitals.”

      “But your head—”

      As though he’d forgotten the mjury, he pressed his fingers to his forehead. They came away with blood, which the rain quickly washed away. When he looked up at her again, a frown lined his brow. “I’ll be okay. No hospitals.”

      “But you’re hurt.”

      His dark eyes grew clouded. He looked confused for a moment, then the GQ pinup was back. A lopsided grin curved his lips. “Just a scratch,” he insisted. “I bet a СКАЧАТЬ