LITMIR.BIZ

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get us out.” Gabe needed to move, not make small talk. He leaned over her, caught her waist and pushed her up the side of the rut.

      With Hank pulling, she popped out of the ditch and stumbled a good three feet from the truck. Hank offered a hand, and Gabe scrambled out from beneath the truck. Standing beside the muddy mess of a woman, Gabe regretted his moment of anger. Her woebegone look said it all.

      “Sorry about getting you dirty.” Her shoulders slumped as she reached out and swiped at his sleeve. “I appreciate the help. Our truck ran into a little problem—”

      “Yeah, you should’ve seen it, mister.” The boy ran into the middle of the group. “Mom really carved an arc in the mud!”

      Color glowed from beneath the grime on her face. “Jason, shush. We just took the turn a little fast, and, well—” she shrugged in the direction of the truck “—as you can see we’re—”

      “Wrecked.” Jason grinned with pride.

      She frowned. “I was going to say, ‘stuck.’”

      Hank laughed and swept off his hat. “Hank Barrett, at your service, ma’am. I’m the foreman of the Circle D spread just down the road.”

      She took a step back and drew Jason beside her, angling her shoulder in front of him. Her protective gesture goaded Gabe even worse for his earlier irritation.

      “Nice to meet you, Mr. Barrett. I’m Melanie Hunter and this is my son, Jason.” She nodded toward her crumpled fender and hood. “Any capable mechanics around?”

      “We can probably round one up.” The top of her head barely cleared his chin as Gabe took quick stock of her for injury. Wide eyes and sun-pinkened nose didn’t detract from the apprehension in her tight lips. A dripping T-shirt encased her slender frame like shrink wrap around a gasket. Long legs braced; trim arms flexed. A muddy mess, but no blood in sight. “Gabe Davidson. I own the Circle D. You’re not from around here.”

      She gave him the once-over, her arm tightening across her son. “Just passing through. Folks are expecting us in Montrose by tomorrow.”

      He gripped the misshapen hat against his thigh. Hard to tell what she thought of him, and frankly, he couldn’t say he was very proud of his manners. He respected her reserve, considering her situation, and he extended his hand as much in apology as welcome.

      Her slim fingertips slipped into his huge palm, the layer of mud between them unable to fully insulate the warm, soft texture of her skin. Heat raced up his arm like a jolt from an electric fence. “That’s a long way to call a cab. I don’t suppose you have a backup plan? Someone to pick you up?”

      She shook her head.

      “Some guy out there needs my mom to look at their plants.” Jason puffed his chest. “Mom’s great with bugs, too.”

      Gabe released her hand and hunkered eye level with Jason, thankful for the distraction. “Bugs, huh? And what are you a specialist in, Bud?”

      A cheek-splitting grin displayed teeth too big for the boy’s face. “I’m great at Thrill of the Chase and Raiders of the Hidden Caverns. My games are in the truck.”

      Gabe grinned. A kid after his own heart. “Are you now? Any good at Wheels and Karts?”

      Melanie groaned beside them.

      Jason ignored his mom, his eyes growing round. “Wheels and Karts? Cool. I don’t have that game. I’ll show you what I’ve got. I need my backpack.” He shot over to the stranded truck.

      Melanie slopped her foot around in the mud. “Jason, I doubt you’ll have time to play games with Mr. Davidson. We’ve got to get going, remember?”

      A shadow dimmed his bright eyes as he worked the door handle. “Yes, Mom.”

      “Mr. Davidson—” Her gaze darted between him and Jason.

      “Gabe,” he corrected. He kept his eye on the boy. The ground at the edge of the road had become unstable. Tough telling what might happen.

      Jason continued yanking on the jammed door handle, the entire truck rocking under the force.

      Melanie turned toward Jason. The mud around her shoes acted like quicksand, keeping her glued in place. “Hey big guy, get back here before—”

      The crisp creak of metal filled the air as the truck shifted with a clunk, the front bumper pointing over the edge of the embankment. Gabe swallowed the knot in his throat and sprinted toward the truck.

      Chapter Two

      Leaving her boots in the mud, Melanie leapt toward the truck just as Jason cried out. Gabe scooped up Jason a second before she reached his side.

      Like a walrus slipping into the sea, the truck sank over the edge and slid down the side, the locked wheels creating a muddy channel down the charred slope. The pickup bounced a couple times and came to a halt on a level plane just inches from the next slope.

      “Wow.” Jason strained to see over the edge. Gabe held on, his arm wrapped around Jason’s shoulders. Melanie threw her arms around them both, tugging at what had to be six foot plus of solid cowboy until they all stepped back. Her heart pounded like a ten-pound sledgehammer and her knees went weak. Jason squirmed.

      When her nerves stilled, she released her captives and offered Gabe a weak smile. “Sorry. Thank you.” She tried to smile. “I guess it’s your turn to play hero for all of us today.”

      He didn’t answer. He just stared at the truck and nodded. Flecks of mud splattered his dark brown hair, but not enough to hide the sun-kissed streaks. His tan work shirt streaked with mud clung to his broad shoulders and along the corded muscles of his back. He turned and glanced at her. The unusual shade of his eyes reminded her of her favorite root beer Popsicle, a dark shade of brown shot with spikes of gold. Only this brand of treat came complete with dense, arched brows drawn over thick black lashes. Her stomach knotted at the complete picture of male irritation he presented.

      She’d overstepped her bounds. She didn’t usually hug strange men. She didn’t really hug men at all.

      Jason twisted away and frowned at the truck. “Can I go get my games now?”

      Melanie stared down the mountainside. Her truck, the only dependable thing in her life, stuck at the bottom of a mud slide. A dull ache built around the bump on her head. The games weren’t going anywhere—and neither were they, for that matter.

      Gabe cleared his throat. “Hank, call RJ and Manny. Ask them to come up here and haul the truck down to the parts barn. Manny can get a good look at it there.”

      “I’m on it.” Hank headed back to their pickup.

      Parts barn? That sounded way too involved for her liking. She’d already ruined the man’s shirt. “We don’t want to trouble you. I’ll call a mechanic about the damage. Maybe the garage could send a tow?”

      “We’ll pull it out for you.” His brows furrowed as he studied her truck. “If your husband’s good with tools, it would probably be better to do a bit of home garage tinkering.”

      Jason hung his head and kicked at a clot of road base. “I don’t have a dad.”

      Melanie fought her cringe. Even if Paul had stuck around, she knew breaking things was more his forte than repairing. Especially promises, dreams and hearts. Stiffening her backbone, she squeezed her son’s shoulder and urged him toward a felled tree across the road. “Jason, do me a favor, okay? Go see if Mr. Davidson has a pine beetle problem.”

      Jason wrinkled his nose before darting across the road. She turned back to Gabe. “Mr. Davidson, if you could just give me the telephone number of a station in town?”

      He tilted his head as he looked down the slope. “I doubt the boys in town will know what to do with a vehicle they can’t hook up to a diagnostic machine.” He shot her a weary look.

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