Stranger in Paradise (12 page)

She paused a moment, glancing at him as if to ask, “Are you sure” when an urgent knock sounded, renewing the dog’s duty to protect. She stood with her nose against the heavy barrier separating them from the intruder outside, offering a clear warning to whoever waited on the other side.

Wyatt swept a glance over the cabinet where they kept their hunting rifles locked up. He quickly shoved aside the concern and headed across the room. “Settle down, Sadie. I’ll take care of this.” He flipped on the porch light and grabbed the anxious dog by her collar as he opened the door. As he straightened, his gaze followed a pair of shapely legs and a heart-shaped butt encased in denim jeans with rhinestones on the pockets. She couldn’t have been from the area because the sugar-pink puff jacket she wore barely covered her waist. A local would know it wasn’t adequate for Montana winters.

The woman turned abruptly, and his gaze snapped up and held hers as he quickly tried to set aside his lusty thoughts. He held tight to the squirming dog with one hand and pushed open the glass storm door against the pounding wind with the other. Her eyes widened, as she looked him over from head to toe. He saw the hesitation in her eyes as she noticed Sadie’s anxious welcome.

“She’s more bark than bite.” He tried to reassure her, but the wariness lingered. She had her hands stuffed in the pockets, and he zeroed in to the tense way she licked her lower lip, her breath forming frosty puffs in the icy air. Despite finding this lovely pink package on his front porch on a cold winter’s night, Wyatt, too, was a bit wary. Very few folks ever paid a visit to the ranch, and even fewer women. However, if she was looking for someone, likely it was his younger brother. Of the three Kinnison men, Dalton had established a reputation with the ladies, and on occasion, their boyfriends didn’t appreciate it. Going on that assumption, he looked over her shoulder at her vehicle. It was clearly not for serious mountain driving in adverse weather, unless it happened to have a team of horses strapped to it. “Sorry, young lady. Dalton’s not home.”

She blinked and gave him an odd look.

“Excuse me?” She questioned his frank and admittedly unsocial behavior through chattering teeth. “I don’t know any Dalton, but I’d like to meet him if he happens to have a map.”

The woman obviously had no fear of being out alone in this weather, nor did it seem she was afraid to knock on any door of any strange house out in the middle of nowhere.

“Listen, I’m sorry to be a bother, but I want to make sure I’m on the right road. It seems maybe I might have missed my turnoff. Are you familiar with the town of End of the Line?” she asked, stomping the snow from her faux-fur fashion boots.

The winding mountain road was dotted with an array of old mining towns with fewer than fifty or so residents and End of the Line happened to be one of the largest. “Sure, I know where it is.” Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink from the cold. She smiled and sniffled, and it pulled Wyatt from his reverie. “Pardon my manners. Why don’t you come inside and get out of the cold.” To her credit, he saw the hesitation in her eyes before she stepped around him and into the foyer. The scent of peppermint and winter air tickled his nose, and he noted sprigs of blond hair sticking out from beneath the furry rim of her hood. Sadie leaped up and placed her paws on the woman’s chest.

“I’m sorry. She’s really quite friendly.”

The woman pushed her face to Sadie’s and ruffled her fur. “She’s a sweetheart, she is,” the woman cooed, apparently forgetting he was standing there.

Wyatt cleared his throat and reached out to move Sadie down, though it seemed the two females had become fast friends.

“I went down to Big Timber for the day,” the woman began. “Then this snow started just out of the blue.” She waved her hands as she spoke.

No gloves, just as he’d thought.

“Between the dark and the snow, I’m not sure if I’d already passed by my turn to town. Thankfully, I saw your lights from the road and took a chance someone might be home.”

“Isn’t it a bit risky for someone your age to be out alone on night like this?” He frowned as he shut the door. He leaned back against it and folded his arms over his chest in the same fatherly manner he’d seen Jed display a million times.

Her gaze shot to his, and she pushed off her hood, raking her fingers through her hair, sending spiky, short-clipped platinum blonde tresses in all directions. He wasn’t much for short hair on women and frankly preferred dark to light hair. But on her, it seemed to fit with her slight build and mesmerizing baby blues, which, he noted, looked as though they could launch daggers.

She chuckled. “So what are you, just some cowboy serial killer just chillin’ here by the fire, waiting for your next victim?”

Put that way, sure it seemed silly.

She fished in her jacket pocket, and as she retrieved a tissue, a little blue mitten fell out. “Hopefully that wasn’t the line you used to pick up your wife.”

Wait a minute; do I look like a married man?

She bent over and so did he to retrieve the mitten.

“Did I say I was married?”

Maybe she was the one who was married. Then again, she looked very young. He scooped up the mitten and handed it to her.

“Uh, no, I just assumed.” She shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

“Assumed?”

She licked her lips. “Based on your age and all.”

My age?

“Hey, but at least you’re the gentlemanly serial-killer type.”

Wyatt released a sigh. This conversation was spinning wildly out of control. “Of course I’m not a serial killer.”

“That’s a relief,” she muttered.

“Look, I was trying to make a point.” He wanted to explain that she was mistaken about the wife thing, but he didn’t have a clue why it should matter one way or another.

“Yeah, I appreciate your concern.” She stuffed the mitten in her coat pocket and swiped the Kleenex under her pert nose. “But news flash, I’m not as young as I look and I guess one day I’ll be grateful for those genetics. Right now it’s frustrating, particularly in bars and with people like you.”

“Like me?” This woman was spry, but her attitude more than made up for her size. “What do you mean? I’m trying to be the nice guy here.”

“Listen, mister. I teach a second-grade class and if you don’t think you have to be tough, I invite you to try one day with them.” She looked him over. “They’d chew you up. No offense.”

“None taken.” He frowned, finding her spunk sexier than he should.

“All I need is for you to tell me the name of the road that I need to turn on to get back to town and then you can return to planning who your next victim will be.” She smiled and damn if there wasn’t a twinkle in her eye.

Mouthy as all hell. He pinned her with a puzzled look. “Listen, lady, for the record, not everyone up in these mountains is as hospitable as me. Besides, you don’t carry a map in your car?”

Her gaze narrowed. She brushed an errant strand of blond hair from her eyes. “If you’re the best in hospitality these mountains have to offer, no wonder everyone calls it the land that time forgot. And no, Mr. Triple-A police, I don’t happen to have a map in my car. It didn’t come in the welcome wagon basket.”

Wyatt eyed her, not knowing whether to help her or toss her cute behind out in the snow. He figured, though, he’d brought on some of her saucy attitude. “The Git and Go in town keeps them right by the counter,” he tossed out, the sparring between them eliciting a tingling of arousal. By God, that hadn’t happened since his old girlfriend, Jessie, a mistake he did not intend to make again. Wyatt carefully reeled in his wayward emotions, holding his gaze steady on hers in a display of wills.

She chewed the corner of her lip and then raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. Listen, as riveting and by the way, educational that this experience has been, I'll just scoot along and let you get on with... whatever it is you do out here. I appear to have tapped out your quota of hospitality for the season.” She reached around him and grabbed the doorknob. He moved aside, flustered why he felt so agitated. Hadn’t she heard a word he was trying to say? “Listen, obviously you’re new around here.”

She glanced up at him. Her arched brow spoke volumes.

“It’s just that these storms can pop up rather unexpectedly through the mountains, kind of like a squall. Half the time radar doesn’t even catch them until it’s on top of us. When you’ve lived here long enough, you’ll know better to be prepared before venturing out.” It was clear from the way her blue eyes scalded him that she didn’t appreciate his speech on safety. He glanced down at his feet and kicked himself for sounding like her father. It was a gut reaction. If something needed to be fixed, he approached it without hesitation and used his common sense. To those who didn’t know him very well, he supposed that he could sound a bit overbearing, perhaps even bossy. From the look on her face, he’d nailed both pretty good. Her smile was tolerant at best.

“Do you know the name of the road or not? I’m tired, I’m lost, and frankly, I don’t need the fatherly lecture.” She held tight to the doorknob, eyeing him a second more, then flipped up her hood and yanked on the door. “Never mind, I’ll find it, thanks.”

He swiped a hand over his mouth, sensing what he was about to do was not be a good idea. He put his hand over hers. Having sworn off dating for more time than he cared to admit, he was admittedly out of practice with how to handle a female—a tired and feisty one, at that.

Her back stiffened and those blue eyes snapped to his, flashing thunderbolts. He dropped his hand, trying to decide whether he needed to raise his fists or not. “Okay. There’s no need to get all riled up. Simmer down. I’m just trying to give you a few tips on survival up here in these mountains. Give me a second. I think I may have an extra map. It will be easier to show you where the turnoff is.”

“Simmer down? Right, cowboy.” Her mocking whisper was as good as a slap to the back of his head.

Maybe he had it coming.

“Nice place you have here,” she called from the entrance to the great room. The vaulted ceiling carried her voice through the rafters.

He glanced up and saw her taking in the rustic interior. “My father… um, stepdad, built it.”

“Impressive.” She craned her head back to look overhead. “I think my apartment alone could fit in this room, maybe—five times over.”

Wyatt retrieved an old map and walked toward her, letting his gaze travel up the tilt of her neck as she gazed up at the ceiling. Her chin dropped suddenly and her eyes met his. Zing! Wyatt nearly stumbled over his feet at the impact. He covered his faux pas by blaming poor Sadie and clearing his throat, handed the girl the map. Nope, cowboy, you do not want to go there. However, his treacherous body, too long without a woman next to it, had entirely different ideas. Wyatt steered his mind from heading down that dangerous path. “You want to take the lane out here back to the main road.”

She tossed him a dubious look. “Amazingly, I figured as much.” She opened the map, folded it, and moved to his side. “Now what?”

Damn, if she hadn’t taken the words right out of his mouth. He glanced down and decided the sooner he got her on her way, the better for both of them. “You turn right at the top of the hill, then go north on eighty-nine. In about five miles you should see a sign on the right, for the scenic overlook.”

She nodded. “Okay, yep, I remember it. I just couldn’t recall the name.”

“It’s county road forty-five and it ought to be clear. Dusty’s bar is at that end of town. He likes to keep the secondary road open for his customers. Usually does it himself.”

“You think he’s still open?” she asked, busily refolding the map.

He bit his tongue, wanting to advise her about going alone to the old pub. He knew firsthand the sort of unsavory characters who sometimes came in from other towns. There can be some unsavory folks who hang out there from time to time." He should know. It's where he’d met Jessie, the woman he’d planned to be with the rest of his life. He’d given his heart to her completely, only to discover a couple of months later that not only did the guys go to Dusty’s to find a little fun, but so did Jessie. Suffice it to say he hadn’t been back to Dusty’s in over a year, and the whole affair had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth about dating. He swept his gaze over the woman as she prepared to leave and wondered how many hearts she’d left in her wake. “I’ve never known Dusty to close early for any reason, especially on a night like this. He believes travelers out there might need a hot meal or a place to stay.”

“Seems like a nice man.” She didn’t say whether or not she had planned to stop there. “Okay, great, thanks again. Sorry to have bothered you.” She presented him with the map.

“Keep it. You never know when you might need it again.” When she turned her back, he made a face at how his comment probably sounded and hoped she had not caught it.

“By the way….” She turned on her heel and with a decisive poke with the map nailed him in the chest. “You’ve been so generous with your advice, let me give you some.” She pressed her face close enough that it sent his brain scrambling. “Try a little lemon juice on those beef stains.” She trailed the map down his shirt and tossed him a wink before sprinting out the door to her car.

The wind nearly tore the storm door from his hand as he watched her climb into her car. “Drive safely.” Stunned by her blatant comment, his response, too late, was swallowed by the wind. He stared after her and realized she hadn’t asked his name, nor offered hers. He wasn’t terribly surprised in retrospect, given that he’d treated her as though she was twelve. Something about her jangled his nerves. Maybe it was her attitude that reminded him of Jessie and his defenses just shot up. He followed the headlights as they bounced up the lane and disappeared from sight and then closed the door. “Like I’ll ever have to worry about running into her again, right girl?” He ruffled the dog’s fur. “Do I look like a serial killer to you?”