Page 3 of Wicked Cowboy

“I can Uber.”

He actually laughs. “You’ll be waiting until spring.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“We have a guest room.”

I open my mouth to protest, but thunder interrupts, loud and mean. He’s already moving, grabbing my bag from the trunk like it’s decided.

I sigh. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

He looks back over his shoulder, green eyes steady. “Usually.”

Well, damn.

Chapter two

Rhett

By the time I pull into the ranch drive, the storm’s has strengthened. Rain hits sideways, wind ripping through the cottonwoods, thunder grumbling somewhere deep in the hills. The porch light on the big house burns steadily, haloed by the downpour.

“This place is beautiful,” Frankie says softly, peering through the glass. “Even during an apocalypse.”

“Glad you think so.”

I park by the front steps. “You’ll stay here tonight,” I tell her. “The ridge road’ll be too dangerous in the storm. There’s a guest room.”

She hesitates. “You sure that’s okay?”

Before I can answer, the front door opens and Grandma Martha steps out, gray braid tucked into her collar, raincoat buttoned to her chin.

“Well, there you are,” she calls over the storm. “Who’s in the car with you? Did you finally find a woman?”

“Tourist,” I say.

“Close enough.”

Frankie laughs as Grandma ushers her inside, out of the wind.

The warmth of the ranch house hits the second we step in, with the wood stove humming, cinnamon and sugar in the air, and a faint sound of Luke singing off-key somewhere in the kitchen.

“Lord, child, you’re soaked,” Grandma says, patting Frankie’s arm. “Upstairs, second door on the right. Fresh towels are in the cabinet. Rhett, show her where things are before she catches a chill.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say automatically.

Luke appears in the kitchen doorway, flour dusting his shirt, grin easy. “Another rescue, huh, big brother?”

Frankie offers her hand. “Francesca Andrews. You can call me Frankie.”

“Luke Carson.”

I roll my eyes. “You done baking?”

“Mostly. You’re dripping on the floor.”

“Not your floor.”

“Grandma’s, then. She likes me better anyway.”