âSavannah, weâre going to kiss,â Mike said.
âIt might as well be now,â he added in a whispered Texas drawl. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.
Savannah placed her hands on his chest, ready to voice her protest when his lips brushed hers lightly and her heart thudded.
At that moment she wanted his kiss with all her being. She couldnât think about what was best or if she shouldnât or that he really didnât want this either. The stubble on his jaw scraped her skin slightly while his warmth, his strength and his lean, hard body heightened her pleasure.
Finally, as she paused, he released her slightly.
âA kiss isnât a binding commitment,â he said. âA long, warm kiss on a cold winterâs night even beats hot chocolate.â
She suspected he attempted to make light of the moment, but that was impossible. They both had kissed away wise decisions.
âSavannah, we wonât fall in loveâI promise you.â So said him.
* * *
At the Rancherâs Request is part of Sara Orwigâs Texas-set series, Lone Star Legends.
One
Mike Calhoun frowned, glancing briefly at the small mirror that allowed him to see Scotty in the backseat. Assured his almost-three-year-old son was okay, Mike peered ahead as sheets of gray rain swept against his truck. With the truck wipers maxed, he guessed visibility was less than fifty yards. He hadnât passed a car or seen any sign of life for the past half hour. To his relief he spotted a small light shining on a sign and he turned, thankful to have reached the shelter of the only gas station between the closest town and his West Texas ranch.
He slowed to stop beneath the extended roof covering eight pumps. Ed had locked up and gone home and Mike didnât blame him. On a stormy Saturday night in the last week of January, Ed wouldnât have had much business anyway.
âWeâre stopping, Scotty,â he said, turning to his son while he left the motor running and the car lights switched on so they would not be in complete darkness. âIf we wait, the rain will let up and driving conditions will be better,â he said as he unfastened his sonâs seat belt.
Solemnly, Scotty looked at him. âCan we cross the bridge?â
Smiling, Mike tousled Scottyâs black curls. âMy little worrier,â Mike said. âI think so, Scotty. If we canât cross the north bridge in the front, Iâll drive around to the west. Itâll take longer, but we can get home. Donât worry. This downpour will slack off soon. It canât rain this hard all night.â
Twin specks of light emerged from the rain and grew bigger as a car approached. âHere comes someone else. It may be someone from our ranch.â
When the car pulled into the lane next to Mike, smoke poured from beneath the hood. The driver passed the pumps, stopping beyond them, still sheltered by the roof.
The driverâs door opened and someone in a parka stepped out and shook the hood away, revealing a woman with a long blond braid.
âThis isnât anyone we know. Scotty, stay in the car while I see if she needs help.â Mike lowered the front window so Scotty could hear him easily. He cut the car engine. âThe lady has car trouble.â
Pocketing his car keys, Mike stepped out and closed his door. âHi, Iâm Mike Calhoun. Can I help you?â he asked, looking at a blonde with big blue eyes.
Frowning slightly, she walked around her car. âThank you. Iâm Savannah Grayson. I do need help. I donât know whatâs wrong with my car. I was so scared it would break down while I was on the highway. Itâs been clattering and smoke was coming out from beneath the hood. Thank heavens I saw your car in this station. It was like getting tossed a lifeline in a stormy ocean.â She looked past him. âYou have a little boy in your truck. I shouldnât take your time.â
Mike looked at Scotty and waved even though only a few yards separated them. Smiling, Scotty waved back. âHeâll be fine for a bit.â
âI donât know what the trouble isââ
âWhoa,â Mike said, seeing a flickering orange flame curl from beneath the hood. He stepped to his truck, retrieved his fire extinguisher and opened the hood of her car. As flames shot out, Savannah gasped. He held up the extinguisher and in seconds white foam doused the fire.
âIâm sorry, but this car isnât going anywhere until a mechanic works on it,â Mike said, bending over the smoldering engine. âAre you visiting someone around here?â he asked when he straightened. He was certain she didnât live in the area or he would know her.