Definitely not from around here, then.
Curious now, she studied the approaching vehicle, stripping off her canvas gloves and dropping them on the ground. Who could this cowboy be, and what was he doing way out here?
Only one way to find out. The truck rolled to a stop, and Bailey headed toward it. The driver unfolded himself from the cab when she was about half the way across the yard. He was tall and lean, but there was a muscular set to his shoulders. Too bad she didn’t know him. This guy could probably set a fence post in no time.
“Hey, there,” she called in a friendly voice. “You lost?”
The man had been scanning her place, but he turned his head toward her when she spoke. When he did, more than fifteen years of Bailey’s life crumbled away, leaving her face-to-face with a part of her past she’d tried very hard to forget.
Dan Whitlock.
Bailey stumbled to a halt, not quite believing her eyes. But it was true. After all these years, Dan was standing in her driveway.
For the past couple of days, ever since she’d dialed the Wyoming number she’d found on the internet, Bailey had been jumping every time her phone rang. She’d wondered if Dan would even call her back—and how she’d handle it if he did.
But he hadn’t called her back. He’d shown up in person.
She had absolutely no idea what to do right now.
He touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.” The voice was definitely Dan’s, but the gentle drawl of the deep South had been melded with something else, something stronger and brisker. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but a fellow back in town told me I might find a girl named Bailey Quinn up this way. Would you happen to know where she lives?”
Bailey had to swallow twice before she could speak. “It’s me,” she managed finally. “Dan, it’s me.”
“Bailey?” As Dan moved toward her, she saw that his voice wasn’t the only thing that had changed. He walked with the rolling gait of a man accustomed to spending a good portion of his day on horseback, and he limped a little on his left leg.
As he came close, he pulled the hat off his head. Not everything about him had changed. His hair was still the same dark mahogany, its waves pressed flat against his head. The same greenish-brown eyes skimmed over her, head to toe, before meeting her own.
He looked every bit as dumbfounded as she felt.
“It is you! Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first. You look so...different.” His eyes dropped to the teeth that had endured five long years of belated braces to correct her overbite.
Now that he was standing right in front of her, the memories Dan had jarred loose felt even more overwhelming. Her heart was thudding so hard it actually hurt.
Bailey took a deep breath. Settle down, she told herself firmly. You can handle this.
She could. She didn’t just look different. She was different. The night Dan had left her had marked the lowest point in her life. But after a few weeks of wallowing in self-pity, she’d washed her tear-splotched face and decided enough was enough.
Over the next few months, she’d toned up, given up sugar, ditched her glasses for contacts and straightened her crooked teeth. And while everybody else raved over how different she looked, Bailey knew the really important changes had happened on the inside.
She stood on her own two feet now, and she trusted her head a lot more than she trusted her heart. She’d learned those lessons the hard way, and she couldn’t afford to forget them, no matter who pulled up in her driveway.
She forced a shrug. “It’s been a long time, Dan. People change.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I guess they do.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Finally, Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I guess we can move on to the main event. Why are you here, Dan?”
“You called me.”
“I called you,” Bailey repeated. He made it sound so simple, as if the two of them facing each other after all this time wasn’t the most complicated thing that had ever happened in her entire life. Her jangled nerves found that ridiculously funny. She tried her best to swallow her laugh, but it just came out through her nose in a strangled snort. “And instead of—I don’t know—calling me back, you decided to drive all the way here from Wyoming?”
“I wasn’t in Wyoming. I was in Oklahoma tending to some business. Not that it would have mattered.” He drew in a long breath. “I’d have driven here from Alaska, if that’s where I’d been. You and I both know that I owe you that much. At least.”
“Maybe you do.” Bailey saw no point in skirting the truth. “But I gave up on collecting that debt a long time ago.”
He didn’t flinch. “I figured. That’s how I knew this had to be about something important. You’d never have called me otherwise. It’s true, what you said a minute ago. People do change. I’ve changed. I don’t expect you to take my word on that, but it’s why I’m here. So just tell me what you need from me. If there’s any way I can give it to you, it’s yours. No questions asked.”
Bailey’s knees had started wobbling, and that irritated her. The unfairness of this whole situation irritated her. She wasn’t supposed to be standing two feet away from Dan while they had this conversation. All of this was supposed to happen over the phone, and that would have been plenty tough enough, thank you very much.
She wasn’t prepared for this.
But she should have been. She, of all people, should have known that Dan Whitlock had a knack for sending a person’s well-crafted plans spinning sideways.
She clamped her hands together, digging her short fingernails into her palms. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Dan. Because the truth is, you’re right. There is something I need from you.”
“Okay.” His eyes never left hers. “Name it.”
“A divorce.”
Copyright © 2019 by Laurel Blount
ISBN-13: 9781488059933
Snowbound with the Cowboy
Copyright © 2019 by Roxanne Rustand
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Snowbound with the Cowboy Page 21