Denim & Diamonds

DENIM

&

DIAMONDS

Lori Robinett

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places
or persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

DENIM & DIAMONDS

All Rights Reserved

Copyright ©2014 Lori Robinett

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover Photo ©
CaryPress. All right reserved - used with permission.

Published by CaryPress:
www.CaryPress.com

DEDICATION

For the Callaway Critiquers:

Colleen Donnelly, Carolyn Branch, Ericca Thornhill and Jennifer Bondurant . . .

for believing in me,

and reading this novel over and over and over,

even when you were as sick of it as I was.

Love you gals.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book wouldn't be possible without the National Novel Writing Month. Chris Baty, my Viking hat is off to you. It also would not have gotten polished and finished without the support of my husband, JR, my daughters, Jodi & Katelyn. And, of course, the uncompromising support of my best friend, Lynn, is greatly appreciated.

I love you all!

CHAPTER ONE

B
eth peered through the driving rain at the unfamiliar blacktop and eased her foot off the gas pedal. The windshield wipers swished the wetness away for a moment, but couldn’t keep up with the torrent. She flipped the switch to high and the wipers flip-flipped faster. The darkness absorbed the light from her headlights and, yet again, she cursed herself for not getting an earlier start. Procrastination wasn’t usually a vice for her, but leaving the condo that morning for the drive to her father’s ranch had been tough. She had to admit she took too long packing.

It was all Quinn’s fault. If she hadn’t just broken off the engagement because of his screwing around, she
never
would’ve agreed to leave the city and move to the middle of nowhere at the drop of a hat. No one could blame her for starting a moratorium on men. They were lying, cheating – ugh! Her blood pressure rose just thinking about it.

The crackle of the radio irritated her. She frowned and glanced down to switch it off. When she looked up, brown and white fur flashed in her headlights. She yanked the steering wheel right and slammed her foot down on the brake pedal. The BMW careened across the wet blacktop. She spun the steering wheel trying to correct the skid. The sedan slid left, then whipped right. Time slowed as the car plowed into the ditch. The seatbelt cut into her stomach and chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

It was all over in a split second.

She slumped in her seat, her breath ragged and painful. Her heart beat throbbed in her forehead. Rain pelted the roof. The wipers continued to flip-flop.

Damn it!

She threw the shifter into Park. Like things weren’t bad enough already. She blinked, trying to regain her bearings, trying to
think
. Out in the middle of nowhere, in a ditch, by herself. She needed help.

She fumbled for her purse. The contents had spilled all over the passenger floorboard. She felt for her cell phone, fingers spidering through the contents. Lip gloss, a mirror, a tampon, her emergency condom, her wallet . . . but no phone.

Damn it all
again
!  

Why the hell hadn’t she kept that BMW-Assist thing going? She sucked in a couple of deep breaths, forced herself to run through a mental inventory of her limbs. Everything seemed to be attached and still working.

Her car was still running. That was good.

No airbag. That was bad.

She glanced over her shoulder at the road. No Bambi corpse. That was good.

She put the car in reverse then eased on the gas. The wheels spun in the mud and grass. That was bad.

Rain continued to pound the roof of her BMW, a hollow sound. Lightning flashed, highlighting the trees waving in the wind, then thunder shook the ground. She sucked in a deep breath.
Stay calm.

She grasped the gearshift and pushed up, but her hand slipped off. Her fingers tightened around the leather wrapped knob and shoved it into park. A stormy night on an isolated country road. That stupid cell phone had to be there. It must have slid under the seat.

Good grief. This could be a commercial for OnStar or one of those other services. She might have to spend the night in her car. And that would be
really
bad.

Headlights swept over her car and she looked in the rearview mirror as a vehicle pulled to the side of the road behind her. An overhead light popped on as someone got out, then blinked out as the door slammed shut. She sucked in a deep breath and let it whoosh out in a sigh.

Help. Thank goodness.

Wait. This could be good
or
bad. Good if he was the hero-type, bad if he was the ax murderer-type. The way her luck was running, it could go either way. Her fingers froze around the door handle as she

scanned the inside of the sedan, looking for something she could use as a weapon.

Not a damned thing.   

He rapped on her window, the sound loud in the confines of the car. He tugged, swinging the car door open. The metal creaked in protest and there in front of her, bathed in the harsh glare of the dome light was the man on the cover of the Maya Banks novel sitting on her nightstand.

Or a reasonable facsimile of him, anyway.

Dark blonde hair poked out from under his cowboy hat, framing a face tanned by sun instead of beds, and crystal clear blue eyes that seemed to look into your soul. And stubble. A dusting of
very
sexy stubble.

She gave herself a mental shake.
Men are the enemy. Men are no good.

“Ma’am! Ma’am! Are you okay?” The cowboy shouted over a clap of thunder.

She nodded, taking in the angles of his face, and those eyes that she wanted to stare into. A sigh escaped her lips when she realized he was wearing a black cowboy hat and a leather duster. Perfect.

Perhaps her declared moratorium on men had been a bit hasty. She smiled and brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her face.

“Hi.”
So much for a great first impression.

“Hi, yourself. You okay?” His voice was deep and warm, a nice contrast to the cold, blowing rain. Twin frown lines creased his tanned forehead beneath the hat. She didn’t know cowboys were still around, rescuing damsels in distress. A wry laugh escaped as she thought of herself as a damsel in distress.

If he only knew . . .

“I had an accident.”
That sounded so lame.

“I see that.” He ducked his head and looked inside the car. His eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder. She glanced back and saw the golden wrapper of the condom glimmering in the glow of her dome light. When she turned to look at him, the corners of his lips twitched upward exposing dimples. He asked, “What happened?”

His eyes roamed over her, and she shivered. Maybe he was checking her out, maybe looking for blood, but his gaze lingered over her generous curves. She breathed in the scent of him, letting him appreciate the swell of her chest.

He smelled good, like freshly mowed grass. She shrugged, “An animal – a deer – ran out in front of me and I swerved. Now I’m stuck in a ditch.”

“Don’t you know you should never swerve to miss an animal? It’s dangerous,” he chided her.

"I know, I know. Instinct." She motioned towards the mess in the floorboard. “I can’t find my cell phone. Do you have one I can use?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I was in a hurry when I ran to town and left my phone sitting on the kitchen counter. But I can give you a lift.”

“To town?”

“Bridge is out. We got at least three inches today and on top of the two we got yesterday, well . . . ," he motioned towards the road. "But I can take you back to the ranch. It's warm and dry.”

She frowned at him, distrustful. “I just came from
Kansas City."

"You probably came down 71, right?"

Her eyes narrowed and she nodded.

He shrugged, "Well, you can go back up and hit 71, but you're not going to get to a hospital until you get back up near the City. Doesn't look like you're hurt bad, but you don't need to be driving after the bump you just got."

He
did
look trustworthy. Not that she was necessarily a good judge of character.

His lips parted in a grin, showing a gleaming row of white teeth. “Ma’am, I ain’t gonna hurt you. And there’s other folks at the ranch. Not like you’ll be alone with me. It’s miserable out here and I can't just leave you.”

She hesitated. What choice did she have? “Okay, let’s go call for help.”

He reached in and took her by the arm to help her out of the car. Her experience with men was limited to city types, mostly accountants and lawyers. No cowboys that she could recall.

He held her elbows as he walked just behind her, strong arms helping steady her as they struggled up the rain-slicked grass. Twice she slipped as she made her way up the steep incline, and twice he caught her. The wind howled through the trees. Lightning flashed around them. Quick cracks of thunder told her the strikes were close, the smell of ozone confirmed it. The rain was relentless in its pursuit of them, plastering her shirt to her skin, giving her goosebumps.   

He jerked the passenger door of his truck open and she started to tug herself up, but he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the seat. As she looked down at him, she saw her BMW in the ditch. She put out her hand just as he started to shut the door. She gasped, “Wait! My purse. I need my wallet and stuff.”

“Oh, right,” he looked down towards her car, then back at her with a hint of a grin. “Will you be okay for a minute while I go get it?”

She nodded, wondering what else he might find when gathering up her stuff. The condom for sure. Anything else embarrassing? He shut the door and slipped back down the bank. The water pouring down the glass distorted everything, lightning created a strobe effect and it all seemed like a dream.

A frown creased her forehead. Now was not the time to be thinking about a man. She had a job to do and she needed to focus. Her chest rose and fell as she sighed rested her head against the rough tweed cloth of the seat. She needed to remember to tell him to call the people at the Diamond J – they were expecting her.  

She was already late. So much for making a good impression. She snorted. Not the way she wanted to start things off as the new owner.

Manager, she reminded herself with a frown, not owner. Not yet.