In Firefly Valley (37 page)

“Are you sure?” she asked, surprised that her voice sounded so calm. Inside she was anything but calm. Just the sight of a red motorcycle was enough to send her into a mild panic, and one with a crumpled front fender brought back memories that still had the power to paralyze her.

“I was going to call 911, but there's no cell service.” She held up her phone.

The man shook his head as he bent to inspect his bike. “There's nothing the EMTs can do. They can't fix this.” He pointed to the front wheel. The fender had been bent so severely that it had cut the tire. Gillian glanced at the bike. Even if he'd somehow been able to straighten the fender, the man was carrying no spare tires.

“It's not going anywhere,” he said, confirming her thought.

Though the sun was once again warming the air, Gillian shivered. She'd come to Texas to relax, to try to forget about motorcycles and the damage they could do, and here she was, only feet from another motorcycle crash.

Instinct urged her to flee, and yet though she wanted nothing to do with motorcycles or the men who rode them, she could not. Even though she owed this man nothing more than a call to the closest repair shop once she got a signal, she couldn't let him stand
here waiting for a truck to rescue him. What if his injuries were more serious than he believed and he collapsed? He might still be in shock and unaware of how badly he'd been hurt. Gillian knew that was possible, because the full scope of pain hadn't hit her until she'd been in the ambulance, being rushed to the ER.

“Where were you headed? I'd be glad to take you to the next town.” Glad was an exaggeration, but Gillian knew she couldn't abandon this man.

As he straightened, she revised her first impression. He was taller than she'd thought, probably six feet, and though it was hard to tell through the leather, he seemed to be well-muscled.

The man nodded in what seemed like a grudging response to her offer. “The next town's where I was headed. Dupree. The place that advertises itself as the Heart of the Hills.”

A frisson of something—apprehension, excitement, Gillian wasn't sure which—made its way down her spine. It was probably a coincidence that he had the same destination. “That's where I'm going too. A friend of mine owns the resort there. Is that where you're staying?”

It wasn't Gillian's imagination that he stiffened. “All I wanted was an afternoon snack. Now it's looking like I'm going to need some repairs. Expensive repairs,” he muttered so softly she almost didn't hear him.

As another car drove by, Gillian was tempted to flag it down and ask the driver to take care of the man who seemed as prickly as the cactus that lined the highway. Instead, she forced herself to smile as she said, “I don't know about repairs, but Kate can provide that snack and a nice warm, dry cabin.”

“I'm afraid not.”

The way he was balking made Gillian suspect that money was an issue. What he didn't know was that it wouldn't be an issue at Rainbow's End. Kate and her husband had a sliding rate scale, and on numerous occasions that scale slid all the way to zero. But it wasn't Gillian's place to tell the stranger that.

“You're wet, you're hurt, and your bike is in even worse shape. Let's get you to Rainbow's End and sort the rest of it out there.”

“Are you always so bossy?” The man took a step toward her, his halting gait proof that he'd done more than bruise himself. Gillian wouldn't be surprised if he'd pulled a ligament or suffered one of those deep tissue bruises that some people claimed were worse than broken bones.

“What if I am?” she asked. “It doesn't look as if you've got a lot of alternatives.”

“Good point.” He stared at his bike for a moment, indecision etched on his face, then limped toward it. Opening one of the saddlebags, he pulled out a backpack and tossed it onto the backseat of Gillian's car, then opened the driver's door for her.

“Thanks, Miss . . .” As he extended his hand for a shake, he let his voice trail off, clearly expecting Gillian to offer her name.

“Hodge,” she said. “Gillian Hodge. And you're . . .”

The man's shake was firm, and if he noticed that she winced ever so slightly at the contact, he said nothing. “I'm TJ Benjamin, and as you can see, I'm having a very bad day.”

“It could have been worse,” she said bluntly. “You could have hurt an innocent bystander.”

D
reams have always been an important part of
Amanda Cabot
's life. For almost as long as she can remember, she dreamt of being an author. Fortunately for the world, her grade-school attempts as a playwright were not successful, and she turned her attention to novels. Her dream of selling a book before her thirtieth birthday came true, and she's been spinning tales ever since. She now has more than thirty novels to her credit under a variety of pen names.

Her books have been finalists for the ACFW Carol Award as well as the Booksellers' Best and have appeared on the CBA bestseller list.

A popular speaker, Amanda is a member of ACFW and a charter member of Romance Writers of America. She married her high school sweetheart, who shares her love of travel and who's driven thousands of miles to help her research her books. After years as Easterners, they fulfilled a longtime dream and are now living in the American West.

T
EXAS
D
REAMS

Paper Roses

Scattered Petals

Tomorrow's Garden

W
ESTWARD
W
INDS

Summer of Promise

Waiting for Spring

With Autumn's Return

T
EXAS
C
ROSSROADS

At Bluebonnet Lake

In Firefly Valley

Christmas Roses

One Little Word: A Sincerely Yours Novella

AmandaCabot.com

Sign up
for announcements about upcoming titles.

Twitter:
RevellBooks

Facebook:
Revell