HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) Read Free Page B

distractingly gorgeous.
    “So,” he asked, “what’s your name and number?”
    “Megan. Megan Spence,” she croaked, flustered. She didn’t usually give out her number but had to admit it was easy to give it to this guy. It wasn’t just his numbing good looks but something else, an easy confidence that made her feel safe. Important. “But I live in L.A.,” she added. “I’m only here for a little while.”
    “Me too.”
    “Oh, well, maybe I’ll see you in court or something?”
    “Don’t worry about court.” His grin deepened. “I doubt the police will even call you. Is that your truck?”
    She nodded, watching as he jotted down her license plate. Very efficient, she thought, studying him covertly. He was lean and handsome with short-cropped golden brown hair. Looked like an athlete or maybe a Special Forces type, except his skin was rather pale and there was a faint line on the side of his head.
    “I think maybe you banged your head.” She edged forward, straining to see. “Looks like a mark—”
    “Old injury,” he said, not looking up, but his voice turned crisp and clearly the subject was out of bounds. “I’ll report this, arrange for a tow and hopefully no one will bother you. I appreciate you stopping.”
    “No problem.” She peeked at her watch. Lydia’s class would be starting in exactly seventeen minutes. However, it seemed cruel to leave him stranded on a lonely road waiting for a tow that might take hours. And she was quite certain he’d banged his head, despite his denial. He’d stiffened when he bent for the paper. Not exactly a wince, but something. Plus, he was damn good looking, and it had been a long time since anyone had roused her interest.
    She jammed her hands in her back pockets, ignoring her ticking watch. “It might be a while before the tow truck comes. I have a rope in my truck. Want to give it a try?”
    “Sure. I’d appreciate that, Megan.”
    He wrapped her name in such a deep smile, her pulse tripped. She nodded and tried to walk gracefully toward her truck, aware of his very male scrutiny. Damn. She hadn’t changed since morning gallops. She probably had helmet hair, but at least her shirt and jeans were passably clean.
    She did a quick frontal check, wiping off some stubborn horsehair, then stepped up on her back tire and pulled a rope and shovel from the truck bed. She turned, almost bumping into him. His approach had been so silent, her breath whooshed in surprise.
    “I’ll carry it.” His voice had a calming effect. “A shovel too. Good. You must be a ranch girl.”
    “Not anymore.” She passed him the heavy rope before jumping to the ground. “My mom and step-dad still live on the ranch, but I make jewelry now.” At least she did when she wasn’t trying to find her brother.
    She paused, still holding the shovel, watching in concern when he abruptly splayed a hand against the side of her cab. His mouth tightened, as if in pain. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You went into the ditch pretty hard.”
    “I’m fine.” He straightened with a curt nod. “I left the hospital recently.”
    “Then I’ll fasten the rope.” She pulled it from his hands, ignoring his protest, and hurried to the ditch before he could stop her.
    “I’m smaller anyway,” she added. Besides, he had the shoulders of a Greek god and she doubted they’d fit under any car. She dropped to the ground and quickly wiggled beneath the bumper. “I helped my brother tinker around with a lot of machinery. And German cars are always great. It’s never a problem finding a place to attach.”
    She slid out, wiping her hands and swiping the gravel from her jeans. “There. I’ll just back up, hook on and see what happens.”
    He looked rather bemused but did have the presence of mind to check her knot, and she guessed it was a measure of his pain that she’d even been able to grab the rope. He didn’t look like a man who asked for help—more like someone who gave it.
    She