On Lone Star Trail Read Free

there.”
    â€œAre 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.
    â€œI’m usually much worse,” she said. “Besides, it doesn’t look as if you’ve got a lot of alternatives.”
    â€œGood point.” He stared at his bike for a moment, indecision etched on his face, then limped toward it. After unlatching 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.
    â€œThanks, Miss . . .” As he extended his hand for a shake, he let his voice trail off, clearly expecting Gillian to offer her name.
    â€œHodge,” 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.”
    â€œIt could have been worse,” she said bluntly. “You could have hurt an innocent bystander.”

2
    S he was unlike any woman he’d ever met. The women he knew—Deb included—would say something more after the zinger she’d hurled at him. Instead, Gillian Hodge simply started the engine and pulled onto the road. She didn’t seem troubled by the silence, but she was definitely troubled by something. There was no mistaking the way her lips tensed when she looked in the rearview mirror.
    TJ was doing his own share of tensing each time he glanced at the side mirror, but he had a good reason. That was his bike, his sole form of transportation, his home on wheels, he’d left chained to the guardrail.
    When the car crested a hill and the bike was no longer visible, TJ forced himself to relax. It was unlikely anyone would try to steal it, but the simple fact was, there was nothing he could do if someone with a pair of bolt cutters, a truck with ramps, and a larcenous frame of mind came along. He needed to think about something else, like the woman in the driver’s seat.
    As she exhaled, almost as if in relief, he glanced at her. For the first time since she’d pulled back onto the highway, her fingers no longer had a death grip on the steering wheel. It might becoincidence, but TJ couldn’t help wondering whether there was a connection between her tension and his motorcycle.
    As he thought back, he realized that her reaction to it had been unusual. Though he would have expected dismay or sympathy, there’d been fear in Gillian’s eyes when she’d looked at the mangled bike, and when he’d been chaining it to the guardrail, she’d kept her eyes fixed on the horizon.
    And then there was her comment about hurting innocent bystanders. TJ had been tempted to ask her what she meant, but the anguish in her expression had stopped him. It was probably cowardly, but the truth was, he didn’t want to know. There had been a time when he would have tried to comfort someone in her situation, but he was out of that business now. Firsthand experience had taught TJ how empty words of comfort could be.
    â€œHave you been to Dupree before?” It was odd, being the one to break the silence, but it had begun to feel oppressive, at least to him. There was something wrong with sitting so quietly in a car with Gillian Hodge, especially when the combination of the silence and Gillian herself sent TJ’s thoughts in dangerous directions.
    He studied the woman who’d rescued him. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but she was strikingly attractive with that auburn hair and those brilliant green eyes. Her features were classic, a fact that the severe hairdo highlighted. Though long, wavy hair