The Manning Sisters Read Free Page A

directions that said she should go to the third stoplight and take a left at the Wal-Mart.
    â€œWhy don’t you ride along with us?” Mandy suggested next, apparently sensing Taylor’s confusion. “Russ can drive you back into town later.”
    â€œIt’ll probably work better if I follow you,” Taylor said. “My car’s at the house, but it would only take a minute for me to swing by and get it.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be any trouble. Russ has to come back, anyway. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get lost once it turns dark.”
    Taylor noted that Russ didn’t echo his sister’s suggestion. The temptation was too great to ignore, and once more Taylor found herself agreeing to Mandy’s plan.
    â€œMy truck’s parked outside,” Russ grumbled. He didn’t seem very pleased by this turn of events. But then he hadn’t looked all that thrilled about anything from the moment they’d met.
    Russ’s truck was a twenty-year-old dented Ford that most folks would have hauled to the scrap heap a year earlier. The bed was filled with supplies. Grain sacks were stacked in one corner, fertilizer in another.
    The front fender was badly bent and had begun to rust. The license plate was missing, and Russ had to completely remove the passenger door for the two women to climb inside. Once they were seated he replaced the door and latched it shut.
    Taylor squirmed around in the bench seat, searching for the seat belt.
    â€œThere aren’t any,” Russ explained as he slipped in next to her and started the engine.
    The seat was cramped, and Taylor had to dig her elbows into her ribs. Her shoulders were touching his on the left side, his younger sister’s on the right. It had been a long time since Taylor had sat this close to a man. At first she tried to keep her thigh from grazing his, but it was nearly impossible. So their thighs touched. Big deal.
    Only it soon got to be.
    There must’ve been something in all that fresh country air that was adversely affecting her brain cells. Without much difficulty, Taylor could actually imagine herself smitten with this man. Smitten? Oh dear, her mind was doing it again, tormenting her with this old-fashioned country jargon….
    Suddenly they turned off the main road and headed down a lengthy rut-filled section that tossed her up and then down. Every time they hit a dip, Taylor would bounce off the seat as if it were greased. It was all she could do not to land on top of Russ or Mandy. They were obviously accustomed to this thrashing about, and each managed to stay neatly in place. Taylor, on the other hand, was all over the inside of the cab.
    Whenever the truck hit an uneven patch, some part of Taylor’s anatomy came into intimate contact with Russ’s. Their thighs stroked each other. Their shoulders collided and their waists jostled together. Again and again their bodies were slammed against each other.
    Taylor couldn’t help noticing how firm and muscular Russ felt. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. Nor did she want to experience the heat of his body and the warm muskiness of his skin. He felt solid. Strong. Virile. A host of sensations, long dormant, sprang to life inside her.
    Not once had Russ Palmer purposely touched her, and yet Taylor felt as though his hands had caressed her everywhere.
    â€œWould you mind slowing down?” she cried. She hated having to ask.
    â€œWhy?” Russ asked, his voice filled with amusement.
    â€œRuss,” Mandy snapped, “Taylor’s not used to this.”
    Amused or not, Russ slowed the vehicle, and Taylor went weak with relief. She could feel a headache coming on, but she wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the skipping, hopping and jumping she’d been subjected to for the past ten minutes.
    They arrived at the ranch house a couple of minutes later, at just about dusk. The first thing Taylor noticed was the huge red barn.