Her jerky movements made her seem like a woman who was lost and didn’t know where to turn first.
Waving at a waitress passing by, Lance caught her attention and turned back around just as Marcy popped the lid off a small jar of what must be the baby’s food. The baby saw what her mother was doing and reached out with one hand toward the jar.
“Okay,” Marcy murmured absently to her daughter. “Don’t you worry, Angie. It’ll all be okay.” She scooped up a spoonful of the mush and shoveled it toward the baby’s open mouth.
More of the food ended up on the baby’s face than went in her mouth. Marcy took a few more stabs and Lance was fascinated watching the hit-and-miss process.
The little girl had a tuft of hair on the top of her head that was exactly the same color as her mother’s. But within moments the food was all over the baby’s face, dripping off her chin and sticking nastily to that little bit of hair.
He found himself smiling as Marcy sighed and tsked at her child, urging her not to put her fingers in her mouth. The whole picture tugged on some soft spot inside him.
Just then a waitress appeared with water and a glass filled with milk. “Sorry it’s taken so long. This place is a madhouse. Everyone’s having to pitch in and do everyone else’s work in the emergency. What can I get you to eat?” She set all the glasses down on the table.
Marcy began to discuss the food possibilities with the waitress just as the answer hit him. This was the emergency that he’d been saving for. He could give Marcy enough money to get back to her family after the storm and to keep them going for a while. She must have family somewhere. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about leaving her and the baby and heading off to Montana.
What a great idea, he thought with smug satisfaction. This was one way to put some of the money he’d accumulated over his years on the rodeo circuit to a good use. He would send cash back to an auto salvager in the county where they’d had to leave her broken-down car. Then even that wouldn’t be a worry for her ever again. Good thing he’d thought of it.
He wanted to make her life easier. That way she might not be so disappointed when she missed her opportunity to travel the world.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. If it isn’t White Eagle Steele.” The waitress had turned away from Marcy and the baby and was standing with pad in hand, ready to take his order. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before. It’s just so hectic in here. How have you been?”
Lance couldn’t quite place her name. But then, he hadn’t been to this part of the country for at least a year.
“I’ve been just fine,” he said while he searched his memory for a name. “You knew I retired from competition a while back? I don’t get by here much these days. I wouldn’t be here now except for the storm.”
The waitress laughed, and he belatedly spotted her name tag above the breast pocket of her blue-checked uniform. She wasn’t one of the women he’d spent a few casual nights with, thank heaven. No, he remembered now that she’d been a fan and friend he’d conversed with on his way through this part of the world.
“Yeah, this one’s a killer, all right,” the waitress named Harriet said with a nod. “Looks as if no one is going to be getting home for at least a couple of days. The truck stop employees are all taking shifts…twelve hours on, then six off to grab some rest.”
That gave him another idea. “Speaking of rest… Harriet. Is there a place my friend and her baby can lie down for a few hours?”
Harriet turned to look at Marcy and then at the baby. “All the men are taking turns sleeping on the driver’s bunks. But there isn’t much privacy for a woman, I’m afraid.”
Frowning when she saw the fine lines of exhaustion and the pale-violet smudges under Marcy’s eyes, the waitress shook her head. “Tell you what, sugar, you eat something and then I’ll find you a cot in the employee break room. Okay?”
Marcy shot Lance a quick, glaring glance, and he was afraid she would turn down the offer. But then she hesitantly reached over with a napkin to dab at the baby’s dirty chin and must’ve reconsidered their predicament. “Okay, sure. Thanks,” she told the waitress.
That was just fine, he thought. Now Harriet would take Marcy and the baby under her wing for the duration of the storm. Things were working out just perfectly so he could leave them without feeling guilty.
Harriet finally stuffed her pad into a pocket and told them she’d bring whatever was hot and ready to eat. Then she turned and disappeared back through the crowded tables.
“She called you White Eagle,” Marcy mentioned when they and the baby were alone at the table once more. “I thought you said your name was Lance.”
Had that been her focus when she’d shot him that glaring look? “My full given name is Lance White Eagle Steele,” he admitted. “When I first took up competition, the promoters figured it would be a novelty to have a Native American entrant. So they made me drop my first name from the roster. Once I started winning events they played the cowboy-and-Indian thing up to the hilt.”
Marcy nodded and almost smiled. “So, you’re Native American.”
Lance wasn’t sure whether she was appalled by the idea or just curious. “My mother’s people are Navajo,” he told her plainly and without emotion. “On the other hand, my father’s family, the Steeles, are as white-bread as is possible in America.”
Her smile never fully formed as Marcy looked ready to ask another question. But suddenly the baby seemed to have other ideas. While her mother was preoccupied with their conversation, Angie grabbed the spoon and unceremoniously dropped it on the floor with a clatter.
“That’s it,” Marcy griped at her grinning daughter. “I guess you’ve had all the dinner you want.”
Standing, Marcy unbelted Angie from the high chair. “We’re going to wash up,” she told him over her shoulder as she leaned over. “We’ll be back before the waitress returns with the food.” She pulled the baby up into her arms and took off toward the locker rooms.
Lance watched while the two made their way through the crowded tables. Damn, but the woman provided a mighty fine view from the rear. Marcy’s full, rounded hips in tight-fitting jeans swayed neatly as she sauntered away.
When she finally disappeared around the corner, he was surprised to find that he’d been holding his breath until he completely lost sight of her.
This hot lusting after a beautiful woman was only normal, he assured himself. But the other warm feelings, the ones that seemed to take over his mind whenever she smiled, were downright unusual.
He wished they’d had a chance to finish their conversation. What did she think about him being from a half-and-half heritage? He’d faced every kind of prejudice over his lifetime, so it was a little startling when Marcy’s response seemed more important to him than any of the others.
And he didn’t know why he felt that way.
Well, he would simply have to get over it, whatever it was. By tomorrow morning he would be on his way home to Montana, and Marcy Griffin, her baby and all her attitudes would be only pleasant, and increasingly distant, memories.
Marcy dropped her spoon in the soup bowl and fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t imagine why she felt so tired. Was the frigid weather finally getting to her?
“You look as if you can’t hold your head up to eat another bite,” Lance said from across the table. “Are you ready to try the cot Harriet promised?”
He was so kind. Since the moment he’d picked them up on the side of the road, he’d been the most solicitous and gentle man she’d ever been fortunate enough to meet. Now if only he would agree to take her and Angie to Cheyenne so they would be there by the first of the year. Somehow she was sure she would be able to convince him.
“You won’t leave