only mud.” She glanced up at him, her blue gaze resolute. “You can go back to your truck. I’ll be right there.”
“But I’m already a mess. If I carry you over, you won’t have to be.”
She looked him up and down. “Yes, but the footing is terrible. You could easily slip, and then where would we be?”
He swiped the rain away from his eyes. “I won’t slip.” By now his boots were so full of water they’d keep him well stabilized.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mean to slip, but how often do you carry a person who weighs a hundred and … twenty through the mud?”
He couldn’t help grinning. Women and their weight issues. “More often than you’d suppose. I’m a wilderness guide, and I’m certified for search and rescue. In other words, I’m a professional.”
“Oh. That explains the Adventure Trekking logo on your truck and your shirt.”
“Exactly. I could carry you even if you weighed one-thirty.” He was guessing at how much she’d subtracted from her actual weight.
Her cheeks turned pink and her chin lifted. “One-twenty-six.”
She wore it well, too. “Come on. Just let me do my thing. It would be a shame to get those sparkly toes all covered with muck.”
“They’d wash off, but … all right, Wyatt Locke of Adventure Trekking. You’re getting soaked, and you’ve convinced me I’m just being stubborn.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“I believe you, and that kind of restraint is impressive.” She smiled at him. “Let me put my shoes in my purse before you hoist me out of here.”
He waited as the rain plastered his clothes to his body. He hadn’t been this wet fully clothed since the time he’d fallen in the Snake River on a canoe trip two years ago.
“Ready.” She hung her purse strap around her neck and scooted out from behind the wheel. “Can you get the door once I’m out?”
“Uh-huh.” Moving into a half crouch, he slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades. She felt warm, soft and infinitely huggable. If it were up to him, she wouldn’t lose an ounce of that one-twenty-six. “Put your arms around my neck.”
She did, bringing with her a tantalizing scent of jasmine.
He was starting to enjoy himself. “On the count of three. One, two, three.” He lifted her, taking care not to bang her head on the door frame, and stood slowly as she nestled against him. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
He was more than okay. Coming to the aid of a beautiful woman—he’d upgraded her from pretty to beautiful—was a rewarding experience. Besides getting points for gallantry, he was required to cuddle with said woman for a brief time, all in the name of a heroic rescue. He turned toward his truck.
“Don’t forget the door.”
“Right.” Which he had. The sensual pleasure of holding her had short-circuited his brain.
Rotating in place, he nudged the door with his left knee. The sideways tilt of the Jeep meant gravity was in his favor, and the door swung closed with a solid clunk. But using his knee to close the door threw him slightly off balance.
She let out a little cry of alarm and tightened her hold on his neck. “Don’t you dare drop me!”
“Easy does it. We’re fine.” He regained his balance and adjusted his hold. God, she felt good in his arms. Part of that was her welcome warmth against his chilled body, but he could get that from a hot water bottle. She was a lot more satisfying to hold, and he was reminded that he’d been so busy working in the past year or so that he’d abandoned his social life.
The trip to his truck took maybe five seconds, and he cherished every one. Too soon he had to lean down and slide her onto the fabric seat, which was also wet after having the door open so long. “There you go.”
“Thank you.” She scrambled onto the seat and unhooked her purse from around her neck. He thought she’d go for her shoes, but instead she put the purse on the floor with the bags and started running her fingers up through her wet hair as if trying to save the look she’d started out with.
Shrugging, he closed the door and sloshed around to the driver’s side. A woman’s concern with her appearance was usually a warning signal for him after all the years he’d spent watching his mother obsess about her hair, makeup and clothes. But he didn’t know this particular woman well enough to make snap judgments.
Hell, he didn’t even know her name. Climbing into the truck, he closed the door and fastened his seat belt. She was still futzing with her hair. “It looks fine,” he said.
She laughed and finger-combed it back from her face. “I’m sure it doesn’t, but thanks for saying that. I’m Olivia, by the way. Olivia Sedgewick. And I appreciate you rescuing me and keeping my feet clean.”
“You’re welcome, Olivia. Nice to meet you.” And he meant it sincerely. He flashed her a smile for added emphasis.
“The thing is, I’m a beautician, so I like to arrive at an appointment somewhat pulled together.”
“You have an appointment at the ranch?” He put the truck in gear, and after a moment’s hesitation while the tires worked out of the mud, it moved forward.
“Uh-huh.” She took her trendy heels out of her purse and slipped them on her feet. “Sarah hired me to come out and give everyone manicures.”
“Everyone?” Wyatt had only spent about ten minutes with Jack, but he couldn’t picture the guy getting his nails done.
“All the women, I mean. Most of the guys are out of town this weekend at a horse show and sale, so Sarah decided to schedule a night of beauty for herself and her daughters-in-law, plus a few other women connected to the ranch in one way or another. I’m going to try and get a few pedicures in there, too.”
“Oh.” Wyatt wished to hell he’d pushed past his fear of rejection and called ahead. “I assume that means Jack’s gone, too.”
“I’m afraid so.” She glanced at him. “Sorry. Kind of messes up your surprise, doesn’t it?”
“It kind of does.” He stared out the windshield. Maybe the storm had been an omen after all. Not only had he missed Jack, he’d landed in the middle of a girls-only beauty shindig. He had bad timing all the way around.
2
OLIVIA FELT SORRY FOR her hero. Wyatt Locke seemed like a really nice guy, besides being serious eye candy. His wet T-shirt clung to muscled pecs and washboard abs that made her little heart go pitty-pat.
The trip from her Jeep to his truck had been a true delight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been carried, let alone by a guy with such a hard body. On top of that, he had nice eyes, a great smile and he hadn’t dropped her in the mud.
But now, after his outstanding rescue, he wouldn’t get to spring his surprise on his half brother, at least not immediately. She tried to come up with a consoling statement. “Jack can still be surprised when he comes home tomorrow night.”
“I guess. But once the weather clears up, I’ll head back to the Bunk and Grub for tonight.”
Although the Bunk and Grub B and B wasn’t far away, she was still surprised he had a reservation there. “You weren’t planning to stay at the ranch?”
“Uh, no.”
“But I thought you said you were Jack’s half brother.”
“Yeah, well.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
Olivia was beginning to understand