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“There’s an old inn legend,” Abby said.
She glanced at Josh in his heavy coat and boots as he stood in the inn’s yard, white snow surrounding him. He was focused intently on her. “If two people kiss in the heart-shaped shadow the rising full moon creates on this tree, they will fall in love with each other for the rest of their lives.”
“Have you ever kissed in the shadow?” a deep voice asked beside her.
She turned to peek at Josh, thankful for the darkness that hid the blush warming her cheeks. “No, I haven’t. There—look, Josh, I think the shadow is forming,” she whispered, watching the shifting dark patterns on the dazzling white snow.
“We can’t waste that,” Josh said, taking her hand and hurrying down the steps.
“Josh, we can’t—”
He rushed her over to stand in the heart-shaped shadow. “It’s only a kiss.”
“This is absurd,” she said, laughing, her heart pounding wildly. “Suppose it comes true? We don’t even know each other. You’re tempting fate.”
He smiled at her, then pulled her to him.
* * *
Kissed by a Rancher is part of USA TODAY bestselling author Sara Orwig’s Lone Star Legends series.
Kissed by
a Rancher
Sara Orwig
SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere, from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.
To David and my family with love.
Also, with many thanks to Stacy Boyd and Maureen Walters.
Contents
Josh Calhoun glanced at the red neon sign glowing through the swirling snow. The windows of the Beckett Café were frosted, so he couldn’t see if it had closed for the night. As hungry as he was, he was far more interested in finding a bed. Highway patrol troopers had closed the roads, and he couldn’t even get back to the tiny airport to sleep on a cold hangar floor or inside his plane. He glanced at the cab’s clock: a few minutes past ten. He felt as if it should be around 1:00 a.m.
The taxi left the two blocks of one-story buildings, shops and neon behind as the main street of Beckett, Texas, was swallowed in a white world of howling wind and blowing snow. In spite of the warmth of the cab, Josh shivered. He pulled his jacket collar up while he peered outside at the uninviting storm.
In minutes he spotted a sign swinging in the wind, a spotlight on the ground throwing a strong beam over the announcement of the Donovan Bed and Breakfast Inn. Glumly he stared at the bright red No Vacancy part of the sign.
Even wind-whipped snow could not hide the three-story Victorian-style house that loomed into view. A light glowed over the wraparound porch. Dark shutters flanked the wide windows spilling warm yellow light outside into the stormy night. The driver pulled to the curb.
“Ask for Abby Donovan. She runs the place,” the driver said.
“Will do. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll wait. Abby’s a nice person. I don’t think she’ll turn you out in the cold. You’ll see.”
Placing a broad-brimmed Stetson on his head, Josh stepped out of the warmth of the cab into the driving wind and streaming snow. Holding his hat against the battering wind, he trudged to the house to ring the bell. Through a window he could see a big living room with people inside and an inviting roaring fire in the fireplace.
When the door swung open, he momentarily forgot why he was there. A slender woman with huge, thickly lashed cornflower-blue eyes faced him. She wore a powder-blue sweater and jeans. He forgot the time, the howling storm and even his plight. Too captivated by eyes that widened and held him, Josh stood immobilized and silent until he realized how he stared at her.
“Abby Donovan?” His voice was husky, and he still was lost in her gaze.
She blinked as if as captured as he had been. “I’m Abby.”
“I’m Josh Calhoun. I flew in to see someone about buying a horse, and then I couldn’t get back to the airport. I was told to see you about a place to stay. I know you have a No Vacancy sign out, but at this point, I’m willing to sleep on the floor just to get in out of this blizzard.”
“I’m so sorry, but we’re overbooked. I already have people sleeping on the floor.”
“My cabdriver can’t get back to the airport. They’ve closed the roads.”
“I’m sorry, but even the overflow space is taken here. I’ve let two people come in tonight who will sleep on sofas, and we have two on pallets on the floor. That’s the most I can possibly accommodate. I have eighteen adults in rooms, plus nine children. Four other people live here at least part of the time. I don’t have extra blankets or pillows now—”
“I stopped and bought blankets and a pillow at the only store open in this town just as they closed. I’m desperate.”
“Oh,