get you out of here you can lie down in my backseat.”
Fear and the dull ache in her abdomen robbed Nina of the ability to argue. Traub or not, he was all there was and she was going to have to accept his aid.
“Can you turn off the engine?” he asked.
That made sense but it hadn’t occurred to Nina. And, yes, she could do that, so she did, leaving the keys in the ignition.
“I’m glad to see that you can move your arms. Do you have feeling everywhere—arms, legs, hands, feet?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hit your head? Do you have any neck pain?”
“No, I didn’t hit my head and I don’t have any neck pain. I just hit the steering wheel.”
“Are you bleeding from anywhere? Did your water break?”
As odd as it seemed, not even a question that personal sounded out of place at that point.
“I don’t think I’m bleeding, no. And I’m perfectly dry....”
“Good. All good,” he judged. “Would it be okay if I lifted you out of there?”
“I think so....”
“Let me do all the work,” he advised. Sliding one arm under her legs, the other behind her back, he gently but forcefully pulled her toward him until she found herself extracted from behind the wheel and cradled against his big, masculine chest.
“Maybe I can walk....” Nina said.
“We’re not going to take any chances,” he responded, wasting no time heading across the road.
The man was dressed in a heavy fleece-lined suede jacket, but Nina had to assume that he was all muscle underneath it because he carried her as if she weighed nothing. And when he reached the white truck that was nearly invisible in the snow blowing all around it, he even managed to open the rear door on the double cab.
Another cramp struck Nina as he eased her onto the backseat and her panic must have been obvious to him because he said, “It’s okay. Just breathe through it. It’ll pass and we’ll get someone out here before you know it.”
“And if my baby doesn’t wait for that?” Nina nearly shouted over the wind.
“I’ve been in a delivery room for three of my own kids and birthed more animals than I can count—if it comes to that, I can take care of it. We’ll be fine.”
It crossed her mind to call him a liar because nothing about this was at all fine. But there was actually something soothing in his composure, in his take-charge attitude, and Traub or not, Nina had to hope that he really could get her through this if need be.
Just please don’t let there be the need....
“We should conserve fuel, so I’ll turn on the engine long enough to get it warm in here, then we’ll turn it off again,” he explained, closing the rear door and getting into the front of the cab from the passenger seat to slide across and turn the key in the ignition. “But I’m going to leave my hazards flashing, to make sure anyone approaching can see us in the snow.”
Warm air instantly drifted back to Nina but she was feeling more uncomfortable lying down, and she pushed herself to sit up to see if that helped.
It actually did and she explained that. “Just see if you can get someone out here to us,” she instructed.
That was when he tried his cell phone and found that he had no reception.
“Try mine,” Nina said, taking it out of the pocket of her wool winter coat to hand to him, fighting renewed panic.
But her phone was as useless as his was.
“Oh, God...” Nina lamented as every muscle in her body tensed.
“Another contraction?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” she answered, so scared she wasn’t sure what she was feeling beyond that.
He angled sideways in the front seat. “We’re gonna be fine. I promise,” he said in a way that made her believe it and relax a little again.
Until he said, “There are pockets out here where you can get cell reception if you just hit one. I’ll walk out a ways and see if maybe—”
“No! You can’t leave!” Nina said in full-out panic once again. “You know the stories about farmers getting lost in storms like this just trying to find their way between their house and barn. You can’t go!”
“I do know the stories,” he said.
Then he slid to the passenger side again and got out of the truck.
A moment later he climbed into the backseat with her, carrying a thick coil of rope she’d heard him drag out of the truck bed. He rolled down the rear passenger window, held one end of the rope and tossed the rest of the coil through the window. Then he rolled the window up again, catching the rope in a small gap at the top of it.
“Okay...” he said then, handing her the end of the rope that he’d retained. “Hang on to this, I’ll hang on to the other end and I won’t go any farther than the length of it. If you need me, just yank and I’ll come right back. Otherwise, I’ll use it to make sure I can get back.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“I will be. And I’ll leave the engine running to keep you warm in the meantime. All right?”
“I suppose,” Nina agreed reluctantly, holding on to that rope with a tight fist.
Dallas Traub wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed. “Everything is going to be okay,” he said confidently.
Her own hand wasn’t cold, and yet his around it felt even warmer. It was also slightly rough and callused, and the size and strength of it along with those signs of hard ranch work all infused her with more of a sense of calm and a renewed belief that he could and would take care of her. Traub or not. Regardless of what happened.
Nina even managed to smile weakly. “Be careful,” she said, thinking of his safety, too.
“I will.”
He let go of her hand and Nina was surprised to find herself sorry to lose his touch. Which was what she was thinking when he opened the door, ducked under the rope and got out, leaving her alone. And sorry to lose his company, too. His comforting presence.
The touch, the company, the presence of a Traub.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply again, willing herself to settle down for the sake of her baby, willing her baby to rest, to stay put, not to be born today....
Then another cramp struck.
“Please, no, not yet,” she begged her unborn child and the fates, as if that could stop things if she really was going into labor.
How long had Dallas Traub been gone? It seemed like forever and Nina looked across the front seat through the windshield, hoping to spot him. But all she could see was snow.
She caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror then and realized that the stocking cap she had on was askew. For some odd reason she regretted that Dallas had seen her looking so disheveled, so she straightened the cap. She also gave in to the urge to fluff her hair a bit where the long brown locks cascaded from beneath the cap past her shoulders.
Her ordinarily pink cheeks were quite pale and she reached up and pinched them to add some color. Her mascara had survived the accident and all that followed it without smudging beneath her very dark brown eyes, but unfortunately her thin, straight nose had a bit of a shine that she didn’t like to see.
She tried to blot that with the back of her hand, regretting that she’d left her purse in her SUV with her compact in it. And with her lip gloss in it, too.
Not that, in the midst