Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl: Heaven Sent / His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart
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You’ve got a busted fan belt. C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’m not sure—”
“This time of night you’ll be lucky to see another car. Lower your pride a notch. Unless you think being seen with me will ruin your reputation.”
She winced, remembering with a pang of shame the prideful schoolgirl she’d once been. “My reputation has survived worse than accepting help from an old friend.”
“We were never old friends, Hope.”
“You’re not one to sugarcoat the past, is that it?”
“Something like that.” Lightning broke through the dark, flashing bright enough for her to see. He appeared taller, his shoulders had broadened, and his chest and arms looked iron strong.
“That was too close for comfort,” he said above the crash of thunder. “Let me grab your bags and we’ll get you to your grandmother’s.”
“I can manage on my own.” She hopped out, and wind and rain slammed into her. She wrestled with the back door, but a strong arm brushed hers.
“All three bags?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
She trembled and nodded. Words seemed to stick in her throat. It was the cold weather, that was all. That had to be the reason her heart sputtered in her chest.
“You’re shivering. I’ll come back for the bags. Let’s get you inside the truck where it’s good and warm.” One strong, warm hand curled around her elbow, seeing her safely through the slick mud at her feet.
His behavior and his kindness surprised her so much, she didn’t even argue. “You’re a gentleman, Matthew Sheridan. I won’t forget it.”
He chuckled, warm and deep. “I do what I can. Hop up.”
The warm interior of his pickup wrapped around her like a hug. She settled onto the seat, dripping rain all over his interior. The dome light overhead cast just enough of a glow to see the rolled up bag of cookies at her feet.
Matthew reached past her and flicked the fan on high. “There should be a blanket behind your seat. Just sit back and take it easy. I’ll be right in.”
He shut her door, and the cab light winked off. Rain pummeled the roof overhead, and she saw the faint shadows of tall trees waving angrily in the gusty wind. Lightning blazed, thunder answered. She found the blanket behind the seat, just as Matthew said, and noticed three empty car seats in the back seat of the extended cab.
Funny, how life changed. It seemed everyone she knew was married with children and, while she wished them happiness, she certainly didn’t believe that marriage could bring happiness. She felt colder and snuggled into the soft thermal cotton blanket that smelled of fabric softener and chocolate chip cookies.
The driver’s door snapped open and the dome light illuminated Matthew’s profile. Strong, straight, handsome. He’d grown into a fine-looking man. He stowed her luggage, then joined her in the cab and slammed the door against the bitter storm.
“I’ll give Zach at the garage a call first thing in the morning.” Matthew didn’t look at her as he slid the gearshift into second.
Her teeth clacked in answer, and she snuggled deeper into the blanket. The blast of the truck’s heat fanned hot air against her, but she couldn’t stop shaking.
“I heard about your grandmother’s fall. I bet seeing you will cheer her up some.”
“I hope so.” Her fingers curled around her purse strap. “I plan to stay as long as she needs me.”
“Is that so?” He quirked one brow. “I heard you’ve never been back to visit her.”
“How do you know?” His question set her on edge, as if she didn’t love her grandmother. As if all the times she’d flown Nanna out to California for every holiday didn’t count. Or the vacation they went on every year.
“You didn’t show up for the ten-year reunion. Everybody talked about it.”
“They did?” Except for a few close friends she’d made, she hadn’t even thought of the small town where she’d spent one year of her teenage life. But it had been a pivotal year for her, emotionally and spiritually. “I got an invitation, but I was—”
“In Venice,” he finished with a lopsided grin. “I heard that, too.”
“I was working.”
“On a new book. I know.” He slowed down as a pronghorn antelope leaped across the road.
“Look at that.” Hope’s chest caught. The fragile animal flew through the air with grace and speed. The light sheened on the antelope’s white flanks and tan markings. In a flash, it was gone, leaving only the dark road behind.
“I’ve seen thousands of them, but it takes my breath away every time.” Matthew’s grin was genuine, and for a moment it felt as if they’d touched.
As if they were no longer practically strangers and all the differences in their lives and in their experiences had vanished. She saw his loneliness and shadows.
Then she tore her gaze from his. She was being foolish, really. She and Matthew Sheridan had nothing in common—the three car seats in the back were proof of that.
Silence settled between them as he drove, and she welcomed it. The loneliness she’d witnessed in Matthew’s eyes troubled her. Maybe because she didn’t want to be reminded of the loneliness in her life, a loneliness that had no solution. She didn’t want love, she didn’t want marriage. She didn’t even want to feel her heart flicker once in the presence of a handsome man.
She was surviving just fine on her own. God was in her corner, and that was enough. Even on the loneliest of nights.
“Thanks for the ride, Matthew.” Her fingers fumbled for the door handle in the near dark. “I know you had to go out of your way.”
“Not too far. And it’s always my pleasure to help out one of Manhattan, Montana’s most esteemed citizens. Or ex-citizens.” His gaze didn’t meet hers as he hopped out of the truck.
Maybe he’d felt the same way as she did, that when their gazes had met, she’d seen something far too personal. Her feet hit the muddy ground. “Matthew?”
He didn’t look up as he tugged out her carry-on, heavy with her computer and camera equipment, and two suitcases. “Go on ahead, get out of this rain. I’ll bring your things.”
“That’s not right.” She eased around to take her baggage, but Matthew’s grip remained firm on the leather handles. “You’ve done enough. I’m more than capable of carrying my own bags.”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough.” As if insulted, he shouldered past her. “I was raised to look after stranded women in distress.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“I’m sure you have.” Matthew set the bags down on the front porch next to the neatly painted swing and pulled back the squeaky screen door.
She’d forgotten how macho and strong men were in Montana. Plus, she figured she was right. She’d seen loneliness in his eyes, a loneliness they might have in common, and that bothered her.
His wide knuckles rapped on the wood frame. “I’ll get a hold of Zach at first light.”
“Matthew, you’ve done more than enough. You haven’t seen me since high school and—”
“It’s just the way I’m made, Hope. Or should I say Miss Ashton?” He tipped his Stetson and backed down the steps and into the darkness, distant but kind. “Give my best to your grandmother.”
She opened her mouth, but