A Cold Creek Secret. RaeAnne Thayne
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they’ve got availability.”
“How are you going to get there?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your SUV is toast for now and Pine Gulch isn’t exactly flush with cab companies. Beside that, the way that wind is blowing and drifting, it’s not safe for anybody to be out on the roads. That storm has already piled up seven inches and forecasters are predicting two or three times that before we’re done. I promise, you’re completely safe staying here. The guest room’s even got a lock on the door.”
She had a feeling a locked door wouldn’t stop him if he set his mind to breaking in somewhere. No doubt this man, with his serious blue eyes and solid strength, could work his way through just about anything—whether a locked door or a woman’s good sense.
“Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.”
That was certainly true enough. Just the idea of food made her stomach churn. Ironic that she’d been pregnant for more than ten weeks and hadn’t exhibited a single symptom, not the tiniest sign that might have tipped her off. Then the day after she found out she was pregnant, she started with the morning sickness, along with a bone-deep exhaustion. If she had the chance, she thought she could sleep for a week.
“I can’t impose on you this way.”
He shrugged. “Once you’ve made a guy wade through a frozen creek twice, what’s a little further inconvenience for him? Let me go grab some clean sheets for the bed and we’ll get that cut cleaned up and you settled for the night.”
She wiped at the tears drying on her features. What choice did she have? She had nowhere else to go. After he left the room, she leaned into the sofa, holding Simone close and soaking in the fire’s delicious heat.
Now that she thought of it, this just might be the perfect solution, at least while she tried to wrap her head around the terrifying future.
No one would know where she was. Not her father—as if he’d care. Not Marco, who would care even less. Certainly not the bane of her existence, the paparazzi, who cared only for ratings and circulation numbers.
The world outside that window was a terrifying place. For now she had shelter from that storm out there, and a man who looked more than capable of protecting her from anything that might come along.
She only needed a little breathing space to figure things out and she could find that here as easily as anywhere else.
Only one possible complication occurred to her. She would have to do her best to keep him from calling for a tow when the snow cleared. She knew from experience that people like tow-truck drivers and gas station attendants and restaurant servers were usually the first ones to pick up a phone and call in the tabloids.
She could see the headlines now. Mimi’s Ditchscapade with Sexy Rancher.
She couldn’t afford that right now. She only needed a few days of quiet and rest. Like that blizzard out there, the media storm that was her life and this latest—and worst—potential scandal would hopefully pass without ever seeing the light of day.
She only needed to figure out a way to stay safe and warm until it did.
Chapter Two
When When Brant returned to his living room, he found Maura Howard—aka Mimi Van Hoyt, tabloid princess du jour—gazing into the fire, her features pale and her wide, mobile mouth set into a tense frown.
A few years ago during one of his Iraq deployments, he’d had the misfortune of seeing her one miserable attempt at moviemaking at a showing in the rec hall in Tikrit. He was pretty sure the apparent turmoil she was showing now must be genuine, since her acting skills had been roughly on par with the howler monkey that had enjoyed a bit in the movie.
As long as she didn’t cry again, he could handle things. He was ashamed to admit that he could handle a dozen armed insurgents better than a crying woman.
“Everything will seem better in the morning,” he promised her. “Once the storm passes over, I can call a tow for your car. I’m sure they can fix it right up in town and send you on your way.”
Her hands twisted on her lap and those deep green eyes shifted away from him. In pictures he’d seen of her, he always thought those eyes held a hard, cynical edge, but he could see none of that here.
“I, um, can’t really afford a tow right now.”
If she hadn’t said the words with such a valiant attempt at sincerity in her voice, he would have snorted outright at that blatant whopper. Everybody on the planet who had ever seen a tabloid knew her father was Werner Van Hoyt, real estate mogul, Hollywood producer and megabillionaire. She was a trust fund baby whose sole existence seemed to revolve around attending the hottest parties and being seen with other quasi-celebrities at the hippest clubs until all hours of the day and night.
Did she think he was a complete idiot? The SUV in question was a Mercedes, for heaven’s sake.
But if Mimi wanted to pretend to be someone else, who was he to stop her?
“The rental car company should take care of the details. They would probably even send another vehicle for you. Barring that, I’m sure Wylie down at the garage will take a credit card or work out a payment plan with you. But we can cross that bridge once the snow clears. Let’s get your face cleaned up so you can get to bed.”
She didn’t look as if she appreciated any of those options, at least judging by the frustration tightening her features. He had a pretty strong feeling she probably hadn’t been thwarted much in her life. It would probably do her a world of good not to get her way once in a while.
He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. Big shocker there. He hadn’t found much of anything amusing since that miserable afternoon three weeks ago in a remote village in Paktika Province.
Longer, come to think of it. His world had felt hollow and dark around the edges since Jo’s death in the fall. But somehow Mimi seemed to remind him that life could sometimes be a real kick in the seat.
He had to give her credit for only flinching a little when he cleansed the small cut over her eye and stuck a bandage on it.
“It’s a pretty small cut and shouldn’t leave a scar.”
“Thank you,” she said in a subdued voice, then gracefully covered a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’ve been traveling for several hours and it’s been a…stressful day.”
“Don’t worry about it. Your room is back here. It’s nothing fancy but it’s comfortable and you’ve got your own bathroom.”
“I hate to ask but, speaking of bathrooms,” she said, “Simone could probably use a trip outside.”
“Yeah, she has been dancing around for the door for the last few minutes. I’ll take her out and try to make sure she doesn’t get swallowed by the snow, then bring her in to you.”
“Thank you for…everything,” she murmured. “Not too many people would take in a complete stranger—and her little dog, too—in the middle of a blizzard.”
“Maybe not where you’re from. But I would guess just about anybody in Cold Creek Canyon would have done the same.”
“Then it must be a lovely place.”
“Except in the middle of a February blizzard,” he answered. She didn’t object when he cupped her elbow to help her down the hall and he tried to store up all the memories. How she smelled of some light citrus-floral, undoubtedly expensive perfume. How her silk turtleneck caressed his fingers. How she was much shorter than he would have guessed, only just reaching his shoulder.
The guys would want to know everything about this surreal interlude and Brant owed it to them to memorize every single detail.
Like the rest of the house,