Lone Star Bride. Linda Varner
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said Ruby. “John Andrew—that’s cousin Elsie’s stepson—bought a cap, and his wife, Misty, bought a T-shirt.”
Not for the first time, Mariah, who had no relatives of her own, silently marveled at the number of people in the twins’ family.
“Where do you suppose Tony Mason is right now?” asked Opal.
“Probably on foot somewhere ahead, though I don’t know how he could leave that beautiful truck behind.” Ruby craned her neck and looked ahead, as did both her companions. “Speed up a little, Mariah. Maybe we can catch up and offer him a ride into town.”
“Are you kidding?” Mariah answered, aghast. “I’m not about to let some stranger in this car.”
“But Tony’s not a stranger at all,” protested Ruby. “Why, he chatted with us the whole time he airbrushed Misty’s T-shirt. Told us all about his travels and his work.”
“And that makes him safe?” Mariah shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t think I have to remind you what happened to Sarah Louise Riley.” She referred to a friend of the seventy-eight-year-old twins, equally youthful and impetuous and recently robbed of her money by a hitchhiker she should never have picked up in the first place.
“Poor Sarah.” Opal shook her head in sympathy.
“Poor, poor Sarah,” echoed Ruby.
Pleased to have made her point, Mariah turned her full attention to her driving and put the truck and trailer out of her mind. She thought instead about her home, where they were heading—a pretty, upstairs apartment in the oversize house owned and shared by the vivacious twins, both widows with grown children.
Ruby and Opal were good, generous landladies, and she loved them—the reason she’d agreed to this morning’s impulsive shopping trip to Mexico. Thoroughly exhausted, she could only wonder where her landladies got their energy. Why, those dear women could easily have browsed for Christmas presents another hour or two in the festive shops of old Mexico while she had wilted in temperatures that felt more like the Fourth of July than mid-December.
“It’s him! It’s him!” Ruby suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Mariah by the shoulder.
“It is indeed!” Opal eagerly agreed.
A glance ahead revealed a man walking on the shoulder of the road. Dressed in form-fitting jeans, a snow-white T-shirt and boots, he turned and walked backward so he could scope them out. A heartbeat later he flung out his right arm and raised his thumb—universal signal that he needed a ride.
Mariah was not surprised to feel the twins’ gazes shift to her. “I am not picking him up,” she announced, pressing her foot firmly on the gas pedal. Immediately the car gained speed. The man sprang to life at once, taking a giant step directly into their path. Mariah screamed and stomped on the brake. The car fishtailed, then skidded to a stop...mere inches from the hitchhiker, who’d now dropped to his knees in the middle of the highway and raised his clasped hands to the sky, literally begging to be rescued.
Nauseous at the near miss, furious at his blatant stupidity, Mariah could only cling to the steering wheel for long moments and stare across the hood of the car at him. What a sight met her gaze—damp, golden hair in need of a trim, eyes the color of bitter chocolate, chiseled chin and jawline.... Mariah’s heartbeat changed from the thudding tempo of fear to a cadence of sheer sexual appreciation. Then righteous indignation took over. Throwing open the door, she sprang out of the car.
“Are you crazy?” Mariah yelled as she rounded the front of the vehicle.
“No, ma’am, but I am desperate,” the good-looking stranger answered. Getting to his feet, he flashed a smile so dazzling it put Mel Gibson’s to shame. Mariah promptly tripped over her own feet and had to grab the bumper to keep from sprawling on the hot asphalt.
“My rig broke down a few miles back. You probably passed it. Could you give me a lift to the next town?”
Mariah quickly reined in her scattered wits. “I never pick up hitchhikers,” she stated with a toss of her long brown hair. Keeping her gaze just above his left shoulder, Mariah deliberately avoided those piercing dark eyes as well as the deliciously masculine anatomy below them. “I will send you a wrecker, however.” Spinning around, she walked back to the car to quickly slip behind the steering wheel again and catch her breath.
A glance through the windshield revealed that the man hadn’t moved a muscle, but stared after her as if he were as stunned as she that she’d actually rejected him.
“We’re not picking him up?” Opal asked, incredulous.
“We are not!” snapped Mariah, whose experiences with good-looking men had left her intolerant of the species. This specimen particularly bothered her, perhaps because he’d so easily exhumed hormones she’d long since buried.
Ruby promptly scooted over to the back left window and rolled it down. “Can we give you a ride?” she called out, obviously taking matters into her own hands.
Mariah gasped; the stranger grinned and strode to that side of the car.
“You’ve got room for one more?” He ducked down to peer through the open window at Ruby.
“If his name is Tony Mason,” Ruby coyly answered.
“That’s my name,” he said. “Have we met before?”
“We sure have.” Ruby reached over to open the car door.
Mariah’s quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed that Ruby, who’d divorced three husbands before burying her fourth, positively simpered at the man now getting into the back seat with her.
“You do look familiar now that I think about it.” His gaze shifted to Opal. “You, too,” he said to her with a rumbly laugh at his own cleverness.
The women—identical twins—giggled like teenagers at his joke.
Mariah nearly choked. Opal, a survivor of a fifty-fiveyear marriage to the same man, was usually much more levelheaded. Today she seemed no less impressed by the handsome stranger’s flattery than her twin.
“Let’s get going, dear,” Ruby said, leaning up to tap Mariah’s shoulder. “I’m sure Tony is past ready to get to town.”
He’s not the only one, Mariah thought, by now thoroughly appalled by Ruby’s ridiculous flirting. Aloud, she said nothing, of course. Unlike her naive landladies, Mariah knew the dangers of stalking to a stranger...even one as gorgeous as Tony Mason and especially one she’d just picked up on the side of the road.
At that moment his gaze locked with Mariah’s in the mirror. She noted how sweat beaded his sunkissed brow, how his honey blond hair curled damply at the temples and looked darker than the rest. His firm jawline, in need of a shave, hinted at strength of will just as his neck hinted at surprising strength of muscle. His straight nose, full lips and high cheekbones completed the picture of rugged good looks.
No wonder Opal and Ruby now panted after him. He represented temptation with a capital T...and not just because of physical beauty. No, the mystery of him undoubtedly beguiled the twins as much. That, and his lostboy demeanor. He appealed to both the woman and mother in each of them.
But not to Mariah, who knew all about good-looking wanderers who kept a woman in every town.
“Thanks for changing your mind about letting me ride,” Tony said to her via the mirror. “And for stopping in the first place.”
As if I had a choice, Mariah silently fumed, though she still said nothing aloud.
“I was beginning to think I’d landed in the Twilight Zone or something—” he chuckled, seemingly oblivious to her displeasure “—and was the only human alive.”
Opal giggled again, a sound that further grated on Mariah’s nerves. Still uttering no response, she shifted her attention to the road and tried to ignore the conversation around her, but with little