Page 4 of Hard Rain Coming

His eyes glittered, and the air between them shifted. “Maybe I should rephrase. I wouldn’t leave any woman alone in a place like this.”

“Out in the middle of nowhere.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You forgot that part.” Her heart was in her throat, the beats ten times faster than only a few moments ago. Vivian sensed a darkness in him, and it touched the same darkness that called her soul home.

It had always been that way between them. This pull. And it had nearly destroyed her all those years ago.

“You’re not coming inside,” she managed to say through tight lips.

He stared down at her for what seemed like ages, and then he stepped away, expression shuttered and unreadable.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

She watched Dallas head to his truck and, with wooden fingers, unlocked her motel room. She closed the door, turned the lock, and latched the bolt, then leaned back, feeling utterly defeated.

All this time she’d been in Montana, Vivian had told herself Dallas meant nothing to her. That the only reason she was upset he hadn’t shown any interest or come around to check on her was because of stupid wounded pride.

But that wasn’t the case. There was still something there. Something dark and heavy and intense. As far as she could tell, it was a one-way road. Her road. Same as it had always been. Dallas Henhawk was a lone wolf, and she should know better.

She looked up at the dirty ceiling and shook her head.

How inconvenient was that?

Chapter Two

Dallas was used to sleeping under the stars with a saddle for a pillow, or in a barn, spread across a bale of hay while on foal watch. Hell, once he’d slept up a tree because a grizzly had decided he’d make a good meal. And while sleeping in his truck wasn’t as interesting as that night up in a tree, it wasn’t much better.

He had no room to stretch his legs, and his neck ached from resting at an unnatural angle. He was hungry, in bad need of coffee, and grumpy as hell. Three things he could put squarely on Vivian Bridgestone’s shoulders.

He stared out the window at room number four. The blinds were still drawn, the room dark. He supposed she was sleeping, and even in this shithole of a motel, at least she had a mattress.

Dallas swore and ran his hand over his beard. He and Vivian had the kind of history that made it hard to be friends. Hell, even when they were friends, they didn’t get along. The two of them had always been like water and oil. They didn’t mix well. She drove him crazy, and he supposed he did the same to her. It generally led to fights, and some of those fights ended with angry, hot sex, the kind you don’t forget. While others ended with the two of them saying things they shouldn’t have said. Things that pierced skin and bone. Things you couldn’t take back no matter how much you wanted to. That fact that they hurt so damn much meant that there was something there. Some invisible thread that kept pulling them together.

Back when they were young and stupid, they’d given in to all those feelings. Had what some might call a relationship. Or as much of one as two teens could have. That summer, he’d been eighteen and she’d been a year younger. Their togetherness lasted until the fall, when, not surprisingly, they’d crashed and burned. The end had been ugly, made worse by the fact that Vivian had up and left Montana. Her family, already left in tatters by the death of her mother a few years earlier, had never recovered. And though he had a part in all of that mess, no one had ever blamed him.

Well, no one but himself.

Some could say it was because they’d been so young, but Dallas had always known Vivian was no good for him. Same as he knew he wasn’t going to be the man she thought she wanted. She pushed every single button he owned, and he pushed back. Which was why he’d done everything in his power to avoid any kind of contact with the lady since she’d been back in Montana.

This life he’d made for himself was good. He had a slice of land that he’d bought, carved out of the Triple B. It was along the river, up on a hill, a couple of miles from the main ranch house and outbuildings. He’d built himself a place he was proud of, a project that had taken years, and just at the end of January, he’d moved in. He loved his work on the ranch and the men he worked with. And when he needed to take the edge off, there were plenty of women willing to spend time in his bed.

He liked things simple, with clean lines and boundaries. He didn’t like complications. Especially not when he was in the process of building a breeding program for the Triple B, one he had a share in. Vivian was a complication, and he was willing to do anything to keep her out of his orbit.

Yet here he was. She’d still found a way to screw things up for him. His Saturday night had been going well, until it hadn’t. He’d been at the Sundowner with Benton and a few other guys from the ranch when she’d called, and with Bent accompanying Cherish Davis out the door, he’d done what any man would have done for a friend. Took one for the team.

Now he was stuck in bum-fuck Wyoming when he should be back at his place, in bed, and not alone. He scowled at that thought. It had been more than a minute since his last tumble with Lenora, and he’d been looking forward to some action between the sheets.

He watched an older woman amble into the diner attached to the motel, and when she flipped the sign from closed to open, he slid from his truck.

Damn, he thought, rolling his shoulders and neck. He was stiffer than if he’d ridden the entire length of the Triple B. Twice. He shook the kinks from his legs and headed for the diner. The smell of coffee nailed his senses when he walked through the door, and the woman he’d spied moments before smiled from behind the counter. Her silvery-blonde hair was secured in a bun on top of her head, and she had a pleasant, kind face. It was worn and wrinkled, but her eyes had a sparkle, and her smile was lit from inside. He bet she’d been one hell of a looker in her day.

“Hey, handsome. I’ll bring you a cup of coffee in a second,” she said, then disappeared into the kitchen before he had a chance to reply.

Dallas took a seat at the counter and pulled out his cell while he waited. He found a garage located ten minutes from the motel, but it wouldn’t be open until 9:00 a.m. Monday morning. He did manage to find a tow truck company and arranged for them to tow the truck to the garage later in the afternoon. Two things checked off his list with only one left. It was the one thing left that made him grumpier than he already was.

“Here you go. Fresh brewed.”