Hard to Handle (13 page)

He missed her. More than he'd ever expected. If only he'd realized sooner how he felt about her, that she was much more than a friend. If he'd made a play, she might not have slipped away to another man.

Damn Simon Evans, the likable jerk.

In the early evening, with no good prospects in sight, Barber had taken solace with the little lady currently in his bed. He'd barely survived a night of carnal overindulgence. “Can't say as I have.”

Satch's impatience was obvious. “Echo Lake, where Harley was at, got clobbered by a blizzard. The governor just claimed a state of emergency. Power's out everywhere.”

“So Harley must've holed up somewhere, right?” Barber caught the woman's wrist and tried to pry her fingers loose so he could give Satch the attention required.

She tightened her grip, making him wince—and relent. Getting stroked made it tough to listen, much less talk, but what the hell, he'd manage.

“He would have found a way to call me. Something's wrong. I feel it.”

Well hell. Harley had told him that Satch's uncanny intuition had proved right on more than one occasion. “So what d'you want to do, Satch?”

“I'm going to drive down there and check on him, but I could use some company just in case.”

Stiffened nipples moved against him. The woman gave a low moan and pressed herself closer to his thigh.

Barber cleared his throat. “How far away is it? Hours I mean, not miles.” In bad weather, mileage seldom mattered.

“Three hours, give or take. Most of the area north of Echo Lake is clear, so the roads won't be shitty till we're practically there.” Already assuming Barber would accompany him, Satch said, “We'll keep our cell phones on and if he can call us, he will. In the meantime, I got the feeling he needs some help.”

The woman's mouth latched on to Barber's chest. She nipped him with her teeth, laughed softly when he jumped, and started kissing a path down his rib cage.

“I'm in.”

“Good. You're at Roger's motel? I can pick you up in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” A warm tongue moved over him, and a second later, a warmer mouth enclosed him. “Make it twenty.”

Barber disconnected the call, tossed the phone onto the floor, and laced his fingers through soft blond hair. “Damn, darlin'.”

She released him with a smile and a lick of her lips. “You like that?”

“I'm alive, ain't I?”

“Do I get the job with the band?”

Barber barely held back a laugh. “Hell no. Sorry, honey, but the second I took you to bed, it was a foregone conclusion you wouldn't suit, because I never mix business with pleasure.”

Her face colored. Her bottom lip stuck out. “You didn't like my voice?”

Barber pulled her down to his chest, then rolled atop her. Voice husky, he said, “I like your mouth a whole lot more.” He kissed her while palming a soft breast, and felt her tension ebb away.

Against her throat, he asked, “So what's it to be, sugar? Stay or go? And remember, I only have twenty minutes, and we're counting down fast.”

Her nails sank into his shoulders and her thighs parted. “I'm definitely staying.”

Barber stroked a thumb over her nipple. “Then I'm definitely glad.” He sat up long enough to find a rubber, and got his day off to a good start.

H
ARLEY
woke with Anastasia's back to him, her rump up against his crotch, and a definite chill in the air.

No electricity yet.

Nothing more had happened during the night. While she'd faded into a deep sleep, he'd dozed only lightly, waiting, listening—and enjoying the feel of Anastasia, her scent, remembering the soft sounds she'd made, the way she'd tried to muffle the moans of her climax.

His hand was on her stomach, and Harley spread his fingers wider, touching her hip bones with his thumb and pinky.

Such a delicate woman, but with so much strength.

So sexy, but so inexperienced.

Damn, the things he could do to her, teach her, the fantasies he could bring alive…

But as he'd told her, he kept things brief and avoided involvement. It still amazed him that she wanted him enough to agree to those terms.

It wasn't easy, but he levered himself out of the chair without waking her, then tucked the blanket up around her shoulders. Wearing only a shirt and thick socks, Harley stretched the kinks out of his muscles before looking around for his boxers and jeans. He pulled them on, put one of the guns into his waistband, and crept out of the room.

His every footstep echoed on the linoleum floor. Careful not to bump into anything, he went to the front of the station and looked out through a window.

Bright morning sunlight cut through a cloudless sky and reflected off layers of ice and snow in blinding display. So much snow blanketed the area, Harley wondered if they'd be able to get out, or if help would be able to get in.

Not that he'd mind spending another day stranded with Anastasia. As long as those men didn't come back with reinforcements, he could handle everything. They had enough food, shelter, and water to last them.

Thinking of water made him wonder about the pipes, and he checked the different sinks in the work area, and the break room. Luckily, it all still worked.

Unwilling to awaken Anastasia, he crept back to the front of the garage and opened the door. Two feet of snow blocked the entrance. Harley found a shovel, cleared a small path, and communed with nature.

He was just zipping up his jeans when he heard the approaching vehicle from a distance. Stepping back inside and securing the door, he watched and waited.

An enormous yellow truck bearing a wide snowplow dug through, forming a high ridge at the side of the road. To Harley, it looked like a county truck, especially with the flashing yellow light atop the roof. Behind the truck, he spotted his uncle's black SUV.

Relief warred with disappointment. He shoved the disappointment to a dark corner of his mind. It was better this way.

Stepping out to the small area he'd cleared, he waved his arms.

Both trucks stopped.

Uncle Satch got out and walked to the driver's side of the plow. Money was exchanged.

Huh. So his uncle had arranged the rescue? That didn't really surprise Harley. He was well used to his uncle's ingenuity. He'd been witness to it ever since his father's death.

Knowing he'd been spotted, Harley went back inside and headed for the break room.

Curled on her side, her dark hair half-hiding her face, Anastasia slept on. He hated to wake her, but he didn't want her embarrassed when his bossy uncle descended on them.

Sitting down beside her, he stroked her hair back, tucked it behind her ear.

She stirred, stretched a little, and finally her eyes opened. She blinked at him.

Something very tender, very intimate stirred inside Harley. He didn't smile, but pleasure spread through him. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Harley?”

Now
he smiled. “Forgotten me already, huh? I'm crushed.” Just to see her reaction, he slid a hand beneath the blanket and over her rounded hip.

She scrambled into a semi-sitting position. “What time is it?”

“I don't know. I hadn't thought about it.” He picked up his watch from where he'd left it on the table. “Almost eleven thirty. Why?”

Somewhat disoriented, she pushed back her hair and looked around their shelter. Comprehension dawned. She focused on Harley, and blushed. “Still no electricity?”

“Afraid not.”

She sat up the rest of the way, keeping the blanket tight around her. Eyes puffy and voice scratchy, she said, “I'd kill for coffee.”

Harley patted her thigh. “That can be arranged shortly.”

“It can?” She squirmed, then scooted half off the chair. “Excuse me.”

“Sure thing.” Harley stood and picked up her other clothes. “Here. Take your panties and jeans into the bathroom with you. We're about to be rescued, and I assume you'll want to be dressed.”

She froze. “Rescued?”

“Yeah, my uncle is here with a snowplow.”

“Here?”
After squeaking out that single horrified word, she looked to the door, and her eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.

Harley followed her gaze, and there stood not only Satch, but Barber, too. Together, the two men more than filled the doorway. They were both ruddy-faced from the cold, and covered in snow. Satch stood at an even six feet, and Barber topped him by two inches. In their heavy coats, they looked imposing.

Satch frowned, but Barber, grinning like a fool, said, “Hope we're not interrupting.”

Satch stepped in front of Barber. “What the hell happened here? Are you all right?”

“We're fine.” Taking pity on Anastasia, Harley picked up the second gun and headed toward the men. They both glanced at the weapon with curiosity. To head off their questions, he said, “We can talk out front while Anastasia wakes up.” He added, “I don't suppose either of you has coffee?”

Keeping a speculative eye on Anastasia, Satch nodded. “There's some left in the thermos in the car.”

“Perfect.” When he reached the doorway, Harley looked back over his shoulder. Anastasia hadn't moved. “While you get ready to join us, I'll get the coffee for you.”

“Thank you.”

He winked at her. “You're very welcome.” Then he put a hand each on Satch's and Barber's shoulders to push them out of the room. “Let's go.”

Barber said, “I don't suppose—”

“Not a word, Barber. Now walk.”

They'd barely cleared the room when Barber burst out laughing. “You sly dog. Your uncle was fretting like an old woman, and you're here holed up with a babe.”

“First things first,” Harley said. “Was the snowplow heading back to town?”

“I don't think so,” Satch replied. “He said something about clearing the path up to a couple of cabins.”

“Anastasia's place.” Harley nodded in satisfaction. “Good. That means he'll free up Ned.”

“Ned?”

“He owns this station, but I imagine he's snowed in, too. I'd like to see him before I leave.”

“If he doesn't come to us, we can go to him.” Barber studied Harley. “You look like you need that coffee, too. I'll be right back.”

“Hey, if you see the snowplow still, tell the guy I'm going to need a tow truck to get my Jeep back on the road. Ask him if he can send someone our way.”

“I hear him coming by now.” Barber hurried out the door.

While he was gone, Harley stared toward the break room and wondered what was keeping Anastasia. Shyness? Modesty? Was she trying to pretty herself up, even under such extreme circumstances?

No. Anastasia wasn't that superficial.

“The town is immobilized,” Satch told him as he wandered around the station, examining all the protective measures taken against intruders. “I had a hell of a time just getting a plow up here. What equipment they've got, they have running everywhere. But for enough money, we should be able to get what we need.”

“Does your phone work?” Harley asked.

“Hasn't since I got in Echo. Too many mountains, I guess. The phones in town are all out, too. Must be some lines down somewhere.”

Barber returned and handed the half-empty thermos to Harley, then stripped off his coat. “It's colder than a dead witch's tit in a brass bra out there.”

“Did you catch the driver?”

“Yeah. He has a tow truck. He said for a Franklin, he'll come back with his hitch and get you right and tight.”

“Hell.”

Satch rejoined them. “Consider it cheap, under the conditions.” He didn't smile. “You've got this place set up like a fortress. What the hell went on?”

Indicating they should both sit in the waiting chairs, Harley said, “We were attacked last night. I took the guns off two men—strangers to me and Anastasia—who first tried to run her off the road, making her wreck her truck, then they came back and tried to do the same to me.”

“Holy shit.” Barber sat down hard. “The idiots were armed?”

“One pulled a gun, but dropped it in the snow when Anastasia nearly ran over him. I took the other gun off his friend, after I'd pounded on him a bit.”

When Satch held out a hand, Harley gave him a gun to examine.

“Smith and Wesson nine millimeter.” Satch turned the gun at every angle, hefted it in his hand. “Pretty common, but looks like whoever had it kept it in good shape.”

“I don't know if they intended to really use them or not.” Harley crossed his arms over his chest. The chill in the air was enough to make his bones ache. “But I wasn't about to take any chances.”

Satch nodded. “That's why you broke into the station, and set up booby traps for anyone who tried to sneak in.”

“Yeah.”

Anastasia tapped on the wall, announcing herself.

All three men turned to stare at her.

Harley fought off a smile. She'd straightened her hair and splashed her face. She wore her now-dry jeans, the sweatshirt he'd given her, and the thick socks. “Good morning.”

Her smile wavered. “I don't want to be too hopeful, but I recall you mentioned a possibility of coffee?”

He held up the thermos. “Barber braved the weather again to bring it in for you. If I recall, there's powdered creamer, sugar, and cups in the break room.”

“Barber? The man you spoke with on the phone?”

“None other.” Harley reached out a hand to her and she came to stand beside him. “The other man I spoke on the phone with was my uncle, and that's him scowling at you. Anastasia, meet Barber and Uncle Satch. Guys, this is my landlord and cohort against crime, Anastasia Bradley.”

She strode to Barber and held out a hand. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Barber accepted her hand with old-fashioned gallantry. “My pleasure.”

Next she reached out to his uncle. “Uncle Satch,” she said, making Harley raise a brow. “I did deliver your message, but everything went downhill after that. I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“Not your fault.” Satch patted the seat he'd just vacated. “Sit yourself down and I'll get the coffee for you.”

“Oh, no, I'm fine.”

“Nonsense,” Barber said, and he took her arm. “Grab a seat. Are you warm enough?”

And so it went, much to Harley's consternation. They treated Anastasia with kid gloves and a kind of familiarity they reserved for significant others.

Maybe they'd misunderstood the situation, but he couldn't very well correct their impressions in front of Anastasia.

Not that he had much of a chance anyway. Once the tow truck driver returned, Harley got right to the business of getting his Jeep operational again. And there was no reason for Anastasia to wait around in the cold while he did so.

At his insistence, and Anastasia's lack of objection, Barber agreed to take her to town so she could get more comfortable.

“Harley?”

Telling the tow truck driver that he'd meet him by the road, Harley turned to face Anastasia. Wearing his coat again, her hat hanging loosely in her hand, she stood in the garage doorway and waited for him to come to her.

As he approached, she watched him with big brown eyes and an unsettled shifting of her feet.

Nervousness from her now? Harley paused in front of her and lifted a brow.

She hesitated, glanced back at Satch and Barber, who stood a few feet behind her, and cleared her throat. “I need one private moment, please.”

“I was just about to get my Jeep pulled free.”

“I know. I promise it won't take long.”

Dreading the inevitable—sort of—Harley took her arm and walked with her around the corner. He could feel the rapt gazes of his friend and his uncle, but he avoided looking at them.

He already knew what they were thinking.

Once he and Anastasia were out of sight of everyone, she smiled up at him.