“I used to drive, but years ago, there was a wreck,” Travis said. “I . . .”
He fell silent, and Hannah prompted, “Was it bad?”
He nodded. A strand of black hair slipped over his brow, brushing his thick eyelashes, and an expression of pain crossed his face.
She smothered the urge to smooth her hand over his forehead and cup his stubble-lined jaw. “Were you alone when it happened, or was someone in the car with you?”
“No one was with me.” He turned away and looked out the passenger window.
“Were you hurt?”
He nodded.
Hannah studied the way his black hair tapered at the base of his nape, the wavy strands curling around the strong muscles of his tanned neck. “So you chose not to drive anymore?”
A tendon flexed in his neck. “Yes.”
She waited for more details, and when they weren’t forthcoming, she said, “I understand. Margaret doesn’t like to drive much either. She does drive when she needs to, but she says being on the road brings back bad memories.”
She licked her lips, guilt pricking at her conscience for her recent lack of patience and compassion for Margaret. “Her daughter, Niki, was killed by a drunk driver—some kid who passed out when he hit Niki head-on. He probably didn’t feel or remember a thing. The way Margaret described him, he sounded a lot like Bryan. Neil Alden was his name, I think. They put him away, thank God.” She stared out the windshield at the heavy smoke and fog hovering above the shopping strip and parking lot. “Margaret said she and Phillip got the call at two in the morning and drove four hours to Nashville to identify Niki. Margaret said she went in alone. Phillip couldn’t bring himself to do it.”
Travis remained silent.
“Lord, what a downer I am today,” Hannah said. “Like you wanted to hear all these sob stories. Bet you’ll think twice before you ask a woman questions again, huh?”
An odd sting of jealousy hit her at the thought of Travis by another woman’s side, speaking in that low, gentle tone of his, supporting and defending. It was an unexpected emotion that surprised her and left her shaken. When had she dropped her guard? What was it about this big bear of a man that called to her softer, more vulnerable side?
Sighing, she opened her door, and a familiar, acrid stench rushed in. “It’s this smoke. Red said it was getting to me, and I’m beginning to believe him.” She summoned a smile and scooted to the edge of her seat. “Come on, let’s hit up Gloria Ulman for some work clothes, then pick up the horse so we can get back before the rain comes.”
Travis’s big hand settled on her forearm, stilling her. “I appreciate the offer, Hannah. I do. But you don’t have to give me a bonus for clothes.”
Hannah stared at his tanned hand as it rested on her arm. The warmth of his palm seeped through her thin sleeve and imprinted itself on her skin. “Yes, I do.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he insisted. “Neither does Red or Margaret.”
“It’s not about owing; it’s about helping. You helped me, so I’m helping you. That’s how it works.” She narrowed her eyes, the intense pain and vulnerability in his expression surprising her. “Hasn’t anyone helped you before?”
He shook his head. “Red was the first. Then Margaret.”
Hannah thought of how warmly Margaret had welcomed Travis the day he’d arrived. How Margaret hadn’t hesitated to smile, approach and touch him without a speck of fear, whereas she had been openly defensive and critical.
Bryan had done that; she’d learned fear and distrust from him that she still couldn’t shake, even though she’d left him years ago. Yet despite her awful reception of him, Travis hadn’t hesitated to help her.
Hesitating, Hannah placed her hand over his and squeezed. Her palm was too small to completely cover his and the firm strength of his big hand lying docile beneath hers sent a wave of warmth through her. “Well, it’s my turn to help today—not because I owe you or have to, but because I want to. Will you let me?”
Travis covered her hand with his free one. His thumb smoothed gently over her knuckles. Then he lifted his head and smiled—a small smile tinged with sadness but full of gratitude, revealing a sexy dimple at the left side of his mouth. “Yes.”
One little word. That’s all he said. But that lone syllable rolling off his tongue melted her on the inside, and every inch of her skin clamored for his palm to move, to slip beneath the cuff of her sleeve and glide up her bare arm. To make her feel the incredible sensations he stirred within her on the outside as well.
Whoa, girl, Hannah chided herself. Get the clothes, get the horse, and leave the man alone. All this deep talk and close proximity was making her long for risky things she had no room for in her life.
Hannah removed her hand from his, slid away from his touch, and exited the truck. Immediately, a thick swath of heavy air laced with smoke settled around her. She looked up, straining for a clear view of the burning mountain peak in the distance, but the smoke plume had widened into two parallel columns that obscured the top of the mountain and mingled with masses of gray and black clouds.
“It’s spreading.”
Travis’s deep voice rumbled softly at Hannah’s back and she could feel the heat of his muscular frame. She stopped herself from leaning back against the warm support of his chest, shoved her hands in her pockets, and focused on the storm clouds. “Looks that way. But it’s a ways off, and the rain should be here soon.”
Hannah, heeding Red’s advice, put aside her worries and walked toward Gloria’s store. Travis followed, his long legs easily catching up with her and matching her pace.