Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [80]
With a flick of his wrist the engine sparked, purring fitfully. Frank backed out of the parking space. “Look, honey,” he said, the last vestiges of his rage stripped away, “we’ve all been through a lot lately. Mitch…” He shook his head. “…let’s just take things slow, okay?” He reached over and patted her knee. “You’ve got the rest of your life to find the right guy. And I guarantee you in six months, you’ll wonder what you ever saw in Thane Walker.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Within six months she’d learned to hate his name. Or so she’d tried to convince herself. And now she was on the road to Denver with him, trying to work with the man who had betrayed her as well as figure out what had happened to her sister, his ex-wife, the glue that seemed to bring them together, yet was always pushing them apart.
“I remember the last time we tried to get together,” she said as she used one finger to wipe the condensation from the inside of the passenger-door window.
“At the restaurant. Roberto’s.”
She nodded.
“You didn’t return my calls after that.”
“Wasn’t allowed.”
In the dark interior of the truck he scowled. “You could have done anything you wanted to do.”
“I wasn’t like you,” she argued. “I didn’t just take the bull by the horns.”
“You know, Maggie, it’s more than taking the bull by his horns. Once you’ve got him, you have to dig your bootheels in the dirt, stop that sucker dead in his tracks, and twist hard, throw your back into it so that the curve of his neck forces him to the ground.” He slid her a look that spanned a lifetime of making it on his own. “That’s when you win. When you survive. The way I remember it, you were pretty tough for a city girl, ready to spread your wings if not tackle bulls. But you weren’t afraid to speak your mind. Oh, hell.” He eased on the brakes and guided the truck around what appeared to be an abandoned vehicle with snow piled high on its fenders, hood, and roof. “What’s this?”
Thane parked the pickup and, with Maggie following in his footsteps, made his way to the snow-covered sedan. The air was bitter cold, a stiff breeze slicing through Maggie’s jacket and stinging her cheeks.
“Anyone in there?” Thane yelled, banging on the car and shoving off the snow with his gloved hands until they could peer through the glass to the dark interior. It was empty, no sign of life within. Thane scanned the terrain of flatland, sagebrush, and fence posts covered in a thick layer of icy white powder. “Hey!” he shouted, squinting at the horizon as Maggie did the same. “Anyone out here?”
Using her hand as a visor, she scoured the sparse terrain and caught sight of several antelope dashing off in the distance, startled by the sound of a human voice. Otherwise, she saw no movement, not so much as a rabbit disturbing the stillness. The sky was gray again—the color of a dove’s soft underbelly, thick clouds blocking the sun.
For a few minutes they shouted and searched the area around the car. No other vehicle passed, and they found no sign of life anywhere nearby. “Come on,” Thane finally said. “No one’s here.”
“At least no one who’s alive,” she muttered, again thinking of her sister.
“No one dead, either. Whoever was driving obviously got a ride.” He took her elbow in his big hand and propelled her toward the truck. “I think it’s time to crack open the thermos. Coffee, crackers, and cheese. What d’ya say?”
She rolled her eyes. “You sure know how to make a girl feel pampered.”
“Always aim to please.” He offered her a wink as he held her door open, and that one small gesture lifted her mood a bit. There was a part of Thane she remembered as being charming in an irreverent, rebellious way. Along with his wicked smile and