Jillian Hart - Heart and Soul

He swiped rain out of his eyes and took refuge inside the cab. Unbelievable.

As the rain began falling in earnest, tapping like a hundred impatient drummers on the roof, he had this strange, sinking feeling. Just like the time when he’d been diving and his gear hung up on a snag, pulling him down against his will. “You shouldn’t be offering perfect strangers rides in your truck. Or to stay overnight in your parents’ house.”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“You’re a man of faith.” She touched her own dainty cross.

“I don’t suppose you realize some people pretend to be what they’re not. To take advantage of others.” When he did so, he did it for justice. To protect the innocent citizens of this country.

He knew for a fact there were bad people in this world. And those bad people kept him and his colleagues well employed. Didn’t she have a clue? “I could be dangerous.”

“But you’re not. I have a sense about these things.” Michelle’s smile was pure sunlight—gentle and bright and true—as she turned her attention to her driving.

Unaware that she was about to bring a wolf in sheep’s clothes into her family’s home. A protective wolf, but one just the same.

The hard edge of his trusty revolver cut into his side, mocking him, concealed in the slim leather holder beneath his leather jacket.

“Besides, what else are you going to do? Walk all the way to Butte? You’re injured and I told you, I feel responsible.”

The way Michelle saw it, God might have placed her on that road at that exact moment just so that Brody wouldn’t be alone when he crashed to avoid the deer and her fawn.

Maybe she was meant to help him. As a Christian, it was her duty. How could she not help? It would be wrong.

She didn’t know if her mom would see it that way, but she was absolutely sure that her dad would, because he was cool. By now, her parents ought to be used to her habit of bringing home strays, right?

Even if she’d never brought home a stray this big before.

Or one so handsome he made her teeth ache.

The house was dark, except for the lone lamp in the entryway. It wasn’t Mom’s Bible-study night. Or Dad’s grange hall meeting night. Where were they? And didn’t they know she worried?

Maybe they’d gone out to dinner. Could it be? Afraid to hope, afraid to say it out loud, Michelle grabbed fresh linens from the hall closet. If her parents had gone out together, it would be the first time in six years. Ooh, the curiosity was killing her as she stole a pillow off Kendra’s bed along with the plain blue comforter.

Brody. He’d turned down her invitation to come into the house and was checking out the apartment over the garage.

He sure was a courteous guy. Concerned about her safety. Maybe it came from the kind of life he’d lived. Always on the road with the rodeo. He’d probably seen a lot that she couldn’t even dream of.

She liked that about him. That he was worldly. Experienced. But when he smiled, his eyes sparkled with a quiet kindness. She liked that. Which was too bad. Brody didn’t have plans to stay. He was just passing through.

At least it didn’t hurt a girl to dream.

She caught sight of him through the second-story windows. He stood gazing around the small apartment, wandering around to look at this or that. A zip of warmth flooded her heart, and she couldn’t stop the sigh that bubbled up until she felt as if she were floating with it.

What a man. He stood like a soldier, alert, strong and disciplined, and so inherently good, it made her eyes glisten. She knew beyond a doubt that helping him was the right thing to do.

She closed the front door, skipped down the steps and dashed through the remaining splashes of the rainstorm. In no time at all she was bouncing up the steps and into the attic apartment where Brody turned to her.

And made her pulse stop.

“This is a nice place you’ve got here.” Brody gestured around at the shadowed front room that led into the small kitchen.

But Michelle didn’t bother to look around the place and admire it with him. How could she notice anything when he was so near? He’d taken his leather jacket off and folded it on the tabletop, leaving him in the black T-shirt where torn fabric gaped over another thick bandage.

Was her heart ever going to start beating again, she wondered as air rushed into her lungs and she could breathe. Maybe she’d waited too long to eat dinner—they’d grabbed takeout on the way out of Bozeman—and that’s why she felt funny.

“Does someone live here?” Brody strolled to the wide front windows and closed the blinds. “Or do you just keep this place for random strangers in need of a good night’s sleep and patching up?”

“The foreman used to live here until my dad had a cottage built down by the creek. Then my sister Karen lived here for a long time, but then she got married, and my uncle lost both his job and his wife and needed some place to stay but he said it was too small….” Oh my, was she rambling? Yes, she definitely was. Stop it, Michelle.

“As it turns out, we don’t have a foreman anymore, so my uncle took over the cottage last month. So, no one’s staying here right now.” Was she still holding the sheets and stuff?

Yes. What was with her anyway, staring at handsome Brody as if she’d lost her cerebral cortex? She dropped the pillow, sheets and comforter on the corner of the couch.

She still felt nervous. Why suddenly now? Because she was alone with him, and that didn’t make any sense at all. They’d been all alone in the truck. This felt different. When was the last time she’d been alone with a guy like Brody? Had she ever?

“I appreciate the hospitality.” He favored his injured right ankle as he ambled over to grab the set of floral-printed linens. “I can’t say that I’ve slept on pink and blue flowers before.”

“Flowered sheets are more restful.”

“Is that a scientifically proven fact?”

“Absolutely.”

They should have been teasing, but it was something else. Something that flickered in an odd way in her chest. A warmth of emotion that she didn’t know how to describe because she’d never felt it before.

She turned away. Feeling like this couldn’t be a good thing. Vulnerable, that’s what she was, and she didn’t like it. She retreated to the open entry where a dark slash of the deepening night welcomed her. “The bedroom’s through those doors. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Michelle. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.” He looked sincere. Strong. Like everything a good man ought to be.

Michelle fled onto the tiny porch, pulling the door closed behind her. She felt her face flaming and her pulse jackhammering. She was feeling a strange tug of emotion, longing and admiration all rolled into one.

Great. Had he noticed?

Probably. How could he not? At least he was leaving come morning. She could pretend she didn’t think he was the coolest man ever for a few more hours.

It wasn’t like she had a chance with him. He was too worldly, and he had a life. It wasn’t as if he was going to drop everything and move to a tiny town in Montana that was a pinpoint on a detailed state map.

Be real, Michelle.

Common sense didn’t stop the stab of longing that pierced through her chest. It didn’t stop the pain of it.

She wiped her feet on the welcome mat on the front porch. She locked the door behind her. As she did every night, she hung her denim jacket on one of the hangers inside the entry closet. There was a note tacked to the message board in the kitchen by the phone. Her mom was the queen of organization.

“Michelle, went to supper and a show with your gramma. Make sure you start the dishwasher when you get in. Don’t stay up too late.”