Page 10 of Impossible Love

Her eyes widen as she looks around. “The Sweetbriar Hotel. It’s supposed to be on Main Street. But this can’t be Main Street, right?”

“It can and it is.” I put on my signal and do a U-turn, then pull up to the curb. “Here we are.”

The giant vinyl tarp that’s draped across the front of the three-story building also covers the sidewalk. It snaps in the light breeze.

“What the hell is this?” She rolls her window all the way down and cranes her neck to get a good look.

“That’s the hotel under a termite tent. This is dry country.”

“Termites?” When she ducks back inside the Jeep, her eyes look like they’re going to pop from her face.

I don’t laugh, though it takes some effort. I point to the bright yellow sign taped to the tarp. “Says it’s closed for pest treatment.”

Her mouth falls open, then snaps shut. “Are you kidding me?”

I shake my head, glad that I didn’t have much on my schedule today, since this is becoming far more than a friendly ride to town.

“Fine.” She regroups. “Then you’re just going to have to take me to another hotel.”

I tilt my head, starting to feel a bit sorry for her. “The next closest hotel is about ninety miles away in Carson City.”

“What?” Her face flushes red with impatience. She is fucking pissed off. Clearly, my traveling companion is a woman who is used to having things go her way. She gets what she wants when she wants it, and in just the way she prefers to get it.

Her arms cross tight over her chest. She crosses her legs at the knee with force enough to cut off her circulation.

“Hey,” I say. “It’s all good. And I just now realized I haven’t introduced myself properly—my name is Cal.”

She swivels her neck and glares at me. “Victoria,” she says, that little crinkle appearing between her brows again.

“Where to next, Victoria?”

She shakes her head, her lips tight. She might be on the verge of tears, which is something I’d rather not deal with.

“I have an idea. It’s a beautiful day.” I unlatch the roof locks and tap on the Jeep’s power top-down button. It whirs as it folds down the roof, then clicks it into place over the trunk. She peers at me, like she’s trying to figure me out. “But only if you don’t mind getting your hair a little messy.”

“I don’t mind.”

I pull away from the curb and head back to the state highway. True, I’d rather have a destination plugged into my navigation screen. I’m the kind of man who always has a clear objective, a planned route, and an estimated travel time. It’s a habit from my SEAL days. But this situation requires me to be a bit more flexible, so that’s what I’ll try to do.

It could be a lot worse, right? The top’s down. The weather’s perfect. And there’s a gorgeous woman riding shotgun.

I might as well enjoy it.

Chapter 8

Cal

I’m doing a pretty good job keeping my mouth shut and giving her some space to decompress. As we climb in elevation, I see her face lift to the dappled sunlight, exposing the sensual curve of her throat. She stretches out her arm so that her hand can surf the air current. Her beautiful hair sparkles in the sunshine as long waves dance in the wind behind her.

She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Eventually, I decide to find out if we’re at least headed in the right direction. “Do you have an address for where your meeting is?”

“No. I don't have an address, just the name of the of the place and the family that owns it.”

I smile. Since I know every ranch and every family within 300 miles of Sweetbriar, I'm fairly sure I can deliver her to her destination. I check my gas gauge to make sure I've got enough fuel to get us there. “All right. So where is it? Where are we going?”

Her eyes are still closed. She’s breathing deep and slow, and it looks like the mountain air is mellowing her out. “Oh, it’s just some place called Yosemite Ranch.”

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