He gave her an incredulous look, and she let go. “We’re in the middle of a blizzard. If I stop, there’s a greater chance of getting stuck.”
“But I need a pair of my own shoes and money to pay for a motel room.”
The wipers struggled against the snow and ice although he’d done his best to scrape the windshield clean. “My boots will keep your feet dry,” Mike said. “And I’ll front the money for the motel and lend you some cash.”
“But the house isn’t secure with all those broken windows.”
He redirected the heat blasting through the vents so it wouldn’t hit him dead on. He was warm enough with his big coat. “You’re afraid of getting robbed?”
“Maybe.”
“Whatever you’re afraid of losing, you can afford to replace.” He slanted her a brooding glance. “I should know. I send you your check every month, remember?”
After last night, and the conversation that had followed this morning, Mike wanted to punish Lucky. For returning to Dundee. For destroying his peace of mind. If he couldn’t achieve some kind of resolution or come to grips with what had happened, he at least wanted to vent his displeasure. But Lucky had become so aloof and withdrawn over the past hour that, predictably, she didn’t react, which only frustrated him further.
“What I want can’t be replaced,” she said stubbornly.
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer his question, giving him the impression that she wouldn’t even if he pressed her. “And there’s no need to risk my ID and credit cards,” she added.
He drew a deep, calming breath. He rarely had to struggle to get along with anyone, especially a woman. But Lucky had always been trouble.
“Are you going to let me out?” she asked.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“I’ll jump if you don’t.” She opened her door. Because they were only traveling a few miles an hour and the snow looked deceptively soft, he believed she just might try it.
With a grimace, he applied the brakes. “Make it quick. I have to stay in the middle of the road because the snow’s too deep on the sides.”
She hopped out and hunched against the wind as she made her way to the Victorian. A few minutes later, she appeared with a little bag, probably filled with toiletries, her purse and a black book tucked under her coat.
“That’s what you wanted?” he said, eyeing the book curiously as she climbed in.
She slipped it farther under her coat, out of sight, and bent over to brush the snow off her jeans before closing the door. “Thanks for stopping.” Her tone let him know that she didn’t plan to explain.
With a sigh, he managed to get the truck moving again, but the going was slow and tedious and they drove several minutes without speaking. “Why’d you come back, Lucky?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
Lucky knew better than to answer that question honestly. She might have grown up in Dundee, but she was sure Dave Small, Eugene Thompson and Garth Holbrook, if they were still around, had more friends here than she did. Some people might not appreciate her digging around in their pasts.
She turned to stare out the window. “There’s something I have to do.”
“What?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Or my family?”
She laughed bitterly. “Or your precious family.”
“Will you be staying long?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks—” she shrugged “—maybe a few months.”
“And then you’ll be gone again?”
“And then I’ll be gone.”
The tension in his jaw seemed to ease with this news, which didn’t make her feel any better.
“What about the house?” he asked.
She studied his profile. “What about it?”
“Are you planning to leave it empty?”
“Maybe.” She’d promised herself that once she found her father, she’d sell out and put Dundee behind her forever. But she wasn’t sure she could let the Victorian go. It had come to represent the only love she’d ever known. Morris was associated with that place, along with all her childhood hopes and dreams, which was why she’d hung on to it for so long.
“You know you don’t give a damn about the house or anyone here in Dundee,” Mike said.
She said nothing.
“So why are you being so obstinate? Why not sell it to me and forget about it?”
He believed she’d refused his purchase offers just to spite him. In all honesty, Lucky knew her feelings toward Mike had played a part, but there was more to it than that. Morris’s Victorian meant a great deal to her because she’d never had a real home. But if Mike’s family wouldn’t relinquish their emotional claim to the property, she could never feel good about living there. So what was she hanging on to? The memory of a man Mike and his family felt they had first “dibs” on? Childhood dreams of warmth and belonging that would never come true?
She thought of that kiss she’d witnessed in the barn, and juxtaposed it to the reality of last night. Mike had finally broken through her defenses when it came to selling the house, but she had too much pride to let him know she was ready to give it up without a fight. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze squarely. “How much are you willing to pay?”
He scowled. “I’ve already offered you twice as much as you could get from anyone else. How greedy can you be?”
How much were her dreams worth? “I don’t know,” she said. “But somehow I always seem to be asking for too much.”
MIKE DIDN’T FEEL like driving back to the ranch. The roads had to be nearly impassable by now and were only getting worse, making his decision to stop in at Jerry’s café a risky one. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t the unruffled, conservative guy he’d been just yesterday. He was restless and edgy and—
The bell over the entrance jingled. Brooding, Mike glanced up from his coffee to see Gabe roll in and wasn’t sure whether he was excited to see his old friend or not. He decided he wasn’t. Gabe had seemed more like himself when he visited the ranch yesterday, but Mike didn’t want the added pressure of trying to maintain their strained relationship right now. He was still too annoyed about what had happened with Lucky. But he waved anyway. He could hardly go unnoticed. He was the only one in the diner besides Judy, the waitress, and Harry, the cook.