Free Between Strangers by Linda Conrad Page A

sink. “Now, I’m not saying that the man is a saint, mind you. In fact, there was a time when I would’ve gladly wrung his neck.” She turned her back to Marcy and the baby, rinsed out the cup and cleared her throat. “But shortly after that I found out that he’d lent Bobby the money to build his ranch house. Lance even pitched in on his days off and helped Bobby put it together with his own sweat.”
    She’d been speaking over her shoulder but now she dried her hands again and returned to the table. “We’ve paid Lance back every cent we owed him, and Bobby has, too…as soon as he started work and could get a mortgage. But that’s not the point.
    â€œThe point is that Lance would give a friend his very last penny if that friend was in need—and never think about it twice.” Marianne laid a soft hand on Marcy’s shoulder. “He’s a good man. The best. And I wanted you to know how the rest of the world sees him.”
    Marcy had been aware that Lance was a different sort, better than any other man she’d ever known. Marianne’s words only confirmed her own thoughts.
    But she didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with her newfound knowledge. Deathly afraid that she was beginning to fall for him, Marcy wondered if she could manage to hold on to her heart for the small amount of time they had left.
    Everything she’d dreamed about waited in Cheyenne. Now all she had to do was keep Lance out of her dreams long enough to get there.
    Â 
    When Lance finally bundled Marcy and the baby into the SUV, the snow was coming down at an impossible rate. The temperature hovered right below freezing, bringing the snow to the ground in wet and heavy clumps.
    It was dark and still, the sun had set hours ago. And the blinding snow was going to make driving slow and tedious. He shouldn’t have spent so much time with Hank. But what else was he supposed to do when he realized how tough it was for the man to steady himself on the roof with his bum leg?
    Lance was glad he’d helped him out. Hank and Marianne were good people. Hadn’t she insisted that Marcy take a couple of thick pairs of socks and one of her extraheavy parkas? All right, so maybe the coat was a few inches too big and absolutely bright red, which made it seem much more suitable for Marianne’s coloring than for Marcy’s. But it would certainly keep Marcy warmer than that old, threadbare coat she’d been wearing. It was a very nice gesture for Marianne to make.
    For the next hour he inched the SUV along down the plowed highway. He prayed that the wipers wouldhold up to the snow and keep the windshield clear enough for him to see the road ahead. Thirty miles later he knew it was time to stop and shovel the snow off by hand. It was thick enough now to make convenience-store slushies.
    â€œWhy are you stopping?” Marcy asked with a yawn.
    â€œI need to clear the snow.” He stepped out of the SUV, but only stayed outside for long enough to swipe his arm across the expanse of glass. Before he was seated back inside, the snow was thick again.
    â€œShould we turn back?” The tension and fear in Marcy’s voice made him wish they had never started. He didn’t want her to be afraid. He would take care of them. It was only a snowstorm.
    He shook his head and set the transmission in low gear. “We’ve come too far. If we keep going, we may outrun the worst of the storm. It seems to be passing over our heads at a pretty good clip.”
    Actually, those words sounded hollow to his ears. Like wishful thinking. The truth was, with every mile they traveled, the snowfall worsened. But turning around would be crazy. Best to keep moving forward.
    Down the road in another half hour, a different problem presented itself. The highway they were on had obviously been plowed earlier today, but now it was drifting over under buckets of snow flurries.
    Before he