Free Gambling on a Dream by Sara Walter Ellwood

a ghost of a smile tilted the corners of her pale lips. “You always took me to sad movies.”
    “I had my reasons.” He stood and held out his palm. She stared at it for a moment before placing her shaky hand into his.
    Lance surprised Wyatt, and probably everyone else, when he helped her to her feet, swung her up into his arms, and carried her out of the room.
    Wyatt turned to face the rest of his family. His father had pulled his sobbing mother into his arms, while Audrey stared out the door Lance had carried their sister through with an expression on her tear streaked face he’d never seen before.
    * * * *
    Whistling softly between her teeth, Dawn slowed her F-150 to take in the view in front of her. “Sweet mercy, isn’t that the sexiest thing on two legs.”
    Wyatt pushed his vintage Harley on the side of the dusty country road, the action showing off his muscular shoulders and forearms below his rolled up sleeves. His light blue shirttails fluttered on either side of him indicating his shirt was open. His jeans hugged his ass and legs like a good pair of Levis should. The late afternoon sun glowed through his chestnut hair, setting the red highlights on fire. A black helmet hung from the handlebar, and a black leather jacket was folded over the worn leather seat of the bike.
    He glanced over his shoulder as she approached and slowed. She wasn’t ready for the lusty clenching in her lower belly at the memories of Wyatt driving her crazy when they’d made love.
    She bit the inside of her lip and tightened her grip on the steering wheel as primal need raked through her.
    A pair of Aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. She pulled the truck off the side of the road next to one of the CW Ranch pastures. Massive Santa Gertrudis cattle munched on the fall grasses. One of the cows lifted her head from the grass and seemed to eye the truck curiously, as she chewed a wad of grass.
    Dawn had never understood what Zack and Lance Cartwright saw in the big, ugly animals. She preferred the sleek sturdiness of a Herford or an Angus to the more exotic breeds.
    Wyatt propped the bike on its kickstand and ambled to the driver’s side window. Dust covered his boots and the bottoms of his jeans as if he’d been walking a great distance. But then, out here, where miles and miles could separate one ranch house from another, and the only living things around were cattle and horses, getting stranded and hoofing it for miles before a person came along wasn’t uncommon.
    “Aren’t you a sight for a weary man?” Wyatt smiled as he lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and revealed eyes as blue as the endless October sky above them.
    Her heart sputtered a beat. She pulled her gaze away from his and looked out the windshield at the old motorcycle sitting in front of her truck. He’d had the thing since graduating from college. They’d spent many warm days racing along the country roads north of Dallas when they'd dated, and she'd tormented him relentlessly because she'd always beat him. “What’s wrong with the hunk of junk?”
    A corner of his lips kicked up in a lopsided smirk. “Carburetor. I think. It stalled in the intersection at Gambler’s Folly and Cattle Trail, and I couldn’t get it started again.” He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, and squinted toward the west.
    She had a hard time keeping her eyes off him. The undershirt stretched over his muscular chest under his open shirt.
    “I figured it was a tossup between heading for Paul Cartwright’s house or the Kennedy place.”
    Why hadn’t he gone back to Highway Six? Hell, why hadn’t he called someone? But Dawn didn’t ask. “Want to load up the bike, and I’ll take you home?”
    He drummed his fingers on the edge of the door near the open window. His nails were trimmed, and his fingers were long and slender on strong hands. She knew how skillful they’d been at playing her body, and sucked in a breath. He turned his gaze on her.
    “I