Free Christmas With the Mustang Man by Stella Bagwell

though nothing had ever happened.
    After a hurried shower, she pulled on jeans, boots and a green hooded sweatshirt, quickly braided her hair into a single tail down her back, then swiped on sunscreen and scurried out of the bedroom.
    When she arrived in the kitchen it was empty and the only sign that anyone had been there before her was a half pot of coffee still on the warmer.
    Even though it was only seven-thirty, Hayley had obviously already left for school. There was no sight or sound of her anywhere. Last night Dallas hadn’t asked the girl how she got to school or even where the school was located. If Boone drove her every day, he might be gone from the ranch for a while.
    Not taking time to linger over breakfast, she found a banana from a bowl on the table and after gobbling the piece of fruit and washing it down with a half cup of the strong coffee, she grabbed her ranch jacket and headed out of the house.
    As soon as she stepped onto the screened-in back porch, freezing north wind blasted her face. Immediately, she fished gloves and a sock cap from the patch pocket on her jacket and slipped them on. Once she was protected, she trotted down the steps with the intention of heading to the barns, but the sound of a vehicle at the front of the house caught her attention and she abruptly changed directions.
    When she rounded the house, she was stunned to see a wrecker had already backed up to the rear of her truck and a small man dressed in heavy, dark blue coverallswas connecting the two vehicles with a wench. Boone was standing to one side, watching the whole process with a grim expression.
    Dallas hurried over to him. “I see you’ve already called the wrecker,” she said in a voice loud enough to be heard above the idling diesel engine of the tow truck.
    â€œI didn’t see any point in waiting. I figured you’d want it fixed as soon as possible.”
    He was right, Dallas thought. Still, it irked her that he’d taken on the task without bothering to ask her first. And though it was a ridiculous thought, something about seeing her only link to civilization being taken away left her feeling a bit desperate.
    â€œI do want it repaired as quickly as possible,” she replied. “But can’t he try working on it here first? Before going to the trouble of pulling it off to Pioche? Maybe it’s just a wire, or something simple like that.”
    â€œHe’s already tried,” Boone said. “And I’m sorry, but he doesn’t think it’s a simple problem. He says the truck will have to be hooked up to a diagnostic machine and then he’ll know more. But I can assure you that Marti knows his business and he’s very trustworthy.” Reaching for her elbow, he urged her toward the mechanic. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you.”
    From the agile way Marti Alvarez had been scampering around and beneath her truck, Dallas was expecting him to be a much younger man. But one close look at his wrinkled face told her that he had to be several years beyond standard retirement age.
    Once Boone had made a quick introduction and Dallas had given the mechanic a handshake, she asked the dreaded question. “How long to get it fixed?”
    â€œCan’t tell you that, miss, until I figure out what the problem actually is. If I’m guessing right and the fuelinjector pump will have to be replaced, you’re probably looking at two or three days. If a hole has been knocked in a piston, it’ll take a lot longer.”
    Dallas gasped with shock. “Two or three days! Or longer! But I can’t be here for that long!” She cast a horrified glance at Boone, then turned her gaze back on the mechanic. “Look, I’ll pay you extra if you’ll work on it today.”
    His smile indulgent, Marti swung his head back and forth. “I already plan to work on it today. I don’t expect extra pay for that.”
    â€œYes, but if you have