Free When Dreams Collide by Brenda Sinclair Page B

road.
    She tossed the blanket and pillow into the backseat. He heard the leather groan when she stretched in her seat, arms reaching toward the windshield. She bent down and tugged her cowboy boots on again.
    “Even stopping for breakfast and being held up for almost an hour by a serious multi-vehicle traffic accident on I-90 while you were sleeping, we’re making good time. While I watched you sleep and waited for the state troopers to clear the highway, I never dreamed Jeremy and Amanda were involved in an accident of their own. Scary stuff.”
    “Oh God, I hope she and the baby are okay. If she loses that baby after all she’s been through with the cancer and being told she’d probably never conceive...”
    “Where are those positive thoughts hiding?” Dusty wagged his finger at her. She’d looked so cute when she first woke up with her hair slightly mussed, face flushed from snuggling under the blanket, and sleepy-eyed before she totally roused from her nap.
    “You’re right. I’ll just wait to hear from David again or Jeremy,” conceded Amanda.
    “That’s better. Graham warned me that we wouldn’t be able to see the property until sometime in the afternoon, so even if we stop for an early lunch we’ll get to the realtor’s office in plenty of time.”
    “Afternoon? That could mean three or four o’clock. Why did we have to leave so early?”
    “I didn’t want to risk being late. And you never know how long you’ll get held up by road construction crews or traffic accidents. If the realtor appointment isn’t until four or five, I wanted to tour Bozeman while we’re passing time. Check out the feed stores, tack stores, employment agencies, and any other suppliers I’ll require. Get a feel for the city before I make a commitment to settle here.” Dusty glanced over at his passenger. Big mistake. She finished applying lip gloss to those kissable lips, turned and smiled at him.
    “Do I look presentable again?” she asked, fluffing her hair.
    He glued his eyes to the road before his brain got any ideas, sent any messages to his lower anatomy. “You’ll do,” he teased, grinning.
    “Thank you for the ringing endorsement. You’ve made my day,” she countered.
    Damn, he liked this woman. Liked her a lot. Too bad she didn’t have it bad for cowboys, like Penny.
    “Tell me more about growing up in Texas,” requested Susan, out of the blue.
    Dusty glanced over at his traveling companion and sighed. “It was okay, but like I told you I lit out of there the day I graduated high school when I punched out my old man’s lights. After suffering years of verbal abuse from the old bast...fellow, I’d had enough.”
    “Where did you go?”
    “Ma wanted to send me to university. I’d made the grades, but I had other plans.”
    “Oh, Dusty, you should have gone. My time at Montana State in Bozeman was the happiest time in my life. I earned my degree in finance, and I met Amanda there. We shared so many fun times together.” Susan smiled.
    “Sorry, I just couldn’t do it. Decided I’d get my education at the ‘open-prairie college’. So I headed north, worked on a couple of ranches for guys my father didn’t know. Eventually, I tried my hand at the rodeo. Spent more time in the dust than on the back of anything that bucked.”
    He watched the little smile creep across her face. Was she imagining him flying off some bucking bronco’s back, sailing through the air, landing in the dirt?
    “My rodeo buddies started calling me Dusty. The name stuck. I know you’re wondering, so I’ll tell you. My name is Patrick Allan MacFarland. But if you dare call me anything but Dusty, I’ll pull this car over and oust you.”
    “Patrick who?” Susan laughed, grinning mischievously. “Continue your story, Dusty.”
    Man, he loved the sound of her laugh. “I got tossed in the dirt once too often and decided to end my less-than-illustrious rodeo career.  A week later, I met up with the Branigan men in