Bea by Peggy Webb Read Free Book Online Page B

rigid as he bent over her and dried her legs all the way down to her ankles. She held her breath as he lifted her feet, one by one, and wiped every drop of moisture from them.
    The windows were fogged from their breathing. With the dark sky and the steamy windows, she felt as if she were in a cocoon. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
    Russ straightened and tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.
    “Stay here. Don’t move.”
    He pulled his jacket collar up and stepped into the rain. Within seconds he was back. Plopping the wet suitcase onto the seat, he climbed in.
    “Thank you.”
    He didn’t reply. Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he wiped his face. The damp cloth didn’t begin to soak up all the rain he’d collected on his errand of gallantry.
    Bea couldn’t sit there and watch it any longer.
    “Here. Let me do that.” She opened her purse and took out a lace-edged linen handkerchief.”
    She leaned toward him, but the suitcase was in the way. In order to balance, she had to put one hand on his shoulder.
    He sat very still as she lifted the tiny material to his face. The sweet scent of flowers wafted under his nose.
    “That little piece of material is hardly big enough for a flea.” His voice was gruff. It had been a long, long time since anybody had cared enough about him to wipe his face.
    “If you have any fleas in this beard, you’d better tell me now. I can’t abide fleas.”
    Her quip lightened the mood. They laughed together.
    “Then you’d better let me do that. I haven’t looked lately.”
    He took the handkerchief and finished mopping his face.
    She settled back into her seat, glad the suitcase was between them. “Who says there are no good Samaritans anymore? You’re a good Samaritan, Russ Hammond.”
    “Don’t tell. My reputation would be ruined.” Absently he stuffed her little handkerchief into his pocket. “It looks like the rain is letting up some.”
    “Can you see well enough to drive?”
    “Yes. As long as I watch the speed.”
    He pulled back onto the mountain road, and they crept along. Their respite lasted twenty minutes, and then the rain began to slash the truck viciously. Russ eased around the mountain curves, peering hard into the rain, trying to spot the potholes in the road in time to avoid a teeth-jarring encounter.
    Suddenly Bea caught his arm. “Listen. Do you hear that?”
    There was a rumbling sound coming up from the ground, as if the earth were growling its discontent.
    “I hear it.” Automatically he slowed the truck.
    “What is it?”
    “It sounds like distant traffic.”
    The sound became louder. Suddenly Russ knew what it was. Rock slide. It sometimes happened on mountain roads, especially during torrential rains. Judging by the sounds, rocks were tumbling some distance behind them and almost immediately ahead of them. They were trapped.
    His jaw tightened and he leaned over the wheel, searching desperately for a place to pull over. Bea saw the change in him, felt the sudden tension.
    “Russ?”
    He didn’t answer her. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his knuckles turned white. He was tired of losing people. Even if Bea was not connected to him in any important way, he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to her.
    “What’s wrong, Russ?” Bea gripped his arm.
    “Hang on, Bea.”
    There were no good places to pull off the road. No wide shoulders and safe havens presented themselves. Russ took the only way out. Shifting gears, he plunged off the road and started up a small, rocky incline. The old truck swayed, its tires spinning and squealing, seeking purchase on the slick ground.
    Bea’s teeth knocked together, and she bounced around on the seat. But she held on. She braced one hand on the dashboard and kept the other one on Russ’s upper arm.
    The incline leveled off, and Russ swung the truck into the shelter of a copse of trees. He cut the engine and covered her hand.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Fine.” She held