A Bride for Dry Creek Read Online Free Page B

long time ago to her. To him it was yesterday.
    â€œCold night out,” Flint added conversationally as he stuffed the cord into his pocket. He needed to move their words to neutral territory. Her wrists had been as smooth as marble. “Is it always this cold around here in February?”
    â€œIt used to be,” Francis answered. She’d felt Flint’s fingertips on the skin of her wrists just at the top of her mittens. His fingers were ice cold. For the first time, she realized the mittens on her hands must have been the only ones he had. “Folks say, though, that the winters lately have been mild.”
    â€œThat’s right, you don’t live here anymore, doyou?” Flint asked as he put his hand on Francis’s lower leg. He felt her stiffen. “Easy. Just going to try and unravel you here without scaring Honey.”
    Flint let his hand stay on Francis’s leg until both his hand and that section of her leg were warm. He let his hand massage that little bit of leg ever so slightly so it wouldn’t stiffen up. “Don’t want to make you pull the muscle in that leg any more than it looks like you’ve already done.”
    Flint had to stop his hand before it betrayed him. Francis was wearing real nylon stockings. The ones like they used to make. A man’s hands slid over them like they were cream. If Flint were a betting man, he would bet nylon like this didn’t come from panty hose, either. No, she was wearing the old-fashioned kind of nylons with a garter belt.
    This knowledge turned him first hot then cold. A woman only wore those kind of stockings for one reason.
    â€œYou won’t be dancing any time soon,” he offered with deceptive mildness as he pressed his hands against his thighs to warm them enough to continue. “So I suppose that boyfriend of yours will just have to be patient.”
    â€œHe has been,” Francis said confidently. “Thank you for reminding me.”
    Francis thought of Sam Goodman. He might not make her blood race, but he didn’t make it turn to ice, either. He was a good, steady man. A man she’dbe proud to call her boyfriend. Maybe even her husband. She almost wished she’d encouraged him more when he’d called last week and offered to come for a visit.
    Flint pressed his lips together. He should have thought about the boyfriend before he took off with Francis like he had. It had already occurred to him that he could have simply returned her to the good people of Dry Creek. Instead of heading for the horse, he could have headed for the light streaming out the open barn door and simply placed her inside. If it had been anyone but Francis, he would have.
    But Francis addled his brain. All he could think of was keeping her safe, and he didn’t trust anyone else—not even some fancy boyfriend who made her want to dress in garters and sequins—to get her far enough away from the rustlers. He had to make sure she was safe or to take a bullet for her if something happened and those two kidnappers got spooked.
    Still, a boyfriend could pose problems. “I suppose he’ll be wondering where you are,” Flint worried aloud as he slowly turned the saddle to allow Francis’s leg to tip toward him.
    Francis stared in dismay. Flint was helping her untangle herself, but he was obviously positioning her so that she would slide off the back of the horse and into his arms.
    â€œI can walk,” Francis said abruptly.
    â€œYou’d have better luck flying at the moment,”Flint said as he put a hand on each of her hips and braced himself. “Put your arms around my neck and I’ll swing you around.”
    â€œI don’t think—” Francis began. Flint’s hands swept past her hips and wrapped themselves around her waist. She took a quick, involuntary breath. Surely he could feel her heart pounding inside her body. The material on this wretched dress the girls had