Stevie Lee Read Online Free

neighbor,” he said when he found his voice again.
    “You didn’t the last time you were here. Your property borders my dad’s ranch.” Her voice didn’t sound the least bit strained by the straight shot of alcohol. It flowed melodically, her western drawl lengthening all of her vowels and slurring the harder edges off of her consonants. Hal liked the sound. “He built the cabin for me two years ago. I’m at the top of the meadow, just above your place.” She paused, taking a deep breath and slanting a wary look up at him from under her lashes. “I’ve been—uh—I’ve been . . . do you want a beer to chase that with?” she asked in a rush.
    “Please.” He nodded, wondering what in the world she’d been doing, and why, if it was so nerve-wracking, she wanted to tell him. She reached behind her and scooped a beer mug off the shelf. For a second he thought she wasn’t going to get a grip on it, but she did without even a second glance.
    “Light or dark?”
    “Dark.” Like the lashes shadowing your soft gray eyes, he thought, then instantly wondered where the fanciful thought had come from. Shifting uneasily on the stool, he attempted to steer his mind in another direction. “Have you had a lot of trouble around here with guys like Kong?”
    “Only once,” she replied, seemingly absorbed in filling the stein. With a practiced move, she floated a cocktail napkin precisely in front of him and landed the beer without spilling a drop.
    Despite the slender curves, the long tumble of gold-streaked hair, and the intense memory of the softness of her kiss, Hal believed her. When she spoke, the firm set of her mouth had no-nonsense stamped all over it. He wished he could say the same for his imagination. It was going hog-wild behind the calm exterior of his face, fantasizing about her breasts and legs, and her hair spread out and falling through his fingers.
    Say something, Hal, he told himself. Say something before you do something stupid—like lean over and kiss her again, and this time get yourself coldcocked by a Chivas bottle.
    “So we’re neighbors, but we’ve never met.” The slight lift in his voice turned the statement into a question.
    “I know you by reputation and exploits, but no, we’ve never met.”
    Hal knew there were a few women here and there around the world who latched onto mountain climbers and river runners, looking for vicarious and not so vicarious thrills, but this lady didn’t seem the type—which left him still mildly confused.
    “And yet you were worried when you thought I was dead?” he asked, lifting the stein to his mouth.
    Guileless gray eyes met his squarely, and her sweet, no-nonsense mouth delivered a shocking blow. “Hoping is more like it.”
    Hal choked on his beer. It sputtered out of his mouth, ran down his chin, and soaked the last dry spot on his body—the front of his shirt.
    “Sorry about that.” Stevie handed him a bar towel and gave herself a mental kick. Sure, she wanted to be the one to tell him, but even on her worst days she usually showed more tact.
    What in the hell had he gotten himself into? Hal wondered, mopping away and feeling like a fool. He’d only been in town one day and already he’d been looked at strangely, lost his only transportation, ended up in a bar fight, and gotten turned on by a woman who wished he was dead. Civilization certainly had taken a turn for the worse since he’d left.
    He wiped up the beer pooling in the creases of his jeans, and felt a cold trickle run down his thigh through the ripped cloth. Dammit, he thought, he was half-frozen already. Maybe it was time to call in his debts. Big John still owed him a few plane tickets for the endorsement Hal had given his ski area. He’d ask for one to the other side of the earth. Maybe things would look better down under, where Chauncey Keats would be good for a month of room and board in the outback, considering that Hal had damn near died testing his newfangled tent in