okay,” he said, watching the expressions cross her face. She looked very young. “You’re safe.”
“Safe.” She sat up, just in time for Two-Toes to amble over and sit down beside her.
Esther’s eyes widened and she held her breath.
“That’s just Two-Toes,” the man said in a pleasant deep voice. “He’s blind. He growls when he doesn’t know people, but he’s never bitten anyone. Who are you, and what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
She recovered her senses and looked at him. The man was tall and well built. One shirtsleeve was empty at the bottom. He wore boots and jeans and a flannel shirt. He had dark hair and eyes. He was smiling.
“Well?” he prompted, but not in a mean way.
“I thought my cousin lived here,” she lied. “Barry Crump and his wife, Lettie . . .”
“No Crumps here.” He frowned. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever known anybody with that name.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, biting her lower lip.
“I didn’t see a car when I found you.”
It was a question. She flushed. It made her face brighter, vulnerable. “I don’t own one,” she said. And she didn’t. Not anymore. “I hitched a ride.”
“That’s dangerous,” he pointed out.
She was drawing blood with that tooth in her lower lip.
She sat up, displacing the afghan, and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Oh, coffee,” she exclaimed, and almost fell on it. “I’m so thirsty!”
“Feeling better now?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. I was just so tired. It’s been a long night,” she added without elaborating. “I’ve never fainted before. I guess it was the cold.” She smiled shyly. “Thanks for saving me.”
“No problem. I’m a licensed rescuer for damsels in distress,” he teased.
“What’s a damsel?” she wondered.
“Damned if I know, really.” He chuckled. “But you were in need of rescue. I slay dragons, too, in case you ever need one taken care of.”
She grinned. Her whole face lit up and she was extraordinarily beautiful.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Esther,” she said quietly. “Esther Marist.” She cocked her head and studied him. “Who are you?”
He smiled. “Butch Matthews.”
“Thanks for bringing me inside,” she said softly. “I guess I’d have frozen to death out there.” She shivered. “I’m not really dressed for this much snow.”
Butch Matthews was no dunce. Something traumatic had happened to her. He could sense it. She was wearing high-ticket items. He knew real fur when he saw it, and that fox jacket was real fox. Her shoulder bag was real leather, like her high-heeled shoes. She didn’t have a suitcase, so she’d left somewhere in a hurry. She was wearing a huge pink gaudy ring on one finger. It sure didn’t go with the fox jacket. Nobody had a ring that size that was real, he was sure of it. Damned thing covered almost a whole joint of her finger.
He recalled hearing a semi stop out on the highway, a few minutes before this little fragile blond turned up on his doorstep.
He sat down in the armchair across from the sofa with the coffee table between them and sipped his own coffee.
“Now,” he said, smiling. “Suppose you tell me what’s wrong?”
Wrong . . . ?”
“Come on. Two-Toes and I are mostly harmless.”
She laughed. “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” she blurted out, because those two words were what were written about Earth in the guide.
He roared. “Truly.”
Two-Toes inched toward her, sniffing.
“Friend, Two-Toes,” he told the wolf, ruffling his fur. “Friend. Don’t eat her.”
Esther looked, and felt, horrified.
“I’m kidding,” Butch teased.
She looked from him to the big wolf. She’d never seen one in person, and this one was twice the size of any dog she’d seen. He moved closer to her and began to sniff her. Impulsively, because he didn’t seem aggressive, she put out a small hand. He took a deep smell, and suddenly laid his head in her lap.
“Oh, goodness,” she said softly. She stroked his head, a smile breaking out on her worried face. “My goodness, he’s so sweet!”
Butch was speechless. Mostly Two-Toes avoided contact with anyone who came in the door, except Parker, his Crow friend who’d just married.
“Well,” Butch said heavily. “That’s amazing.”
She looked up. “Why?”
“He’s not usually that friendly.”
She laughed.
“Not to most people,” he amended. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“Thank you, but no. The truck drivers were kind enough to find a truck stop. I got coffee and supper. They were so sweet to me.”
“Most truckers are good people,” he said.
She drew in a breath. “It hasn’t exactly been a night