Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(10)

She shook her head. “I never thought I’d need one. I’m always careful. I’ve never lost a key or locked myself out of a car in my life. Can we tow the car out of the ditch without starting it?”

“Maybe. But not unless we release the hand brake and shift it into neutral. To do that, we’ll need to get into the car.”

“And to get into the car, we’ll need the keys. Gotcha.” Megan knelt in the snow and began scraping layers away on the other side of the path Conner had cleared. Megan’s car was an older model that opened with a key. Her small key ring had three keys and a silver guitar charm on it. Finding it in all this snow would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

The sky was bright overhead, but willows and cottonwood trees cast shade where the car was lodged. The cold was bitter and biting. As she dug through the snow, Megan stole glances at her rescuer. In full daylight, without a cap, he was even better-looking than the photos she’d googled on her laptop, with chiseled features and dark blond hair that set off his startling blue eyes. The best bull riders tended to be small and wiry. Conner was, perhaps, five-nine or -ten, with a compact, muscular body that exuded strength. Looking online, she’d seen the classic photo of him, mounted on a bucking bull, arm up, body in perfect balance. He’d looked . . . magnificent.

She’d read a news account of the mishap that had ended his career, but she’d chosen to ask him about it anyway. She’d wanted to hear the story from his point of view, how it had played out and how it had affected him. His raw honesty had moved and impressed her.

Right now, he looked as cold and miserable as she felt. But he hadn’t complained or berated her for losing her keys. Megan found herself liking him for that. But after this experience, he would probably never want to see her again.

They’d made small talk at first. But after thirty minutes of working in the snow, they were too numbed from the cold for more than a few words. Now he rose to his feet, stretching his legs and massaging his back with one hand.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Just need to get the kinks out,” he said. “But you look half-frozen.” He extended a gloved hand. “I want you to get up, go back to the truck, turn on the heater, and stay until you get warm.”

“What about you?” She let him pull her up, but made no move to go back to the truck.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Stop playing the tough guy. You’re as cold as I am.”

“Well, somebody needs to find your keys.”

“Then I’ll stay and look, too,” Megan insisted. “I’m okay, really, except for my fingers. They feel like clumps of ice.” She stripped off her woolen mittens and laid them on the snow. “If I put my hands in my pockets for a few minutes, maybe they’ll warm up.”

She thrust her hands into the pockets of her coat, shoving them deep. The insides were dry and slightly warm from her body. She wiggled her fingers, doing her best to restore the circulation. Only as the feeling returned to her fingertips did she discover something unexpected—a hole, in the deepest corner of one pocket—a hole that was just big enough to let the keys fall through into the lining of her coat.

Oh no!

Her lips formed the words, but no sound emerged as she felt along the hem of her coat. After a moment, her fingers touched something hard—her keys.

“What is it?” Conner was eyeing her as if she’d just changed color. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She worked the keys back through the hole. “You’re not going to believe this, but—” She pulled the keys out of her pocket and held them up.

His jaw dropped. “Well, hot damn!” he said.

Megan braced for a lecture. That’s what she might have expected from Derek. But Conner simply took the keys out of her hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get your car out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll owe you breakfast, or at least coffee, when we’re done.”

He gave her a melting grin. “You’re on,” he said.

*

Once the keys were found, the job of getting the car back on the road went without a hitch. The engine was cold, but it started after a couple of tries. With the help of the pickup and tow chain, the compact Toyota, with Megan inside to steer and add extra power, inched forward out of the ditch, up the embankment, and back onto the shoulder of the highway.

Behind the wheel of the pickup, Conner breathed a sigh of relief. When the keys had vanished, he’d begun to fear that the whole morning would go sour. But Megan’s car was all right, and she owed him coffee. With luck, she would agree to be his dinner date at Maggie’s place.

Shutting down the truck, he climbed out and trotted back to her car to unhook the tow chain. At his approach, she rolled down her window. “Thanks,” she said. “I owe you big-time.”

“What you owe me is coffee,” Conner said. “And the best coffee in town is at the Branding Iron Bed and Breakfast. It’s just off Main Street. Have you been there?”

“No, but it sounds fine. I can follow you there.”

“You could. Or I could take you with me and bring you back to your car.” He gave her his most enticing smile. “The truck is nice and warm.”

“You talked me into it. I’m freezing. But will my car be all right here?”