Miracle on I-40 by Curtiss Ann Matlock

security chain, as quietly as possible, and opening the door.
    “Hi,” she said, studying him intensely for signs of trouble. “Is there a problem? Has the weather worsened?”
    “Uh…not yet. But it could. I just thought I should tell you. It’s gonna sleet and it may get up a good ice storm in some places, they’re sayin’ now.”
    He gazed down at her, and she knew he had not stopped to talk about weather. She stepped out, he moved enough to let her, and she pulled the door closed behind her.
    “Kids asleep?” he asked.
    She nodded. “They were exhausted. They may sleep in the truck, but this is all a lot for them.” Folding her arms, she hugged herself against the bitter wind.
    Cooper moved over to shield her with his body, an act that struck her deeply. She began to shiver and not all from the cold.
    Though she couldn’t clearly see his eyes or assess his expression because of the dim light on the porch, she felt the warmth of him. She told herself it was because he blocked the wind. She told herself he couldn’t be attracted to her, at the same time that she knew very well her was. And that she wanted him to be, wanted him in a way that she had not wanted a man in many years.
    “Look, Lacey,” he said, you’d arranged to ride back to Albuquerque with Pate. I’ll be goin’ back just like he would. You and the kids might as well come along.”
    Her mind was still back at hearing him say her name, at the way he drawled out the word. Finally she said, “Think you could stand the kids?”
    “Hey, it’s only for a few days.” He almost grinned.
    His eyes were very dark as he gazed at her, and his grin faded completely. The wind snatched at his thick hair, and the yellow glow of the porch light magnified the bruise around his eye. Lacey caught scents of cigarette smoke, leather, and faint cologne. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, then back up to her eyes again.
    “Here, take my coat,” he said in a husky voice. “Don’t want you to catch pneumonia.”
    She shook her head and protested, “Then you’ll be cold,” but he was already shrugging out of it.
    He slipped it around her with awkward motions, one hand still holding the Coke. The back of his hand caressed her neck, and she knew without doubt that he’d done it on purpose. Her breath caught in her throat.  His eyes were on her intently.
    He said, “The first time I saw you in Gerald’s place four years ago, I wanted to kiss you.”
    He seemed as amazed by his words as she was. His eyes were all over her face, and her heart was beating like running horses.
    She said, “The first time I saw you, I wanted to touch your cheek to see if you were as cold as you looked.”
    He shook his head and chuckled, looked away and back at her.
    “I didn’t want you to come on this trip.”
    “I could tell...just barely, but I could tell.”
    His teeth showed for an instant. Then, intensely, “Pate never said…is there anything between you and him?”
    She shook her head. “Not like you’re thinkin’. He’s a good friend.”
    He seemed to relax, to take a breath. “I haven’t meant to be an ass. I’m just not good with kids.”
    “It’s okay. I know we came as a big shock to you. You are, though—good with kids.” He looked skeptical, and she said, “You really are.”
    Again they gazed at each other. He got this rather ironic and fearful and hopeful grin. She raised her hand to touch his cheek. She felt the stubble of a beard on his warm skin.
    “You’re warm,” she whispered.
    His head came down, slowly, slowly, and his arms slipped around her, slowly, slowly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, not too very slowly but with a great sigh.
    Then he was kissing her. Hard and demanding, lips pressing and hearts pounding.
    When they at last broke apart, she said breathlessly, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed.”
    He gazed down at her with something of a puzzled expression. His chest was heaving, too. He