My Lucky Stars by Michele Paige Holmes Page B

I’d just wanted land, I could have stayed in Richfield and taken over my parents’ place.”
    “Why didn’t you?” Tara asked. “Not enough room for pigs?”
    “Not enough room for me,” Ben said then instantly looked as if he wished he could take that statement back.
    Ahh. Now we’re getting somewhere. “You and who else?” Tara asked.
    “I don’t want to talk about this.” Ben reached for the key and turned the truck on again.
    Kudos to you for not lying and saying, “No one else.”
    “Dallin,” she guessed.
    “Give the whole Dallin thing a rest, okay?”
    “Sorry,” she muttered then turned and looked out her window, feeling a little of the apology she’d just given. It had been kind of fun talking with Ben.
    Wish I hadn’t ruined it.
    * * *
    “Tara.” Ben gently shook her shoulder.
    She rubbed her eyes and sat up, coming out of a surprising dream where she and Ben weren’t fighting but were—
    She glanced at his hand on her shoulder. “I fell asleep again? Where are we?”
    “Same spot we were twenty-five minutes ago.” He pulled his hand away. “I’m going to take Sam up to his mom and walk a little farther to see what I can find out.”
    “Okay.” If you see anyone with a motor home . . . she almost added. Wasn’t that what people always did in the movies when they needed a bathroom?
    Ben bundled Sam up and left the truck. “Lock the doors behind me, okay?”
    She nodded, touched that he thought enough of her to give her safety advice. He probably would have told anyone the same thing. She needed to let go of the dream she’d been having. But he didn’t tell anyone, he told me. And it was nice.
    Her fingers rested on her shoulder where his hand had been. Don’t go there , she warned herself, but found it impossible not to—for a minute or two, anyway. Out here in the snow-covered Rocky Mountains, a guy in a plaid flannel shirt seemed just about perfect. It had been a nice dream.
    When Ben disappeared from view, Tara did what she’d wanted to all morning, since his confession about having Sinatra on his iPod. She was dying to know what else he listened to and took the opportunity to find out, reaching for the iPod on the dashboard. She began scanning through songs, many of which she’d never heard before. A lot of Ben’s music seemed to be from another era, and while it wasn’t unpleasant, it also wasn’t what she’d imagine a man in his thirties would listen to. After about fifteen minutes and twice that many songs, she turned it off and went back to worrying about finding a bathroom.
    Though it was only about twelve thirty, the sky was beginning to darken. They were in a pass, with steep mountains rising up around them, blocking much of the sunlight that was probably out there. The feeling of darkness coming on only intensified her need for a bathroom.
    “This is ridiculous,” she told herself. “You’re thirty-four years old. You can hold it.”
    Her little pep talk did absolutely no good. Tara slunk down in her seat, true misery starting to sink in as quickly as the windows were fogging up. She rubbed the one closest to her with the sleeve of her sweater, knowing now was not a good time for her claustrophobia to kick in.
    Still Ben didn’t return. The truck was getting cold now, so she reached over and turned the key, bringing the engine to life. She rubbed her hands briskly in front of the heater vents, willing the air to get hot, hoping that once she was warm again, her need for a bathroom would subside a bit.
    The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. At last, when she thought she might die of boredom or a full bladder, Ben came into view. He had something in his arms, and he was stopping at each car, handing whatever it was to the drivers. When he neared the truck, she leaned over in his seat, unlocking the door. He pulled it open and climbed inside.
    “No kids?” Tara asked, feeling grateful she didn’t have to deal with whining or crying right