Hell on Wheels: A Loveswept Classic Romance (21 page)

But, of course, she had no way of knowing what a departure from the norm that had been.

Now the question was, could he set things right again? Or was it possible that Victoria would never believe in his sincere desire to have a future with her, a long future? A forever kind of future?

“Are you really okay?” the little boy asked in a small voice.

“Sure. Just a little bump on the head.” He rubbed the back of his throbbing head again, gingerly probing the knot that had formed. “How ’bout you? I didn’t hurt you when I fell on you, did I?”

The boy inspected a minor scrape on his elbow.
“I’m okay. I’m really sorry, Mr. Roan. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. It’s just that I never seen a t’nado before.”

He wanted to let the kid off the hook. In the boy, Roan saw himself at that age, always getting into trouble, climbing things he shouldn’t, taking chances, sometimes getting hurt in the process, though never seriously. But he gritted his teeth and said what needed to be said.

“You disobeyed your teacher, and you could have easily been killed. Not only that, you could have gotten someone else killed, namely me. And trust me, that’s something you don’t want on your conscience the rest of your life.”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “Okay. I won’t do it again, I promise. Next time Miss Debbie or Miss Martha tells me to go somewhere, I’ll go.”

That was good enough for Roan. The kid would probably catch hell from his teachers anyway. He ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “All right. Think you could tell me where to find some ice, and maybe a couple of aspirin? I’ve got a heckuva headache.”

The kid smiled up at Roan with a look of pure adoration. “Sure, no problem.” He grabbed Roan’s hand, and they headed back to the church.

When Roan limped into the church, he was immediately surrounded by the children and the two teachers, who lavished attention on him. Was he hurt? Did he need to sit down? What was it like out in the tornado?

Victoria couldn’t stomach it, so she went outside through a side door. No wonder Roan was such a daredevil, if that was the kind of treatment he was used to. He got a lot of positive reinforcement for his death-defying nonsense.

Well, not from her.

The cars in the parking lot were a sorry sight, pocked by hail, windows broken. Victoria had seen worse. She’d once seen a tornado pick up a truck and hurl it several hundred feet. But that still didn’t prepare her for the sight of the Chasemobile—which was not exactly where Roan had parked it.

She walked around what was left of Amos’s cherished van. How in the world was she going to explain this? One side of the vehicle was completely caved in, the window glass shattered. The computer and printer had obviously been tossed around like dice in a cup. They lay smashed and useless in a back corner of the van. And everything that wasn’t smashed was soaking wet.

Amos was going to kill her!

She sighed. Amos would do no such thing. His only concern would be for the safety of the van’s occupants. But it was easier to worry about Amos than to think about Roan.

“Ma’am?”

Victoria turned. It was the birthday boy again. “What are you doing out here?”

“I have to tell ya something.”

Although she wasn’t in the mood for little boys’ games, she forced herself to be patient. “Yes, what is it?”

“It’s about Mr. Roan.” The boy lowered his voice to a reverent whisper. “He saved my life.”

“Now, how do you figure that?” she asked. If this was some trick, some feeble attempt by Roan to get back into her good graces, it was going to backfire—big-time. He might think himself a big, brave, macho kind of guy, but to have a cute little boy plead his case for him was worse than cowardly.

“When you said there was a t’nado coming, I ran and hid behind a tree,” the boy explained earnestly. “I didn’t want to go in that old shelter. I wanted to stay outside and see the storm.”

Victoria felt a niggling doubt creep into her mind. The boy’s story had the ring of truth to it. And, come to think of it, she didn’t specifically remember ushering him into the shelter or hearing his voice in there. She didn’t remember Debbie or Martha speaking to him.

“But Mr. Roan saw where I’d hid, and he came to get me,” the boy continued. “But by then it was too late, and the t’nado was right there, and the trees were blowing all the way to the ground. Mr. Roan threw me down and fell on top of me. And then the tree fell on us, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just stayed there until it was all over.” He paused to wipe away tears with one grubby hand. “I thought Mr. Roan was dead ’cause he didn’t move. So I crawled out, and that’s when I came to get you.”

Victoria was stunned to silence. She would never in a million years have guessed the true story behind the risk Roan had taken. To stand out in a tornado because he
wanted to take pictures was one thing. But to try and save a little boy’s life …!

“Are you mad at me?” the repentant child asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

She leaned down and gave him a hug. “No, honey, I’m not mad. Thank you for telling me.”

“Are you mad at Mr. Roan?”

She straightened, giving him one last pat on the shoulder. “No, I’m not mad at anyone.”

“Chris!” Debbie stood in the church doorway, her hands on her hips. “Christopher Walker, you get your … you get in here right now!”

“Yes, ma’am!” He took off at a run.

Victoria hugged herself. She’d really messed things up by automatically thinking the worst of Roan. How was she ever going to make it up to him?

She all but ran back to the church herself, eager to see him again, touch him, hold him, reassure herself that he was really all right. And then she was going to get him someplace private, and throw herself on his mercy.

Roan was surprised Victoria was able to start the van, much less that it went anywhere. They had said their good-byes to the church group. Fire trucks and other emergency vehicles were starting to flock to the area, apparently the hardest hit by the tornado. And that meant television news crews weren’t far behind. Roan, at least, wanted to get the heck out of there before the reporters arrived. He didn’t want any accolades for his
act of heroism. No one had to know what he’d done. There was only one person whose opinion mattered to him—and the jury was still out.

He had to face the fact that Victoria might never forgive him for staying outside in the storm, even if she understood why he’d done it. He’d risked his life for a noble cause, but he’d risked it all the same.

Victoria liked things predictably safe, and he wasn’t sure she could ever deal with someone like him on a long-term basis. True, she had helped him to put some things into perspective, but he would never be the kind of man who always played it safe.

“How’s your head feeling?” Victoria asked as she aimed the limping van out of the parking lot.

“Not bad.” Not as bad as his heart. “Victoria …”

“Roan …” she said at the same time. They both laughed self-consciously. “Roan,” she tried again. “Why didn’t you tell me why you were staying out in the storm? I could have helped you find Chris and bring him back to the shelter.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to panic Debbie and Martha by pointing out that he was missing, and I certainly didn’t want you outside with me. I knew right where he was hiding. All I had to do was run over, grab him, and bring him back. I wasn’t counting on getting knocked flat by a flying tree branch.”

“Then why didn’t you explain when I found you?”

“You didn’t exactly ask for explanations.”

Victoria was silent for a few moments. She bit her lip, apparently concentrating on her driving. They were
coming into the little town of Marshall, where Debbie had said there was a motel. “No, I didn’t ask you to explain. I thought I knew exactly what had happened. And I was so damned hurt and disappointed … well, maybe I wanted to hurt you back.”

“You succeeded,” he said simply.

She pulled into the first parking lot they came to, and just in time. The van’s engine stalled and died. She didn’t even try to start it again. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice clogged with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know if she was apologizing for hurting him, or for the fact that things weren’t going to work out between them. Either way, he couldn’t stand to see her so upset. He reached over and stroked her cheek. “Please don’t cry, Vic. I’m not worth it.”

Her eyes opened wide and the tears receded. “Not worth it? Not worth it? How can you say that? You risked your life to save a little boy. Roan Cullen, you’re the most—”

“Exasperating?”

“That too, but I was going to say you’re the most worthy man I know.”

“But not the man for you,” he concluded.

“Why do you say that?”

Roan took a deep breath. Could it be he was the one jumping to incorrect conclusions? “I just thought you’d probably decided you couldn’t handle me taking the risks I do, good reason or no.”

“That’s not at
all
what I decided.” She stared at him, long and hard, and then she took his hand. “But I did
reach some significant conclusions today. Do you want to know what they are?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“First, I learned that no matter how carefully you plan, life can still throw you a curve. And I’m not just talking about the weather.”

He nodded again, agreeing with her. “Go on. What else did you learn?”

“I learned to have more faith in the man I love.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Did you just say …”

“Oh, yeah, I skipped one. I learned that I’m deeply, irrevocably, in love with you, Roan Cullen. And I don’t have any idea whether you love me back, whether you even want anything to do with me after I was so ready to condemn you for something you didn’t do. But sometimes you have to take risks. So I’m taking one. Because I couldn’t stand another minute of not telling you how I feel.” She stared at him defiantly, waiting for him to respond. And looking like she expected to be shot down.

“Victoria.” He said it slowly, stretching out every syllable, because her name had become so dear to him, he hated to let it go. He pulled her close and kissed her, softly at first, then more insistently. He buried his face against her hair and, for a moment, just listened to their tandem breathing.

“I’ve learned a couple of things too,” he finally said. “Want to hear them?”

“Yes, very much,” she answered breathlessly.

“First off, I’m an adventurous man, and I’ll never be otherwise. Wait, wait, let me finish,” he said when she
started to object. “I like to travel, see new sights, experience new things. But there’s no thrill in the world—not volcanoes or hurricanes or skydiving, or even a mile-wide tornado flying right over me—that compares to the thrill of loving you.”

“Oh, Roan—”

“I do love you, Vic,” he said, unwilling to let her interrupt him. He had to get everything out in the open now. “And I want you in my life—now, next week, forever. If that means I have to take a nine-to-five job shooting video for a TV station or … or working at the Sears Portrait Studio, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to stay inside your comfort zone, I’ll do it. I don’t want to lose you. I want to marry you.”

Tears spilled out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Is that ‘yes’ crying, or ‘no’ crying?”

“Y-yes,” she managed to say. “But, Roan, I don’t want you to work at some boring nine-to-five job. You could never be happy, and I wouldn’t be happy knowing I’d caged you. I want you to continue your freelancing. It’s part of what makes you who you are, part of what made me fall in love with you.”

“Against your better judgment,” he added.

She laughed, hiccuped, brushed aside her tears with an impatient swipe.

“Regardless, I intend to scale down my exploits,” he said. “No more climbing into volcano craters, or jumping canyons with motorcycles—”

“Oh, dear God, please tell me you haven’t tried that too!”

He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “The point is, I won’t be doing it again. Because now I’ll have a reason to stay whole and healthy. I’ll have someone to come home to, maybe even a couple of someones. You want children?” He realized there were still a lot of things he didn’t know about Victoria. But he intended to have the adventure of his life learning about her.

“A house full of them,” she replied, leaning closer to kiss him again … and again.

“Mmm, perhaps we should continue this discussion elsewhere?” he suggested.

She sighed. “Only if I can get the van started again.”

He shook his head. “Not necessary. The Chasemobile died in a very opportune location.” He pointed out the window to the sign on the closest building:
THE DROP
-
IN MOTOR LODGE
. “Romantic, huh? And it even has cable TV.”

Victoria pulled reluctantly out of his embrace and heaved open her door, which now had a tendency to stick. “Roan, the last thing I want to do right now, and for quite some time, is to watch the Weather Channel.”

He grinned wickedly. “Me neither. I’ll do my own forecast. I predict some heated kisses and stormy lovemaking, followed by warm afterglow … and maybe a pizza in bed.”

Victoria blushed, but she didn’t contradict him.

The tow truck pulled into Amos’s driveway, dragging the crippled Chasemobile behind it. Roan had gotten the van started again, and it had lasted a couple of days, but it had finally given up for good just inside the Texas border.

“Oh, heaven help us, there he is,” Victoria said from the front seat of the tow truck, where she sat between Roan and the driver. Amos had just come out the front door onto the porch. Neither she nor Roan had worked up the nerve to tell Amos about his van when they’d talked to him on the phone. They’d decided to deliver the news in person, and to couple it with a piece of really good news, so Amos wouldn’t be so crushed.

They got out of the truck. Amos came toward them, silent, his expression betraying nothing. He walked all the way around the van as the tow truck driver unhitched it. Victoria groped for Roan’s hand, found it, squeezed it.