The Ranger's Passionate Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

like crazy, and I walked all the way across the road to talk to my new friend and she didn't even want to sit down with me." Mrs. Waite finished her list of complaints. She looked more satisfied than upset as looked at Kyara, clearly waiting for a response.
     
    Did she just decree that we're friends?
     
    "I'm ... sorry to hear that, Mrs. Waite?" Kyara ventured. The tiny woman nodded, her eyes twinkling.
     
    "As you should be," agreed Mrs. Waite. "It's terrible what happens to you as you get older. But It's Jan, dear, not Mrs. Waite. Call me Jan."
     
    She's super weird, but I think I might like her. She's clearly lonely. I can relate to that.
     
    "You should call me Kyara," said Kyara, smiling at this odd new-found friend.
     
    "I already do," announced Jan. "Now, if you could order men from a catalog, who would you order? I'd order George Clooney.”
     
    Her voice lowered even further in a conspiratorial way, as she finished.
     
    “I'd order two.”
     
    Jan rattled on, dragging Kyara with her into laughter.
     

 

     
    Three Tuesdays, four new friends , Kyara thought to herself. Well, five, if you can include him.
     
    The 'him' in question was, of course, Jason.
     
    At the moment he was standing next to a huge, growling pickup truck, guiding the driver with sweeping movements of his hands.
     
    Everyone near the truck was splattered with mud, but it looked like he’d gotten particularly hit. His hair looked like it might have escaped, but his chest and arms were plastered with it. It made his shirt cling to him, emphasizing the hard lines of his body and well developed arms.
     
    Damn. No one should look like that outside of a commercial.
     
    Just then, Jason gave the signal, and the truck roared. Its tires spun wildly as it strained against the chains coming out its back end. Mud again filled the air, and everyone around turned either to watch, or to scramble out of the way, depending on how close they were.
     
    After a minute, Jason made a “cut-it” motion to the driver. The noise and flying mud subsided.
     
    Kyara made her way over to Jason.
     
    Up close, he looked even better. What might have been flannel at some point now hugged him so closely Kyara could make out the individual curves of the muscles on his arms.
     
    “Give it up, Rich. That thing’s not moving anywhere. We’re gonna have to dig it out the hard way,” Jason was saying.
     
    "Jason?" Kyara called tentatively.
     
    He looked up at her, surprised. A single smudge of black mud ran adorably across his cheek.
     
    "Yes, Kyara?" he responded.
     
    "I don't know if it would help, but I have a lot of gravel back at the restaurant." Kyara hunched her shoulders. "I was thinking I'd put in a parking lot out back, but it hasn't really been necessary. Anyway, it's just sitting there."
     
    With a whoop, Jason scooped her up and spun them both around. Kyara settled back dizzily, acutely aware of just how low his hands had been.
     
    "That would be perfect," he exclaimed, then stopped. "Are you sure you can spare it? I mean, things might pick up for you come tourist season or something."
     
    Kyara sighed. "I doubt it," she said. "Besides, this path helps me out at much as anybody. It might as well go to a good cause."
     
    Jason smiled, his eyes sparkling.
     
    "You're a dream." he turned back to the pick-up. "Can you drive her back to get it, Rich? That way we could get it back here and in before it gets dark?"
     
    There was a long, stony silence from the cabin of the truck. Then wordlessly, Officer Marsh reached over, and opened the passenger side door.
     
    Kyara climbed in, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Ashley was staring knives at her, and Caitlin took the time to wink. Kyara wasn't thinking about Jason anymore, though.
     
    In the weeks she'd been coming out to the project, the officer had yet to speak to her directly.
     
    He'd talk around her, or even in her presence, but never to her.
     
    Not even once.
     
    The door of the truck