Chapter 3

“There it is,” Sabrina exclaimed, pointing at the bright neon sign.

Michael pulled the SUV into the small rig parking area beside the motel. The rain was still coming down in sheets as they rushed toward the entrance—but a passing car sent a wave of water and mud splashing over them.

Sabrina stumbled backward and crashed into Michael, who instinctively reached out for Emma. All three of them went down into a puddle in a tangled heap.

Michael scrambled up quickly, hooked his hands under Emma’s arms, and hoisted her to her feet. Then he did the same for Sabrina. He waited until she was steady on her feet, then quickly let go and stepped away.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her voice a breathless growl as she straightened. “I hate high heels.”

Michael was about to offer his suit jacket for her to wipe her hands, but she’d already found a small dry patch on the front of her skirt and was using it instead.

She wobbled slightly again, and Michael reached out to steady her, but she waved him off and managed to stay upright.

Then, without warning, she bent down, grabbed the hem of her dress, found a side seam, and began to rip it apart. She tore it all the way up, well past her knees, then quickly ripped sideways, removing the bottom three-quarters of the skirt all the way around. What remained was a dress that barely reached mid-thigh.

“It was ruined anyway,” she said, straightening and tossing the torn fabric into a nearby trash can. She added wryly, “It’s a bit short, but I can move more easily now.”

“Yes,” Michael said, a little too distractedly.

The skirt now ended right where her stockings began. The caramel netting hugged what looked to him like an endless expanse of leg—long, toned, yet undeniably feminine, tapering down to dainty ankles.

“The woman is all legs,” he thought. And damn fine ones, too.

“I guess we should get moving,” Sabrina said.

“Yes. I guess,” he echoed, a bit dazed.

Inside the motel, a tired-looking, bottle-blonde clerk stood behind the desk.

“We’d like a suite, please,” Michael said, placing his credit card on the counter.

The woman tapped at her keyboard, pulled two keycards from a drawer, swiped them through a machine, slid them into a cardboard holder, scribbled the room number, and handed them over—all without lifting her eyes.

Michael took the cards and led them toward the elevators.

The suite consisted of two standard rooms connected by a central living/dining area. At one end stood a small dining table and chairs; at the other, a couch, armchair, and television. It wasn’t luxurious, but it would serve its purpose.

“It’ll do,” Michael decided aloud.

“I get this room,” Emma declared, peeking into the bedroom on the right. Then she turned with a mischievous smirk. “So ... who’s taking the couch?”

“Nice try, smarty-pants,” Michael said, tossing the packet of keycards onto the table. “You and Sabrina get that room. I’ll take the other.”

“No way. I’m not sharing a bed with her! She probably snores.”

Sabrina laughed. “It won’t be that bad. I can braid your hair and we’ll gossip like teenagers. My sister Maggie love when I do that.”

“Fine. I’m taking a bath. A long one. You both stink.”

With that charming farewell, Emma stomped into the bathroom and shut the door.

Michael shook his head, then turned to Sabrina. “You can use my bathroom.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very patient with her,” Michael remarked.

“I’m a patient woman. I used to be a lot like her,” Sabrina said with a grin. “My biological father left my mother when I was a baby—or rather, she left him after he hit her. Then she met Paul, who adopted me. He’s the only father I’ve ever known. He’s an amazing dad and an even better person.”

Michael found himself relaxing, even smiling back.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she added, “but I think you should talk to Emma.”

“Talk to her?” he repeated, visibly uncomfortable. “About what?”

“About what she’s been through,” she said gently. “Aside from your sister, you’re probably the one person who could help her most.”

“Me?” he squeaked, stunned. “Why me?”

“Because you lost a brother and sister-in-law,” she said quietly. “If anyone understands what Emma’s feeling, it’s you.”

Michael felt his chest tighten. It was like a vise clamping around him. The loss of his brother was something he kept buried, deep and untouched.

“She’ll never see her parents again,” Sabrina continued. “She’ll never feel their love or support again.”