A Love Worth Waiting For. Jillian Hart

life and tepid air puffed out of the vents. Julie turned the heater on high. At least the engine hadn’t cooled off completely—she was thankful for that.

      Hailey’s tears echoed in the cab. Wrapped in two blankets, shivering in Noah’s strong arms, she looked small and vulnerable. But safe.

      Julie smoothed the girl’s tangled curls. “You’re going to be warm soon, I promise.”

      “Want my d-daddy.”

      “We’ll get you to him, I promise.” Julie tugged the cell phone from her purse and tried dialing. “With the luck I’ve been having, I should have known this wouldn’t work. It’s the storm. I’ve got to scrape the windshield—”

      She got out of the truck and slammed the door shut, not needing his instruction. Cold had settled like pain in her midsection and, being wet to the skin, she actually couldn’t get much colder. As she dug the scraper into the stubborn frozen mess on her windshield, she fought the driving ice with each swipe. Her hands were numb and she kept working until she’d pried the windshield wipers free.

      The truck was mildly warm, but she couldn’t feel the heat or her feet as she pushed in the clutch. “Hailey, how are you doing?”

      “Still want my d-daddy.”

      “We’ll find him for you, don’t you worry.” With a prayer on her lips, Julie backed onto the road. She couldn’t see much, but there were no headlights coming her way.

      Everything she’d fretted over and worried about today was insignificant now as she clenched her teeth to keep them from rattling. She wrapped her numb fingers around the steering wheel and peered through the veil of white hiding the road from her sight.

      All that mattered was getting Hailey home.

      Over the rasp of the wipers on the windshield and the whir of the heater, Noah’s low, melted-chocolate voice seemed to drive away the fury of the storm. He was talking to Hailey, assuring her that her horse would be all right, and asking her questions about the animal. What was his name? How old was he? Was he a good horse?

      Hailey answered quietly in a trembling voice. As the minutes passed and warmth filled the cab, the girl stopped shaking and climbed onto the seat between them. She told how she’d been racing Bandit for home to beat the lightning, but he got real scared.

      Out of the corner of her eye, Julie couldn’t help watching the big man who seemed to fill up half the cab. He had to be well over six foot, by the way his knees were bent to keep from hitting the glove box. It had been something how he’d taken care of Hailey.

      “I had a pony once, too,” Noah told the girl. “I rode him to play polo.”

      “Polo?” Julie had to question him on that. “No respectable Montanan plays polo. Rides broncos, maybe, ropes calf, definitely. But polo?”

      “I was only a kid at the time, so don’t hold it against me. Now I like baseball. Do Montanans like baseball?”

      “What kind of question is that?” She nodded toward the minor league cap on the dash. “Okay, so I won’t toss you out on your ear, but only if you never mention polo again.”

      “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Renton.” He winked at her.

      With his hair wet and slicked away from his face, and his jacket clinging to every contour of his remarkable chest, he looked like a dream come true.

      He’s trouble, Julie. Big-time, one-hundred-percent trouble. A sensible woman would keep the Continental Divide between them—and that’s exactly what she was going to do.

      As soon as she got Hailey home.

      Heaven was kind to her, because she spotted the Coreys’ driveway and eased off the road. The tires churned up the steep lane. No sooner had she slid to a stop in front of the carport, there was Mrs. Corey, arms outstretched, taking Hailey from Noah’s arms.

      “I can’t believe you found her. Praise be, Julie, you’re a lifesaver.”

      “Not me. I just did the driving.” Julie gestured toward the strong man, holding the back door open for Mrs. Corey. “Noah here is the hero. He saw Hailey fall from her horse and stopped to help.”

      “No! Say you didn’t.” Mrs. Corey paled as she set Hailey down on the chair in front of the pellet stove and turned to stare at the handsome stranger. “Aren’t you Noah? Of course, I’ve heard of you. Goodness, won’t this be a story to tell. Hailey, my girl, you’re hurt.”

      Noah knelt down, carefully taking the wet blankets. “We splinted her arm just to be safe. She should see a doctor.”

      “I’ll call my nephew. He’s a medical doctor and he’s out looking for this little one, right along with the others. I’ve got to run and get hot water started. Julie, be a dear and call them on the radio.”

      “Sure thing. I’ll send someone after Hailey’s horse, too.” As she left the room, she smoothed wet locks of hair out of her face and tucked them behind her ear.

      A graceful gesture, and Noah couldn’t look away as she crossed the room. Her jeans and sweatshirt were baggy and stained with mud from the creek.

      She was no fashion statement, but there was something that made him look and keep looking. She was simply beautiful. Not made up or artificial, but genuine.

      “Miss Renton’s awful nice,” Hailey whispered to him while they were alone. “She got a broken heart.”

      “A broken heart?”

      “Cuz she had to give the ring back. A really pretty one. It sparkled and everything.”

      Hmm. A broken engagement, huh? Noah couldn’t help turning his attention to Julie. She stood in the kitchen, visible above the countertops, where she was signing off on a handheld radio.

      “Mrs. Corey, do you mind if I borrow your phone?” she called down the hall. “I’ve got to get a hold of Pastor Bill. I’m guessing that the party is canceled.”

      “What? You can’t let the storm get in the way of an important celebration.” Mrs. Corey marched into view, with a warm blanket outstretched. “Look, the snow’s already stopping.”

      Julie Renton. Noah thought about that. She had to be related to Harold Renton, the man he’d met today. The man ready to marry his grandmother and her money.

      “I’ve got a bath running.” Mrs. Corey tapped into the room and scooped Hailey from the warm chair. “We’ll warm you up and get you into some clean clothes, and by that time the doctor will be here. Thank you again, Mr. Ashton.”

      “No problem, ma’am.” He straightened. “Just make sure Hailey’s going to be all right.”

      “She will be. Thanks to you and Julie.”

      Julie appeared, frowning. “Pastor Bill has promised to clear the walkways right away. I guess the party is still on.”

      “We’ll try to make it, dear. You drive safely now, and thanks again.” Mrs. Corey gave her a hug and, carrying Hailey deeper into the house, disappeared from sight.

      “Did I hear her right?” Julie asked the minute they were in the truck. “Did she call you ‘Mr. Ashton’?”

      “Some people have been known to do that.”

      “Why?”

      “Because it’s my name.”

      The gleam of the dash lights showed the shock on her face. “You’re Nora’s grandson, the billionaire.”

      “True.”

      “James Noah Ashton the Third.” She closed her mouth and put the truck into reverse. “What should have been my first clue? That you know how to play polo?”

      “You’re Harold’s granddaughter, the one he kept calling his angel.”

      “I’m