The thought of returning to Minnesota and the jeers …
Never mind her father ….
Margo shivered and hugged her knees more tightly.
”Hell will freeze over first.”
”Hell will freeze over before what?”
Margo jumped nearly out of her skin. The voice had spoken almost in her ear. She swung around and found a face peering at her through the vines. A male face. A gorgeous male face. Margo’s personal-defense radar surged onto full-power alert. She’d had all she wanted of gorgeous men. But his winning smile was the friendliest thing she’d seen in two and a half days and after that miserable, gawdawful interview with Kit Carson …
”Hey, what’s wrong?” He’d noticed the tears. Whoever he was, he ducked under the vines and dug for a handkerchief. “Here, use mine.”
Margo eyed him suspiciously, then accepted the hanky. “Thanks.” She dried her face and blew her nose, then wadded up the handkerchief and offered it back.
”No, keep it. You look like you need it more than I do.” He sat down cross-legged on the floor. “You’re still a little drippy,” he added with an attempt at a laugh.
Margo grimaced and blotted her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m not normally so weepy. But it’s been a bad week.”
”What’s wrong? You look half starved.”
Margo sniffed. She was. “Well …it’s been a couple of days since I ate.”
”A couple of days? Good grief, what happened? Some con artist steal all your money?”
Margo laughed, surprising herself. “No. I didn’t have much to steal in the first place. And what there was, I’ve used up. All I have left is my suitcase and a hotel bill I can’t pay tonight”