Wed in Wyoming

May"I still think you're insane." Since Angeline had last seen Brody Paine almost six months ago, he'd grown a scruffy brown beard that didn't quite mask the smile he gave at her pronouncement. His sandybrown hair hung thick and long around his ears, clearly in desperate need of a cut, and along with that beard, he looked vaguely piratical. "Seems like you're always telling me that, babe." Angeline lifted her eyebrows pointedly. They were sitting in a Jeep that was currently stuck lug nut deep in Venezuelan mud. "Take a clue from the theme," she suggested, raising her voice to be heard above the pounding rain. As usual, he seemed to pay no heed of her opinion. Instead, he peered through the rainwashed windshield, drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. The vehicle itself looked as if it had been around about a half century. It no longer possessed such luxuries as doors, and the wind that had been carrying sheets of rain for each of the three days since Angeline had arrived in Venezuela kept up its momentum, throwing a stinging spray across her and Brody. The enormous weather system that was supposed to have veered away from land and calmly die out over the middle of the ocean hadn't behaved that way at all. Instead, it had squatted over them like some tormenting toad, bringing with it this incessant rain and wind. May might be too early for a hurricane, but Mother Nature didn't seem to care much for the official calendar. She huddled deeper in the seat. The hood of her khakicolored rain poncho hid most of her head, but she still felt soaked from head to toe. That's what she got for racing away from the camp in Puerto Grande the way she had. If she'd stopped to think longer, she might have at least brought along some warmer clothes to wear beneath the rain poncho. Instead, she'd given AllMed's team leader, Dr. Miguel Chavez, a hasty excuse that a friend in Caracas had an emergency, and off she'd gone with Brody in this miserable excuse of a vehicle. She knew they wouldn't expect her back anytime soon. Ingoodweather, Caracas was a day away. "The convent where the kids were left is up this road," he said, still drumming. If he was as uncomfortable with the conditions as she, he hid it well. "There's no other access to St. Agnes's. Unless a person was airlifted in. Andthatain't gonna happen in this weather." His head bounced a few times, as if he were mentally agreeing with whatever other insane thoughts were bouncing around inside. She angled her legs in the hard, ripped seat, turning her back against the driving rain. "If we walked, we could make it back to the camp at Puerto Grande before dark." Though dark was a subjective term, considering the oppressive clouds that hung over their heads. Since she'd turned twenty, she'd visited Venezuela with AllMed five times, but this was the worst weather she'd ever encountered. "Only way we're going is forward, sweetie." He sighed loud enough to be heard above the rain that was pounding on the roof of the vehicle. His jeans and rain poncho were caked with mud from his repeated attempts to dislodge the Jeep. "But the convent is stillmilesaway." They were much closer to the camp where she'd been stationed. "We could get some help from the team tomorrow. Work the Jeep free of the mud. They wouldn't have to know that we were trying to get up to St. Agnes instead of to Caracas." "Can't afford to waste that much time." She huffed out a breath and stared at the man. He truly gave new meaning to the word stubborn. She angled her back even farther against the blowing wind. Her knees brushed against the gearshift, and when she tried to avoid that, they brushed against his thigh. If that fact was even noticeable to him, he gave no indication whatsoever. So she left her knee right where it was, since the contact provided a nice lLeigh, Allison is the author of 'Wed in Wyoming ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373280810 and ISBN 0373280815.