Cowboys, Cowboys, Cowboys

by D'Ann Lindun

  He reeled in the fish and killed it with one fast crack of its head on a rock. Using a sharp edge of the plate from inside the cell phone, he gutted and cleaned it.

  When he figured out a way to carry and boil water, they would be in pretty good shape.

  He hoped like hell what he’d said to Teagan was true—that the press wouldn’t let the authorities rest until they were found. Until then, Gage could keep them both alive.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Teagan stared at Gage. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s going to be a cold night. Maybe even snow. Wet clothes won’t be a good thing. You don’t want hypothermia. Maybe there’s something in the suitcase you can wear.”

  “You’re wet, too,” she pointed out.

  “I’m going to take my own advice and strip down in a minute.” He placed a fish over the flames, using two green tree limbs to hold up the trout. “But first, I need to gather enough wood to last us through the night.”

  After he walked into the gathering darkness, Teagan hurriedly rummaged through the suitcase and found several pairs of yoga pants and socks. She glanced around before standing and peeling off her jeans and boots. Her legs were mottled from the cold and her toes looked like chunks of ice. She slipped into a pair of the stretchy pants, grateful for the warmth, although they were several sizes too big. She tugged on two pairs of socks. Her toes instantly felt better.

  Taking a cue from Gage, she stuck sticks in the ground and draped her coat and clothes close to the fire. For the first time since the crash, she felt warm. The scent of the cooking trout filled her nostrils, and although she didn’t eat meat, the aroma comforted her somehow.

  Her gaze roamed to the choppy lake. Were her friends at the bottom of that icy grave? Sweet Brooklyn, so grown up at just sixteen. Her mother, Katherine. Marty, the makeup artist who’d been Teagan’s confidante for years. Jackson, world-renown photographer. The pilot with his friendly smile.

  All dead?

  Her stomach clenched and she fought the bile rushing up her throat. She put her head between her knees and breathed deep.

  Gage dropped an enormous tree limb on the ground and she jumped. “You okay?”

  Lifting her head, she nodded and wiped her cheeks with her sleeves. “Physically, I’m fine. Mentally...another story.”

  “I know it’s rough. But you’re going to make it.”

  He stripped out of his shirt, his abs rippling in the firelight. She swallowed hard. Dang, the man was ripped. He sat on the ground and kicked off his boots. When he stood and reached for his big belt buckle, her gaze locked on his hands. Why, she wasn’t sure. In the modeling world, stripping backstage at catwalks was as natural as breathing.

  They weren’t backstage.

  He was a stranger and they were alone in the wilderness.

  She blinked and looked into the flames as he stepped out of his jeans. “There are yoga pants in Katherine’s bag. You’ll swim in them, but they’re better than nothing.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him hang his clothes from sticks near the fire and push both their boots close to the flames. When he bent to retrieve Katherine’s clothing, she stole a look at him. His smooth back and long, muscled legs made her stomach do a flip. He stepped into one of the borrowed T-shirts and yoga pants and turned around in time to catch her staring.

  Their gazes clashed and held.

  He grinned. “A little big.” Sticking out a leg, he added, “And a little short.”

  “Uh-huh.” She motioned to her own borrowed clothing. “Me, too. But I’m warm.” Partly from staring at your fine ass.

  He pulled on a pair of Katherine’s socks. “Ah, much better.”

  “Warm toes do a lot for morale,” she said.

  “They do. So does a hot meal.” Gage knelt, and using the same two twigs from before, retrieved his fish from the fire. He laid it on a large leaf that had a funny smell.

  She wrinkled her nose. “That stuff stinks.”

  “It’s Skunk Cabbage. It’s used in some medicines, but I don’t want to eat it. Not when I have this good lookin’ trout.” He peeled the skin back, exposing bright orange flesh. “Now this smells good.”

  Teagan’s stomach turned. “Ugh.”

  “More for me.” He picked off a piece of meat and ate it. “Perfect. You better eat some. You’re going to need your strength if we’re going to walk out of here.”

  “I’m fine. The nuts filled me up.”

  He ate more fish. “You weren’t kidding about living on lettuce leaves, huh?”

  “I eat plenty,” she said. “Just not meat, or dairy.” She licked her dry lips. “I’m thirsty, though.”

  “We may have to drink from that stream if worse comes to worst,” he said. “Can you hold on until morning?”

  “Yes.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “When you and I didn’t show at our respective camps, I’m sure they sent someone for us.”

  Gage pointed at the leaden, nearly black sky. “Look.”

  When she tilted her nose up, a snowflake landed on her eyelashes. “It’s snowing.”

  “Yup.” He sounded grim. “We have to get out of here. Come first light we need to be hoofing it down this mountain.”

  “Which direction?”

  “Follow a creek downstream. It will no doubt come out at a river, which will eventually lead us to somebody.” He seemed confident in his plan.

  “If we leave, the rescue party won’t know where to look,” she said.

  “If we stay, we could be snowed in. We have to get to a lower elevation.” He wrapped the fish bones in the cabbage leaf. “I need to toss this, so it doesn’t bring in a bear, or your wolverine friend.” He carried it away, returning shortly.

  “How do you know all this survival stuff?” She picked up a pebble and tossed it.

  He shrugged. “I grew up hunting and fishing back home. It’s just stuck, I guess.”

  “Gage?” Her voice shook a little. “Do you remember how you got out?”

  His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “No. The last thing I remember is you grabbing my hand.”

  A shudder ripped through her as the events of the wreck played in her head. “We started tipping toward the water. When the wing hit, we flipped. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  “I’m sure you hit your head on something. You have two black eyes and your forehead is bruised.” He dropped his gaze to her hand. “How are your fingers?”

  “They hurt,” she said. “But I have too many other things on my mind to worry about them. Like if any of my friends made it out alive.”

  “I think being by the door saved you and me,” he said. “Although that goes against common sense.”

  “I just wish I knew for sure.” She drew a shaky breath. “It’s horrible not knowing.”

  “You can’t dwell on them. You have to concentrate on yourself. I’ll do everything I can to get us out of this, but you have to be strong, too.”

  She played with her sleeve, then lifted her gaze. “I will.”

  He abruptly changed the subject. “Is your coat getting dry?”

  She touched the wool fabric. “No.”

  “My clothes are. See?” Steam rose from his jeans and shirts.

  Guilt gripped her. God, he had been freezing while she huddled in his coat. She reached for the zipper. “You need your jacket.”

  “Keep it,” he said. “You need the warmth. I don’t right now.”

  Her hands froze on the zipper. Unused to men who showed any kind of chivalry, his demand startled her. “Okay.”

  “There should be gloves in the pocket, too,” he said. “Put them on.”

  “I have some of my own.” She reached for her coat and dug in the pocket. Had it only been a few short hours ago that she’d stowed her suede gloves there? She pulled them out and spread them on the ground near the fire. “Yuk, they’re sopping.”

  “Wear mine,” Gage insisted. “You don�
�t need frostbite.”

  “Neither do you.” She retrieved a pair of gloves from his coat pocket. Made of the same waterproof material as his coat, they were dry. She pulled one over her uninjured hand, but there was no way to get them over her splinted fingers. She handed it to him. “I can’t wear this.”

  He hesitated, then took it. “Okay. Keep that hurt hand warm.”

  “I will.” She tucked it in his coat pocket. Relatively warm, dry and safe, Teagan actually began to feel a little sleepy. She covered a yawn with her hand. “Sorry.”

  “Go ahead and rest,” Gage said. “I’ll keep the fire going.”

  “We can take turns.” Teagan didn’t have a clue how to keep a fire going, but Gage had done so much. If not for him, she’d either be at the bottom of the lake, or frozen to death.

  “I got it.” He held his palms over the heat.

  Her gaze lingered on his big, man-hands. Capable. Strong. Sexy. She blinked as if coming out of a trance. “I am exhausted, but I don’t think I can sleep.”

  “Let’s move under the tent,” Gage suggested as a sudden flurry of snowflakes descended upon them. He grabbed their clothes and hung them at the back of the little refuge.

  She scooted over so she was under the T-shirt and tree branches. Gage moved beside her, his shoulder and thigh brushing hers. With the fire directly in front of them, or maybe Gage’s big body so near, she felt several degrees warmer. “I wouldn’t have believed a few T-shirts could make such a difference in the temperature.”

  “They cut the wind a little bit,” Gage said.

  Teagan giggled, on the brink of hysteria.

  Gage grinned, the harsh planes of his face softening a little. Then he sobered. “Stretch out and I’ll cover you with the rest of the clothes.”

  She complied and he piled Katherine’s khaki pants on top of her legs. “Just pretend this is a sleeping bag big enough for two.”

  She shivered and it had nothing to do with the rising wind or the icy, uneven ground underneath the flimsy shirts. “Thank you, Gage.”

  “Get some rest.”

  ~*~

  When a soft snore came from Teagan a short time later, Gage relaxed.

  So far the city girl had held up better than he’d ever expected. Like one of his highly-bred horses in the forest, she was out of her element. He still couldn’t believe she had made it out of the wreck alive and survived a bitterly cold mountain lake.

  Just recalling the frigid water made him shiver. He pushed the tree limb onto the flames and held his hands over them. He wasn’t cold, in spite of giving up his coat. The dry clothes made all the difference. If anyone saw him in a T-shirt two sizes too big and too-short yoga pants, they’d laugh themselves silly.

  They could get their jollies. He was alive and warm with the gnawing in his stomach abated for a while. He’d reset the fishing line and hopefully there’d be another trout on it in the morning. Maybe Teagan would come to her senses and eat some fish. Pine nuts were fine for a chipmunk to snack on, but they weren’t nutritious enough to sustain a human for a long hike.

  Soft snowflakes began to settle around them, and under different circumstances Gage would have enjoyed the hell out of the solitude. Now, his stomach knotted with fear. Not so much for himself, but for Teagan. Getting her out of this situation was going to take every ounce of wits he had.

  He racked his brain, trying to remember all he knew about survival.

  He had his doubts search planes could spot them in the dense forest. With the storm, rescuers wouldn’t be able to lift off, and even if they did, the cloud cover would obscure the campfire smoke.

  He wasn’t sure if there was a black box on the plane or not. If there was, it would make all the difference. It would pinpoint the plane’s location.

  As hard as he tried, Gage couldn’t remember how long the battery lasted. A week? Month? Hours? He just couldn’t recall.

  Inevitably exhaustion set in and Gage fought sleep. He feared the fire dying while he was out, but finally decided to risk a catnap.

  He banked the fire with a big chunk of the tree trunk. After it caught on with a good blaze, he lay on his side with his back to the flames, and tugged the empty suitcase over both their heads and shoulders like a blanket. The ground underneath him felt like a chunk of ice and a rock under his ribs poked him in a particularly unpleasant way. What he wouldn’t give for his top-of-the-line sleeping bag, made to withstand arctic temperatures, and the piece of foam rubber he had specially cut to go underneath.

  The fire snapped and crackled.

  The wind picked up, blowing snow sideways.

  The only thing that made the situation bearable was Teagan’s slender frame tight against his body. He hadn’t planned to press against her, but the temptation to share body heat was too great and he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She sighed, and for a minute he feared that he’d woken her, but she relaxed against him. With the fire at his back, and the woman in his arms, Gage’s tight muscles gradually unwound and the howling wind soothed instead of irritated.

  His eyes drifted shut.

  Maybe minutes, or maybe hours later, a wolf howled.

  Teagan jerked in his arms, thrashed and shoved the suitcase off their heads. She sat up and looked around with a terrified look. “What was that?”

  “A wolf,” Gage mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Sleep? With dangerous predators wanting to snack on us? You must be crazy.”

  The wolf sang again.

  In a few seconds, his family joined in for the chorus.

  “Oh my God,” Teagan whispered. “That is so scary.”

  “They won’t bother us,” Gage said. “They’re not close. They’re afraid of us, especially with the fire. Come on, lay down.”

  With another look around, as if she expected a wolf to barge in on them at any second, she lay on the ground, facing him. “Did you have a suitcase over our heads?”

  “Yeah. To help keep in heat.”

  “I was actually warm,” she said. “Were you holding me?”

  “Until you scared the daylights out of me.” He reached for the suitcase. “I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”

  Only the sound of their combined breathing filled the dark. Gage realized the wind had died down and the temperature had risen.

  He feared the worst—that it could only mean one thing—snow piling up, insulating them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Teagan woke feeling as if she’d been hit by a train…or survived a plane wreck. Her neck ached and her body felt like one big bruise. She winced at the smallest movement. The only saving grace was Gage’s big body pressed against hers. Not only did he offer warmth, his presence comforted her.

  The wolves had howled all night. If she’d been alone, she would have lost her mind. Scratch that. She would have died, frozen to death on her own. Never in a million years would she have known how to build a fire or catch a fish.

  “Quit wiggling,” Gage said near her ear. His husky morning voice gave her a tingle down low.

  “I’m not. I’m too sore to budge.”

  “As much as I’d like to offer a full body massage, the best medicine for both of us is to get up and move.” He shoved the suitcase off their heads.

  Prepared for bright light, Teagan squeezed her eyes closed. In a moment, she forced them open. She faced the back wall and their clothes hanging on sticks, but she sensed the world outside was gray and dreary.

  Gage pulled away from her and a blast of cold air hit her butt and legs. “Brrr. I’m freezing.”

  “I’ll get the fire going in a minute.” Gage tucked the pile of pants over her legs. “Just stay put until it warms up a little.”

  Rolling over so she faced the opening, Teagan gasped. Although Gage’s big body blocked the opening, she saw enough. The world had turned white as a winter wonderland. Snow covered everything. Their hut. Trees, the ground.

  Gage added a few sticks to
the glowing embers until hungry flames licked up the log. He stretched his palms over the warmth. “That feels good.”

  Guilt gripped her. She had slept in relative comfort while he’d been without any kind of coat or blanket. He must have gotten up several times during the night to keep the fire going while she slept. When had she gotten so used to letting others do for her that she’d turned into someone so self-absorbed?

  “How much snow is out there?”

  He hesitated a moment. “A bit.”

  From her vantage point, it looked like a hell of a lot more than a bit. He was trying to protect her again. Unused to a man like him, she didn’t know how to take his actions. Was he trying to gain something? If so, what? She shook her head. Damn. She must have hit her head really hard to be so suspicious of someone who had done nothing but be kind. He didn’t want anything. In fact, he’d thrown her offer of an ad campaign back in her face.

  This wasn’t New York, and not everyone had an agenda.

  Gage broke into her thoughts. “Could you hand me my clothes?”

  “Of course.” She passed him his shirt, jeans and boots. Although tempted to watch him dress, she averted her eyes while he held his clothes over the fire for a few moments, then slipped into them.

  He stomped his feet, presumably to warm his toes in his boots. “If you’ll hand me your stuff, I’ll heat them.”

  She snapped her head his direction. Although he had a five o’clock shadow, back in his own clothing he was sexy as hell. For a moment, she forgot what he’d asked for. “Oh, right. Here.”

  He toasted her clothes, then handed them to her. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. I’m going to walk down the shore and see if anything washed up. Don’t go into the forest without me.”

  She shuddered, thinking about the wolverine. “Not a problem. Please be careful.”

  “I won’t go far,” he promised. “Be right back.”

  He turned away.

  “Wait,” she called.

  “What?”

  “Take your coat.” She shrugged out of it. “Mine should be dry by now.”