Cowboys, Cowboys, Cowboys

by D'Ann Lindun

  She didn’t think he was going to accept it.

  Finally he reached for it. “You sure?”

  “Of course. I have one of my own.” She motioned toward her long trench coat. “Thank you for letting me wear yours.”

  “Anytime.” He slipped on the down coat and zipped it. “Back in a jiffy.”

  After he left, she pushed the pile of Katherine’s slacks off her legs and wiggled into her own jeans. Gage had been so thoughtful to warm them over the fire for her. He had to be the kindest man she’d ever met. The type a woman could fall hard for.

  Standing, bent at the waist, she slipped on her own shirt, then pulled Katherine’s larger one over it for extra warmth. If her skinny jeans hadn’t been too snug, she would have left the yoga pants on, too. The Michael Kors coat she’d purchased special for this trip at Neiman Marcus had shrunk. She could still squeeze into it, but the buttons strained, pulling tight when she fastened them. Her beautiful suede gloves, were a shrunken mess. Gage hadn’t asked for his glove back, but he needed it as much as or more than she did.

  She forced on her glove, and stuck the other one in her pocket, before pulling on her boots. Dry, but oh-so-tight. She forced them on and wiggled her cramped toes.

  With a sigh, she stepped outside.

  Blinking against the sudden glare of sun on snow, she looked around. What she wouldn’t do for her pair of expensive sunglasses laying at the bottom of the lake. The clouds had blown over, leaving behind a good six inches of white powder a skier would die for. Trees wore a white dusting that shimmered like glitter and the lake surface appeared sapphire blue under the sun’s morning rays. A lazy trail of smoke lifted from their campfire toward the heavens.

  A fairytale setting.

  If only there wasn’t such a dark reason for her to be here.

  Her stomach growled and she thought longingly of the bowl of fruit sitting on her counter back home. Pine nuts didn’t sound appetizing this morning. With a sigh, she placed two pine cones near the edge of the fire. She scooped up a handful of snow and ate it. The action only seemed to make her thirstier. Hopefully Gage had an idea of how to boil water. Her need was growing mighty.

  The cosmetics bag with all the goodies in it sat near the edge of the hut. Teagan brushed the snow off and opened it. With the small hairbrush, she tackled her tangled hair first, leaning her head sideways and brushing out the knots.

  Her face, hands and teeth felt gritty, so carrying the little bag of toiletries, she walked to the edge of the lake to clean up. The frigid water brought her fully awake and exactly aware of how much her body ached. Every muscle screamed and her fingers hurt more than they had yesterday.

  She swallowed a couple more dry Ibuprofen and licked her lips. So much water and no way to drink it. They might have to risk illness if they couldn’t figure out a way to purify it because she was dehydrating by the minute.

  On the way back toward their little camp she picked up a few pieces of driftwood. The pine cones she’d placed near the fire were steaming. Using two sticks like a pair of tongs, she lifted them off the fire and laid them on a flat rock.

  Gage walked toward her, carrying something. As he drew near, she saw he held up a gutted salmon and a bottle. He lifted both. “Breakfast.”

  Teagan avoided looking at the poor fish by focusing on the bottle. “What is it?”

  “Scotch.” He handed it to her. “Glenfiddich.”

  “Nice,” she said. “We can get drunk and forget all our troubles.”

  He chuckled, the sound sending a bolt of electricity straight to her lower stomach. “And afterward we can boil water in the bottle.”

  “In glass? It won’t explode?”

  “Nope.” He squatted and placed his fish over the flames.

  “Did you see—” She swallowed hard. “—anyone?”

  He looked up and met her troubled gaze. “No.”

  Unsure if that upset or relieved her more, she sat on one of the pieces of driftwood and picked at the label of the expensive Scotch. “Damn.” She stared at the calm, blue lake. “How far around the perimeter, do you think?”

  He shrugged. “A good day’s walk, at least. Why?”

  She studied the whiskey label as if she’d never seen one before. “I was thinking maybe we should search before leaving. What if someone is stranded or hurt on the other side and we left them? I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “I was thinking one more day here might not be a bad idea.” He gestured toward his sizzling salmon. “We have food, a shelter of sorts and there might be a black box on the plane leading rescuers to us as we speak.”

  “What changed your mind? You were determined to leave today.” She tipped a cooled pine cone upside down, tapped the bottom until the seeds fell in her palm, put them in her mouth and chewed.

  Pointing at her fashionable but impractical boots, he said, “Your footwear. I don’t think you’d make it from here to the lake without getting frostbite. Plus, I don’t think you’d last a day hiking these woods, living on pine nuts.”

  “I’m in excellent shape,” she protested. “And I eat nuts all the time. They’re a staple of my diet.”

  “You are in great shape,” he agreed readily. “But you’re going to find eating a few nuts isn’t going to sustain you for a hard day’s hike. When’s the last time you walked all day on uneven terrain? In the snow?”

  She opened her mouth to ask him the last time he’d navigated the mean streets of New York City, then snapped it shut. Not the same thing and she knew it. “Not lately.”

  As he had last night, he lifted his fish off the fire and onto the smelly Skunk Cabbage. Steam from the salmon rose in the cold air. He settled on a piece of driftwood. “Put on at least two pairs of socks, and if you can, put the pants you wore last night over your jeans. They’ll help keep you dry. There’s nothing worse than wet pants.”

  She could picture him making her pants very wet. At least her panties. Blinking away the erotic image, she nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Let me look at your fingers.” He took her hand with a gentleness that belied the strength in him. Gently, he unwrapped them.

  A gasp slipped out of her at the sight of her blue and purple fingers. Swollen more than double their normal size, they looked horrendous. “Oh my gosh. Are they going to fall off?”

  “No, but we need to wrap them well.” He carefully re-splinted and rewrapped them. “Did you take some Ibuprofen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He lifted his fish into his lap and began eating. “I could use some dill.”

  “As in a pickle?” She quirked a brow at him.

  “Sauce.” He licked his thumb and she forced her gaze away.

  “You have a sophisticated palate?” she teased. “I figured you for a steak and potatoes man.”

  “I am. But I like other things, too.” He ate more of the fish, then tossed the skeleton into the flames. “I dust off my boots, get out of the hills and go to town now and then.”

  “Which town?”

  “Denver, mostly. Austin. Albuquerque.”

  “Nice cities,” she said. “I’ve been to them all. I love the west and plan to retire in Santa Fe someday.”

  “Pretty place. It’ll be prettier when you land there.”

  She’d heard a lot of bullshit lines in her time, but his compliment flattered her. Especially since she knew she looked like hell warmed over. “Thank you.”

  “Just telling the truth.” He stood abruptly and placed several chunks of wood on the fire. “If we’re going to search for your friends, we’d better get on it. Have you had enough to eat?”

  “Yes.” She stood as well. “I need to put on my yoga pants and another pair of socks.”

  “Is there any kind of container in your cosmetics bag we could use to keep the scotch?”

  Inspiration struck. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? “There’s a bottle of saline solution.”

  “That will work. Hand it to me and I’ll store the
whiskey in it.” He took it from her and walked toward the lake, carrying both the saline and whiskey bottles. She watched him stroll away. God, with an ass like his the man should model jeans or underwear. She could picture him in a Calvin Klein ad over Times Square.

  Snapping back to the tasks at hand, Teagan quickly added another pair of socks to her feet, pulled the yoga pants over her jeans and tugged on her stiff boots. She added her coat and glove. Taking a deep breath, she spoke aloud, “You ready for this, Tea? Guess you better get that way.”

  Gage stepping her direction kept her from doing any more talking to herself. If he heard her, he would probably think her nutty. Or that she had a worse head injury than they’d initially thought.

  At the fire, he placed the whiskey bottle full of water in a nook of one of the logs. “That’ll boil and we can drink before we go.”

  “What should we take with us?”

  “That net thing you had the pinecones in. Are there any more socks?”

  She checked. “A couple pairs.”

  “Those for sure.” He adjusted the whiskey bottle. “In case we get wet feet again we can change into dry socks.”

  “The pants?”

  “I don’t think so. We’ll leave camp pretty much the way it is.”

  He tapped his pocket. “I have my fishing line and hook in here.”

  “You didn’t reset it?” That surprised her.

  “No. If we don’t make it back, I don’t want some helpless creature suffering.” He shrugged. “Survival is one thing, torture another. But we’re going to make it back without any problems.”

  Her heart melted. Such a strong man, yet so kind. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

  “I don’t know about all that…”

  Without thinking it through, without plan, Teagan launched herself at him. She landed in his arms and pressed her mouth to his.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For a moment, Gage didn’t respond.

  Then his arms went around her, crushing her against him, and his mouth opened under her assault. Their tongues met in a hot, fast rush of desire that left her breathless. He tasted faintly of fish, which should have made her gag, but she was too tormented by his teasing tongue to care.

  The kiss heated, deepened.

  Lips and tongues melded into one.

  Teagan wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He cupped her ass, dragging her pelvis tight against his zipper. Their bodies pressed together, fitting as though they had been made for each other. Her nipples peaked, ached for his touch. Two heavy coats prevented the contact she craved and she moaned her frustration.

  Gage pulled away, the look in his eyes heated. “What was that for?”

  Embarrassed, Teagan shrugged. “You know. Saving me. Stuff like that.”

  He grinned. “Well, you can thank me anytime.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, cowboy.” She glanced away to hide her lying eyes. If he gave her half a reason, she’d kiss him again in a heartbeat.

  His soft chuckle let her know he wasn’t fooled. He retrieved the whiskey bottle from the flames. Water bubbled inside. He set the jug aside, on a rock. “We can drink after the bottle cools a bit.”

  “Do you have our sack?” she asked.

  He hefted the mesh bag. “Yup. Got socks, the whiskey and a few of your pinecones.”

  “Sounds like you remembered everything.” Teagan looked around. She’d folded the khaki pants and left them on top of the suitcase in the back corner of their shelter. Their little hut looked forlorn and lonesome in the wintery landscape.

  Gage checked the bottle, and apparently finding the temperature satisfactory, handed it to her. “Be careful. It might still be hot.”

  She accepted the bottled and lifted it to her lips. Already the water had cooled and she drank gratefully. Nothing had ever tasted better. Used to drinking several liters a day, after not having any liquid yesterday, she was parched. But she stopped before she swallowed it all, and handed it to Gage.

  “Finish that,” he insisted. “I’ll boil more.”

  Gratefully, she complied.

  He took the empty bottle filled it with snow. Upon returning, he placed it on the flames and held his palms over the heat. “You ready to go?”

  “I guess.” Suddenly, the idea of leaving their camp overwhelmed her. She fought tears.

  Gage squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She stiffened her spine and turned around. “Yeah, fine.”

  After the water boiled for the second time, Gage drank then swiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Man, that tastes good.”

  “I could down another three,” Teagan said.

  “Only if you want to have a terrible stomachache,” Gage told her as he stowed the empty bottle in the bag. “We have to take it slow. That was actually more than we should have taken in so quickly.”

  “There’s a pack of Tums in the cosmetics bag,” she said. “If we need them.”

  “I guess that’s everything then.” He took a long look around and adjusted a log on the fire. “That should keep until we get back. If we don’t, it’ll burn out on its own.”

  Would they make it back? A shudder of fear ran down Teagan’s back. A sudden urge to stay put filled her, but she couldn’t leave her co-workers out in the cold, alone and afraid—if anyone had even survived. She looked up at the leaden sky. More snow was on the way, and search planes were probably grounded. No one could live through a second night of bone-jarring cold without help.

  Gage knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t let them get in a jam, or something they couldn’t make it through. A little reassured, she took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  Hefting the mesh bag, he said, “Stay behind me.”

  “What?” She fisted her good hand on her hips. “Why? Because I’m the little woman and the big he-man has to lead the way?”

  With a wave, he motioned her ahead of him. “By all means, take the lead. If you spot an angry grizzly, or moose, you can sweet talk them into moving aside.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’ll let you handle this one.”

  “I thought you might.” He turned away, and she caught the hint of a smile playing on his sexy lips.

  Although her cheeks were heated, a chill ran over her as soon as they left the fire. She crammed her hands into her pockets and dipped her chin into the collar. The wind rushing across the lake cut through her inadequate clothes like she wasn’t wearing any. She tried to imagine modeling a swimsuit in this weather and shivered harder.

  Posing was often uncomfortable, but not unbearable like being in a swimsuit in frigid water would be. The production people had assured her and Brooklyn that they would be in chilly, but not cold weather.

  She snorted. And sobered at the thought of sixteen-year-old Brooklyn. Had she survived the crash? The icy lake? She held in a sob.

  Gage glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Fine. Carry on.” Teagan forced herself to not dwell on Brooklyn’s or the others’ fates. Doing so could cripple her emotionally. And that could get her killed.

  They had been walking an hour or so by the time Teagan warmed enough that she wasn’t shivering any more. Following in Gage’s tracks, she had her gaze down when she spotted an item in the snow Gage had stepped past.

  She stopped and bent to examine the object. Brushing the snow back, she gasped. “Gage, wait. I found something.”

  He spun around. “What?”

  Holding up the item with shaking hands, she fought tears. A filthy white sweatshirt with NYU and the school’s logo across the front. “I think this belongs to Brooklyn.”

  “Damn. I didn’t see it.”

  “How could you? It looks like a muddy piece of snow.” She held it with her fingertips. Barely recognizable, dirty and torn, it was no wonder he’d stepped over the garment. “Should I keep it?”

  “Up to you, but with the state it’s in, I don’t know how much good it’ll do.” He touched a sleeve. “
Was she wearing this?”

  Teagan fought to remember. “I think she had it tied to her carry-on bag.”

  Gage took the soiled garment from her and draped it over a rock. “Let’s leave this here. When we come back, we’ll pick it up.”

  When they walked away, Teagan knew she wouldn’t retrieve the sweatshirt. Heaviness settled around her heart, and her feet dragged. She somehow felt as if she were leaving a grave marker.

  ~*~

  This time when Gage took the lead he slowed his pace and paid better attention to where he stepped. He couldn’t afford to miss something valuable. As soon as the thought formed, he spotted something floating on the waves. He stopped and stared. A seat cushion. The downed plane might be nearby.

  “What?” Trepidation filled Teagan’s voice.

  He pointed. “A seat cushion.”

  She followed the direction he pointed. “I see it. I thought after Brooklyn’s sweatshirt it might be—”

  “Just a cushion.”

  They watched it ride the waves for a few minutes, but it didn’t make any progress toward shore. Although they sorely needed that piece of equipment, waiting for it to come to them might take all day.

  Time they couldn’t afford to lose.

  He glanced up and although hovering gray clouds obscured the sun, he could guess the time to be around ten-thirty or eleven. Not many hours of light left. “We better go.”

  “Okay.” Teagan sounded exhausted and he took a long look at her. The bruises around her eyes were more pronounced, the scratch on her forehead scabbing over today. Her skin tone seemed paler and she appeared shaky.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good,” she insisted.

  He didn’t believe her for a moment, but guessed suggesting they turn back would only aggravate her. “You need a snack?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not right now.”

  “You have to keep up your strength.”

  “I’m good.”

  She was a grown woman; he couldn’t force feed her. “Let me know when you need a break.”

  “Let me know when you need one,” she shot back.