Snowbound

by Suzanne Cass

  He crab-walked down to the driver’s side door and peered in the window. Someone was slumped over the wheel. All he could make out was a dark brown coat and wisps of brunette hair; he couldn’t even tell if the driver was male or female. Scanning the rest of the inside, he decided they were alone. He tapped loudly on the window but got no response.

  Lifting the door handle, he pulled, but it wouldn’t open. Probably buckled by the impact. Wyatt wrestled with the door, finally planting one foot on the rear panel to steady himself and hauling with all the strength in his six-foot-one frame. It gave way suddenly, and he landed on his butt on the ground, nearly tumbling farther down the slope. Standing up, he tried to brush the wet snow and mud off his jeans, to no avail.

  A groan from inside the truck made him look up. The person had sat up, holding a hand to their head. Wyatt stepped back to the open door just as the person turned to look at him. It was a young woman. A beautiful young woman. Blood dripped down her face from a large gash in her forehead. It took him a few seconds, but comprehension suddenly hit.

  “Stella. Is that you?”

  “Whaaa…?” She turned glazed eyes toward him.

  Of course, this was Dean’s truck. He should’ve known, he’d been out to Stargazer Ranch a few times with Levi.

  And of course, he’d also noticed Stella. How could anyone not? She was gorgeous. She was the chef’s assistant. Wyatt had met her, but not really spoken to her, except in passing. He kept his head down while at the ranch. It was better that way. Levi and Cat had sworn they told no one at Stargazers about his past, but he wasn’t sure he believed them. He could feel people looking at him. Could feel what they were saying behind his back. Con. Jailbird. Common criminal. Miscreant. The words were all true, but Wyatt didn’t have to like them.

  What was Stella doing out here on her own? So far from Stargazer? In a blizzard.

  “It’s me, Wyatt. Levi’s brother. Do you remember me?” He leant in closer, trying to get a look at the cut on her head. She had her hand pressed over it, so he couldn’t assess the damage.

  Stella’s eyes cleared a little as she took him in. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, I know who you are.”

  Oh God, that French accent of hers was doing strange things to his guts. So smooth and sexy.

  “Can I take a look?” he asked, gently removing her hand.

  “I think I hit my head,” she replied, but he didn’t tell her she was stating the obvious. “On the wheel,” she continued.

  Briefly, he wondered why the airbag hadn’t saved her, but put it out of his mind. The cut was deep, running along her hairline for about four inches. And there was a lot of blood. But Levi knew from experience that head-wounds always bled profusely. He placed her hand back over the wound.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He scanned her for other injuries, but her bulky coat was hiding most of her torso. The truck cab didn’t look like it’d sustained much damage, none of the dash was warped or pushed forward. It was well-built, and the front engine bay had absorbed most of the impact.

  “No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, her eyes still dazed.

  “Okay, that’s good. Stay right there, I’ll get my first-aid kit.”

  “Don’t leave me.” Her plea was almost a scream, and she grabbed for his wrist.

  His immediate reaction was to pull away. He didn’t do clingy women. Especially not since he got out of prison. He had to remind himself how scared she must be. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  She stared into his eyes, searching for the truth. And then, as if embarrassed, she lowered her gaze and nodded.

  He was back within ten seconds, already hunting through the small, green bag for gauze and bandages. “Let me look,” he said, lifting her hand away. The cut was still bleeding and could probably do with some stitches. There was a large lump on her forehead and some deep bruising was beginning to show. She may well have a concussion. He placed a wad of gauze over the cut. “Can you hold this for me? While I get a bandage?”

  She did as she was told, and he wrapped the dressing around her head to keep the padding in place. She stared at him while he administered the bandages and even though he was concentrating on what his hands were doing, he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were the color of the spring leaves on a cottonwood tree Those eyes took his breath away. On the few times he’d met her at Stargazers, he’d been vaguely aware that she had green eyes, but up close, they were something else. Clear and luminous, with a darker ring around the iris.

  Stella shivered, her small hands wrapped around the steering wheel were shaking. From the cold or from shock, Wyatt had no way of knowing.

  “We need to get you out of here.” He darted a look back up the precipitous slope. Would she be able to make it up there? It was a long way; he hadn’t realized how far in his rush to get down here. Wyatt glanced at Stella. She was petite, but he didn’t think even he could carry her all the way up that steep incline. After two years spent in lockup, he was used to dealing with men, and only men. Big, rough, strong men. Why in hell had fate thrown a pretty, young woman in his path? He had no idea how to deal with her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Stella

  STELLA STEPPED OUT of the truck, holding onto Wyatt’s arm for support. Her legs shook beneath her and she cursed herself. She wasn’t some fragile little girl who went to pieces at the slightest thing. Or at least, she hadn’t thought she was. But the ground was uneven, the slope steeper than she expected, and despite her best efforts, she stumbled against Wyatt.

  “I’ve got you.” An arm came around her waist to steady her.

  “Sorry,” she said, trying to right herself. Putting both her hands on his chest, she pushed herself up to a standing position. Her head tilted back so she could look up into his face. She was tall for a woman, nearly five feet eleven inches, but he was taller.

  Wyatt had dark brown eyes. So dark, they were almost black. And they were locked on hers. Like a predator sizing up his prey. But as she stared into his eyes, his gaze softened, and he looked away. She’d noticed it the few times he’d accompanied Levi to the ranch; Wyatt didn’t like to meet her gaze. At the time, she’d thought he was perhaps shy. But now, she understood it was more than that. As if there were some part of him he wanted to keep hidden, didn’t want her to see. A wariness, like a trapped creature.

  “No problem, take as long as you need.” His hand never left the small of her back, even though his voice was gruff. His body was strong and solid beside her. Like he was a rock keeping her from being washed away by the rapids.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m good now.” He finally let her go and she stood on her own.

  It was only then that she realized the snow was still falling. Heavily. Down here, beneath the trees, the bulk of snowflakes were less, but when she glanced up the hill, she couldn’t see the road.

  And it was freezing. She was trying hard to control the shaking that’d overtaken her body, but the frosty wind did nothing to help. Icy blasts found their way over her high collar and down her neck. Without her gloves to give protection against the cold, her fingers were quickly going numb.

  “Do you think you can make it up to the road? My truck is up there. We can get you to a hospital.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her head throbbed. It was hard to think clearly because of the pain behind her eyes. It was a long way up. But her only alternative was to stay here, and that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Have you got a hat and gloves?”

  At least he was thinking clearly. “Yes. They were on the front seat. Before I crashed.” She wasn’t sure exactly what’d happened. How she ended up down here. A stab of hot guilt pierced her stomach. Dean’s lovely, big truck. Was it even drivable? Would they be able to get it out of here? Zut, what was he going to say when he found out what she’d done?

  “I’ll see if I can find them.” Making sure she was steady on her feet, he leaned past her, into the ca
b. She could hear him rummaging around in the floor well.

  “I found your phone, as well,” he said, reappearing out of the truck, holding up her mittens and her cell.

  Merde. She’d forgotten all about her cell. “Does it work? Can we call someone to come and get us?”

  But Wyatt was shaking his head, even as he handed it to her. “I already checked. No reception out here.”

  “Oh.” Of course he had. It didn’t come as any shock, there were plenty of spots in the mountains where reception was sketchy. But she couldn’t help the crushing feeling of desolation that news brought.

  “Let me see if I can get your knit cap on over that bandage.” His voice was rough, impatient, but his hands were surprisingly gentle as tugged the hat over the top of her head, being careful to avoid the injured area. “This will help keep my bad bandaging in place while we climb.”

  Stella tried to hide a grimace as he pulled the cap down over her wounded forehead. Once the cap was on, it felt better, and her head was much warmer. It also helped keep the snow out of her eyes.

  “Come to the back of the truck. Hang onto the side,” he directed.

  With her gloves now on, she used the truck to brace herself, and followed Wyatt up the hill to the rear. He kept looking back, a worried frown marking his brow. She leaned her backside on the bumper while Wyatt fussed with what looked like a coil of rope.

  “I tied one end to a tree up there. I’m going to use the other end to tie us both together. Then I’m going to help you up the ravine. Do you think you can manage?”

  “Yes,” she said with an authority she didn’t feel. Could she really make it all the way up there? Even with Wyatt’s help?

  Wyatt moved in close, and she flinched. “Sorry. I need to tie the rope around your middle,” he apologized belatedly.

  “Oh, sorry. That’s fine.” She held her arms up so he could reach behind her and wrap the end around her waist. His head hovered below her chin. Strong arms encased her hips. There was a flutter low in her belly. Why was his closeness affecting her?

  An image of Armand’s disparaging frown appeared in her mind. He would not approve of Wyatt with his arms around her. But then again, Armand didn’t approve of much she did, lately. Thankfully, he was safely ensconced back in France and had no say in what she did or said. Stella mentally scolded herself. She was still technically engaged to him. It had been her choice to come to Montana, and he had grudgingly let her go. Had said it would do her good to stretch her wings. Then she could come back to him, perhaps a little wiser and ready to settle down.

  The only problem was, her time in Montana had opened her eyes to many opportunities. She was beginning to see a life out here had merit.

  “Oh, no.” Stella clapped a hand to her mouth just as Wyatt stood up straight.

  “The turkeys. We can’t leave the turkeys.”

  Wyatt’s look of confusion nearly made her laugh.

  “I was on my way back to the ranch with the turkeys for Christmas lunch. Joseph is going to be so mad if I don’t bring them home.”

  Wyatt looked at her from beneath lowered eyebrows for a few seconds. “They’ll be fine where they are. This cold weather will keep them preserved. Joseph can come and get them later, because there’s no way I’m lugging a box of turkeys up this hill.”

  Stella was a little taken aback at his abruptness. But after a second, she decided, he had a point. Stella stared through the back window of the truck longingly. Finally, she resigned herself to the fact the turkeys were going to have to stay where they were. At least, for now.

  “You’re right. Okay, we’ll leave them there.” She gave one last look through the window. Joseph would not be pleased. Stella cringed inwardly. Her boss had a fiery temper, and she didn’t like to be on the receiving end of his sharp tongue.

  “I’ll go first. Find us some good handholds on the way up. You try to copy what I do. Okay?”

  Stella went to nod her head, then winced. That mere action caused her forehead to throb. Instead, she gave him the thumbs up. Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her and looked as if he were about to speak. A flurry of heavy snow hit them, and he seemed to change his mind. They had to do this, if they were to get out of here. She would be fine; she’d just take it easy, and they’d make it to the top.

  Wyatt grabbed hold of the branches of a small bush and pulled himself up a few feet, glancing back to make sure she was following. She took a few tentative steps and clung to the same bush. These weren’t the best shoes for hiking. Her Nike sneakers had seemed like the sensible choice to wear for a short car trip. Now, they offered little protection against the snow and were quickly soaked through. She looked up, and even though Wyatt was only ten feet in front of her, he was already becoming a blur in the fast-falling snow. Thank God for the rope tying the two of them together.

  In her mind, Stella was already coming up with ways she could thank Wyatt for rescuing her. They hadn’t discussed how he’d found her all the way down here, yet. But she probably owed him her life. Because she didn’t think she could’ve done this on her own. It took a certain type of man to ignore the danger to himself and climb down to a wrecked truck, even if he didn’t seem to be overjoyed by the whole thing. Stella had definitely noticed Wyatt on the few occasions he’d come to the ranch. Had liked the way he stalked along, as if he had a sense of purpose, long, jean-clad legs eating up the ground. Had secretly been mesmerized by the way he tilted his head a little to the side when he was deep in conversation. So serious and solemn. Wyatt didn’t smile often. Maybe he was a deep thinker. She admired his bronze skin and black hair, cut short so it showed off his handsome face. Emily had told her that Levi and Wyatt were Native Americans, and the fact he had history, a culture and heritage, old blood running through his veins intrigued her, as well. None of the other male staff really interested her. Not that most of them hadn’t tried at one stage or another. Besides, she wasn’t in the market. Armand was a good excuse to keep all the other men at arm’s length.

  Wyatt, on the other hand… Every time she heard he was on the ranch, she’d find a reason to go and watch him out of the kitchen window or walk past the front reception if he happened to be there talking to Dean. As if she were drawn to him.

  Looking up, it surprised Stella to see they were nearly half-way up already. She stopped for a quick breather, standing next to a tall fir tree, holding onto its rough bark to steady herself.

  “You’re doing great,” Wyatt called down, his voice almost ripped away by a powerful gust of wind. This weather wasn’t letting up. In fact, it was getting worse. They plunged on again.

  Her foot slipped, and suddenly she fell onto all fours, scrabbling at the snow and mud for a handhold. It was no use; she slid backwards. The rope snapped tight around her middle, almost winding her. But at least it stopped her downward trajectory, even if she was now lying on her stomach in the snow. Her head pounded painfully, and she had to close her eyes for a second.

  Wyatt grunted loudly above her, as if using all his energy to hold her weight.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Sorry,” she shouted, panting hard, trying to get her breath back. Grabbing at a tuft of grass, she got up onto all fours and crawled her way up the slope. He helped by pulling her toward him with the rope. At last, she made it to where Wyatt was standing, bracing himself against the trunk of a tree. He offered her a hand, and she got slowly to her feet. She was shaking again, her body shuddering uncontrollably with each inhale.

  “Thank you,” she said through her loud gasps. “I thought I was going to end up at the bottom of the ravine.”

  “Come here,” he said, dropping her hand and pulling her in close, letting her rest her head on his chest as her breathing returned to normal. He didn’t smile, but she didn’t mind, the empathy was there in his eyes. She could hear the thump of his heart inside his ribcage.

  After a few precious moments, she said, “I’m good now.” She drew back, and he stepped away, eyes flicking upward. He
was as desperate to get to the top as she was.

  On the rest of the climb, Stella made sure to concentrate only on putting one foot in front of the other, getting her handholds right. She put thoughts of Wyatt firmly to the back of her mind.

  It seemed to take much longer than the first half, but she could finally see the edge of the road looming above them. Wyatt’s blurry form vanished from view and she had a second of panic before she saw his hand reaching down to grab hold of hers, almost pulling her up with his sheer brute strength. Stella climbed the last few agonizing steps up and over the lip. She stood next to Wyatt to catch her breath; her hand still clasped in his. Stella was momentarily confused. Where had the road gone? There was no sign of the black tarmac. Instead, everything was white. It was like they were in the middle of a fluffy, white cloud. Fluffy, but deadly. She could hardly see five feet in front of her face. What the…? How were they ever going to get out of here?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Wyatt

  WYATT SWORE SILENTLY. This was beyond bad. “My truck is this way.” He still had Stella’s hand in his and he led her down the road, wading through the shin-deep snow toward the blurry, orange blob that used to be his pickup. The snow was falling so fast and so thick, it’d covered everything with a blanket of white.

  She followed silently; her gloved hand resting in his. But he could feel the confusion and despair oozing off her. First things first. He needed to get them both into his truck and out of this freezing weather. Scraping the snow away from the handle, he opened the passenger door and helped Stella up onto the bench seat. When he closed the door with a bang, a small landslide of snow came away. But almost as soon as he shut it, more snow collected on the handle and the trimming.