by Jillian Neal
Had Brock’s eyes not burned from the cold, he would have rolled them. He was growing weary of his uncle’s advice. Didn’t he understand that Brock needed to prove that he wasn’t his father? Didn’t he understand that he had to make money if he was really going to be able to take part ownership of Camden Ranch?
Many years before, Brock’s drunkard father, Mick, had lost part of the ranch in a bet. Now it was up to Brock to show the whole town of Pleasant Glen that he was nothing like his dad. And he’d couldn’t prove himself until he deposited a hefty paycheck into the Camden accounts from cattle sold in the spring.
Austin, Brock’s cousin, rode up beside him. “Why don’t you go take Hope to work? I’ll go bust up the ponds. If you gonna be a stubborn ass and aren’t gonna hire any hands this season, at least let us help you.” He immediately joined his father’s band. His customary smirk was frozen on his face.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Brock deeply appreciated any help he could get, and taking help from his cousins was different than spending money out of the Camden accounts. They were family. They all owned part of the ranch.
“Nah, I don’t mind. More work I do during the winter, the less Mom and Dad ride my ass about leaving in the spring and summer.” Austin cut his eyes towards his father.
“We have never ridden your ass about anything, son. Your mama worries about you and your rodeo dreams. Can’t say I blame her,” Ev came right back.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Mama’ll be fine.”
Brock shook his head. Austin’s rodeo career was far from a dream. He already had several titles to his name, and he was well known on the circuit. Brock doubted he’d give it up any time soon. “If you don’t mind doing the ponds, I’ll go see my bride.”
“Go on,” Austin and Ev urged at the same moment.
Much to Hope’s delight, Brock appeared just as she was dipping her plate in the soapy water she’d run in the sink. “Hey, you’re here.” Drying her hands quickly, she raced into his arms. Chuckling, he hugged her to his chest, but she couldn’t access much of him. The hardened planes of his chest and his muscular arms that always made her feel safe were bundled up against the elements. The freezing cold was trapped inside his coat and chaps. It transferred to her as soon as she embraced him, but she didn’t care. She’d endure the cold to be in his arms. There was nothing better.
He set his cowboy hat on the counter. The front hung off the edge, and Hope resisted the urge to scoot it back. Apparently, that damaged the rim and made cowboys unhappy. She’d deciphered that much in the last couple weeks. Maybe with a little more time, she’d figure out more about ranch life since Brock really didn’t have time to teach her. She’d always been a quick learner. She’d figure out ranch life soon; she was determined.
Tugging off his deerskin gloves, Brock brushed a kiss on her cheek. The cold bristle of his slight beard stung her jaw. She shivered until he drew her back in his arms and mated their mouths in an unexpectedly passionate kiss. “God, I miss you.” His hands squeezed her backside and just like every time before, she let her frustrations melt in the heat that emanated between them. “You okay, darlin’?” Concern darkened the golden rims of his eyes.
She angled her head, hungry for more, when he broke the kiss. Avoiding his question, she replied to the first comment, “I miss you, too.” Her tongue stroked hers, coaxing her, tasting her mouth. A shiver that had nothing to do with the weather quaked through her body. Her soul longed to beg him to stay with her that day, but she refused to be a clingy, needy wife. The kiss provided a fantastic way to keep her from talking.
“I’m gonna take you to work. It’s bad out there. Austin’s gonna break up the ice on the ponds. We got another few inches of snow last night.” Exhaustion had set in his soulful hazel eyes three weeks before. With every additional snowfall, it worsened.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I could get there on my own. I do eventually have to learn to drive in the snow, Brock.” Contention perforated her tone. For some reason, her feelings were dangerously close to the surface that morning.
On her first attempt at driving in Nebraska, the rear tires had encountered ice; she’d panicked, and had very nearly driven Brock’s new truck off in a ditch. Ever since then, he’d insisted on driving her everywhere. She added his overprotective nature to the list of things she generally loved but that were getting on her nerves lately.
“Nah, I don’t mind. I like taking you.”
“Okay, I know you don’t but I’m feeling … a little … trapped … kind of. I need to know how to get around if this is going to be our home.”
“Going to be?” His brow furrowed.
“You know what I mean. I need you to teach me to drive in this.”
His eyes closed and he rubbed his hands over his face. “I will, sugar. I swear. I just love you so much, Hope. I can’t stand to think about you getting out there and having an wreck. Nothing scares me. Nothing but the thought of something happening to you. Please just let me take you until I get a chance to really give you some lessons. Just give me a little time.”
Hope’s gut reaction was to be appreciative of his worrying about her, but he wasn’t the one that had to be carted around. He’d been protecting her since they’d met in high school. It was one of the things she loved most about him, but at some point she had to live in their new town. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I can’t go on never driving. Just promise you’ll teach me soon, and that you really don’t mind driving me to work.”
He held up his right hand in a pledge. “Scout’s honor, and when have I ever minded doing anything for you, darlin’?” His wink made her heart fly and the guilt in her stomach increase in magnitude. She had nothing to complain about. She had a loving husband, more food than she clearly should be eating, and a warm-ish house. He’d just promised to teach her to drive in the snow when he had more time. She just needed to be patient.
Refusing to nudge the thermostat up yet another degree before they left, she finished getting ready for work, added several additional layers of coats, scarves, and gloves, and then followed her husband out to his truck. Underneath all of that, no one could tell if she’d gained weight anyway.
Chapter Two
“Hey, I was thinking I’d make a nice dinner tonight when you get home … just for the two of us.” She tried to sound nonchalant. Making dinner wasn’t some kind of ratifying accomplishment after all.
“You sure, sugar? Aunt Jess is already up there cooking away.”
“I really want to. I’ll go by the Safeway at lunch. I want us to have a night all alone.”
He glanced her way long enough to give her his sexy-as-sin grin. “I’m sure as hell not gonna turn you down. Evening at home, just the two of us, sounds like heaven, as long as I get to have you for dessert, Mrs. Canden.” He winked at her before turning back to the dirt road ahead of them. “I miss you like crazy. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately. If we manage not to lose any stock through this, I swear it’ll be a miracle.” He gestured his head to the gray earth surrounding them. The snow on the sides of the road matched the leaden sky.
“It’s okay. I know you’re busy. Spring has to be here eventually, right?”
Grinning, he nodded. “Yeah, calvings better than busting ice and running feed trucks, for sure. I remember growing up here, thinking the snow was the greatest thing ever. ‘Course, wasn’t my job to keep all the cattle fed and cared for back then, and this winter beats anything I’ve ever seen.”
“So, you mean this winter is worse than the ones here when you were a kid?” Good, maybe it wasn’t just her that was concerned they’d accidentally moved to the Arctic Tundra instead of Nebraska.
“I don’t really know. Probably not. You know how when you’re a kid, you don’t really realize what’s at stake, so now it just seems worse than it was then.”
Realizing what was at stake wasn’t something she cared to think too much about, and she was an adult. One thing she had noticed, via t
he stories told around Aunt Jessie’s dinner table, was that ranch work changed with the seasons but didn’t ever really lessen. Holly, Brock’s youngest cousin, who was working on her Masters degree at Nebraska-Lincoln, had assured her that autumn was the best time on the ranch in terms of cowboys being at home and not having to work so much, but, currently, fall felt decades away.
“Hey, Natalie’s gonna pick you up for me. We’re leaving for Laramie as soon as I get back.”
Hope rolled her eyes. It was easier to pretend that Brock taking her to and from work at the library was a sweet, gallant gesture from a husband to a wife. When Natalie or Grant, two of his other cousins, had to pick her up, it was a glaring reminder that when it came to driving through snow and ice, she was completely inept. Being incapable was something Natalie liked to remind her of whenever she got the chance. Hope couldn’t figure out why Natalie was such a bitch, but she preferred not to be around her.
The large truck bounced and rumbled off the five-mile dirt road that led from Camden Ranch to the town of Pleasant Glen. Hope gripped the armrest on the door to avoid colliding with the dash.
At least the paved streets had been salted and cleared. No snow was currently falling; that was something. The two streets, one either side of the railroad tracks, that made up Pleasant Glen were fairly easy to navigate. It was getting into town that was difficult.
Brock parked the truck near the library doors and gave her an extended good-bye kiss that left her short of breath and dizzy with need. “I love you so much, sugar. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She lied, and she was fairly certain he knew it. An evening at home alone with him would be all she needed. Lying to herself was becoming easier every time she insisted she was fine.
Keeping thoughts of them together that evening planted firmly in her head, she attempted to navigate her way inside the tiny library, avoiding icy spots on the pavement and towering snow drifts.
“Hi, Mrs. Camden,” called from two passerbys as they headed towards Buck’s, the new coffee shop on the corner that catered to cowboys and cowgirls.
“Oh, uh, hi.” Hope waved. It was distinctly odd how everyone in town seemed to know her by name. She had no idea who these people were. Her Aunt Cora’s castigating voice played in her head. ‘Don’t be shy, Hope. It’s rude!’ It wasn’t that she was shy, necessarily. It was just that she wasn’t accustomed to everyone knowing who she was, whom she was married to, and where she lived. It felt a little intrusive.
With all of the might she could gather, she tugged the heavy library door open. All of the doors in Nebraska were weighted to keep the winds from blowing them open. Hope’s body ached from the effort. The sense of exhaustion she’d had the last week increased its magnitude. Being cold all the time and being awoken long before sunrise was wearing her out. She needed more coffee.
She stepped inside the tiny Pleasant Glen library, her home away from ranch. The wonderful smell of books just waiting to be read settled the tense set of her muscles, but thoughts of home twisted uncomfortably in her stomach. Home, in her mind, was over a thousand miles away. In the pleasant North Carolina sunshine that warmed even the coldest winter skies. The place where she’d met and fallen in love with Brock. Where she’d helped him learn to read despite his dyslexia. Helped him make sense of the shame he’d shouldered over being passed through school for his athletic abilities. Their entire past existed on that beautiful shoreline. She admitted to herself that she missed it every single day. The place where they had time to talk endlessly, and he always seemed to manage to help her recall memories from her childhood she’d long forgotten. They’d been a team in Gypsy Beach.
She shivered and proceeded to unwrap the scarves she’d wound around her neck while staring out the window.
Her eyes landed on the Cut ‘n Curl across the street, just down from the Methodist church. Hope contemplated. After removing her gloves, she ran her hand down her long, stringy blonde hair. She hadn’t ventured to the Cut ‘n Curl, and her stylist in Gypsy Beach hadn’t been able to work her in before they moved. Her hair could definitely use a trim. She frowned at her inch-long split ends. Maybe she could stop in and see if someone could give her a quick cut and a blow-out for her evening at home with Brock that night. Her plan morphed from just dinner to an entire evening for the two of them.
Her mind conjured images of Brock’s response if she happened to be standing inside their living room in the sexy lingerie she’d ordered two weeks ago. It was due in today. She’d been planning to wear it for Valentine’s Day, but life was getting to her. Why not wear it that night?
Pink heat warmed her cheeks and genuine excitement bubbled in her stomach. Brock would love that, and so would she. He had mentioned wanting her for dessert. That sense of newlywed adventure had been missing the last few weeks.
In a moment of pure reckless abandon inspired by cabin fever, she’d gone online and ordered a beautiful purple and black lace bra and panty set. Due to her relative inexperience, it had taken her a minute to realize what open-panel panties were exactly, and that there were slight slits in the bra that would reveal her nipples. Trying to envision herself parading around in them for her husband brought renewed fever to her cheeks. She decided that she would to work up the courage to be wearing the lingerie set when Brock returned home from the bull sale, and she would stop in the Cut ‘n Curl for a blow out. She definitely needed to start making some better memories in Nebraska, and she intended to start that night. They could have a great meal, fantastic conversation, and then have amazing sex. They could even reverse the order if they wanted. Whatever it took to get to spend hours in each other’s arms reconnecting.
With a quick glance around the library, Hope wondered if anyone would stop in that day. She loved to help people find books that would entertain them during the long winter nights, but mostly she longed for the companionship. There was a time when being surrounded by books was all she needed. She used to run her own bookstore back at Gypsy Beach. Now, the bindings and crowded bookshelves seemed to mock her loneliness.
Heading to the back room, she tried to discern if she should feel guilty about having her lingerie order sent to the library. She didn’t want one of Brock’s cousins or his aunt and uncle stumbling upon it by accident. All of the mail for Camden Ranch arrived in one box at the end of the dirt road that attached the Ranch to town. Brock and Hope’s mail made it to them eventually, usually via Uncle Ev. She certainly didn’t want him delivering a box from Hanky-Panky Lingerie.
Hearing the front door heave open, she quickly returned to the circulation desk. A broad grin spread across her face when the woman that ran the Superette entered carrying a large box.
“Hi, Mrs. Winfield, let me help you with your box so you can look around.”
“Oh, hello, dear. I’m not here for books. Miles,” she paused to roll her eyes, “our illustrious mailman, delivered this to the Superette. I didn’t open it. Miles must’ve. You know how the mail works around here.” She set the box on the desk under Hope’s nose.
A sinking sense of regret niggled up Hope’s spine. Lately, she’d had several packages delivered open. She hadn’t considered that when she’d made her lingerie purchase. Aunt Jessie had explained that Miles, the exuberant elderly mailman, couldn’t read the addresses correctly and delivered mail to the wrong places, and that he often opened the boxes to make certain the items were intact before he made his deliveries. He considered it part of his job. Last week, Hope had received an open box of permanent hair solutions meant for the Cut ‘n Curl and a large order of feed buckets intended for Merle’s Feed and Seed.
She told herself that certainly these were all coincidences. Her lingerie would be delivered without incident. She was sure of it. Forcing another grin, she began unpacking the latest releases she’d ordered for the library. “Thanks for bringing these by, Mrs. Winfield.” When she raised her head she noticed something odd. “Um, Mrs. Winfield, you have a few curlers still in your hair.” Hope
gestured to the two pink foam curlers still rolled tightly in the back of her hair.
“You’d think that idiot mailman of ours could figure out that we don’t need a box of library books at the Superette.” Mrs. Winfield rolled her eyes. “Here, can you take ‘um out for me.” She spun so Hope could remove the rollers for her.
“Oh, uh, okay, I guess.” Hope nodded. “Hopefully, Miles will get everything figured out soon.” She unclasped the curlers and handed them to Mrs. Winfield, trying not to think how very odd it was to be performing the task at hand.
“Thanks, and I doubt it. He’s been the mailman for the last fifty years.” With that Mrs. Winfield marched out of the library with a half-wave.
Somewhat disappointed that no one had come by the library that morning, at lunch time, Hope bundled up and headed out into the elements. She had a plan. Their evening alone was going to be perfect. Maybe she’d even confess that she was feeling a little out of sorts lately. Brock always helped her work through whatever might be bothering her. They just needed some time to talk.
Miraculously, the snow seemed to have finally taken a reprieve from unloading on Pleasant Glen with both barrels. There was still plenty gathered in high drifts against the shops and businesses, but the sun had broken through the clouds. A smile formed readily on her face as she dropped into Buck’s to order a sandwich and coffee to go.
“Hi, Ms. Camden. Saw your husband headed out this morning. Must be going to the bull sale in Laramie. You know how many he’s looking to buy? I’ve got a friend of a friend that might could get him a deal from a ranch that’s headed to the auction block.”
Hope’s brow furrowed as she stepped out of the coffee shop cradling her lunch. She stared at the man in his early forties that she had never seen before in her life.
