by R. C. Ryan
He brought the ax down again and again, enjoying the hard, physical release.
The door opened and the woman who’d been on his mind stepped into the snow and started toward him.
“I feel like Nanook of the North.” She was grinning from ear to ear.
He was relieved to see the smile back in her eyes. “You look like my nephew Casey when his mother puts him in a snowsuit. It’s like a straightjacket and he can barely move. Can you bend those arms?”
With a laugh, she walked stiff-legged and stiff-armed in his direction. “What arms? Are there arms under all these layers?”
He was laughing as she bent down and, without warning, scooped up a handful of snow before taking aim. It hit him squarely in the face.
His smile turned into a look of surprise before he set aside the ax and filled both hands with snow. “Goldilocks, that was a declaration of war. And you don’t stand a chance.”
Seeing what he planned, she ducked, and the snowball he tossed landed harmlessly on the bark of a tree behind her.
“A certain cowboy needs to correct his aim.” She scooped up more snow and sent it flying toward his head.
Before she could blink, a handful of snow landed on her cheek and found its way down the collar of her parka. Just as she brushed it aside, she looked up to see him racing toward her.
With a squeal, she turned and started running.
In quick strides he caught up with her and wrapped both arms around her, lifting her clean off her feet. In one quick motion, he scooped up snow and lobbed it right at her.
“Oh, you’ll pay for this, Cowboy.” She was still wiping away the snow when he bent down and filled his hands with more.
Seeing that, she dropped to her knees and did the same.
“Not on your life, woman.” Whit leapt on her, moving so quickly she was pinned beneath him, and they sank into a snowdrift tall enough to bury them both.
He grabbed some snow and held it up menacingly. “You’d better apologize for that sneak attack, Goldilocks, or your face is going to freeze.”
She held up both hands in a sign of surrender. “Whit. No. I’ve had enough.”
Laughing, he tossed aside the snow. When he looked down at her, he realized too late that it had been a mock surrender. Laughing, she tackled him and rubbed a snowball into his face, forcing him to eat a handful of snow.
“Quite the little actress, aren’t you? Now you’ve done it. I won’t be fooled again by your cheating.”
“I wasn’t cheating. I was using war strategy.”
“Here’s your strategy.” Straddling her, he smeared snow over her face just as she did the same to him.
They both froze in place, laughing so hard they could barely catch their breath.
“I love the devious way you think, Goldilocks.”
“You mean, the same way you do?”
“Yeah.” Whit leaned close enough to touch his forehead to hers. And immediately realized his mistake.
Up close, her face was glowing and her lips, pursed in a perfect little pout, filled his line of vision.
“I think I’ve found a way to end this war.”
Seeing the way his gaze burned over her lips, she understood his intention and tried to turn her face away.
He reached up and caught her chin so that she could do nothing more than watch as his face slowly descended toward hers.
“You’d better declare a truce, Goldilocks.”
“Never.” The word was forced from her suddenly dry throat in a low, drawn-out whisper.
“Oh, I do love a challenge. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
His mouth closed over hers in a kiss that was as shocking to their systems as the snow had been just moments earlier. A kiss that sent tiny spears of fire and ice dancing through both their veins.
“Ready to declare a truce?” He spoke the words inside her mouth, sending yet another series of tremors through both of them.
This wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Where Jared’s advances had been deliberate and calculated, this seemed more like an accidental seduction.
Still, she couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. The press of that hard, muscled body on hers was doing the strangest things to her brain. Despite the layers of clothing, she could feel him in every pore. The touch of those lips on hers had the breath backing up in her lungs. Her heart was beating a wild, crazy tattoo, and she wondered that it didn’t burst clear through her chest. But she couldn’t decide if it was fear or lust.
“I’ll take that for a no.” His mouth roamed her face, pausing to nuzzle her chin, her cheek, the curve of her ear, where he whispered, “Did you know you have the most amazing mouth?”
“And you…” She was suddenly terrified as his arms came around her, pinning her to the length of him as he returned to her lips.
At first it was merely a quick kiss. But then he kissed her again, long and slow and deep until her sudden gasp alerted him that the dynamics had just changed.
If he’d meant this to be a friendly kiss or, at the most, payback for her sneaky attack, it had become something quite different to a girl who’d just escaped a painful encounter. This would feel more like a threat than play.
At her gasp, Whit rolled aside and took in a long, frigid breath of air before getting to his feet. Reaching down, he caught her hand and helped her up.
“Hold still.” He had to fight the sudden urge to gather her close and kiss her until both their heads were spinning.
Instead, he turned her and brushed snow from her hair and backside before lowering his hand and holding it stiffly by his side. “You might want to go inside and get out of those frozen clothes.”
“So you can call me a quitter? Not on your life, Cowboy.” She flounced away and began picking up logs. Seeing him standing as still as a statue, she called over her shoulder, “What are you waiting for? Did your brain freeze? You promised to chop the firewood, and I promised to carry it inside.” She lifted her chin, determined to hold on to her dignity. “At least one of us is doing her job.”
“You know what, Goldilocks? You’ve got a wicked-sharp tongue.” He picked up the ax and set another log in place before splitting it in one clean cut.
As she walked toward the cabin carrying an armload of logs, he paused and watched the sway of her hips, the haughty toss of her head.
Was this another act? Hadn’t she been at all affected by his kiss? Or had she been so hurt by her encounter with Jared that she expected the worst from all men?
He gave a thoughtful frown.
He’d been right to think she was trouble. And if he wasn’t careful, by the time he was able to leave this place, he might be in a whole pile of it.
Chapter Six
Something smells great.” Whit deposited an armload of logs on the hearth.
He’d spent another hour or more chopping wood, working off the restless energy brought on by the close proximity to his uninvited cabin mate.
Cara looked from the table where she was cutting thick squares of something in a skillet. “I found a can of salmon and decided I’d like to do something with it.”
“If it tastes half as good as it smells, I may be forced to admit you’re a cooking genius.”
“Careful. I may hold you to that.” She walked to the fireplace and removed a cookie tin on which she’d toasted narrow strips of bread crusted with bubbling Parmesan cheese.
Whit rolled his sleeves and washed his hands before filling two glasses with ice-cold water.
He winked as he took a seat at the table. “The one thing we have up here is plenty of freezing water.”
“As I discovered when I took my first shower.”
“I’ll bet that was a shock.” Whit helped himself to one of the squares of salmon and a strip of the Parmesan toast.
After his first bite, he looked over in surprise. “Wow. This is even better than it smells. What is this?”
“Salmon loaf. Gram used to make it, and I tried to duplicate it as
much as I could. I made bread crumbs, and instead of fresh onion I used onion salt. A little Worcestershire sauce, some hot pepper sauce, and whatever I could find in those cupboards.”
Whit polished off the first slice and helped himself to a second, larger slice. “Maybe you ought to think about writing a cookbook to go along with your illustrated children’s book.”
That had her scowling. “You must be hallucinating. You’re beginning to sound like I used to, when I believed in my pipe dream.”
“Hey, Goldilocks. Every success has to start with a dream. Why not yours?”
While he polished off a third slice of salmon loaf, she sat back with a thoughtful look. She wished she’d never told him the truth. It was easier giving up on her dream when nobody else knew about it. But right now, even though she was convinced that her dreams would never materialize, she couldn’t help feeling a quick tug at her heart over his words.
She glanced toward the blazing logs. “When I first got here, it was mild enough that I didn’t even need a fire at night. When the temperature started dropping, I was glad for the meager pile of logs. I never dreamed this area would be hit by a blizzard.” She sipped her water. “I wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t come along. All I had was that thin jacket and enough wood to see me through the night. I’m wondering now if I could have managed to chop enough wood to keep from freezing.”
“Good thing you didn’t have to find out.”
“Yeah.” She crossed to the fire and placed the coffeemaker on the grill set over the logs. Within minutes the little cabin was filled with the wonderful aroma of coffee.
Whit watched the ease with which she’d managed to do the difficult things that would have been so simple back at his ranch. Things that seemed more in line with his grandfather’s early years. Cooking over a fire. Taking an ice-cold shower. And all without complaint.
“I think, if I hadn’t come along, you’d have managed just fine on your own, Goldilocks.”
“Well, I suppose I could always burn the furniture.” She shot him a sly smile. “Though I’m not so sure you and your family would be sympathetic.”
“No doubt about it, Mad would have had the law on your trail.” He opened a cabinet door and retrieved a deck of cards. “Since you beat me so badly at word games, how about a few hands of poker?”
“Can’t stand losing?” She grinned. “Okay. Deal the cards and I’ll pour two mugs of coffee.”
When she returned to the table, she placed a plate of delicate butter cookies to one side. “I found a sealed tin of these in the pantry. Gram used to bake something like these every Christmas.” She reached for one. “Not that I expect them to be as good as Gram’s.”
Whit popped one into his mouth as he picked up the cards and studied them. After his first bite, he raised a brow. “Hey, these are good.”
Cara nodded. “Almost as good as Gram’s. What are we playing for? More pennies?”
He thought a minute. “Tell you what. My feet are still frozen. I say the loser has to give the winner a foot bath and foot massage.” He looked over with a gleam of laughter in his eyes. “Deal?”
Cara wrinkled her nose before glancing toward his worn boots dripping beside the door. “It’s a good thing I’m going to win. I’d hate to have to get up close and personal with feet that have been stuck in those smelly boots all day.”
As he took a sip of coffee and reached for another cookie, his grin deepened. “Goldilocks, this smelly old bear is going to thoroughly enjoy beating your…hide.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” She topped off their cups before picking up her cards.
For the next few hours, as they drank the entire pot of coffee and emptied the plate of butter cookies, they went through hand after hand of poker, their voices and laughter growing with each win and loss.
While they played, Cara asked endless questions about Whit’s family, which he happily described to her, explaining about Ash and his childhood love, Brenna, and Griff, the brother he never even knew about until his father’s sudden, shocking death.
“And now Griff’s bride, Juliet, has two little boys? How do you like being an uncle?”
“That’s the best part about acquiring more family. They’ve got Mad wrapped around their fingers. And they say the darndest things. My mom has discovered the joy of being an instant grandmother.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “In truth, our ranch has turned into a land of sugar and spice, with those two females added to the family. Sometimes I just have to get away by myself, to remember how it used to be.”
“Spoken like a guy who seems determined to remain a bachelor.”
“You got that right. The female wasn’t born who’ll lead me down the garden path.” Whit had the smug look of a man holding a winning hand. “Okay, Goldilocks. We’ve each won ten games. This is the one that will tell the tale. Has the lady been enjoying beginner’s luck? Or is she actually a card shark hoping to swallow some poor, unwitting fish?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He grinned. “How many cards?”
She returned his slow, easy smile with one of her own. “None. I’ll play these.”
His eyebrow lifted just a bit as he discarded two cards and took two from the deck.
After glancing at his cards, he gave her a long look. “I’ll give you a chance to up the ante. How about the loser throwing in a back rub along with that foot massage?”
The corners of her lips twitched. “I think I’d enjoy that a whole lot. Okay. You’re on.”
He gave a slight nod of his head. “Ladies first.”
She made a grand sweep of her hand. “I’ll let the loser go first.”
“Suit yourself.” He lay down his hand, displaying three aces and two kings.
Cara stared at them for long seconds, her confident smile fading as she lay down her cards.
“Why, Goldilocks, you poor little thing. I can see why you were looking so smug. Ordinarily three queens and two deuces would be worth a king’s ransom. Unless, of course, you’re playing Whit MacKenzie.” He stretched his arms high over his head and gave a mock sigh. “I guess I forgot to tell you I’m considered the luckiest poker player who ever set foot in Wylie’s Saloon in Copper Creek.”
“You’re lucky, all right. But you had to draw two cards to beat me.”
“A win is a win. Besides, all’s fair in love and poker.”
As she pushed away from the table and warmed a dishpan filled with water over the hot logs, Whit peeled off his socks and rolled up the legs of his faded denims. Then he settled himself into the rocker, all the while whistling a happy tune.
A short time later, Cara placed the steaming pan of water on a towel and poured a liberal amount of liquid soap.
“I hope it’s warm enough.”
“I could always add a dash of hot sauce.”
“Woman. A hot cowboy like me doesn’t need help from a jar of sauce.”
He dipped a toe, then a foot, and then both feet. “It’s perfect.”
“I’ll let you soak those smelly feet before I attempt a massage.”
“Coward.” A huge smile split his lips. “I’ll let you know if the water gets too cool.”
“I’m sure you will.”
She walked away and started a second pot of coffee before filling the plate with more cookies.
When she offered him one, he shook his head. “I’ve had enough. But when the coffee’s ready, I’ll have a splash of whiskey in mine.”
“I guess you’re hoping to be warm inside and out.”
“A man can never be too hot.” He was humming as she moved around the kitchen, storing the cookies, putting away the last of the dinner items in the small pantry.
When she handed him a steaming cup of coffee laced with whiskey, Whit lifted his feet from the tepid water and settled them on the towel she’d provided.
She looked over. “You’ve had enough?”
“More than.” He indicated a second chair. “I’m read
y for my foot massage now.”
“Is there any lotion I can use?”
He pointed to the tiny bathroom. “There’s a tube of cream we use when our skin cracks from the sun and wind. I guess that ought to do the job.”
She returned with it and lifted his feet to her lap as she sat and began massaging the cream into the soles of his feet.
She looked at him in surprise. “Your skin’s soft. How can a cowboy who’s on his feet all his life in tall leather boots have such soft skin?”
“I come from good stock. How about you, Goldilocks? Aren’t your feet soft?”
“Not as soft as yours.”
“You may have to let me rub your feet later.” At her look, he added quickly, “Just so I can compare.”
“Is that what you have in mind?”
“I don’t think you want to know what’s in my mind, Goldilocks. Especially right at the moment.”
She ducked her head and bent to her work, her hair drifting forward.
Whit sipped his coffee and watched her through narrowed eyes. He liked looking at her when she was unaware. At times like this, there was a sweetness, a serenity about her that had him smiling.
She looked up. “I guess, from that smug smile, you’re enjoying this.”
“You’ll never know just how much, Goldilocks.”
She laughed. “At least all that soap and lotion keeps you from smelling like Papa Bear.”
“That’s good.” He took another long sip of coffee laced with whiskey. “Because right now I’m not feeling much like a bear. But I am feeling like a king in his castle.”
“Just so you realize I’m not the king’s wench.”
That had him laughing out loud. “Damn. And I was so hoping I could get you to do my bidding.”
“You’ve got about five more minutes of pampering, Your Majesty, and then your bubble is about to burst.”
“Have you forgotten my back rub?”
It was clear, from the look on her face, that she had completely forgotten.
To her credit, she bit back the words that sprang to her lips and merely gritted her teeth in silence.
Whit gave a sigh. “My feet feel as soft as a newborn calf’s hide.”
