“Spooning.” He laid his hand over hers, stroking the back of it, until she opened her fingers and he slid his between. She tucked their joined fists against her soft, flannel-covered breasts. He growled in her ear. “Frankly, I’d rather be shtupping.”
She giggled. “I don’t believe you said that.”
“The truth hurts. Let me tell you, it really, really hurts.”
She elbowed him lightly. “I’ll distract you.”
“Don’t worry, you already are.”
“I mean, from your, er, pain.”
“Oh. That. Good luck.”
“Back to spooning… Soldiers have done it, far back in history, spooning in the trenches to ward off the cold on a freezing night before a big battle. They’d keep warm using each other’s body heat.”
“Speaking of which, it’s too damn hot in here.” He pulled his hand from hers and readjusted the covers, pushing them down on his side.
“Umm.” She wiggled in against him again. “Better?”
It was agony, but at the same time… “Yeah.”
“Give me your hand back, please.” He obliged. She tucked it under her soft chin. “Yes,” she said on a gentle sigh. “This is nice…”
Nice wasn’t exactly the word for it.
Spooning.
Never in a million and a half years would he have pictured himself, lying here, spooning Katie Fenton.
But he was lying here, with her sweet-scented softness plastered all along the front of him, holding her tight, both of them covered in clothing from neck to ankle. He was lying here, never wanting to let her go.
He knew he’d never get any sleep like this. But he closed his eyes, anyway.
He woke abruptly as Katie threw back the covers and jumped from the bed.
He sat up. She was already past the rope he’d dropped last night, racing for the door to the front reception room.
He raked the hair back from his forehead. “Huh, wha—?”
She sent him a dazzling smile and hauled open the door. “The phone’s ringing.”
It rang again as she slipped through the doorway.
Katie picked up the phone in midring. “Hello?” No one spoke. She asked again, more urgently, “Hello?”
“Katie, darling? Oh, thank goodness.”
She felt the huge smile burst across her face. “Addy.”
“You’re there…you’re safe?”
“Oh, Addy. Yes. I’m fine. Justin and I got stuck here, at the museum. But we’re okay. We’re safe. Buttercup’s even okay—though she’s getting pretty cranky, trapped in the shed out back with only hay to eat.”
“You’re safe.” The relief in Addy’s dear voice was achingly clear. “We’ve been so worried….”
“I’m fine. Really. And so is Justin. Don’t worry anymore. Everything’s great, but what about you? And Caleb? And Riley?”
“Safe. We’re all safe.” A gentle chuckle followed. “Riley made it home from the hall before the snow got too bad. Caleb and I and Mr. Sy Goodwin got stuck in that office in town.”
“The ski resort office?”
“You know Caleb. Sy’s visiting from Billings. He expressed interest in the project and Caleb wanted to take him right over there to show him what a good investment he’d be making. I tagged along. By the time we realized we needed to get home, it was too late. But we all three made it back to the hall, and spent Sunday and Monday and three endless, uncomfortable nights there, with the others who didn’t make it home. It was an adventure, I’ll tell you.”
“Where are you now?”
“The snowplows started working last evening. Thunder Canyon Road was cleared by seven this morning.”
Katie looked at the clock on the wall—ten thirty-five. “So you’re at the Lazy D?”
“That’s right. Home safe and sound.”
Katie clutched the phone tighter. “Oh, I’m so relieved. I was worried about everyone.”
“Nothing to worry about. We’re all safe, and Caleb wants to talk to you.”
“Okay, I—”
Before she finished her sentence, Caleb’s deep voice was blustering in her ear. “Katie. Honey, you’re all right?”
Katie smiled all the wider. “I’m fine. Really. Safe and warm, and we had food to eat, sandwiches left by the Historical Society ladies. We’re pretty tired of ham and cheese, but it all worked out. Truly.”
“Justin Caldwell?”
The sound of his name on Caleb’s lips made her blush, for some silly reason—or maybe it was the memory of last night. “He’s here, with me. Safe. I promise.”
“All right, then. Katie, honey, you’ll be out of there in no time. I’m making a few calls to see that plow gets to you right away.”
“Caleb, that’s really not necessary. We’re perfectly safe and we can wait.”
Caleb wouldn’t hear of that. “I’m getting you out of there, and I’m doing it quick. Just sit tight now and hold on.” He spoke to someone—Addy, no doubt—on his end of the line. “Addy wants you to come on out to the ranch for dinner tonight. We’ll celebrate how we all got through the worst blizzard of the century—so far, anyway—safe and sound. She says to invite Caldwell, too. Can’t have an out-of-towner thinking we don’t know how to treat a guest.” He chuckled again. “Especially one who happens to be my business partner.”
Nice idea, she thought. Lovely idea. “I’ll ask him.”
“Good. I’m going to let you go now. I want you to call me if that plow doesn’t show up in the next hour.”
She wouldn’t, of course. She and Justin could wait as long as it took. But Caleb always enjoyed pulling strings for the people who mattered to him. “Thanks, Caleb. I love you—Addy, too.”
He made the usual, gruff, blustering sounds. “Well, now, who’s my girl?”
“I am. Always. Bye now.”
She hung up and turned to find Justin leaning in the doorway to the central room, one bare foot crossed lazily over the other. Her heart set to pounding and her breath caught at the sight of him—at the memory of last night that seemed to shimmer in the air between them.
“That was Caleb and Addy.” She sounded breathless. Probably because she was. “They were worried. I told them we were fine. And they said everyone else is safe, too.”
“Good.” He straightened from his easy slouch and came toward her, the predatory gleam in his eyes causing her knees to go weak and something low in her belly to go soft as melting butter.
She suffered dual urges—to back away from him; and to throw herself against him and lift up her mouth. In the end, she did neither. She held her ground, waiting, as he stalked toward her.
He reached her, his eyes still burning into hers.
A nervous laugh escaped her. “Justin, you look so…” The sentence trailed off. She didn’t know quite how to finish it.
He lifted a hand. With a light finger, he guided a stray coil of hair behind her ear. A little shiver went through her. “Cold?”
“No. No, not at all. Justin, are you okay?”
His hand dropped to his side and he stepped back. “So, today we’re really getting out of here.”
She nodded. “If we’re lucky, the plow should be here in the next few hours.”
He turned from her, abruptly. “Let’s get the coffee going.”
She caught his arm. “Justin…”
He swung back, his eyes dark. Turbulent. His bicep was rock-hard with tension beneath her hand. “What?”
She let go, fast. “I…well, you almost seem angry. I just don’t get it.”
He kept staring at her, giving her that strange, hot, dark devouring look, for an endless, tense moment and then…
His eyes changed. Softened. His wonderful, sensual mouth went soft, too. “Hell.” And he reached out and pulled her into his strong arms, squeezing the breath right out of her.
“Justin, what—?”
“I don’t want to lose you.” The rough, whispered words seemed dredged up from the deepest part of him.
“Oh, Justin.” She held on, tight as he was holding her. “You won’t. Of course, you won’t.”
A low, pained sound came from him and he crushed her so close, as if he would push himself right into her, meld their separate bodies into one undividable whole.
An image flashed into her mind: of the boy he once was, a boy all alone when he shouldn’t have been, standing at a wide window, watching the snow come down, wondering what was going to happen to him.
“You can count on me,” she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being. “You can hold on to me. I’ll always be here.”
He held her close for an endless moment more and then, with a shuddering sigh, his arms relaxed. She raised her head to meet his eyes and a rueful half smile lifted a corner of his mouth.
“Damned if I wasn’t kind of getting to like it here.”
She surged up, pressed a kiss on his beard-shadowed jaw. “Me, too. Oh, Justin…me, too.”
Over morning coffee and the inevitable sandwiches, she relayed Addy’s dinner invitation.
His eyes shifted away for a split second, and then he shook his head. “Wish I could. But I need to get back to Bozeman, ASAP. In my business, there are a hundred issues to deal with on a daily basis. I’ve been away since Saturday morning and that’s three days too long.”
She set down her stale sandwich and resisted the urge to work on him to stay. The guy had a demanding job and if they were going to get anywhere together, she’d have to learn to live with that—and on second thought, there were no ifs about it. The way he’d held her, as if he’d never let her go, out in the reception room a while ago, had banished all doubts on that score.
“I’m disappointed,” she said, matter-of-factly. “But I do understand.”
“Will you thank Adele for the invitation—and express my regrets?”
“You know I will—and it could be tough to get home at this point. You realize that?” Well, okay, she couldn’t help hoping that maybe bad road conditions would keep him in town tonight, after all. He could stay at her place.
They could catch up on their spooning.
She might even make a quick trip to the drugstore, take care of the contraception problem. She’d never bought a condom in her life and old Mr. Dodson, the pharmacist, might give her the lifted eyebrow when she plunked the box down at the cash register counter. But it would definitely be worth the slight embarrassment, to make tonight extra special, a night to remember.
Always…
But then Justin said, “It’s not even twenty miles. And by later today, at least, I’m sure they’ll have the highway cleared.”
He was probably right. Darn it.
The plow came within the hour. By then, Caleb had called a second time to tell her not to worry about Buttercup. A couple of hands would be over a little later with the snowblower and other necessary equipment to free the mare from the shed out back. Emelda Ross had called, as well, just to check and see that Katie was all right.
Katie and Justin, still dressed in their rummage sale clothes, bundled in the coats and gloves they’d arrived in, shovels in hand, waited on the porch as the plow lumbered up the street. It turned into the museum parking lot and kept on coming, right up to the steps. Katie waved at the driver, a local man whose wife and kids paid frequent visits to the library, and shouted, “Thanks!”
The driver gave her a wave in return and then backed to the street again. The plow, which had already made the Elk Avenue curve, headed east at a crawl, toward what was known as New Town, clearing the high white drifts into yet higher piles at the sides of the street as it went.
Justin turned to her. “Well. What next?”
A dragging feeling of sadness engulfed her: for all they had shared in the dim rooms behind them, for the uncertain future—which, she told herself firmly, wasn’t uncertain at all.
She and the man beside her had found something special. Nothing could change that. “Where’s your car parked?” she asked with a cheery smile.
“In the lot behind the town hall.”
“It’s not far, and mine’s there, too. Let’s get the steps cleared off and put the shovels away and then we’ll start walking.”
All along Main Street, folks were out with their shovels. The roar of snowblowers filled the icy air. People called out and waved as Katie and Justin walked by.
“Katie, how you doin’?”
“Some storm, eh?”
“Talk about your New Year’s surprise!”
“Come on. This is nothin’. Five or six feet. Piece a cake.”
“And they say it’s turning warm right away. In the fifties by Friday. What do you think of that?”
They waved back and called greetings and when they reached the hall, they found the front steps already cleared and the driveway to the back parking lot passable, as well.
They went in the front to ask after the things they’d left behind the night of the storm. Rhonda Culpepper, well past sixty with a white streak in her improbably black hair, waited at her usual post behind the reception desk.
Rhonda greeted Katie and nodded at Justin and announced with a wink, “I’ll bet I know what you two are after.” She bent down behind the desk and came up with Katie’s purse and Justin’s briefcase, phone and keys, along with a big bag for each of them filled with their own clothes and shoes. “Have I got everything?”
“Looks like it. Thanks, Rhonda.”
“Always glad to help.”
They went down a side hall and out a door at the back. A couple of guys were at work there, clearing the snow between the vehicles so people could get them out. Katie exchanged greetings with the men and then Justin asked which car was hers.
She pointed at the silver-gray Suburban, near where the men were working. “In a few minutes they’ll have me dug out.”
“Let’s get the snow off the roof and the windshield cleared, then,” he suggested.
She caught his hand. Even through their heavy gloves, she felt his warmth. Her pulse quickened. “It’s okay. Doug and Cam will help me.” She gestured at the two busily shoveling men.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Where are you parked?”
His black Escalade was near the edge of the lot, not far from the drive that led around to the front. The snow had already been shoveled away around it.
She helped him knock some of the snow off the roof and the hood and he got inside and turned the vehicle on, ducking back out with a scraper. He set to work. She went on tiptoe and pushed more snow off the Escalade’s roof as he cleared the windshield.
It wasn’t all that long before he had the wipers going and he was ready to head out.
He cast a glance toward Cam and Doug, still shoveling away between the snow-covered cars and pickups. “Come here.” He grabbed her hand and towed her to the back of the Escalade, where they were out of sight of the working men. She went eagerly into the warm circle of his arms.
“Time to get out of here.” His breath came out on a cloud.
“Drive safely. I want you back soon. Very, very soon…”
By way of answer, he bent and pressed his lips—cold on the outside, so warm within—to hers.
The icy day, the growls of snowblowers on Main Street, the scraping of shovels on the frozen blacktop a few feet away—all of that faded to nothing. There was only Justin, his arms tight and cherishing around her, his mouth claiming hers in a bone-melting kiss.
With a regretful growl low in his throat, he lifted his head. “I’ll call you.”
She let out a laugh. “Good luck with that. You don’t even have my number.”
“Katie, you’re the town librarian and you’re like a daughter to Caleb Douglas, who happens to be a colleague of mine. I don’t think you’ll be that hard to track down. Plus, I’d bet the last strip mall I built that you’ve got a listed number.”
“Now, how did you know that?”
“You’re the listed-number type.”
She ga
ve him a frown. “That’s good, right?”
He kissed her nose, her cheeks and even her chin, his lips warm now against her cold skin. Then he pulled away enough to look at her, a deep look, a look she couldn’t quite read. “I have to go.” His arms fell away and he turned toward the driver’s door.
She followed, already missing him, feeling bereft. He climbed up into the seat and shut the door. She went around the front of the vehicle to the other side, getting out of his way.
He saluted her—a gloved hand to his forehead. She mimicked the gesture. And then he was backing out, turning to get the right angle, and rolling forward. She watched as the big, black SUV disappeared around the side of the town hall, her heart pounding hard and heavy as lead beneath her breastbone.
She knew he would call her. Hadn’t he just told her he would? Still, she had the strangest, scariest feeling right then that she would never see him again.
Chapter Ten
Dinner at the Lazy D was a festive affair. Adele had the cook prepare a juicy prime rib and Tess Little-hawk, the ranch’s longtime housekeeper, set the long table in the formal dining room with the best china and crystal.
Riley, who’d been out earlier checking the stock, came in from his own place a half a mile from the main house to join them, his dark hair slicked back, wet from the shower he must have just taken.
“I was the lucky one,” he said, smoothing his linen napkin on his lap and sparing a wink of greeting for Katie. “Safe and sound at my place before things got too rough.”
Sy Goodwin, a feed-store owner and family man who’d decided to stay the night before heading back to his wife and four kids in Billings, laughed with Caleb and Adele over their shared “ordeal” in the hall—especially Sunday morning, when most of the others were suffering from an excess of beer the day before.
“A number of extremely discouraging words were exchanged,” Goodwin reported, his expression jokingly solemn, a definite gleam in his eye.
The creases in Caleb’s nut-brown face etched all the deeper as he let out his big, boisterous laugh. “I tell you, Katie, a bottle of aspirin that first day was worth its weight in gold.”
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