by Lass Small
She was, by then, wrapped in his arms and against his nice warm body. She burrowed closer. Her wiggling to get closer was very stimulating for him. He said, “Let’s go—”
And she interrupted, “I’m freezing and I need to get back into the kitchen.”
“You’re cold?” He looked astonished.
She said, “Yes!” being quite clear about it.
And he moved out a hand to indicate the door to the kitchen. But she was already through it, by the oven and holding herself as she shivered inside his warm shirt.
She closed her eyes, crossed her arms around the shirt and said, “Ummm.”
She said that about his flannel shirt. He frowned. He could find another. Maybe the silks really were foolish. But he hated the idea of her putting on more clothes.
The dog had stood up with her intrusion into his space. Lauren was standing, bent to the stove with her hands in the rising heat. The dog stood blinking sleepily and watching the strange behavior of the two strange creatures who were back in the kitchen.
Kyle told her earnestly, “We never have ever had any outages here.”
She slowly, unbelievingly slid her eyes over to his in dismissive disbelief.
Gloomily he promised, “I’ll find you some heavier clothes.”
She didn’t reply, and he went off out of the kitchen. Then he remembered to come back and close the door to the rest of the house. She listened; his steps went onoff and the sounds of him disappeared.
That way, Lauren had a brief taste of what it must be like to be alone. Kyle had lived there in that big house, all alone, for some time. That must explain why he was so concentrated on her. She was female. She was there. He had just kissed her.
Also, there was this mammoth storm. The electricity was out. She was all the entertainment Kyle had. Since she could speak in words, she probably even beat out the dog as a companion.
Hmmmm.
She would have to protect Kyle from himself. With this chatter about what a cozy place it was, there, he could well propose to her. He could get that done before the storm was past and he could get out again.
It would be good exercise for him to go out and milk the cows. How many did he have? She could help him with that. It had been years since she’d done it. But it was probably like crocheting. One never forgets an acquired skill.
And she remembered her mother trying to figure out her sewing machine after years of not using it. At one time, her mother had made all of the daughters’ clothing.
Her mother’s sewing had gone on until the daughters’ rebellion in ninth grade. Each had wanted to look like everyone else.
Females aren’t as weird as males.
Kyle returned to the kitchen with some cedar chest treasures of woolen ski clothes. “These belonged to one of my sisters. Try them.” He said it sadly as he took a last lingering study of the silks.
“I can’t wear wool.” She was equally sad as she said that.
But he brightened and smiled. “I’ll see if I can find something else. And he cheerfully went back upstairs.
She found herself wondering, what was a bachelor doing with a cedar chest of women’s clothing? And she waited for his return.
He did come back. And he carried some odd assortments of wear that were not at all coordinated. But they were fascinating.
She tried on everything. Most were too small. Had he been deliberate? She felt like a whale.
He sat at the kitchen table and watched her try things on over the silks. He liked the silks. If he agreed to marry her, would she wear only silks? Or nothing? He told her, “The heat will be on soon. We have a good crew.”
She replied seriously, “I need to find something else to wear because these silks need to be washed.”
He replied “I have a good washer and dryer in the washroom. It’s over here.” He went and opened another door.
She hadn’t seen it on their tour of his house. She asked, “Have you anything you would like to have washed?”
He replied gently as he watched her seriously, “We’ll have to wait for the electricity to come back on.”
And she was stopped. She stood and considered. Then she said, “Yes.”
He immediately went into a long dissertation on how seldom the electricity was off. It was trustworthy. It was there. This was an unusual storm. They had always had electricity.
She listened, sober faced, and when he was repeating things, she nodded—once.
A woman nodding once was not communicating a full hearted agreement.
Six
The gathering of clothing, which he’d found, was not good. She looked at his own clothing. “Let me check out your closet.”
He was taller than she; he was heavier in weight by about fifty pounds. His clothing would not fit her. To prove that he was a caring male, he said to her kindly, “We could look.”
She got the sheepskin coat and put it on. They went upstairs to his room. He especially liked seeing her in his room. Even in the coat, he liked her in his room. How could he get her into his bed?
She opened his closet and looked at the shirts. She asked carefully, not looking at him, “Who irons your shirts?”
“The laundry does it. They even pick them up and deliver them. Naw. I was kidding. I take whatever it is there every week and pick it up in a couple-a days.”
She looked at the shirts more carefully. “They do a good job. How much do they charge?”
“Oh, around a buck each.”
“That isn’t bad. They appear to do a good job. I believe I’ll wear this corduroy one.”
Openly, he exclaimed, “You can have it! It’s too hot for me.”
“Thank you.”
His breathing changed. While his breaths were high in his chest, he carefully asked, “That all? You just gonna wear the shirt?”
Busily going through his clothes, she replied, “No. I’ll find some trousers and some heavy, cotton socks.”
He was sunk. She’d be covered from her nose to toes. Damn. But he said, “I can find the socks. And here’s some cords that’ll be okay. With a belt. Naw. You’ll need a tie to hold them up. Let’s see. Here’s—Uh, not that one. This—Naw. Maybe this—”
He was fond of his ties and wanted them treated well, not tied around some female waist to hold up pants. In the back of the closet, there it was, a tie from his grandmother. “Here’s one.”
She accepted it with only one blink to reveal her surprise. “Where did you find this one?”
“My grandmother who is color blind. You don’t ever tell her.”
His grandmother. That would explain it. She smiled at him.
Then he handed the cords over to her as if they were precious. “I haven’t worn these in a while. They’re clean. You can try them.”
And he waited.
She looked at him and said, “I’ll take a rinse off and wash my silks. The bathroom will be heated by the water.”
He watched her soberly for a minute before he admitted, “The water’s heated by electricity.”
“No—hot—water.” It wasn’t a question. It was a defeated statement.
“I can get you some hot water on the stove?” The TEXAS questioning statement. “I’ll pour it into the bathtub downstairs. Okay? I’ll go get it started.” And he immediately turned away to do it.
She could handle that. She called after him, “Thanks.”
The words came back. “I’m your host.”
His mother had always managed to mention that he should never pick up stray females.
“—unless they’re beeves,” his dad would add on.
So there Kyle Phillips was, out in the middle of nowhere on his own place, with a stray woman in his house. He smiled. She sure was something!
With her vividly in his excited mind, Kyle filled two buckets and a kettle. That ought to be enough water for a woman’s bath. With all the physical work he did, he very easily set the filled buckets on the stovetop and turned on the gas.
Watch
ed pots never boil. He went back up the stairs, and she was still in the sheepskin coat and she’d laid out what she wanted.
Why would she wear all that stuff?
And he considered that if she was at all kind, she would invite him to bathe her. Yeah. He breathed and discarded the multiplication tables because he would rather hurt. The need was distracting. Now how could such discomfort be distracting?
It showed him what he didn’t have.
He knew. He knew:
In the kitchen, Kyle finally could take some hot pads and carry the buckets to the downstairs bath.
Lauren had put some water into the tub so that the boiling water wouldn’t hurt the tub. He poured in the hot water and asked, “Need your back scrubbed?” And he smiled in a sassy manner.
She shook her head, but she couldn’t hide a little wicked smile of her own.
He had his hand on the doorknob. “If you don’t add any water and you leave this door closed, the heat of the water will warm the room. I’ll bring in more hot water for the bath.”
“Thank you.” She waited, and he watched her. He was silent, so she reminded him, “The other water.”
“Yeah.” But he still stood there, watching her. Finally, he turned the knob and slid out the door, rattling the buckets.
She closed the door.
He stood and his imagination saw her taking off those silks. Hell, she wouldn’t do that yet. She’d let the room warm up first. Then she’d slide out of that soft material and her body would be naked. She’d smile at him, and he’d take her to bed. And he’d be so quick he’d be done and asleep before she’d even taken a breath.
He went back to the kitchen, refilled the containers and put them on the stove. It took a while for them to boil.
He paced. He wanted to go back to see what she was doing in that room. His imagination supplied the answer. She was stark, staring naked and waiting for him. Of course.
And he noted yet again that the gourd-pod for which she’d risked her life was lying on the breakfast table there in the kitchen. What was in it? What was put in a pod that was retrieved at risk of her very life? What could be that important?
Why would Lauren’s bunch want to learn to deliver pods for information? What was written in the pod? Why was that bunch doing those tests? What was their purpose?
Eventually, the water boiled. He was eager and imagined her rising from the scant but cooled tub water like Venus on a half shell. Would she move her hands to cover herself?
He carried both buckets down the hall and tapped on the door with one boot toe.
She opened the door and was completely dressed in his sheepskin coat. It was hot and humid in the room. She closed the door after him, and he poured the boiling water into the tub.
He told her, “I have the kettle on the stove. I’ll bring it right in.”
“I probably don’t need it. This is just great. Thank you.”
And it was then that he saw she’d washed the silks. They were on hangers. They looked really fragile. If they were on the hanger, she was naked under his coat. The damned lucky, stupid, unknowing, unappreciating coat.
She said another, “Thank you,” as she waited for him to leave.
He left, closing the door with some distracted care. He wondered if there were any spy holes in the house? He’d never thought to investigate such a thing. If there were, he would cover them. Of course. He would cover them. with his wicked eyes!’
He went into the darkened closet next to the bath and closed the door. There wasn’t one slit of light. Not even a skinny, little one.
How uninventive the previous owners had been. How dull their minds. They probably just went ahead and the woman had been willing so there was never any anticipation.
He was anticipating? Yeah. And he leaned back his head and silently groaned. Men had it tough. Women were stingy. They were fascinating. They ruled.
As silently as possible, he left the closet and went to the cooler living room. The kitchen was a furnace, what with the oven and the boiling water. The dog didn’t mind.
Kyle narrowed his eyes as he observed the animal. That dog was a fooler. It had claimed to be a good, honest, cow dog. It had worked the beeves and been eager to make a good impression. But look what a basic house dog he was.
Kyle looked at the dog and told him with narrowed eyes, “You’re a fooler.”
And the dog laughed soundlessly. His panting was enough.
And Kyle retorted, “I am not, either!”
But the dog only smiled.
So Kyle warned, “Don’t you dare tell.”
The dog had to move, to walk with his nose down as he grinned even wider. How rude of such a dumb creature. Thank God the damned dog couldn’t talk.
Meanwhile, in the bath, Lauren was sighing with exquisite pleasure to be that warm again…to be that clean. Her poor silks had been so dirty. The only thing that was good about that particular sparse TEXAS dirt was that it was mostly sand. It was just about the color of the silks and therefore the dirt hadn’t been so obvious.
Finally, reluctantly, Lauren rose from the bath about like Kyle’s imagination, Venus on the half shell. She dried with a skinny tufted towel. It was rather harsh. And she looked at his clothes.
She put them on.
How odd to feel invaded by him when she was wearing his clothing. Since she had no clean underwear, and he had provided none, his masculine clothing was against her soft, vulnerable body.
She paused to consider that feeling. How would it be to have his work-roughened hands on her, covering her? With his body?
She took deep breaths and her eyes closed. Her mind mentioned with some boredom that virgins were like that.
There wasn’t anything happening to distract her from herself and what she wanted. Being isolated fooled virgins’ minds into being crass. Away from civilization, the mind became basic?
She looked around the finely appointed room. This was basic? Not bad!
Kyle tapped on the door.
She had locked it. She asked, “Yes?”
And his husky, door-filtered voice said, “Don’t empty the water, I’ll bathe in what’s there.”
She looked at the almost clear water. He would bathe in the water—after her? Oddly hot licks writhed in her lower stomach. Places tightened, and some became lax. Her breasts got pushy.
All that with just the idea of him bathing in her bathwater?
The tub and the water were his; she’d only sat in it and bathed.
But he was going to bathe in it…now?
She suggested, “It’s cooled.”
Through the door, he replied immediately, “It’s warmer than the snow outside.”
That was, of course, true. She looked at herself in the mirror, and she was standing in his clothing. She was very covered. She’d never been so anonymous looking in all her born days.
If Kyle was to bathe, she ought to let him have the bath while it was still warm. She opened the door.
His eyes’ sun wrinkles were pale as he looked at her avidly. She was wearing his clothes. It was his clothes that were hiding her soft body. His lips parted and he breathed rather erratically.
That happens when a couple find themselves snowbound and the outside world doesn’t seem real to them. They are isolated from the Universe. It’s the Adam and Eve syndrome. Lauren understood that.
She left the bathroom quickly so that no more of the air would escape…or that none of the chilled air could get into the warm room.
Kyle watched after her with an abandoned look. She had left him there and escaped.
He saw her go back to the kitchen. She was really a weather sissy. No sense of raw adventure.
He closed the door after him and was socked by the heat. He took off his shirt and long-underwear top without any trouble at all. Getting his pants unzipped was a little more difficult. His long winter drawers were next.
His sex was urgent. Poor thing. There was nothing to satisfy it immediately. He undid his boot
s and peeled off his socks without any problem.
His sex was very alert. He sunk it into the still-warm water—where she had been naked. She had sat in that very place, stark naked. Realizing such a thing was no help at all for his libido.
He got clean. He emptied the tub and washed it out neatly. He had no clean clothes there. He considered all that as he toweled his body dry.
So he dropped his clothes in the hall and took the stairs two at a time to the landing. He looked back. She was nowhere around.
Why the disappointment?
He walked up the rest of the stairs and finally into his room. The cold didn’t bother him. He left off the long john underwear and pulled on a shirt and jeans, socks and boots.
Naturally, he wore boots. He did it automatically. Any cattleman did. It was a lot like wearing a watch or carrying a gun. Boots were just a part of his life.
Kyle realized immediately that he should also turn off the gas on the stove. She needed to be cold enough to depend on heat—from him. He could manage some heat. Yeah.
And what would he do when he was lax and contented? She’d still be squirming all over him trying to get closer and warmer.
Okay.
He could handle that.
He brushed his hair, and he got his electric razorNo electricity. He’d turned it off to fake the storm was even worse than it was.
So he went back down to the bathroom. The water was drained out and gone. Since he was the one who’d cleaned out the tub, he should have remembered doing it. So he shaved in cold water.
It took a while to get his beard wet enough. Then the shaving cream did a pretty good job of it. And the razor was sharp. He did get it done. He rinsed his face and felt it with searching fingers. Not bad. He only had to add soap to about five places right around his mouth.
Lauren would need to know he’d shaved just for her.
Foolish man. Most beards and unshaven faces are exciting to a woman. It is just so different. The touch of the obviously male beard thrills her hands and her skin no matter where.
Well, rough faces were exciting to-most women. There were those who rejected beards. Foolish women.
