Once he was confident they were headed in the right direction, he took the reins and motioned for Shea to keep her head down. She didn’t object but instantly dropped her chin to her chest. His sunglasses helped protect him somewhat but the way the snow slashed sideways, punishing their exposed skin, he knew it was going to be a long trek.
He led the mare toward the plane, intent on stopping to pick up his emergency kit on the way to the shack. Though he’d flown over the place a few times, he hadn’t used it in years. He hoped like hell they weren’t in for a nasty surprise.
* * *
AT FIRST SHEA THOUGHT the small cabin was a hallucination. It didn’t seem possible there’d be a building, such as it was, in the middle of nowhere.
It was also possible this whole thing was a dream. Jesse had kissed her. She’d kissed him back. How could that have been real? Could she have made it up in her head?
Jesse led Candy Cane right up to the door and tethered her to a pole that had been stuck in the ground, buried in nearly a foot of snow. She knew he expected her to dismount but she was so numb from the cold that she feared she’d need his help in order to land on her feet. Which wasn’t the least bit fair—he had to be exhausted.
Apparently he hadn’t expected her to do anything because he reached up and caught her at the waist. “Ready?”
She nodded, unable to utter a word. Her teeth were still chattering too hard, and the uncontrollable shivering hadn’t eased up. She felt like such a baby.
He lifted her off the saddle and set her on the ground. Her legs were unbearably weak, hardly more stable than overcooked spaghetti, and if she went down she’d just die.
Without a word, Jesse slid an arm around her. “No point in me going inside first. We have no other choice.”
Grateful for his support, she leaned against him. “I’m just glad it’s blocking the wind.”
He pushed open the unlatched door, and Shea could’ve sworn she saw a critter run across the wood floor. Or it might have been a trick of the waning light. Either way, she didn’t care. As long as there was no biting involved, she was willing to share.
A dank, musty smell permeated the air, and she didn’t care about that, either. As they stumbled across the threshold, she saw the place consisted of a single room with no windows. A cot had been shoved into the corner and beside it sat two small benches that looked like the results of a high school woodshop project.
Other objects were scattered about but it was too dim to make them out. Something big and gray sat in the middle of the room and she got excited when she realized it was a potbellied stove.
“Does this thing work?” she asked, optimism warming her insides.
“I hope so.” Jesse removed his arm from around her waist and was slowly inching away. “You okay to stand?”
She had been leaning on him quite heavily. The realization surprised her, but more shocking was the sudden need to keep him glued to her side. “Of course, sorry.”
“For what?” He rubbed her arm with reassurance and then dug in the large bag he’d taken from the plane.
She heard a soft click before the round glow from a flashlight swept the small room. The light stopped on a lantern hanging on a rough, unfinished wall. She saw the floor was made up of warped wooden planks and made a mental note to be careful how she stepped.
“I was hoping the lantern was still here.” He took her hand and pressed the flashlight against her palm. “Hold this, would you?”
“How did you know— Have you been here before?”
“Many times.” He pulled off one of his gloves, and just watching him expose his hand made her shudder deep inside her jacket. “In fact, my brother Cole and I helped Cy Heber put up this shack twelve years ago.”
She tried to keep the beam of light ahead of him while he retrieved the lantern. “It seems older.”
“May not be the Ritz, but it’s served its purpose more than once.”
“I’m not complaining,” she said, unable to stop shivering. Nice to be out of the snow but it seemed just as cold inside as outside. “Should I close the door?”
“Let’s see if we can air the place out a little.” He stopped fidgeting with the lantern, looked over at her and then went back to rooting inside the bag.
He pulled out something big and silvery and draped it around her shoulders, gathering the ends together under her chin. She’d lowered her arms to her side, making the flashlight useless.
“What is this?”
“A blizzard blanket. It helps conserve your body heat.”
She couldn’t see his face in the murky light but she could feel his breath, warm and moist, dancing across her cheekbones. “What about you?”
“I want to get this lantern lit and a fire started.” He brushed his bare thumb along her jaw.
Even though she couldn’t see, she was pretty sure his touch to her face was deliberate. Was he thinking about the kiss? Would he say something about it? She kind of hoped he didn’t. Still, she liked having him close, wanted him closer. She tried to move her feet, but that didn’t work out so well.
“We’re going to be okay here,” he said quietly, and there was the slightly rough pad of his thumb again, stroking her jaw, making her want to sag against him. She was exhausted, that’s all. “You understand?”
“What about Caleb and Candy Cane?” She saw a flash of white teeth.
“Candy Cane?”
“I didn’t name her.”
He made sure she had a grip on the blanket before he withdrew his hands. “They’ll be fine.”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
“Shine the flashlight over here.” He picked up the lantern. “You think people bring their horses and cattle inside when it snows?”
“You don’t have to be condescending.”
He pulled matches out of his bag of tricks and lit the lantern. The flickering glow caught his faint smile. “You accused me of being a liar.” He shrugged. “So we’re even.”
“I didn’t say you— Okay, I sort of did, but I didn’t mean it.” Sighing, she pushed the hair away from her frozen face, and glanced around the room again now that they had some light.
Logs were stacked on the other side of the stove, so that gave her hope they’d have some heat soon. Closer to her an open cardboard box bulged with kindling and crumpled newspaper. By the far wall was a kettle and an iron frying pan sitting on an overturned metal bucket. Canned goods had been stored in an old corner bookshelf. God only knew how long they’d been sitting there. She wasn’t that hungry yet.
Her gaze went back to Jesse. “What can I do to help?” That won’t embarrass me, she nearly added. She never felt more useless than in a situation like this.
He crouched in front of the stove, opened the small door and used the illumination of the lantern to peer inside. “Find a decent place to sit while I get a fire going. You can use the flashlight.”
Either she was getting used to the musty odor, or leaving the door open had worked. She peeked outside to check on Candy. The mare snorted steam but seemed sufficiently content to not have snow blowing in her face. That didn’t stop Shea from worrying. Caleb was still out there with no shelter at all.
“Shea, I promise you the horses are fine.”
She turned around and watched him arrange the logs inside the stove. “How can you make that promise?”
“We have herds of wild mustangs living in the mountains who survive one winter after another, including their young.”
All right, he had a point—one she hadn’t considered. “Caleb is domesticated.”
“And probably smarter than half the people we know.”
She smiled. Another valid point. No doubt the horse was savvier than herself, damn her IQ. She pulled the metallic blanket more snugly around her shoulders and swallowed hard. “I really messed up,” she said, mortified when her voice broke.
Jesse’s head jerked up. “Hey.”
She moved into the shadows so he couldn’t see
her watery eyes. No tears had fallen yet, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. “Annie must be terrified. If she sends anyone out to look for me in this storm, I’ll never forgive—”
“I had someone call her. She knows you’re with me.” He struck a match and lit the fire. Wisps of dark smoke seeped from the metal pipe that poked through the ceiling.
“How?” There couldn’t be cell service out here.
“I radioed when we stopped at the Cessna. Annie and my family have been notified that we’re lying low.” Rising, he waved off the smoke and inspected the pipe.
“Thank God.” She breathed in too deeply and it hurt her chest. Tears still burned at the back of her eyes. She had to get control of herself. They were safe, and Annie and the McAllisters didn’t have to worry.
He used the heel of his hand to give the stovepipe a couple of whacks. She heard something break loose inside, then some other rattling noise. Probably an animal. She didn’t ask...she didn’t want to know. The smoke had stopped leaking. That was good enough for her.
“Close the door if you want,” he said, returning to poke at the meager flames.
Her relief that he’d been too preoccupied to notice her almost lose it dissolved when she saw that he was studying her as intently as he was the struggling fire.
Averting her eyes, she silently cleared her throat. “I’m willing to leave it open for a while longer if you think it would help.”
“It’ll get warmer faster with the door closed.”
She had the benefit of the blanket, he didn’t. After a final peek at the mare, Shea shut the door. “This is really helping,” she said, letting the blanket slide off her shoulders. “You should use it now.”
He stood abruptly and stopped her from passing it to him. “No, keep it around you until I have the fire going better. Don’t lose heat now.”
“What about you?”
“Hey, I’m the hero of the day. Let me enjoy my fame for another hour.”
“The hero?”
“Damn right. Rescued a damsel in distress, didn’t I?”
“I thought this looked more like a cape than a blanket.” God, she’d made a joke of sorts. What had gotten into her?
His mouth curved in a small smile as he gently arranged the blanket so that it covered her shoulders and most of her neck. The whole time he faced her, tugging the ends together and catching her off guard. She stumbled toward him and he put his arms around her.
“I figure we’ll share the blanket.” He lifted and freed her hair, lingering to rub the strands between his thumb and forefinger, much as she’d done to Caleb’s mane.
She hoped she hadn’t made the horse as nervous as Jesse was making her. “Share...as in you have a turn, then I have one? Or do you mean we’d be using it at the same time?”
He looked as if he wanted to laugh. “Which do you prefer?”
“Whichever is more practical,” she said, and was startled to see her breath mingle with his in the cold air.
“Of course.” His eyes probed hers and then he lowered his gaze to her lips. “I’d better get back to the fire.”
He was already doing a fine job of heating the room, or at least her. Warmth filled her chest and pooled in her belly. For a split second she thought he might kiss her again. Was he waiting for a signal from her? God, she was so bad at this.
No, the kiss hadn’t meant anything. He’d been relieved to find her. It had just happened. Anyway, it would be a mistake. Getting physical wouldn’t end well. It never had for her. Not once. She’d be disappointed, things would get awkward and then they’d be stuck here together for who knew how long.
“Maybe I should tackle—” Her voice sounded weak and shaky. She cleared her throat and moved away before trying again. “I saw a stack of old newspapers. I should crumple some.”
“We’ll need them eventually,” he agreed, and checked the fire. “Your jeans are wet. You should take them off.”
She glanced down. They were soaked. How had she not noticed? “I can’t do that.”
“We’ll hang them near the stove,” he said in a casual tone, his focus remaining on the growing flames. “They’ll dry faster than they will plastered to you.”
“I don’t have other clothes to change into.”
“You have the blanket.”
“But we’re going to share it.”
He turned his head toward her, one dark brow lifted in amusement. “So you’ve decided.”
“Stop that.” She sounded as though she were five.
“What?”
“You’re teasing me.”
“I am,” he said with a smile that was far from contrite. “But you’d still be better off losing the jeans.”
She did the only thing she could—she ignored him. After busying herself with collecting and crumpling newspaper, she found part of a torn T-shirt that was probably meant as a rag.
Unused and relatively soil free, it was perfect for dusting off the two benches and the cot. She picked up the sole pillow, stood at the open door and tried to shake out the dust and bits of dried leaves that had accumulated inside the faded pillowcase. No matter, her head wouldn’t be going anywhere near that thing.
Now that she knew her jeans were drenched, they’d become horribly uncomfortable. She had the miserable feeling that as long as they were wet she’d never fully warm up. It made no sense to have a cot but no blankets or sheets. Then again, she doubted anything she’d find here would be acceptable to have pressed against her body.
The mere idea made her shudder. “Why is this shack here?” she asked Jesse, who’d done a great job with the fire during the twenty minutes she’d spent ignoring him.
“It’s used for fishing trips, emergencies, a place to spend the night if you’re mending fences.” A flame licked out of the stove, narrowly missing him. He leaned back and shut the metal door with a loud clang.
“Are we that far from civilization?”
Jesse straightened, stretched out his long lean form and dusted his hands together. “Yep, guess you’re at my mercy.”
9
SHE STARED AT HIM with her serious gray eyes, then blinked and huffed. “I’m so glad I can amuse you.”
Jesse smiled, pleased that she’d started to loosen up. The impulsive kiss he’d laid on her could’ve done some damage. No way he could explain what had gotten into him. Other than he’d been relieved to see that she was okay. Fortunately, it seemed she was willing to forget it, not read too much into his rashness and move on.
Trouble was, he wouldn’t mind kissing her again.
It finally occurred to him that he was staring at her lips, and he got down to the business of removing his other glove. “As the crow flies we aren’t too far from Safe Haven or the Heber ranch. This type of line shack is a holdover from the old West.”
She huddled closer to the stove. “It looks it. You’d think the place would be better equipped.”
“Nowadays you can have them built log-cabin style with most of the luxuries of a resort. If you’ve got money to burn that is.” He tossed his glove at the cot. “Cy used to like to tip the bottle back now and again. His wife wouldn’t have it so he’d sneak out here. Kept his whiskey right under that...”
Jesse lifted the frying pan and kettle, then the bucket. Sure enough, there was a fifth of Jim Beam. He picked up the bottle of bourbon and held it to the light. Half-full. God bless Cy.
“You’re not going to drink that.”
“Well, darlin’...” he drawled, giving her a wink. “I’d wager we’ll both be a little happy before the night’s over.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not me—” she paused “—darlin’.”
At least he’d gotten her to crack a small smile. “Need help pulling off those jeans?”
Her brows shot up and she stared at him as if she didn’t know what to say. He figured she probably didn’t. She wasn’t as uptight as he’d initially thought, but she seemed to be oddly innocent, as if the world she saw was completel
y different from the world of an ordinary Joe like him. It made him wonder what life had been like for her, growing up with that kind of naïveté. Combined with the level of smarts that were required to be a computer software engineer, it was a peculiar mix. Interesting. Appealing.
He hooked his boot around the leg of a nearby stool and pulled it closer to the fire. “You think I’m joking but that denim is soaked. It’s gonna need to be peeled off you.”
“What about your jeans?”
“They’re only wet to the knees, but they’re coming off right now.”
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. He’d expected her to turn away. Instead she stared with owlish fascination as he set the bottle on the floor then unbuckled his belt.
Well, hell, he wasn’t about to do a striptease. “How are your feet?”
“My feet?”
“They have to be cold. Take off your boots and massage your toes. Get the circulation going.” He nudged the stool toward her and got one of the narrow benches for himself.
She dragged the stool farther away from him, tested its stability by pushing on the seat then trying to rock it back and forth. Apparently satisfied she wouldn’t fall on her cute little ass, she slowly lowered herself, arranging the blanket so she wasn’t sitting on it.
He waited until she bowed her head to unlace her boots before he unzipped his fly.
The sound brought her head up. “You’re really going to take those off?”
“Will it offend you?”
She vigorously shook her head, then lowered her lids and went back to removing her boots. Her teeth still chattered sporadically, and it killed him that he couldn’t make her warmer.
Although he wouldn’t admit it to her, he was pretty damn cold himself. He’d hoped to find a wool blanket—even a moth-eaten one would do. But the place seemed bare. Then, too, he hadn’t looked around much since they’d had some light.
On a Snowy Christmas Night Page 9
