Switching on the flashlight to the strongest setting, he followed the road and, just as he suspected, the rushing water covered the road just outside of Grinning Spurs, making it impassable by vehicle. There was no way she could have come this way.

  “We can do this, girl.” Baxter patted the horse and led her toward the line of the woods, through the overbrush and to the hill that kept him out of the water in the valley. Several mornings he’d come out to this very spot to watch the sunrise, and on occasion at sunset. The beauty of the land was breathtaking. He wondered if Buzz found the same connection, but of course he did.

  The horse’s hooves sunk into the water-logged ground, but they continued effortlessly, smoothly. He zipped his coat higher and pushed his hat down as far as it would go.

  His light did very little good through the heavy rain, but the horse was capable and stealth. Once they came to a clearing, some of the tension left his muscles. They were far outside of Grinning Spurs property line and, although it was dark and hard to see, when he’d explored the area, he remembered the landmarks of the ancient oak trees that lined the roadway and the abandoned, ramshackle farmhouse that sat close to the road. He bet there was history here and he wanted to learn more.

  The road was narrow with large potholes and he carefully steered the horse around them. as he made his way further from Tarnation toward the bare countryside. The gentle rocking rhythm of the horse’s movements and the rain hitting the land was a lullaby. He could have almost relaxed completely if he wasn’t worried about Abriella.

  The rain had finally lightened up some, but not enough to make a big difference. The heavy jacket kept his upper body dry, but his jeans were soaked, and the cold had leaked into his bones.

  Miles later, he spotted a downed tree ahead that blocked the road. Damn. This area must have gotten a bad storm.

  Shining the light over the tree, on the other side he noticed something shiny in the distance.

  Leading the horse around the tree, his heart slammed against his ribcage when he realized it was Abriella’s truck parked on the side of the road. Sliding out of the saddle, he searched inside and found it empty. “Damn.” He looked down the road. The truck was facing the direction of home, so she must have come upon the tree and realized she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. Would she have taken the woods to get home? No, it was too far in these conditions on foot. She would have retraced her steps. Possibly back to the venue?

  Returning to the saddle, he led the horse down the road.

  Not far ahead, he saw a silhouette on the road that he thought was a fragment of his imagination. His heart pumped faster.

  Abriella turned, guarding her eyes against the flashlight. He could see a glimmer of fear and surprise in her eyes.

  “It’s me, Abriella,” he said as he hurried from the saddle and over to her. She was soaked. Her hair was matted to her face and her clothes hung on her body, much like the first time he saw her. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Why didn’t you stay in the truck?”

  *

  Drenched and cold, Abriella debated whether she had made the right decision to start walking. Several times she thought she should turn and head back to the truck and wait it out until someone could move the tree, but the truck didn’t have a working heater and she thought it’d only get colder as the night went on.

  Stella had a hunting cabin not too far, and Abriella thought she could make it on foot, but why the hell had she decided to wear her heeled boots today? Her feet were already killing her and she’d barely made it a half mile. She’d never been so wet in her life.

  It was funny how the mind tended to travel places it didn’t belong in times of mayhem. Baxter came to mind, as he had so often lately. He had become a permanent fixture in her brain. When she thought of his proposal, she felt a mixture of emotion. Anger to excitement to confusion to frustration.

  Did he really think she would marry him?

  Why would he ask? Did he see her as a poor soul who needed rescued like those horses out at Grinning Spurs?

  Why did her nipples bead and her body warm?

  Truth was, even the strongest of women needed support at times and to imagine that she could lay her head on his broad shoulders was much like her excitement when she created a perfect dessert. It was addictive.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, protecting herself from the wind. If only she could do the same to her heart. Guard it against all these overwhelming emotions for one intriguing, tall, sexy cowboy. He made her feel vulnerable, wanted, important and even beautiful. So why did he have to ruin things by proposing? Had he lost his mind? Or was she losing her mind because she wanted this feeling inside her to be real.

  Frowning, she mumbled a curse. Who asked a woman to marry him without even knowing her?

  Her heart was pounding so fast she almost didn’t hear the thudding noise.

  She stopped and listened. Hooves on the road? How could that be possible?

  Then she saw the feathering of light on the pavement ahead and she twisted to look back. She could see a horse with a rider.

  Had he said her name?

  It sounded like Baxter.

  But that couldn’t be possible…

  And then he was there, standing before her, wrapping his coat around her shoulders. The appreciation of seeing him combined with the warmth of his jacket made tears come to her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you stay in the truck?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “I-I was cold and I thought I could make it to my aunt’s hunting cabin. It’s not far, but the rain and cold, and my shoes…”

  He didn’t say a word as he picked her up, cradling her against his chest. She wanted to resist, wanted to pound his chest in battle, but he felt so good…so warm and comfortable that she couldn’t overthrow the need to snuggle closer into the cocoon of his chest. He held her with such gentleness as he took her to the horse, easily lifting her into the saddle. “Hold on,” he told her.

  A second later he climbed up behind her, wrapping his arms around her to reach for the reins. His thick arms surrounded her, comforting her, and although she tried to sit up straight without touching him, it was no use. The light jostling rhythm of the horse’s movements and the magnetic breadth of his chest was too much, and she gave in with a sigh. She leaned against him, reveling in his warmth and the scent of him lingering on the jacket. Although it was wet on the outside, on the inside it was soft like a blanket.

  “Tell me where to go,” he said close to her ear.

  Although the rain was still coming down hard and the night air was chilly, she could easily forget that her clothes were soaked, even her bra and panties. The warmth surrounded them like a blissful cloud and his breath caressed her cheek. “Go that way.” She directed him onto the gravel lane toward the row of cabins.

  The first small cabin came into view.

  “There.”

  The security light on the pole welcomed them like a lighthouse.

  He climbed out of the saddle first, then helped her down, wrapping his arms around her middle. She shivered, partly because of the cold but the butterflies making themselves at home in her belly didn’t help.

  “Will we be able to get in?” he asked.

  “Stella keeps a spare key under the flower pot.” Unlocking the door, she stepped into the semi-warmth of the cabin and flipped on the lamp.

  Baxter hovered at the threshold, uncertainty written on his face.

  “Come on in. I won’t bite,” she said.

  One corner of his mouth played with a smile and those dashing blue eyes sparkled as he breached the distance. “I wasn’t sure I was welcome.”

  “You saved me, didn’t you?” Although she made the statement with little conviction, she meant every word. She’d still be out in the rainstorm if he hadn’t come along. “I guess we should get out of these wet things. There should be enough hot water for both of us to take a shower.” The words flowed easily, but realizing the unintentional insinuation, she felt her cheeks heat and slid her palms down her sides.

  His smile made her cheeks flame.

  “I meant—”

  “It’s okay, Abriella. I understand what you meant. You go ahead and take one first and I’ll get this fire started. Okay?”

  She left him stacking kindling in the cove of the stone fireplace and she stepped into the small bathroom. Sliding off the boots, she heaved a sigh of relief. She’d throw them out the second she got home.

  Turning the water on in the shower, it was ice cold and she switched the knob to hot. Leaning against the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror and cringed. Her hair was plastered against her head and cheeks. Her mascara was smeared, and her cheeks were rosy.

  Peeling Baxter’s jacket off, she laid it aside, then removed her clothing. Her skin broke out in goosebumps, but the second she stepped under the spray of the warm water, her muscles eased and warmth flooded her body. Her mind traveled to outside of the bathroom. Had Baxter managed to get a fire started? Had he taken off his clothes?

  Her goosebumps were back.

  Pouring a dime sized amount of soap into her palm, she washed her shoulders, her stomach, her legs and rinsed the suds. She could have stayed under the water longer, but she’d promised Baxter that he could take a shower too.

  Switching the knob, she stepped out and dried off, then pulled on the robe from the hook on the back of the door. Whether she was ready to face Baxter, and the reality of her feelings, she couldn’t hole up in the bathroom any longer.

  CHAPTER 12

  Once the fire was blazing, Baxter warmed his hands, then stripped off his wet shirt, hanging it to dry. The rain hitting the tin roof mingled with the splashing of water in the next room.

  He tore a hand through his damp hair, tamping down some of the eagerness in his body about the same time he heard the door open in the bathroom. He looked around as she stepped out, wearing a plush white robe that landed high on her thighs, showing off nicely toned legs. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, allowing his body to respond to her…

  And yet when he’d seen her on the road, drenched, looking forlorn, something erupted inside of him. Something he’d never experienced before, never expected to experience here in Tarnation.

  “You have a new cell phone. Why didn’t you use it?” he asked.

  She clutched the lapel of the robe and tightened it around her chest. She looked so pretty with her hair hanging in damp tendrils around her flushed cheeks. Her eyes so bright and welcoming, he could almost imagine that she invited him to kiss her, but he was caught up in something he couldn’t control.

  “What?”

  “You had people worried about you.”

  “I-I…well, honestly, I’m not used to having people worry about me except for Ladybug. Does she count? If it helps, I didn’t have service.”

  She sashayed her way into the room, the golden glow of the fire caught her delicate features, making her appear angelic. Something caught in his chest, like the moon had been lassoed and placed next to his heart. “So, tell me, cowboy. How did you know I was out here?” she asked in a soft voice.

  He shrugged and swiped a hand down his whiskered jaw. “DJ called and was concerned. Then I started worrying.”

  “And you thought you’d be my knight in shining armor who comes riding up on a horse?”

  “Well, if you say so.” Why did he feel like a teenager standing in front of his crush? He’d never been awkward with a woman, until he met this intoxicating beauty.

  She burst into a smile. “Thank you for being worried. I’m not sure I would have made it much farther in those heels.” Her gaze lowered over his chest and came back up to rest on his face. “I can’t thank you enough. But what about the horse? Will it be okay?”

  “I tied her up. She’ll be fine tonight under the trees. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, thankfully.”

  “Now how about that shower?”

  Baxter nodded. “I guess I should.”

  “Sorry. There are no clothes that’ll fit you.” She reached over and grabbed the blanket from the couch and held it up. “The color will look good on you.”

  Laughing, he took it and draped it over one shoulder. “What color is this anyway?”

  “Cranberry.”

  “Hey, you almost let the fire go out,” he teased when he came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, inhaling the mixture of firewood and buttercream icing. How did she always smell so good?

  “What? Who are you kidding?” She brought her knees up to her chest where she sat at the corner of the couch. “I stoke like a pro.”

  He wondered if she realized how dirty her words sounded to a man that had been thinking about her non-stop for days. “Well, what do you think?” He fluffed the blanket that he’d wrapped around his waist and secured with a knot.

  “I knew it. Cranberry is your color.”

  “Care if I join you?”

  “Sure. Pull up a cushion. Looks like we’re going to be here for a while. I found coffee. Care for some?”

  “Sure.” He watched her pour him a cup from a kettle, then took a sip. “Wow. What is the secret ingredient that makes this so good?”

  “A dash of cinnamon. Added to the grounds before they brew is the secret. And you can’t buy the cinnamon flavored grounds. It’s just not the same.” She held up her cup and he touched his to hers. “I also make a salted caramel latte that’s to die for.”

  “I bet you do. Is your aunt an avid hunter?” he asked while looking around the interior of the small one room cabin. The stone fireplace monopolized one wall with candles that lined the mantel. A mounted buck was on the other along with a couple of rustic pictures of bears. It didn’t seem like a woman’s décor.

  “No. This place was my grandfather’s cabin. Mom never came up here much, but Stella tries to a few times a month. Not for hunting, but just to revisit memories, I guess. Grandpa was an amazing man.”

  The firelight caught her eyes, making them twinkle. How had he not noticed just how gorgeous she was. Sure, he’d thought she was beautiful, but even that didn’t seem the fitting word. Bare of makeup with her hair curling around her face made her appear angelic.

  “How are you feeling? Warmer now?”

  “Outside of blisters on my heels from the wrong shoes, I’m doing great.”

  “Stretch out.” He patted his lap.

  She blinked. “Huh?”

  “I’ve been told I have magical fingers.” Did her color turn two shades of red? “Trust me.”

  With only a sliver of reluctance, she lifted her feet and placed them on his lap. Although he’d never been much of a foot man, he thought she had nice feet and her toenails were painted a bright pink. He pressed his fingers along the high arch of her foot and a moan escaped her. “You shouldn’t have been out in this weather. Did you listen to the weather report?”

  She looked at him through the veil of her lashes. “The wedding cake had to be at the venue today for me to get paid.”

  “With weather like this, I doubt there will be a wedding.”

  “Yet I still get paid. I’m a little embarrassed that you had to save me though.”

  “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed. I’m sure there have been far worse situations. ” He smoothed his hand down the curve of her delicate foot, enjoying how soft it was compared to his rough, callused hands. She seemed so relaxed and the tension left her shoulders as she eased back into the arm of the couch.

  “I don’t know if this was my most embarrassing moment or not, but I was trying to impress a boy I liked in college and I’d dress how I thought was really cute and would wear entirely too much makeup. I even made chocolate croissants for him once.”

  “What’s so embarrassing about that?”

  “No one told me to put my press on nails on after I was finished with the croissants. You should have seen his face when he bit into that warm, soft roll and crunched down on my thumbnail.” She laughed and he saw pure joy in her expression. He had a feeling she didn’t do it often. “I was such an awkward child and was scared of boys for the longest time.”

  “Why?”

  “I was painfully shy around them and when Ronnie Jacobs asked if he could see under my shirt when I was twelve, that horrified me.”

  “Did you punch him?”

  “I kicked him. He deserved it. What is it with nudity and you boys?”

  “Do I really need to answer that?” He lifted a brow.

  “Why are men so interested in breasts?”

  “Hey, in defense of the male population, women are obsessed with breasts too. Breasts augmentation. I rest my case.” He pressed his thumbs gently into the arches of her feet.

  “Breast implants aren’t the most popular plastic surgery, believe it or not. The booty lift is.”

  “Booty lift? There’s such a thing?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a skeptical look.

  “I’m not justifying anything, but breasts and bottoms are beautiful, no matter what shape or size.”

  Lifting herself up on her elbows she looked down her body at him. “They’re just breasts. Every second person in the world has them. There’s nothing mystifying about them.”

  “I beg to differ. A—well, maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation.”

  “Hey, you can’t start a sentence and stop. I’m curious about your opinion.”

  “Okay, I was going to say that a woman’s nipples are the same color as her lips. I think that’s pretty impressive.” He wagged his brows.

  She smiled. “So, I’m gathering this is something you examine closely?”

  “I never said I was a saint.” He moved to her other foot.

  Her smile turned into laughter. “How did we ever get on this subject?”

  “You brought it up, but I do have a question of my own.” He touched the tip of each of her toes. “If you don’t understand the admiration men have with breasts, what about a man? You aren’t fascinated with the southern regions of a man’s anatomy? Especially the size of a man.”

 

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