Sheltered By The Cowboy. Carla Cassidy
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his slightly shaggy dark hair and sinfully long dark eyelashes. He also wore the same frown she always saw on his face.
“I’ll call for a tow truck and we’ll worry about the bumper and meatloaf dinner later. The snow is really starting to pile up.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a series of numbers.
“Larry, it’s Brody Booth. Amanda Wright and I are stuck in a ditch just past the turnoff to the motel. We need a tow.”
It was obvious by his deepening frown that he wasn’t happy with whatever he was hearing, and a ball of anxiety unfurled in her chest.
“Okay, I understand. Yeah, I’ll be waiting for your call.” He hung up and pocketed his phone. “Larry and every other tow person in town is busy working the highway, which he said looks like a skating rink, so basically we’re on our own.”
“On our own?” She echoed his words as she stared at him in horror. “For how long?”
“It might be morning before somebody can finally get to us.”
“Morning? We can’t stay out here all night. I don’t even have a blanket in the car,” she said.
“You’re right. We can’t,” he agreed. “I suggest we walk to the motel. We can get rooms for the night and be out here first thing in the morning when help finally comes.”
She stared over her shoulder, where the motel sign blinked faintly like a red heartbeat through the haze of the falling snow. The snow. A shiver swept over her. It was deep enough now that it would swallow her little boots with the first step.
“Do you have some pants you can put on?” Brody asked. Was there a slight hint of disdain in his voice or was she only imagining it?
“Nope, just these sexy flesh-tone tights,” she replied flippantly. “Don’t worry about me, Brody. I’m used to taking care of myself.” She buttoned up her coat and mentally prepared for the cold trek to the motel.
“Wait for me. I need to lock up my truck.” He left the car and a gust of frigid air blew in.
She should have left the booth earlier. She should have been smart enough to keep a survival bag with blankets and bottled water and protein bars in the car. Sometimes she could be so stupid.
It didn’t take long for Brody to come back. He pulled open the driver’s door, and precariously she stepped out of the car. The icy wind instantly stole her breath, and she slid unsteadily with her first step.
He must have noticed because he grabbed her firmly by the upper arm, and together they made their way out of the ditch and back to the road.
It was impossible to speak with the howling wind in her ears and the driving snow hitting her in the face. She was just grateful for Brody’s strength as she slipped more than once and would have landed on her face or her butt if he hadn’t steadied her.
She was an icicle, frozen from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. All she could think about was a nice warm room, a very hot shower and then a bed to snuggle down in to wait out the storm.
She might have sobbed in relief when they reached the motel office but she was too frozen to cry. Brody immediately released his hold on her as he greeted Fred Ferguson, the owner of the motel.
“Heck of a night,” Fred said, his gaze behind his dark-rimmed glasses drifting from Brody to Mandy.
“The road is definitely treacherous tonight,” Brody replied.
“So are you both stuck?”
“Yeah, we’re both in a ditch down the road. We each need a room for the night,” Brody replied.
“That’s going to be a problem,” Fred replied.
Every frozen muscle in her body tensed. What now? “A p-p-problem?” she managed to stutter through her chattering teeth.
Fred nodded. “I’ve only got one room left.”
Brody visibly stiffened. “Only one?”
A wave of dread swept through Mandy. Apparently she would be spending the night with a man who didn’t like her and definitely didn’t respect her. Could this night get any worse?
“A double?” Brody asked hopefully.
“Nope, it’s a single with a queen bed.”
The night just got worse. She watched, dumbfounded, as Brody slowly pulled his wallet out of his pocket and released a deep, audible sigh. “I guess we’ll take it.”
* * *
Brody had had a long, rough day and the idea of being locked in a motel room with the voluptuous, beautiful Mandy Wright was a candle on the top of a crap cake.
He grabbed the key Fred placed on the counter and then headed out the door with Mandy trailing just behind him. There was no way he was going to crawl into bed with her tonight. Hopefully there would be a comfy chair in the room where he could sprawl until morning.
He had a feeling if he found himself under the sheets with Mandy, something would happen and they would wind up having sex, and he refused to be another cowboy she’d bedded and then tossed aside.
At room four he unlocked the door and opened it, reached inside to turn on the overhead light and then stepped aside so she could go in before him. She walked into the center of the room and turned to face him.
Her full lips were blue and her dark hair hung in wet strands around her shoulders. She shivered uncontrollably, and he shut the door more forcefully than he intended. “Go get in a hot shower,” he commanded. “You’re soaking wet.”
“But... I... I don’t have anything else to put on,” she replied, her lips barely moving.
Brody frowned, then walked over to the bed and yanked off the blue-and-gray spread. “Use this to wrap up in until your clothes can dry.” He thrust it into her arms.
As she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, he released another deep sigh. He shrugged out of his own coat and then turned up the heat in the room.
The room was one of the smaller ones the motel had to offer, and the chair, which he’d hoped would be big and comfortable enough for a night’s sleep, wasn’t. It was a spindly straight-backed chair in front of the window that would assure no sleep at all for the night.
He held his hands over the heat that had begun to blow from a vent. He could still smell her, a scent of brown sugar and vanilla that was intensely appealing.
At the sound of the shower running, he tried hard not to visualize a naked Mandy. Far too often in the past he’d fantasized about a naked Mandy. Jeez, this was going to be tough.
A glance out the window showed him that the snow was still coming down. The snow wasn’t so bad, but the icy mixture that had preceded it would have the whole town at a standstill.
He sat down on the edge of the chair and pulled off his boots. The bottoms of his jeans legs were wet, but there was no way in hell he intended to strip down. It was bad enough that Mandy was going to wear only a bedspread when she got out of the bathroom. A wave of warmth swept through him at the very thought.
Of all the women in town he could have been snowbound with, why did it have to be the one woman he was attracted to? A woman who, rumor had it, ate men for breakfast and spit them out by dinner? Not that he would care. He didn’t ever want a relationship with a woman.
At least she hadn’t moaned and groaned on the miserable trek to the motel. She’d soldiered up, lowered her head and had done what needed to be done without a single complaint, although she had to have been miserable.
He looked at his watch. It was just six thirty. What were they going to do to pass the rest of the evening? His stomach growled and he almost wished he’d picked up that meatloaf dinner from the floorboard and brought it to the room. He’d not only skipped dinner but also missed lunch. He wondered if she’d