The Cowboy Who Came In From The Cold. Pamela Macaluso
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Because he’d never shared a bunk bed with a woman before...well, never in separate bunks.
Patrice’s body was so tired it ached. Her mind was frazzled and tired, too, but it didn’t want to stop racing.
This was the second time she’d awoken. The first time had been when Stone had been adding logs to the fire. From the noise below, and since the lamps were off, she assumed this time what had disturbed her was his calling it a night.
Her heartbeat raced. No need to panic, he’s in his own bunk, and he said he would stay there. From the sound of the wind outside, she had no choice but to trust that she was safe with him.
And...he won’t snore. Once again she wondered how he knew. Was there someone he slept with on a regular basis waiting for him at home? A wife? Live-in girlfriend? Somebody who might not like the idea of his spending the night in a cabin with another woman?
What difference did it make? Tomorrow they would be out of here, and she probably wouldn’t ever see him again.
A popping noise came from the fireplace and she jumped. There was movement and more rustling from below, as though Stone were settling more deeply into his sleeping bag. Patrice fought back a nervous giggle as she realized this was the closest she’d ever come to sleeping with a man. There was a mattress and several feet of air between them, but they were still sleeping together.
This was definitely not how she’d pictured her first night with a man.
Then again this was not the man she’d pictured herself with. Though she had to admit he was attractive. His eyes were incredible. How many women had he seduced with just a look?
What would it feel like to have him look at me that way?
Finally she felt the brush of sleep flirting with her once again. Pondering the question, she drifted off.
The smell of freshly brewing coffee woke her in the morning. Patrice opened her eyes slowly. The lamps were lit, and the small crack of dim light between the shutters announced that it was some time after sunrise. Stone was sitting at the table, a book open in front of him. The wind still howled past the cabin.
She started to move, but every muscle in her body protested. Biting her bottom lip to keep from groaning, she wriggled out of the sleeping bag and slowly sat up. “Good morning.”
He nodded in her direction. “Mornin’.”
It sure didn’t sound good from the wind outside. “Is the blizzard still going strong?”
“Yep, from what I heard yesterday, it should let up day after tomorrow.”
Patrice was sure she’d heard him incorrectly. “Day after tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You mean we can’t leave here until the day after tomorrow?” What on earth would they do stuck in this cabin until then?
“We can’t leave until some of the snow melts.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “When the snow melts?”
“We’re low enough that when the Chinook comes, enough of it will melt for us to drive out.”
“I don’t mean to play twenty questions, but what is the Chinook? And when is it coming?” she asked sincerely.
“A Chinook is a warm wind. And it should be here in a week, or so.”
When he’d told whomever he’d talked to on the phone that he’d call again in a few days, she never dreamed he meant that he’d be placing the call from here. “A week? Or so?”
“Hey, this is no picnic for me, either.”
His words hit her like a blast of cold air, making her feel ungrateful and selfish. If the storm wouldn’t let up until the day after tomorrow, he’d probably saved her life by getting her out of and away from her stuck car. “I appreciate your coming to my rescue. I guess I should have said thank you yesterday. Better late than never?”
“You’re welcome, Patrice.” He stood. “Oatmeal for breakfast?”
She wrinkled her nose.
A half smile tugged at his mouth. “Better get used to the idea. There’s not a lot of variety. Most stays here are only a few days at a time. So while we won’t starve, the menu will be limited, and it’s not going to be gourmet fare.”
“Like you said, this isn’t a picnic. Is there anything I can do to help?” She headed for the end of the bed, wincing when her foot hit the first rung.
“A little sore this morning?”
“A lot sore.” She finished her climb down and rolled her shoulders back and forward, trying to loosen up some of the stiffness. “I don’t understand it, the bed felt comfortable enough when I crawled in it last night.”
“The stiffening is most likely from the accident yesterday.”
He was probably right. That whole problem of automatically tensing your muscles before impact, the reason why sleeping passengers and drivers under the influence often escaped serious injury.
“With everything else, I’d forgotten about that.” The threat of wild animals and spending her first night with a man—a gorgeous one at that—had brushed the accident right out of her mind. Both the accident and the events leading up to it.
“There are painkillers and ointment in the first-aid kit.”
Patrice easily found aspirin in the well-organized cupboard. She also glanced through the packaged and canned food. The supply was plentiful, but there wasn’t much variety. Stone was right, they wouldn’t starve. And since most everything was heat-and-serve or add-hot-water, meal preparation was going to be a snap.
They worked side by side getting breakfast ready and cleaning up. Afterward, Stone went outside to bring in more wood and gather buckets of snow so they wouldn’t use up their bottled water for washing and dishes.
When she could put it off no longer, Patrice made the trip to the outhouse. The brutal wind cut through all the layers of her clothing. It was amazing how much snow had fallen during the night, and it was still coming down.
Once back inside the cabin, she stood in front of the fire.
“I thought it was cold in here until I went out,” she said, being truthful.
“It is cold in here. It’s just colder out there.”
“I guess. Brrr, is an understatement”
She turned her back to the fire so that she could defrost evenly. Stone was sitting on one end of the couch. The book he’d been reading sat open in his lap.
There was an awkward silence. She laughed, nervously. “Well, we’ve introduced ourselves and discussed the weather. Now what?”
“There are some books and things in the cupboard,” he directed.
“More than a week’s worth?”
“Read slowly,” he said sarcastically.
Patrice sighed. “I guess electricity and a computer wouldn’t be cost-effective out here, either.”
“Nope. And if we had electricity, I’d put in a TV and VCR before a computer. More people could use it at the same time.” He closed his book and set it next to him on the couch.
“I never would have expected cost-effectiveness to be such a concern for a cowboy.”
“Ranching is a business.”
“I guess I never stopped to think about it. I hear the word cowboy and automatically think about men in boots and hats riding horses and driving pickup trucks.”
He smiled one of his killer smiles. “That’s the fun part, but there’s