Stranded with the Rancher

He muttered in his sleep, tightening his grasp, his fingers brushing her nipple though three thin layers: his shirt, her tank top, and a lacy bra. Was he dreaming about a woman?

Unbidden, arousal stirred in Beth’s veins. It was sweet and yearning and ultimately for naught. Nothing was going to happen. The time and place were wrong. More importantly, she and Drew had to hope that rescue was on the way and that whatever they discovered above ground was not going to be too terrible.

She felt his steady breathing ruffle the hair at her nape. Had he thought about kissing her there? Or had he been too wiped out to even notice she was a woman? How sad that their first opportunity to really get to know each other was fraught with difficulty and struggle.

Being Drew’s neighbor had been a pain in the ass until today. His repeated bluster about the problems her business caused his had added to the stress of getting the farm up and running. In the midst of his frequent complaints, she had been busy tending to her fledgling crops, learning new things she needed to know and trying to keep the checkbook in the black.

Now, there would be no going back. What would this new awareness mean to their ongoing battle?

Sometime later she realized that she must have dozed off again. One of her legs was trapped between Drew’s thighs. It was as if his body was trying to stake a claim. She knew she should wake him, if only to let him move his arm. But this moment was pleasurable despite the context.

Once they were officially awake and alert, they would have to face things like a tiny water supply, dwindling stores of food, and the reality that no one knew where they were. All the harsh realities that defined them at the moment.

Given that truth, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When Drew woke up, he stifled a groan. His body was one big throbbing toothache, and he wasn’t at all sure he would be able to stand. But having Beth tucked up against him was a bonus. Carefully, he eased his arm out from under her head, wincing as the blood returned. Beth muttered and frowned when her cheek came to rest on the unsympathetic ground.

He checked his watch. Seven thirty. Surely late enough for police and rescue personnel to begin going house to house. Rolling to his feet, he tried to ignore the sudden craving for eggs and bacon and hot coffee. Sadly, beef jerky was on the menu again. But not until Beth joined him.

Standing on the ladder, he turned on his phone and held it as close as he could to the cellar doors, praying for a signal. Still nothing...not that he really expected an overnight miracle. The storm had probably destroyed numerous cell towers.

He heard Beth sit up. “Any change?” she asked.

He wanted to be able to give her good news, but there was none. “No. You okay?” She was nothing more than a dim outline in the gloom.

“I’ve been better.”

“We have to eat and drink something. If this drags on, we’ll need to keep our energy up.” He hopped down from his perch and located more beef jerky and water. “Welcome to breakfast, Survivor-style.”

“Thanks. I think.”

He joined her on the floor, their knees touching as they sat cross-legged on the crinkly blanket. “Somehow, during all those years in the Boy Scouts, I never imagined this scenario.”

“Did you make it all the way to Eagle?”

“Yeah. My dad was a stickler for never giving up on anything.”

“Ah, now I get it,” she said. “That’s why you continue to browbeat me.”

“Eat your breakfast, woman.”

If he had to be trapped in a hole in the ground, Beth was the perfect companion. She hadn’t whined. She hadn’t panicked. Her sense of humor had survived the tornado intact even though she had to know, as he did, that things would probably get worse before they got better.

Holding her as they slept last night tapped into more than his human need to cheat death. With all the societal expectations stripped away, he discovered something deeper than physical attraction. Beth Andrews had edged her way into his heart.

That information was sensitive—need-to-know basis only. But it was something to be tucked away and savored at a later date.

“Seriously, Drew. What are we going to do to pass the time? If we can’t use our flashlights, our options are seriously limited.”

Several inappropriate suggestions came to mind immediately. But he squelched the impulse to voice them. “We can try lifting the doors again.”

“And that will take all of ten minutes.”

“Sarcasm, Beth? I thought we’d reached a détente.”

A faint noise from above interrupted her answer. He put a hand on her knee. “Shh...did you hear that?”

Four (#ulink_416000b0-2aa6-50a6-b227-287e54f4d098)

They both froze, their ears straining in the darkness. Next came the screech of metal, followed by a muffled shout. “Anybody down there?”

Drew leapt to his feet, dragging Beth with him. “Yes,” he shouted. “Yes.”

Beth was trembling. Hell, he probably was, too. He wrapped his arm around her narrow waist and she curled her arms around him. Together, they faced the specter of uncertainty.

They waited for what seemed like forever but might only have been a minute or two. Thumps and curses rained down on them, along with dust particles that made them cough. The voice came again, louder this time. “Hang on.”

Beth leaned into him. “What’s taking so long?”

“I think they’re trying to move whatever has the doors stuck. It must be big.”

She murmured something under her breath.

“What?” he asked, still straining to hear what was going on up top.

“I hope the doors don’t break and whatever that is doesn’t fall and crush us in this pit.”

He chuckled, despite the tension gripping him. “An active imagination can be a curse at times.”

“Tell me about it.”

They fell silent again. All the commotion above them had ceased. Surely the rescue team had heard him shout.

Beth voiced his concern. “What if they didn’t hear you? What if they went away?”

“I don’t think they would give up without making sure no one is down here...even if they didn’t hear me.”

But doubt began to creep in. Why was nothing happening?

Beth burrowed her face into his chest. He held her close. “Don’t freak out. If they left, they’ll come back.” God, I hope so.

He checked his watch. “It’s almost nine.”

“What time did we hear the first shout?” The words were muffled.

“I’m not sure. Maybe ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”