Stranded For The Holidays

“Not your fault. I fainted. Thankfully, I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.”

He smelled good, too. Something woodsy with notes of leather and hay.

So she did what she did when she didn’t know what else to do—she babbled.

“I don’t usually faint, but I haven’t eaten anything today. Actually, I haven’t eaten anything in about forty-eight hours. But I couldn’t, you see. My stomach was simply tied in knots.”

Brow furrowed, the cowboy eyeballed her like he’d never seen her species before. She wasn’t unused to such reactions from men.

The little cowboy tucked his small hand through the crook of her arm. “I wike her, Dad, don’t you?”

Dad? She wilted. Oh.

The cowboy was married. Of course, he’s married, AnnaBeth. Are you an idiot? This hunk of man had to have been lassoed into matrimony long, long ago.

“Sweet potatoes,” she muttered.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

She disentangled herself from his grasp. Off-limits, AnnaBeth. She was delusional to have imagined someone like her unremarkable, big-hipped self could ever find herself rescued by someone tall, blond and available.

AnnaBeth motioned toward her vehicle, which was rapidly disappearing under a mantle of falling snow. “My car broke down. And before that, I got lost.”

Little Cowboy hadn’t let go of her arm, but she didn’t mind. It was nice. He was like a human muff. And so, so cute.

The cowboy’s deep brown eyes sharpened. “Where were you headed?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. I mean, I hadn’t planned much beyond getting out of town. ‘Head west, young man,’ they used to say. So I guess I decided to take their advice. Except in my case, it would’ve been ‘head west, young woman,’ you see.” Taking a quick breath, she touched her hand to where the gigantic bow had dipped over one eye. “You do see, don’t you?”

It was only after the words left her mouth, she realized how nonsensical she must sound. His gaze held a hint of alarm.

Her stomach tightened. Yet how could she hope to say anything sensible with his handsome self staring at her like that?

Chapter Two (#u483479d1-77ac-54ca-b3b7-49c346ba283a)

Jonas was beginning to believe that maybe she had hit her head. She didn’t look like a criminal on the lam, but what did he know? As his mother was quick to remind him, he didn’t get out much.

Of course, the woman being a flatlander could possibly explain the absurdity of the situation. Flatlanders did illogical and ill-advised things.

Like driving an expensive sports car on a mountain in a blinding snowstorm. His eyes cut to the enormous bow on her head. In a fancy, pre-Christmas party getup, no less.

Unlike the usual mountain twang he was accustomed to, she spoke in one of those soft, honeyed Southern drawls.

The pretty flatlander smiled at him. Brightly. Those eyes of hers...

She held out her hand. “Where are my manners? We haven’t been introduced. My name is AnnaBeth Cummings.”

“I know.” He shoved the purse at her. “I needed a name to tell the paramedics.” He stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “Although, I doubt they’d have made it up the mountain in these conditions.”

The flatlander blinked at him. Once. Twice. “And your name would be?”

“Jonas Stone.”

Hunter swung around to face her. “My name’s Hunter.”

Jonas didn’t like how his son hadn’t let go of the woman. As if he was already getting too attached.

The Cummings woman touched a light hand to the top of his son’s small Stetson. “I like your hat.” She tilted her head. The floppy bow went cattywampus again. “So much better than mine.”

Hunter grinned. “I’m a cowboy.” He jutted his thumb. “Wike my dad.”

She smiled. “I can see that.”

The flatlander had a nice smile.

“We have a wanch. And hosses. Most people visit us in the summer.”

She glanced at Jonas.

“FieldStone Dude Ranch.”

“A real ranch with real cowboys.” She threw him another smile. “How fun.”

The sweetness of her smile sent him into a tailspin, and he felt the need to be disagreeable. “It’s a lot of hard work.”

Her smile faltered. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Mr. Stone. I hate to trouble you further, but perhaps you could call a tow truck for me?” She squeezed Hunter’s hand before letting go. “I can wait in my car until it arrives.”

She had an expressive face. He wondered what it must be like to wear your feelings so transparently for everyone to see. Somebody ought to warn her.

The world loved nothing better than squashing little optimists like her. He ought to know. Once upon a time, he’d been one, too.

“No, Dad...” Hunter’s eyes beseeched him. “She’s supposed to come home wif us.”

Confusion flitted across the woman’s face. “Supposed?”

“If the paramedics can’t make it here tonight, a tow truck can’t, either.” Jonas folded his arms over his chest. “You can’t stay in your car. You’ll freeze to death.”

What was he going to do with her? There was nothing on this road, except the ranch. He doubted he could take her to town and return before the road became impassable. He didn’t like the idea of leaving his mother isolated at the ranch. And he had the horses to think of, too.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” The honey in her voice became crisp, businesslike. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Shards of ice pelted the shoulders of his jacket. He sighed. Loudly.

“Look, lady. There’s nothing else for it.”

This was giving him a headache. He scowled. The entire day had turned into a giant headache.

“You’ll have to spend the night at the lodge, Miz Cummings.”