Hold Me, Cowboy

“I see. So you decided to meet a man up here for a friendly game of Twister?”

She turned slightly, arching one pale brow. “Yahtzee, actually. I’m very good at it.”

“And I’m sure your...friend was hoping to get a full house.”

She rolled her eyes and looked forward again, taking quick steps over the icy ground, and somehow managing to keep sure footing. Then she opened the door to her cabin. “Welcome,” she said, extending her arm. “Please excuse the shuddering cold and oppressive darkness.”

“Ladies first,” he said.

She shook her head, walking into the house, and he followed behind, closing the door against the elements. It was already cold in the dark little room. “You were just going to come back here and sit in the dark if I hadn’t offered to fiddle with the circuit breaker?”

“Maybe I know how to break my own circuits, Sam. Did you ever think of that?”

“Oh, but you said you didn’t, Madison.”

“I prefer Maddy,” she said.

“Sorry, Madison,” he said, tipping his hat, just to be a jerk.

“I should have just frozen to death. Then there could have been a legend about my tragic and beautiful demise in the mountains.” He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her until she sighed and continued talking. “I don’t know where the box thingy is. You’re going to have to hunt for it.”

“I think I can handle that.” He walked deeper into the kitchen, then stopped when he saw two purple packets sitting on the kitchen counter. That heat returned with a vengeance when he realized exactly what they were, and what they meant. He looked up, his eyes meeting her extremely guilty gaze. “Yahtzee, huh?”

“That’s what the kids call it,” she said, pressing her palm over the telling packets.

“Only because they’re too immature to call it fucking.”

Color washed up her neck, into her cheeks. “Or not crass enough.”

In that moment, he had no idea what devil possessed him, and he didn’t particularly care. He turned to face her, planting his hands on the countertop, just an inch away from hers. “I don’t know about that. I’m betting that you could use a little crassness in your life, Madison West.”

“Are you trying to suggest that I need you?” she asked, her voice choked.

Lightning streaked through his blood, and in that moment, he was lost. It didn’t matter that he thought she was insufferable, a prissy little princess who didn’t appreciate any damn thing she had. It didn’t matter that he’d come up here to work.

All that mattered was he hadn’t touched a woman in a long time, and Madison West was so close all he would have to do was shift his weight slightly and he’d be able to take her into his arms.

He looked down pointedly at her hand, acting as though he could see straight through to the protection beneath. “Well,” he said, “you have a couple of the essential ingredients to have yourself a pretty fun evening. All you seem to be missing is the man. But I imagine the guy you invited up here is nice. I’m not very nice, Madison,” he said, leaning in, “but I could damn sure show you a good time.”

Two (#uca1a7fb8-be3c-5cb2-93ad-182cb892c2f8)

The absolute worst thing was the fact that Sam’s words sent a shiver down her spine. Sam McCormack. Why did it have to be Sam McCormack? He was the deadly serpent to her Indiana Jones.

She should throw him out. Throw him out and get back to her very disappointing evening where all orgasms would be self-administered. So, basically a regular Friday night.

She wanted to throw herself on the ground and wail. It was not supposed to be a regular Friday night. She was supposed to be breaking her sex fast. Maybe this was why people had flings in the spring. Inclement weather made winter flings difficult. Also, mostly you just wanted to keep your socks on the whole time. And that wasn’t sexy.

Maybe her libido should hibernate for a while. Pop up again when the pear trees were blooming or something.

She looked over at Sam, and her libido made a dash to the foreground. That was the problem with Sam. He irritated her. He was exactly the kind of man she didn’t like. He was cocky. He was rough and crude.

Whenever she’d given him very helpful pointers about handling the horses when he came to do farrier work at the estate, he was always telling her to go away and in general showing no deference.

And okay, if he’d come and told her how to do her job, she would have told him where he could stick his hoof nippers. But still. Her animals. So she was entitled to her opinions.

Last time she’d walked into the barn when he was doing shoes, he hadn’t even looked up from his work. He’d just pointed back toward the door and shouted, out!

Yeah, he was a jerk.

However, there was something about the way he looked in a tight T-shirt, his muscles bulging as he did all that hard labor, that made a mockery of that very certain hatred she felt burning in her breast.

“Are you going to take off your coat and stay awhile?” The question, asked in a faintly mocking tone, sent a dart of tension straight down between her thighs.

She could not take off her coat. Because she was wearing nothing more than a little scrap of red lace underneath it. And now that was all she could think of. About how little stood between Sam and her naked body.

About what might happen if she just went ahead and dropped the coat now and revealed all of that to him.

“It’s cold,” she snapped. “Maybe if you went to work getting the electricity back on rather than standing there making terrible double entendres, I would be able to take off my coat.”

He lifted a brow. “And then do you think you’ll take me up on my offer to show you a good time?”

“If you can get my electricity back on, I will consider a good time shown to me. Honestly, that’s all I want. The ability to microwave popcorn and not turn into a Maddycicle.”

The maddening man raised his eyebrows, shooting her a look that clearly said Suit yourself, then set about looking for the fuse box.

She stood by alone for a while, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Then she started to feel like an idiot just kind of hanging out there while he searched for the source of all power. She let out an exasperated sigh and followed his path, stopping when she saw him leaning up against a wall, a little metal door fixed between the logs open as he examined the small black switches inside.

“It’s not a fuse. That means there’s something else going on.” He slammed the door shut. Then he turned back to look at her. “You should come over to my cabin.”

“No!” The denial was a little bit too enthusiastic. A little bit too telling. “I mean, I can start a fire here—it’s going to be fine. I’m not going to freeze.”

“You’re going to curl up by the fire with a blanket? Like a sad little pet?”

She made a scoffing sound. “No, I’m going to curl up by the fire like the Little Match Girl.”

“That makes it even worse. The Little Match Girl froze to death.”

“What?”

“How did you not know that?”

“I saw it when I was a kid. It was a cartoon. She really died?” Maddy blinked. “What kind of story is that to present to children?”

“An early lesson, maybe? Life is bleak, and then you freeze to death alone?”

“Charming,” she said.

“Life rarely is.” He kept looking at her. His dark gaze was worrisome.