Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy Comes Home

The room was peak-ceilinged and airy, with a cream-colored love seat and two padded armchairs at the far end. The living room grouping bracketed a sliding-glass door that opened to a small balcony. The bed was covered in an English country floral quilt, with six plump pillows and a gauzy canopy. Candles and knickknacks lined the mantel above a false fireplace. And a small kitchenette next to the bathroom door completed the suite.

“They said the heater was tricky,” Caleb explained to Mandy, crouching down next to the propane unit, squinting at the faded writing on the knobs.

“I’m not cold,” she told him.

He pressed the red button, turning the black knob to pilot. “If you do get cold, you can adjust it up like this.” He turned to find her still standing next to the open door. “Will you come and look?”

“I’m sure it’s not that complicated.”

“You’re behaving like a two-year-old.”

“Because I won’t roll over and play dead? I have to wonder what kind of people you employ, Caleb. Do you have a string of yes-men who follow you around all day, never questioning your infinite wisdom?”

“No,” he answered simply, deciding he liked it better when she was giving him the silent treatment. “Do you want to know how to work the heater or not?”

“Not.”

He shrugged and rose to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Suit yourself.”

Refusing to cater to her temper any longer, he crossed the room, bid her good night and firmly closed the door behind him, trotting swiftly down the staircase to open his own cottage.

His suite was slightly larger than Mandy’s, but with the same English country look, deep mattress, plump pillows and floral curtains. He adjusted his own heater, slipped off his wet leather boots and stripped his way out of his soaking clothes.

The cottage provided a health kit with a toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, shaving razor and cream, along with a few other necessities, including scented body wash, which he set aside in favor of the plain bar of soap.

Half an hour later, Caleb felt refreshed. He’d opened the minibar to find a light beer, chose a magazine from the selection on the coffee table and stretched out under the quilt in his boxers.

He entered the password into his phone and chose the email icon. He scrolled through the messages, finding one from Danielle labeled stranded. With an anticipatory grin, he clicked it open, scanning his way through a series of complaints, threats and colorful swearwords.

He responded, telling her he’d be back to the ranch tomorrow morning with a box full of auto parts and a fat, bonus check. He didn’t let on that Travis had told him the whole story. He might as well let Danielle keep some of her dignity.

He dealt with the most pressing issues on his phone, then switched to the sports magazine, finding an article on his favorite basketball team. He read it and then checked the NASCAR stats. A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance, and the wind picked up outside. Sudden waves of rain battered the windowpanes, while the lights flickered, putting the room in darkness for a split second.

A few power flickers later, Caleb felt himself dozing off, and he set the magazine aside.

The next thing he knew, he was jolted awake by a deafening crash. The room was in pitch darkness, and the storm howled on outside. He rocketed out of bed, rushing to the window, guessing at the direction of the sound.

A flash of lightning revealed the Escalade was intact. But a large tree had fallen across the dirt road, crushing the low fence in front of the cottage, its topmost branches resting against the front wall. Perfect. They were going to need a chain saw before they could go anywhere in the morning.

He let the curtain drop, and as he did, a loud, long crack reverberated through the building. Before he could react, a roar shattered the air and the building jolted, wood groaning and splintering in the night.

Caleb was out the door in a shot, taking the stairs three at a time, terrified that the tree had come through the roof and Mandy had been hurt. He flung open her door. It was either unlocked or he’d broken it down. He wasn’t sure which. But his entire body shuddered in relief at the sight of her standing next to the sofa, peering out the glass doors, lightning illuminating the room like a strobe light.

“It was a tree,” she told him, turning in her bra and panties. “Sheared the balcony railing right off.”

He strode across the room. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Wow. That’s some storm going on out there.” Lightning strikes were coming one after the other, thunder following almost instantaneously.

“I don’t think you’re safe up here.” He found himself putting a protective arm around her shoulders. His gaze went reflexively to her sky-blue bra and silky underwear. It was completely inappropriate to stare, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m fine,” she argued. “How many trees can possibly-”

Another tree cracked and crashed in the woods nearby.

She blinked at him. “This must be the storm of the century.”

“Put your clothes on,” he told her. There was no way he was leaving her up here.

She glanced down at her body, seeming to suddenly remember what she was wearing. She quickly folded her arms across her breasts.

“I’m not looking,” he lied. “Now, let’s get downstairs.” He wanted a sturdy story between them and any falling debris.

Mandy crossed the room and struggled into her jeans, slipping her arms into her shirtsleeves.

Caleb tried mightily not to watch, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking a few surreptitious glances.

“Should we call the office?” she asked.

“I think they’ve long since closed. And I’m pretty sure they know the property’s getting wind damage. Nobody should go out in this.”

“I guess staying here is the safest,” she agreed, tucking her messy hair behind her ears as she bent to put on her boots.

She turned then, and she seemed to realize for the first time that he was nearly naked.

“I rushed up here,” he defended. “I thought you might be hurt.”

Her mouth tightened into a smirk. “You’re a knight in shining…boxers?”

He crossed to the door and pulled it open. “You can’t embarrass me.”

She moved toward him. “Not modest?”

“Not at all. You can see me naked any old time you want.”

“Pass,” she tossed over her shoulder, striding out into the rain.

He shut the door tight, double-checking it before he followed her downstairs. Rain splattered against his hair, wind chilling his wet skin, while the lightning and thunder continued to crack through the black sky.

In his own suite, he lit a couple of the decorative candles, dried off with a towel and switched his wet boxers for his damp jeans. Going commando under his jeans wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world, but his options were limited.

She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. “I suppose you’ll want the bed.”

He flipped back the comforter and stretched out. The love seat would barely fit a ten-year-old. “You’re welcome to share,” he told her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“As opposed to one of us staying awake all night? It’s a big bed, Mandy.”

“Can I trust you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Trust me to do what? Not to attack you while you sleep?” He leaned over and pulled back the opposite edge of the covers. “Give me a break, Mandy.”

The thunder rumbled as she took a single, hesitant step forward, looking decidedly uncertain. Not that he blamed her. Despite his bold words, it was going to be a challenge to keep his hands to himself.

“Can I trust you? ” he countered, hoping to keep things light.

“Ha. I’m still mad at you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not hot,” he goaded.

In response, she marched defiantly to the bed. “You’re not that hot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She stuck her nose in the air, turned her back and plunked down on the edge of the bed, tugging off her boots and dropping them to the wooden floor. Her socks followed. Then her hand went to the snap of her jeans, and he heard the zipper pull down, and she shimmied out of them.

Okay, he was a gentleman, and he was proud of his self-control. But, good grief. Was the woman insane?

An insistent, intermittent buzzing dragged Mandy from the depths of a deep sleep. She was comfortable, toasty warm, and she sincerely hoped it wasn’t time to get up yet.

As consciousness returned, she felt Caleb shift against her. She knew she should recoil in shock at having cuddled up to him while she slept. But his big body felt so good against her own, that she decided to pretend she was asleep for a few more seconds.

The buzzing stopped, and his deep, husky voice penetrated the darkness. “Yeah?”

He didn’t pull away, either, and she let herself sink into the forbidden sensations. She’d kept her blouse on, while he was wearing his blue jeans, so there was no danger of intimate skin contact. Still, her belly was snuggled up to his hip, her breast against his arm and her calf against his.

“Anybody hurt?” His voice sounded stronger, and her brain engaged more thoroughly on his words. “Good. So, how bad is it?”

She heard the rustle as he swiped a hand across his forehead, into his hairline, and she could picture him blinking his eyes open in the darkness.

“Tell her to call Orson Mallek. He can source the parts worldwide.” Caleb shifted, his arm grazing her nipple, and it was all she could do not to gasp in reaction. “A week will cripple us,” he said. “Tell them forty-eight hours max.”

Arousal invaded her system, hijacking reason. The urge to wrap herself around Caleb and give in to her desires, to hell with the consequences, was quickly gaining traction in her brain.

“Colorado,” he said into the phone.

She felt him shift, and knew he was squinting at her in the dim light, probably wondering if she was awake or asleep. It was getting to the point of unreasonable that she could have slept through the conversation.

It was time to put up or shut up.

Grabbing a final scarp of sanity, she drew away, shifting onto her back, putting some space between them.

“Call me when you know something. Thanks.”

“Something wrong?” she asked sleepily, hoping against hope he’d buy that she’d only just woken up.

“A breakdown in the chassis plant.”

“Is it serious?”

“Depends on how long it takes to repair.” He moved to his side, propping on an elbow, facing her in the predawn glow. “We can go a couple of days before we have to start cutting back shifts. After a week, we’re looking at temporary layoffs. I hate to have to do that.”

She found herself curious. “How many people work for your company?”

“In that plant, a few hundred.”

“Overall?”

“I don’t know. Thousands, anyway.”

“You have thousands of people working for you?” It defied Mandy’s imagination.

“Not directly.” He chuckled.

“Nobody works for me.”

“And you don’t work for anyone else, either. It’s a whole lot simpler that way.”

“Technically, I work for my dad. Though,” she allowed, “that’s definitely going to change for a while.”

“Who’ll take over the ranch?” Caleb asked, laying his head back down on the pillow. “Is Seth the heir apparent?”

Mandy thought about it. “It’s hard to say. Especially with his mayor campaign coming up. Travis’s the most hands-on of us all, but he’s more of a day to day, roll up his sleeves guy. Seth definitely takes the strategic view, but he’s not out on the range very often these days. Abigail’s the organized one. She knows pretty much everything about everything.”

“And you?” Caleb asked. “What’s your strength?”

“I don’t know. Diplomacy, maybe.”

He chuckled. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Hey,” she protested. “People like me. I broker compromises all the time.”

“Not for me, you didn’t.”

“Jury’s still out on that one. I predict that someday you’ll be thanking me for my role last night.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“My point is-” she fought the urge to engage further in a debate with him about selling the ranch “-we all have different strengths.”

“What about your other sister, the little one?”

“Katrina?”

“I haven’t seen her yet.”

Mandy resettled herself, bending one knee, which brushed up against Caleb’s thigh. She let it rest there, pretending she didn’t realize she was touching him. “That’s right. You left before it happened.”

“What happened?” There was concern in his voice.

“Nothing bad,” Mandy hastily put in. “Katrina attended a fine arts boarding school in New York City. She’s still in New York. A principle dancer with Liberty Ballet Company.”