Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Before the decision came to a head, I heard a light splattering of what sounded like water droplets striking the side of the tent. “Is that… rain?” I called out.
“Nope,” came Boone’s shouted reply.
The sound grew stronger. “It sure sounds like rain.”
“It’s not.”
Rain was coming down pretty steadily now. I shook my head at Boone’s stubbornness. “Are you sure?”
“Just a sprinkle.”
I rolled my eyes. Lord protect me from intransigent cowboys. I flicked on the headlamp I’d hung from the ceiling and unzipped the tent flap to stick my head out. It was very much raining—pouring, in fact. I withdrew into the shelter of the tent but kept the flap open.
“Just a sprinkle, huh?” I had to shout to be heard over the deluge. “You sure you don’t want to join me? It’s nice and dry in here.”
A sodden shadow appeared in front of me. From the glow of the headlamp, I could see that it was Boone, water falling from the rim of his hat like it was a gutter. “Fine, I’ll come in.”
He started to push his way inside. I held up a hand, stopping him. He shot me a questioning look.
“Isn’t there something you want to say first?”
“Thank you?”
“In addition to that.”
“Weren’t you the one who just ten seconds ago was demanding I get out of the rain?”
“And you can,” I pointed out. “As soon as you tell me what I want to hear.”
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Fine. It’s raining. You were right. Can I come in now?”
I gave him my brightest smile. “Of course you can,” I said, shifting back to give him room. “Thank you for asking.”
He scowled at me as he slid inside. He was soaked, dripping water from his hat, his chin, his elbows. Within seconds, a shallow puddle had formed around him. Birdie scooted out of the way, tucking her paws under her to keep from getting wet.
A tremor ran through his body. He was freezing. “You stupid asshole,” I muttered under my breath. “If you catch your death from this, there will be no one to show me the way home, and I’ll be stuck out here, wandering the plains, haunting all who cross my path.”
He chucked his hat to the side and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching a rivulet of water trace its way down the side of his cheek, sliding along his jaw before trailing down his neck to the seam of his soaked wool shirt. I turned to grab the bath sheet and matching hand towel from my bag. Even as I held them out to him, he’d grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. It hit the floor of the tent with a wet slap. He reached for his pants next.
“Whoa there, cowboy,” I said, my cheeks heating. “Moving a little fast, aren’t we?”
“I’m going to share your sleeping bag.”
“Oh?” It came out as a squeak.
“It’s a two-person bag,” he said. “Lord knows why Norma gave you that one, but it’s turned out to be handy because it’s the only way I’m getting warmed up.”
He was right—it was cold. His teeth had already begun to chatter, and goose bumps covered his flesh, turning his nipples into two rigid points. Not that I was staring. Because I totally was.
“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. “Of course.”
I slid to the side and opened the bag, gesturing for him to get in. His skin was like ice, and I sucked in a breath at the feel of it. “You’re frozen,” I murmured. I ran a hand up and down his arm rapidly to get some friction going.
“I should have come in here sooner so you didn’t have to share your bag. Sorry.”
His reluctant admission surprised me. “Stubborn cowboys are stubborn,” I teased.
“Maybe,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I would have had a miserable night if you hadn’t come with all this extra gear.”
“See how handy I can be?”
He rolled to face me. My fingers slid from his arm and trailed across his back before landing on his side. We were inches apart, barely even that. I could feel the cold radiating from his body, the slight tremors coursing through him as he warmed.
Our eyes met in the strange, shadowed light from my hanging headlamp, and time seemed to slow down. The masculine scent of him surrounded me—dried sweat and fresh rain. I wanted to lean forward and inhale him, to rest my cheek against his muscular chest and feel the strong bands of his arms pull tight around me.
A strangled noise of need escaped the back of my throat, and heat flared in his eyes.
“You’re… you’re still cold,” I pointed out.