The Cowboy Who Came In From The Cold. Pamela Macaluso

say that? You don’t even know me.”

      “I don’t have to. If you were used to the wilderness, you wouldn’t be driving a convertible through the mountains of Montana with a storm coming.”

      “The top was on.”

      He shrugged. She waited for him to launch into the lecture she’d expected earlier. Instead he asked if she wanted more coffee.

      “No, thanks.” She stood. “I’m going to take a short walk.”

      “Out back?”

      She nodded.

      “Let me make sure nothing has decided to nest out there since the last time the place was used.”

      Nesting things? She didn’t even want to know what the possibilities were. “Be my guest.”

      Once Stone was back, Patrice headed out. It was still light outside, but it was clear nightfall was on the way. The amount of snow falling had increased, too, but not enough to block visibility of her destination.

      She was almost back to the cabin when Stone came around the corner holding a rope. A flutter of fear settled in her stomach. “I was just on my way back.” She tried to sound casual while glancing around for something to pick up and use as a club.

      “I’m going to string up a line between the end of the cabin and the outhouse, in case you need to get out there after dark or in a whiteout.”

      “Oh...thank you.” She felt silly for letting her wild imagination get to her.

      “Don’t mention it, ma’am.” He tipped his hat, then headed toward the corner of the cabin.

      Patrice went back inside. She slipped off her gloves and stood in front of the fireplace, holding her hands toward the flames.

      When she heard the sound of Stone’s boots stomping on the porch, she went back to full alert.

      “Let me add a few more logs there,” he said.

      Patrice moved. Standing to the side, she watched him. He looked right at home, completely in his element.

      A yawn escaped her. “Pardon me.”

      He glanced over his shoulder. “You’ve had a rough day, runnin’ off the road and all. Maybe you should turn in.”

      Okay, Patrice, now’s the time to worry about the sleeping arrangements.

      Two

      Stone pulled several sleeping bags and pillows out of the cupboard. He set one pair on the top bunk, the other on the bottom.

      “I suggest you sleep on top.”

      Patrice knew he meant the top bunk, but his words created a vivid image in her mind. An image that involved her being on top, not of the bunk and not for sleeping. “Warm air rises. I know, I took physics,” she said, trying to ease the awkward moment.

      “I didn’t take physics, but I’ve slept in both of these bunks, and you’ll be warmer in the top one.”

      She untied the sleeping bag and unrolled it across the mattress, conscious of his gaze on her. Fluffing the pillow, she tried to act as nonchalant about the whole situation as he did. No reason for him to know the thought of spending the night here alone with him unnerved her.

      He continued, “The end of the bed is a ladder.”

      “I noticed.” She was surprised by the snap in her voice. It wasn’t like her, but then the way he was explaining things—how to get into a bunk bed—made it seem as though he thought she was a complete idiot.

      “Look, I know I made a mistake driving up here without checking the weather, but I’m perfectly capable of putting myself to bed for the night.”

      His gaze narrowed, and she expected him to snap back- Instead he nodded toward the bunk. “Get some sleep.”

      Patrice climbed onto the mattress, slipped into the sleeping bag and rested her head on the pillow. She watched Stone adding wood to the stove. When he finished, he poured himself another mug of coffee and walked across the room to the fireplace.

      Walked didn’t quite describe his movements, she decided. Ambled came closer, since his motions were easy, casual and relaxed. She was struck again by how handsome he was and how he looked so natural in the surroundings. It felt as if she were watching a cowboy movie from front row center.

      Despite her earlier fears about her vulnerability while asleep, the warmth of the sleeping bag and the softness of the pillow were seducing her senses toward sleep.

      Just before she drifted off, she remembered Stone’s words, “I’ll stay in my own bunk, and I don’t snore.”

      How did he know he didn’t snore?

      

      Stone angled the sofa closer to the fire before he stretched out on it. The small love seat wasn’t nearly long enough for him to get too comfortable.

      He had to make do while a much larger couch and oversize recliner sat empty at the house. Then again his Labrador retriever, Elwood, was probably taking advantage of his absence to make himself at home.

      He glanced toward the bunk beds. The sides of the room were shadowed so that about all he could see of his unexpected guest was a silhouette.

      It was all he needed to see. She might not have much common sense, traveling unknowingly into a blizzard, but she was definitely an eyeful. Not that short, sassy, green-eyed redheads were his usual type. He preferred cool blondes with long legs.

      He’d been hard-pressed to remember he was a gentleman and not sneak a peek while she was changing earlier. He was a gentleman, but he was only human. And standing there with his back to an attractive woman while listening to the sound of zippers and shifting material had put his chivalry to the ultimate test.

      Patrice Caldwell. The woman’s name suited her, as did her tailored clothing and flashy red car. She was a city slicker through and through, but he had to admit the oversize cowboy duds he’d given her to wear looked kind of cute. That had been a surprise, turning around to find the icy, serious Patrice laughing and smiling as she rolled up the sleeves of the borrowed shirt.

      He couldn’t help fantasizing about getting her back out of those warm clothes and into a sleeping bag with him....

      Especially when the feel of carrying her to the truck was fresh in his memory. She was petite, but curvy in all the right places, and, Lord help him, he liked a woman to have curves. Yep, she was a pleasing armful and eyeful, all right

      He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he thought about her reaction when he’d told her about the outhouse. And her comment about the deer and insomniac bears!

      For a moment he almost felt sorry for her, but then he reminded himself, Patrice was the reason he was stuck here on a too-small couch with a quickly cooling cup of coffee, instead of watching a football game from the recliner in his den.

      At least he didn’t have to worry about things at the ranch. His foreman, Mack, was top-notch and would take care of business. His housekeeper, Virginia, would hold down the homefront.

      The bad part about being stuck here was figuring out how to keep occupied. If he didn’t stay busy, he would go nuts. There was a small assortment of books, magazines and games in each of the line shacks, but the prospect didn’t excite him at the moment... not nearly as much as his unexpected roommate did.

      The shutters rattled with the increasing wind gusts. His wife used to love listening to the wind late at night. Especially when it would hit the eaves at the right angle to make a whistling sound.

      No way, buddy, don’t start thinking about Valerie.

      A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The cabin was starting to warm up. He would keep the fires going full force for the