I cleared my throat. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“About the kiss or my marital status? Cause I’m pretty sure on both.”
At my deer in the headlights look, he chuckled, drained his cup, and stood up. “Well, if you’re not going to spill your secrets, I’ve gotta get my cattle into a corral.” He started toward the front door before he stopped and turned back toward me. “Sorry, I guess I’m so used to being here, it’s a little too easy to make myself comfortable. Is there a corral out there I can use? Did Susan say I was okay to stay in one of the motel rooms? If not, I can stay in my truck or something. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Too late. But to him, I said, “Grandma basically told me to roll out the red carpet for you.”
He looked interested. “Really?”
“Don’t let it go to your head. It means I won’t make you freeze in your truck. And yes, there’s an empty corral out back. How many in your herd?”
“Eight.”
“Let me get my coat and boots on, and I’ll meet you out there.”
In the past half-hour since Dusty’s arrival, the snow had settled at least three inches higher, though it was hard to tell because the drifting was so bad from the wind. I had to use all my weight to open the back door. How did my grandparents live out here like this? Growing up, summer on the ranch had been magical.
This…was not.
Right? A handsome cowboy showing up stranded on our ranch for a few days was certainly not magical. Not the stuff of dreams. I definitely did not have a handful of dog-eared romance novels full of the very same plot.
It was just…uncomfortable. That was all.
3
The wind and snow pelted our faces as I led our guest toward the empty corral next to my grandpa’s prized stock of Piedmontese cows, which he kept close to the house to keep an eye on. Dusty humored me by following behind, waiting for me to open the gate. He had the assured movements of a man who had been here often. He knew what he was doing and where everything was, but he let me lead. I held the gate open for him as he backed his ginormous truck and trailer to the entrance of the corral. He jumped out and swung the door open, nudging and prodding his cattle to exit the trailer. When each of the cows were safely locked in the corral, he lifted a hay bale out of the back of his truck and carried it to the manger, cut the string with a knife and began kicking the hay toward the hungry cattle. Let me paint a more vivid picture—he lifted the fifty-pound hay bale like it was a tiny, baby sack of flour.
Even in the freezing, nearly blinding snowstorm, I stared after him. What was it about seeing a man engage in physical labor that was so attractive? The cowboy hat? It definitely gave him a few extra points. I couldn’t see any muscles bulging because of his coat, but they were there. Iknewthey were. Blinking, I realized I was looking at him in the way my younger sister Julia used to, and I forced my body to take action.
“I’ll go open up your room and turn your heater on.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I turned and strode toward the first cabin. In front of our farmhouse, close to the road, sat a row of four small wooden, one-room cabins that served as motel rooms for weary guests making the trek across the long state of Wyoming hauling cattle.
I stood before cabin number one, closest to the house and corrals, and pulled the master key from Grandpa’s office out of my pocket. The door swung open easily and I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. I groped around for a light switch and flipped it on. A lone lamp sitting on the nightstand next to the queen-sized bed illuminated the darkness with a hazy yellow glow. There was a small desk across from the bed which held a TV. On the other side of the bed was a small vanity with a door leading into a bathroom. The air smelled musty as if it had been locked up for quite some time. Grandpa said he rarely had overnight guests at the motel during the worst parts of winter, so there was a good chance that it hadn’t been aired out since last fall. I walked toward the vanity area and found another light, turning it on. This time it was a florescent light and helped to brighten the place considerably.
I could see my breath so I busied myself turning the heater on. I desperately wanted to leave the door open to air out the smell but decided against creating a snowdrift inside his room. Glancing at the bed again, I tried to imagine Dusty’s frame on the queen size mattress. Were queen-size beds always this short? The room itself brought back a few memories. As children, my sister and I would help Grandma clean the rooms when they had been vacated. It was one of my favorite parts of visiting the ranch. Without a doubt, somebody usually left something behind and if they didn’t call to claim it within three days, Grandma would let us have it. It became a treasure hunt of sorts with Julia and me. We had found sunglasses, earrings, necklaces, a few handkerchiefs, pocket knives, and the occasional item Grandma would gasp at, yank out of my hand and throw away, red-faced, before washing all of our hands.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down for a moment, checking the comfort level. I couldn’t imagine my grandparents spending the money to update the beds too often, but to my surprise, this one felt comfortable with just the right amount of spring.
It was at that exact moment, as I was checking his bed for spring level, that Dusty chose to open the door. His eyes widened as they swept over me bouncing on his bed. I bolted upward instantly.
My hands flew to my hair, currently splayed out in all directions, and tucked an imaginary piece behind my ear as I smiled. “Hey. That was fast. I was just checking…” My words came out in a tumble off my tongue, desperately wanting to prove the normalcy of doing the bounce check on the hot guy’s motel bed, but the words left me as fast as they began. I tried again. “I was just checking…”
WHAT, Lucy? What in the devil’s name were you checking??
Dusty had a small smile playing on his lips as he watched me struggle, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort of the moment. He just let me sit in it—waiting. Again. I had forgotten what a stinker he was.
I breathed a nonchalant laugh. Then more words happened. Fast and without much pause. “Everything looks good. Sorry about the smell. My grandparents don’t have too many guests in the winter. I don’t think they’ve aired it out much since the fall. I turned your heater on, so it should start warming up in a bit.” I took great interest in looking everywhere but at him, giving to all the world a convincing show of me being a concerned motel room manager, even though all I could hear in my brain was the sound of the squeak of the bed when he entered. “There should be plenty of towels. You’re welcome to take a shower as well. ” My eyes bulged. Stop talking about beds and showers. Get out. Get out. Get out.
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” I beamed in his general direction as I attempted to pass by him on the threshold of the doorway he was still standing in. When he didn’t move and my eye-line hit a broad chest, I looked up. His amused green eyes studied mine for a moment. Though he didn’t look anywhere else, my body didn’t seem to know that. Trails of goosebumps lit up all over me as his mouth lifted into a smile.
“Thanks, Lucy.” Heat. So much heat as his low mumble made my stomach simmer. “It’s been good to see you again.”
I smiled, this time more normal. “You too.”
He turned his body slightly so I could pass by him, my arm brushing against his torso.
“I busted open the water trough and threw a couple of extra bales in for your grandpa’s cows. They should be good till morning.”
I stopped and turned, our bodies close as I grasped the door handle behind me for support. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
