Page 16 of Wrangle Me, Cowboys

“What are you doing?” I asked sleepily, draping my arm over his shoulder.

“I’m laying you down, that’s all,” he said. “Unless you want me to carry you up to your room.”

“You’d do that?” I asked, snuggling into his shoulder.

He made a noncommittal sound in response.

“Are you ever going to let me see what’s under that tough-guy act?” I asked, pinching his nose.

He jerked his head away and stood, looking down at me with a frown. “I guess now that you’re awake, you can make it to your room on your own.”

“I think I’ll sleep here,” I said, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch.

For a minute, he just stood watching me like he thought I was up to something. So I smiled innocently up at him, snuggling deeper under the blanket.

“I’ll throw a couple more logs on, then,” he said after a long moment.

While he went outside to get more wood, I shuffled over to the fire and sat on the bearskin rug, the blanket wrapped around me like a cocoon. Waylon’s boots tromped on the steps outside, and then the door blew open hard, a blast of icy air sweeping across the room. Little flakes of snow skittered across the floor before melting on the hardwood. Waylon reached behind him with one foot, caught the door with his cowboy boot, and kicked it closed.

When he knelt before the fire, I could see a slight flush on his stubbly cheeks from his short trip outside. Two minutes outside and his face looked frozen. He didn’t comment on my moving from the couch. He just concentrated on rekindling the coals to get the fire going, leaning down and blowing on them until flames licked up against the cold logs.

At last, when the flames were flickering along the logs, he sat back on his heels. “That’ll do you fine.”

“Will it?” I asked, reaching out one foot to poke his calf with my toe.

He looked down at my bare foot like it was an alien. After a long moment, he raised his head. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing,” I said lightly.

“I’d better get to bed,” he said, staring at my foot again.

“Wait,” I said, gulping. If I wanted him to be real with me, I had to be willing to do the same with him. Which was a lot harder than I expected—it was easier when I was half-drunk and fully pissed.

He waited, watching my face with a bland, blank expression.

I swallowed again. “Do you want to stay with me…a little longer?”

He waited again, as if he expected me to answer the question for him. After a minute, I shifted and dropped my gaze from his. “I mean, you don’t have to. I know you get up early, and you’ll probably have to haul hay for the cows tomorrow, and do all kinds of stuff I don’t even know goes into running a ranch. It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m still going to sit down here, though. I’ll watch the fire until it dies down a little. Thanks for doing that, by the way. Getting the fire going for me. That was really nice of you. Oh my God, do you milk the cows? I just realized I’ve never seen you doing that. Do you think you could teach me?”

“All right,” he said.

“You’ll teach me to milk a cow?” I asked, pulling the blanket down around my waist. I could just imagine the great cow pictures I could send Haley if I milked one.

“I’ll stay a minute, if you need someone to talk to.” He sat on the bearskin rug, leaving a space between us big enough for another person to fit, and leaned back on his hands.

“Oh,” I said, laughing a little as I tried not to stare at his muscles. God, they all had the most gorgeous arms. It must be a family trait. “That’s just my rambling,” I said weakly.

“I noticed.”

“Be nice,” I said, opening the blanket. “You don’t make it easy, you know.”

“What?”

“Talking to you. You’re so quiet.”

“Doesn’t that make it easier?”

“You’d think.” When he didn’t move, I scooted over and draped the blanket around his shoulders, too.