I smirk, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… that’s a tough one. You’ve got quite a few grays, though I suspect I’m responsible for a few sprouting overnight.”
I keep my hands at my side, resisting the temptation to run my fingers along his temple. I have a hunch he wouldn’t take too kindly to me touching him without permission.
“I’m forty-five.” His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Oh.”
I lean in slightly, without thinking. The silver-fox cowboy is older than I expected—older means experienced. I wonder if hefucks with the same force of his presence: hard, commanding, leaving me breathless and begging.
Bad idea, Noelle.
My stranger danger radar really must be broken if I’m already picturing myself stretched out naked on the bed for Shep.
“How old are you, Noelle?” he asks, studying me.
I send a silent prayer to the poker face gods before clearing my throat. “I’m twenty-five.”
Daddy.
The word nearly escapes, but I catch myself just in time. Maybe Gemma’s right—I really have gone far too long without an orgasm.
I might sound casual, but the fact that there’s a twenty-year age gap between us does nothing but amplify his appeal. In the past, I’ve mostly dated guys my age, but I’ve always had this fantasy about being with an older man. Someone confident, assertive—who’d have me begging before he even touched me. But that little daydream of mine certainly does not, under any circumstance, include a broody cowboy who treats me like a thorn in his side. No sir.
My train of thought is derailed when I see the pillows and blankets piled on the couch. Shep must have collected them while I was changing. I’m starting to suspect that behind his surly disposition, he has a thoughtful side. That’s the logical explanation for how he’s gone from accusing me of trespassing to giving me warm clothes and blankets in the span of a few hours.
“Figured if you had some things to keep you warm, it would stop you from pestering me until morning,” he says as if he can read my mind.
“Good thing I’m most irritating after sunrise,” I reply cheekily.
He studies me with his lips drawn together. Up this close, I notice the thin ring of gold around his irises, giving his brown eyes a warmth that contrasts with the tension in his expression.
Shep clears his throat as he takes a step back. “It’s late. I’d better get back to bed.”
“Good idea. Thanks again for the clothes and blankets.”
He gives me a curt nod before returning to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
By now, the fire is blazing, heating the room nicely. I arrange the pillows on the armrest, layer the blankets over the couch, and eagerly burrow into their cozy embrace.
I roll onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut. As comfortable as I am, sleep eludes me for a very different reason than before. I quickly shove aside the flicker of disappointment that I’ll be leaving in a few hours, aware that any lingering fantasies of spending a night in Shep’s bed will fade with the sunrise.
Burnt Bacon And Sunshine Smiles
After being woken up in the middle of the night and the stilted exchanges that followed, I was more certain than ever that Noelle’s stay had to be short-lived. However, after hours of restless tossing and turning, the sun rises, the wind still howling outside the cabin, and the snow continues to fall in thick sheets.
Early forecasts promised a short storm, but they were wrong. Which means I’m saddled with my uninvited houseguest until further notice.
Did seeing her huddled by the hearth, shivering with trembling fingers as she tried to coax a fire to life, nag at my guilty conscience? Maybe. Or was it that she only had the thin throw Birdie had sent me last year? A little. The most alarming part? I hit the sack without a second thought for my guest until I heard her moving around the living room and bolted like a dog called to heel.
There’s no valid excuse for how I acted. I was irritated by her unexpected arrival, and my only concern was keeping her from freezing in the storm. Not that it helped much, seeing as shenearly became an ice sculpture in my living room, thanks to my indifference.
What made me even more of a jerk was that while she stood there shivering, my eyes kept drifting to her silk top and shorts that left little to the imagination, showing off every curve and the swells of her breasts.
I had hoped that lending her clothes would be a simple solution to ease my conscience, but I was wrong. The sight of her in my flannel and sweats was disarmingly intoxicating. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I found out she’s twenty years younger than me. God, I’m old enough to be her dad, yet I was painfully aware of how tempting she was—every torturous sway of her hips and each sassy comment from her smart mouth.
I consider sneaking through my window to hide in the woodshop I have behind the cabin to avoid Noelle, when a loud crash echoes from the kitchen, making me bolt upright in bed.
God, what trouble is that city girl getting herself into now?
