“I can do it.” I reach for the coat, but he moves it away.
“Arms in,” he repeats firmly.
I shoot him a stubborn glare. “So bossy.”
Shep tilts his head, his gaze unwavering. “If you wear a coat the way you prepare for a trip, you’ll get frostbite before we reach the barn.”
“Fine.” I relent, deciding it’s better to play along than risk being left behind.
I extend my arms, then remain perfectly still, leaving him to wrestle them into the coat sleeves. Just because I decided to cooperate doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy on him.
To Shep’s credit, he doesn’t complain, carefully sliding in each arm and tugging the coat into place as if he’s handling something fragile.
This close, I’m enveloped by his scent, earthy and warm, and I lean in a fraction to breathe him in. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice as he zips my coat, sliding it up to my neck.
“I feel like I’m in a straitjacket,” I complain, pulling the zipper down an inch.
Shep narrows his eyes, moving it back up. “You can thank me later when you’re protected from the wind.” He shifts his attention to my sleeves, rolling them up until they reach my wrists. “That’s better. Make sure you put on these gloves before we leave.” He tucks a pair inside my coat pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.
“Yes,Dad,” I taunt.
Shep’s nostrils flare, his chest rising with a deep inhale. The intensity radiating off him is almost palpable. His untamed reaction has heat pooling in my stomach, bringing my reflexive draw to him into sharp focus.
I start toward the door but stop when he snakes an arm around my waist. Another flutter of heat rises in my belly, the contact making it impossible to look away.
“I’m not done with you yet.” His voice comes out husky.
He grabs a beanie from the rack and slips it over my head, smoothing my hair over my shoulders. A loose strand falls acrossmy cheek, and I inhale sharply when he pushes it from my face, his fingers grazing my temple.
“There,” he rasps, his gaze shifting to my lips.
I feel lightheaded as my pulse hammers in my ears. This attraction to someone I barely know, and who hasn’t been receptive to my presence, shouldn’t be this powerful. It defies all logic. I should be looking for excuses to keep him at arm’s length, not reasons to spend more time with him.
Shep is the first to shake off the daze, his features settling into their usual stoic position as he puts on his own coat and cowboy hat.
“Let’s go. The animals are waiting.” He brushes past me on his way outside.
“I’m right behind you,” I call out after him.
I tug my coat zipper down a few inches in a small act of rebellion. The smoldering attraction is irrefutable, yet I refuse to let him dictate the rules. If anything, I want to push back harder, hoping the gravity of his presence wanes. Rational? Probably not. But still worth a shot.
When I step onto the porch, a soft breeze brushes past. I burrow further into Shep’s coat to shield myself, his now familiar scent wrapping around me, as I reluctantly zip it up all the way.
I’ve seen snow countless times in New York, but it’s different here—the sun is shining down on my face, ice crystals cling to every branch, and birds chirp in the distance, celebrating the lull in the storm.
“You coming, woman?”
Shep is in the driveway, leaning against a snowmobile with his arms crossed. It’s criminal how handsome he is with his cowboy hat tilted low and his winter jacket stretched across his chest.
As I hurry down the porch steps, his gruff voice cuts through the air. “Slow down and use the damn railing so you don’t fall and break your neck.”
“Careful, cowboy, or I might think you’re starting to care,” I holler back.
Shep grunts in reply.
He might act indifferently, but his recent actions have made me more certain than ever that he has a compassionate side.
Case in point—yesterday morning. He thought he was sneaky, but I know what he did with the pancakes. Mine came out lumpy and hard, but the ones he served me were perfectly smooth, fluffy, and delicious. It was thoughtful of him to eat my poor attempt at pancakes. He went the extra mile making me better ones while wanting me to believe it was my batch so I wouldn’t be embarrassed. He’d deny it if I called him out, but I can see right through him.
