I shove my phone into my purse, not sparing Mr. Grumpy Pants another glance, and whirl around to make a dramatic exit. I’ll just have to stay in the convertible until the storm passes. It’snot my most inspired solution, but that doesn’t stop me from marching off like a petulant child with a point to prove.
I’m halfway up the steps to get my luggage from the porch when my heel meets a patch of black ice, sending me sprawling backward like a human domino. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact, but at the last second, strong arms encircle my waist, lifting me to the safety of solid ground.
“Dammit, woman,” Shep growls. “You could have hurt yourself. What were you thinking wearing heels?” I’m momentarily stunned speechless by his concern before I remember he was just scolding me for oversharing.
“They’re wedges,” I correct him as I burrow deeper into his arms, shamelessly stealing his warmth. “And excuse me for thinking it was hot all year round in Arizona, and that the biggest risk of visiting was tripping into a cactus. Not getting frostbite or nearly breaking my neck from slipping on ice.”
He scoffs. “What the hell gave you that idea?”
“Every movie, travel guide, and social media post that conveniently never mentioned the cold weather? Not to mention the photos and description in the listing when I booked this place,” I add sheepishly.
Shep shakes his head, muttering something about me being as stubborn as a mule. Yet his arm stays firmly secured around my waist as the scent of leather and musk surrounds me. Despite his stern expression, my pulse skips a beat.
The only plausible explanation is that my stranger danger radar is on the fritz. There’s no explanation for why my thoughts drift to labeling Shep the sexiest cowboy I’ve ever laid eyes on instead of screaming for me to bolt. Granted, I haven’t met many in person—Manhattan’s Upper West Side isn’t exactly cowboy territory—but compared to the fictional ones I’ve seen on TV, he’s far more rugged and… scowl-y.
I meet his gaze, and the way he studies me has my heart racing.
“You can let go now,” I whisper, even though my body protests, reluctant to give up its heat source.
“Right.” Shep releases my waist, steps around me, and goes down the porch steps. “The blizzard is coming in fast, and I’ve got more preparations to make. If you’re staying, I’ll show you inside before I take Blaze to the barn.” He gestures to his horse, who’s grazing on the last patch of grass not covered in snow under the roof overhang. “If not, good luck getting back to town.”
He collects the pieces of firewood he must have dropped in his effort to catch me, leaving me alone on the porch, trembling against the biting wind as I contemplate his offer.
On the one hand, he’s a stranger, and no one knows I’m here with him. However, my other options are sleeping in the convertible or trying to get down the mountain before the storm worsens, knowing there’s a good chance no car service or tow truck could rescue me if I get stranded.
As much as I hate to admit it, there’s only one logical choice, and I’m sure to regret it.
City Girls Are Nothing But Trouble
As I come back up the porch steps with my armful of wood, Noelle holds out her hand. “I accept your offer to stay.”
Even in heels, she barely reaches my chest and tips her chin to meet my gaze.
My eyes drop to her hand warily before curling mine around it, noting how small and soft it feels against my calloused palms. I’m also struck by how cold it is, guilt gnawing at me for making her stand outside in a dress doing nothing to shield her from the biting chill.
What I wouldn’t give to turn back the clock to this morning, when my biggest concerns were preparing for the blizzard and making sure the animals were safely secured in the barn. Living thirty minutes from town suits me fine, but it means stocking up on supplies and firewood ahead of unpredictable weather that can last for days.
This particular storm better not.
“Cheer up, cowboy. I’m a great roommate,” Noelle singsongs. “I make a killer cup of hot cocoa, I don’t sing in the shower, andI only hog the bathroom when I’m soaking in bubbles—lucky for you, I forgot to pack my bath bombs.”
For someone who accused me of being dangerous, she sure doesn’t act scared. Unless she’s sharing personal details about herself in an effort to disarm me. Either way, I’d appreciate it if she’d quiet down.
I might live a life of solitude, but I know a city girl when I see one—designer luggage, manicured nails, and zero survival instincts. Her dress and wedges are fit for a beach vacation—not a frozen winterscape. It’s obvious she’s just another woman with expensive taste who wouldn’t last a night alone in a snowstorm. Hell, she’s already shivering despite her best efforts to hide it.
Not that I care.
She got herself into this mess. Who doesn’t confirm their vacation rental is legit ahead of time or check the weather before packing?Unbelievable.I ought to make her fend for herself, but having her stay saves me the trouble of rescuing her later. It has nothing to do with those big blue eyes or that pouty mouth that makes me forget how she derailed my evening.
I shift the firewood into one arm and grab her suitcase with my free hand on my way into the house.
“What are you doing?” Noelle calls out after me. “I can get that.”
Not a chance. Her luggage weighs a ton, and I won’t have her falling flat on her ass trying to haul it inside. Besides, I’m hoping she’ll follow so I can get her out of the harsh winter air.
I wave her off, shaking snow from my boots before going inside. The fire I started earlier fills the space with warmth and the smell of cedar and pine. I set her luggage against the wall and drop the pile of wood into the crate by the hearth.
The footsteps on the floorboards have me glancing up at my unexpected guest. Noelle followed me inside, her cheeks rosy and her eyes wide as she scans the open space—the couch angledtoward the fireplace, an old leather armchair in the corner, and the kitchen tucked along the other side of the cabin with a small table and two stools.
