“No, thank you,” she said as she placed a hand over her stomach. “That chili was so good I ate like a pig. Who makes it anyway?”
“I think this year it was a team effort.”
“They did good.” She smiled.
“Would you like a fire?”
She shook her head, “That’s okay. It’s too much trouble to go to for just one night.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Sophie longingly glanced over at the large stone fireplace. It reminded her of her home back in Indiana. She’d spent a good part of her early years in front of a warming fire. The longing must have shown on her face.
“The wood is already chopped and corded right outside. It’s no problem. A fire sounds good. Make yourself at home.”
Clay stopped with his hand on the doorknob. From the soft glow coming from the kitchen area, she watched his eyes as he scanned her face, his expression a mixture of concern and complacency and something else she couldn’t quite put a finger on. They were large, intelligent eyes, the color of the dark moss that grew on the rocks and seriously intense. His lips were full and sensuous. Her breathing all but stopped. Then he pulled open the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. The bathroom is there.” He indicated the door behind the sofa. “There are fresh towels and soap. Use whatever you need.”
She glanced in the direction he’d indicated and nodded.
Although sparse, the room was decorated in a theme that complemented the terrain surrounding the cabin. She walked to the bathroom and was surprised by the size. It was a large space with both a deep tub and a shower. It didn’t take her long to draw hot water into the tub. Soon she’d removed her clothes and stepped into the deep, warm water. Looking up, she saw they had a skylight. This would be a remarkable cabin when it was finished. With a sigh she opened a bottle of the sage-scented shampoo she’d found in a cabinet next to the sink and lost herself in the comforting warmth of the bath.
She had expected Clay to tap on the bathroom door after finding some reason to come inside. She was ready for him. She had her no practiced and on the tip of her tongue. But there was no knock, only the sound of owls calling to each other outside the cabin.
True to his word, Clay had converted the sofa into a bed with extra blankets and pillows when she finally did step out of the bathroom. The kindling in place, all it took was one flick of the lighter and soon a small fire was blazing in the fireplace, its flames sending warmth into the room. As it snapped and crackled in the hearth, Sophie was drawn to it like a moth to a light. There was just something about a warm fire and the smell of burning wood she had always loved. Wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe, she sat down and ran a brush through her hair, stroke after stroke. It wouldn’t take long to dry in front of the fireplace.
Clay opened the door and walked inside with one more stack of wood. After dropping the logs near the hearth, he stopped and watched her hair-drying process. He had the urge to kiss her, to feel those sumptuous lips against his just once more. He knew that would be a mistake. She’d been through a lot today. She was tired and more than likely sex was the furthest thing from her mind. He needed to give her the respect she was due and remember she was here to see the cattle drive. She needed to feel safe without any fear of him jumping her bones.
But damn. She’d felt so right in his arms. And in such close proximity, without any substantial clothing to shield her from his touch, he’d been painfully aware of each and every curve of her body. Of the smooth softness of her skin and the silkiness of her hair. Even after the day she’d had, she smelled good, like an herb garden with some dandelions thrown in for good measure. He didn’t want or need any personal relationships to complicate a life that had already gone off the deep end thanks to a bull and some degenerate determined to bring Everest down. All the more reason to get her back to where she needed to be as soon as possible. Keep the perspective, he thought. It was only one night.
Holy mother of God. He was in for a long night.
“If this sofa is your only bed, then you sleep here. I’ll take the floor.” It was the least she could do.
“You’re fine.”
“But I don’t want to take your bed.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied as he stretched out on the blanket. “Of course, we could always share. Then both of us would be warm and comfy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as she reached over and turned off the small lamp next to the sofa.
Sophie lay down, surprised the bed was as soft and comfortable as it was. She adjusted the pillow and pulled the covers over her. Staring at the ceiling, she watched the shadows created by the flames as they danced over the burning logs. The fire gave out so much warmth, soon she felt too warm. She kicked her way out from under the cover, but the room still felt hot. Water. She needed a drink of cool water. She pushed to her feet, stepped over his legs and entered the kitchen. After opening and closing several cabinets, she finally located the glasses. Next she moved to the sink, ran some water then filled the glass.
“Is there a problem?” he called from the other room.
“Just getting a glass of water,” she answered. “Do you want some?”
“No, thanks.”
“It’s good. Sometimes water from a well tastes...coppery. Bitter. But this is really good.”
“I am so glad you like it.”
Was that a sarcastic remark? It was hard to judge because she really didn’t know his current mood. The day’s outing could have hurt his bad leg. Deciding to let it drop, she finished drinking the water then turned on the tap and rinsed her glass before returning it to the cabinet. Once she’d stepped back over his feet, she returned to the couch and laid down.
The wind had picked up and it whistled around the corner of the cabin. Then all was quiet. She settled back and took a deep breath. Suddenly another gust of wind blew against the outside door. It sounded as though it had partially blown open. Had he remembered to securely close and lock it when he came in? He’d had his hands full of split logs. Maybe he’d forgotten. Another few minutes of speculation and she threw the blanket off and stood up from the couch. Stepping over his legs, she walked to the door, pushed against it and locked it.
“What are you doing?”
“I was afraid you’d forgotten to lock the door.”
“And you’re concerned someone might stroll by and break in?”
“It could happen.”
To that he made no comment. Well, she would make sure they slept in safety, even if he was not concerned. She stepped back over his legs, then plopped down on the sofa bed and pulled the blanket over her. It took quite a few punches at the pillow before it finally formed a position she deemed comfortable. She wondered what time it was. Probably around midnight. She didn’t have her watch.
Sitting up, she glanced around the room. On the wall over the bar there appeared to be a clock, but she couldn’t make out the time. Throwing off the blanket, she stood up, again stepped over Clay’s feet and made her way around the counter. It was a clock. But it wasn’t light enough in the room to read the time. Feeling her way around the walls of the small area, she tried to find a light switch. No go. She didn’t know where he’d put his flashlight. Would he have a lighter? Or some matches? She turned and began to open the drawers, her hands searching inside for a box of matches.
“Sophie...?”
“I... I’m looking for some matches.”
“Why do you need matches?”
“To see the clock.”
“Why do you want to see the clock?”
“Well, duh. I’d like to know what time it is.”
She heard him mutter some foul things under his breath then there was a slight rustling of covers. “It’s one-fifteen. Now could we please try and get some sleep?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
She stepped over him and sat down on the sofa, wishing she were sleepy. “Are you in pain or are you always this grumpy?”
“Yes. I’m often grumpy. As you well know.”
She turned on her side, facing the fire, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t used to sleeping in strange surroundings. The sun came up around seven o’clock this time of year. A few more hours and she could get back to the ranch and on to her own cozy cottage.
Eventually she was able to ignore the unfamiliar sounds, stopped worrying about the door blowing open and found a position under the blanket that was neither too hot nor too cool. The tranquility of the night surrounded her and she slept.
Sophie didn’t know if it was a scream or a growl or something in between that yanked her out of a deep sleep. But it was loud. Whatever made the noise was right outside and it didn’t sound happy. She pulled the blanket up to her nose and hardly dared to breath. All was still. Had she imagined it?
Just about the time she began to relax, it happened again. This time the loud, long, screaming growl made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. Without giving a second thought to her actions, she sprang from the sofa. Her feet caught in the blanket, and before she could catch herself, she fell, landing squarely on top of Clay.
She heard him make an ugh sound. In less than a heartbeat, she was flat on her back, his massive body above her, holding her in place. One large hand roughly gripped her shoulder while the other hand held a gun, cocked and aimed directly at the door. For a long moment, they regarded each other through the darkness. She heard the click-click of a trigger being released. At least, she hoped that was what it was.