Page 339 of Steamy Ever After

“Well, lead on,” I say, gesturing toward the house across the field. “I can’t wait to see my first llama.”

“Definitely a city girl,” he says with a rumble of his deliciously deep voice.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” My words come out more defensive than I intend. My savior is light on the compliments, inclined to point out every mistake I make.

Not that it was my choice to nearly run down a moose.

Or walk the wrong way, headed out of town instead of toward. Okay, that may have been a colossal mistake, but I swear I was headed the right way.

We reach the bottom of the hill and approach a snarl of barbed wire fencing. I’m not clear on how he expects me to make it over the fence.

He places the sole of his boot on the lowest strand and steps down. The action opens a six-inch gap. Not something I’m able to crawl through. I give him a dubious look.

He gestures toward me. “Come here.”

I cross my arms and stay where I am. “Maybe we should find this gate?”

“You don’t have another mile in you, city girl. Now take my coat off and give it here.”

While I may have been complaining about being overly warm a few minutes ago, standing at the base of the hill finds me shivering again. I don’t want to give up the coat, but his command doesn’t allow for argument.

I shrug out of the coat and hand it over. Right then, a gust blows the snow into a flurry, making me shiver. He wraps his coat around the upper strands of wire, forming a U-shape. Then he lifts. The six-inch gap widens.

“Hurry up,” he says. “This is harder than it looks.”

I rush forward, eyeing the opening, hoping his arm doesn’t give out while I’m halfway through. One glance at the fullness of muscles bunched under his shirt, and I don’t have much to worry about.

Picking my way over the exposed wire, I clear the fence.

He releases his hold, and the gap in the fence collapses, leaving him on the outside of the fencing.

“How are you …”

I don’t get to finish my sentence because he places his hand on the nearest post and vaults over the wire like it’s nothing.

Damn.

He twists around and lands beside me while I unabashedly stare, admiring his strength and agility. He frees the coat from a barb with a little rip of fabric. Great, now I have to buy him a new coat.

“Come on,” he says. “Almost there. Put the coat back on.”

“I’m a little overheated,” I say.

“Don’t care,” he says, shoving the coat at me. “It doesn’t take long to freeze out here, and we’re not inside yet. Put the coat on.”

His insistent tone leaves no room for argument. I take the coat and slip it on. I’ve been taught to be cautious. Not to trust. Yet here I’m, following a stranger into a house in the middle of nowhere.

It doesn’t help it is nearly midnight.

Past midnight? I don’t know what time it is. He could do anything to me, and no one would ever know. Maybe it would’ve been better to stay with my Jeep?

It doesn’t take long before he’s ahead of me again, marching toward the inviting ranch-style home.

A single-story structure, it has a classic, rambling farm feel to it, but what draws my eye, and energizes my step, is the thin trail of smoke twisting up from the chimney. I’d give my firstborn to sit in front of that fire right about now.

My savior picks up his pace. The distance between us grows. Remembering what he said about testy llamas, I stumble to a jog, intent on closing the gap. Or maybe, I just really want to be out of this damn weather.

Fresh wood smoke fills my nostrils: a thick, homey scent. My savior waits at a wooden gate, holding it open. I step past him and take a deep breath. The ordeal of my evening is almost over.

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