Page 60 of Snowed In with the Rancher

No. Not like this.

She ripped down his buff and pressed her lips to his just as hot tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

“Not like this, you grumpy asshole. Not like this. I came back so that you could apologize to me properly and that means us, in bed, for hours. You owe me that. I’m a very forgiving person, but I still need some persuasion. And you’re very good at that with your tongue.”

She shook him by the shoulders.

Nothing.

Terror started a slow, lethal swirl in her gut that made her feel sick.

“Asher Harris, I will sit on your face right now if it will wake you up. I’m not fucking kidding.” She pressed her mouth to his again and kissed him, sliding her tongue past his icy lips, breathing warm air into him.

Sobs shook her uncontrollably and tears slid down onto his face, but then, he started kissing her back.

He was kissing her back. Slowly, rigidly. But he was kissing her back and that was all that mattered.

“You’re going to sit on my face?” he said when she pulled away, still crying.

“I will if it’ll keep you awake.”

His smile was small. “Might take me a while to get you there, but I’m game.”

She chuckled through the blubbering and tears. “After. But right now, I need to dig you out. Stay the fuck awake, okay?”

“Mhmm.”

She pulled the buff back over his mouth and nose, stood up, and started digging. The snow was wet and heavy, but eventually, she had dug out enough around Asher that when she went behind him, put her hands under his arms, and pulled, he budged.

“Oh thank God,” she exhaled, slowly peeling him out from under Dare, though that seemed to cause the barbed wire to dig deeper into Dare and the horse let out a whimper of pain. “I’m sorry, buddy,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

She got Asher free, then quickly checked him over. “Can you move your legs?” she asked. “Do they feel broken?”

He slowly lifted each leg, bending them at the knee. “Don’t feel broken.”

“Oh thank God.” She started to drag him through the snow toward the truck. “Let me know if you can walk,” she said to him.

He made a noise she didn’t understand, but at least he was still making noises.

Sweat coated her forehead and her arms were threatening to give out, but she dug down deep for some extra energy and continued to lug his enormous frame to the truck.

Just when she thought she wasn’t going to make it, bright high beams pierced through the darkness then a truck honked.

Nate.

Thank God.

The truck parked, leaving its lights on and a door opened then slammed shut.

Nate came running forward, his face painted with fear. “Holy fuck,” he murmured, taking in Triss with Asher. Nate swooped in, picked up his brother, and carried him to Asher’s truck, laying him on the back bench seat. “I’ve got spare blankets in my truck. Go grab all of them.”

She nodded and took off.

Hannah’s worried eyes meet her as she approached Nate’s truck. Her friend rolled down the window. “How is he?”

Triss shook her head. “Not good. In and out of consciousness. But his legs aren’t broken.”

Hannah blew out a breath and nodded. “Silver lining, I guess.”

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