Page 9 of Snowed In with the Rancher

Lorne replied back with Echo is very disappointed. I told her I had an Instant Pot and when she tried to find it to make a recipe she saw on Instagram, she was very sad.

Well, whoopdy ding dong day. Echo was very sad.

But, Triss was a grown-up, so she replied with a very factual The Instant Pot was a gift to me from my parents last year for Christmas. If Echo would like one for Christmas, I’m sure you still have time to run out and buy one for her.

Lorne replied with his ever patronizing, Real mature, Triss.

She didn’t bother responding after that. However, it didn’t matter, that small bit of communication with Lorne was enough and the storm cloud over her head practically cracked with thunder as she stewed and steamed in her own anger under the covers.

With her phone in her hand and a sarcastic, bitchy comeback on her fingertips, she was about to tell Lorne where he could shove his far superior maturity when creaky floors and thin walls alerted her to Asher coming in the house from the front door at five minutes to seven. She hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs, so he must have either been really quiet or done so before she woke up.

He probably went out and fed the animals.

Warmth bloomed in her chest at the notion of him feeding the animals before he fed himself. Despite his crusty exterior—which let’s be honest, who wouldn’t be cantankerous if they were woken up in the middle of the night and forced to let a stranger sleep in their house—she bet he had a soft heart.

Though, maybe he ate breakfast before he went out to the barn. But he didn’t strike her as the type who would do that.

And all of two minutes with the man, thirty seconds of those minutes where you were in your underwear, has given you enough information to make that assessment.

She told her conscience to shut up and that she wasn’t in the mood for its logic.

She needed something to take her out of this perpetually darkening mood. Something to ease the ache of her broken heart and soothe the sting of betrayal that felt worse than any bug bite she’d ever gotten.

She needed to cuddle a goat.

Slinging her feet over the bed, she was surprised to find the wood floor not chilly. That wood stove in the living room was doing a bang-up job keeping the house toasty.

She was in her flannel plaid pajama pants and a black tank top, so after throwing her mess of dark waves up into a top knot, she slid her feet into her slippers, opened her bedroom door, and headed toward the kitchen and the alluring scent of freshly brewed coffee.

His back was to her as he fussed at the counter, but she knew he knew she was there. His posture stiffened.

He had a black knit cap over his head that was still dusted with a few stubborn snowflakes that refused to melt, and a thick red and black plaid coat hung on his broad frame. His ass looked as delicious in a pair of well-fitting Wranglers as it did last night in his pajama pants.

She licked her lips.

“Cream’s in the fridge if you don’t take your coffee black,” he said, not bothering to turn around, but rather just tilting his head toward it.

“Thank you,” she murmured, scuffing to the fridge and opening it.

“You like oatmeal?”

“I do.”

He grunted and plunked a mug of steaming black coffee on the counter.

She poured cream into her coffee and picked up the mug, cradling it in both hands and bringing it up to her chest to let the steam waft up her nostrils and wake her up.

Leaning against the counter, she watched him as he worked.

He had bacon frying in a pan, only four strips, and four eggs frying in another pan. Oatmeal sat steaming in two bowls and he had a bottle of sriracha hot sauce and a bowl of grated white cheese in his prep station, as well.

“Do you uh … need help today?” she asked, gingerly taking a sip of her coffee and having to suppress a moan from just how good it tasted. The man knew how to brew a good cup of Joe.

Not bothering to answer her, he flipped the eggs out of the frying pan and into the bowl of oatmeal, then he crumbled the bacon on top of the eggs, added cheese, sriracha and finally salt and pepper. Her mouth watered.

He turned around, finally showing him her face, and handed her the oatmeal. “Help on the ranch?” he asked, going to sit down at the head of an old but well-built wooden table.

She joined him, taking a seat one chair down from where he sat. “Yeah. I checked flights and the weather and I’m sorry, but, I’m not going anywhere for at least forty-eight hours. Probably closer to seventy-two. I don’t want to be a bother, so I’d like to help in any way that I can. I know this wasn’t how you saw your Christmas going. Spending it snowed in with a stranger. I certainly never expected to be snowed in with a cowboy.”

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