Page 39 of Snowed In with the Rancher

She released his hair with a murmured apology that was strictly said to be polite, she didn’t mean it—he yanked her hair all the time and never apologized—but she kept her eyes closed, watching the last of the fireworks fade on the back of her eyelids.

He withdrew his fingers from her pussy then her ass and a second later she heard the faucet running.

But she didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

She was jelly-boned and really, really happy about it.

Moments later, big, strong arms scooped her up. “Grab the plate,” he murmured, his voice raspy and causing her pussy to clench.

She opened her eyes sleepily, grabbed the plate of snacks and allowed the sexy rancher with the pain behind his eyes to carry her upstairs to his bed.

He’d managed to find A Christmas Story, but she only made it twenty minutes before she was passed out in his arms, her head on his chest and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

Tomorrow was Christmas and although there was no tree downstairs, she hadn’t unpacked her stocking from her suitcase and the man with his arm around her wouldn’t be dressing up in red velour and donning a white beard, she couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be. This was exactly what she needed. She just hoped that when the time came to go home, she could take her Kintsugi heart—with all its cracks and battered history—with her and not leave it here with a man who had no idea what to do with it.

She woke up with Asher’s face back between her legs. The best way in the world to wake up, hands down. And after she came, he poked his head out from the covers and flashed her a rare, bright smile. “Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”

She grinned back at him, her body pliant and muscles deliciously achy. “Good morning to you, cowboy.”

“Rancher,” he corrected. “Afraid I don’t have a gift for my sexy squatting house guest but feel free to use me and abuse me all day. I’m yours to ride any way you please.”

The demons that had possessed him last night seemed to have disappeared on the icy wind. That or they were buried under a foot of snow and would re-emerge when the world started to thaw. But either way, the man who smiled at her with his lips and chin glistening from her release was far less haunted than the man she’d fallen asleep next to last night.

She was falling for both men, but she liked this side of him. It seemed to involve less of his energy to be happy.

“Well, I might just take you up on that amazing Christmas present,” she said, climbing over him to straddle his body, but then shimmying her way down so she was face to face with his cock. “But I think you should open my gift first before I open any more of yours. It’s only fair.”

His thumb gently brushed her chin and encouraged her to open her mouth. “Open up, pretty girl,” he ordered, his demanding tone sending a flutter of desire through her. She did as he said and took him to the back of her throat. His fingers threaded their way into her hair and he set a pace with her head that he liked. “Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

After Asher’s orgasm and then one more for her where she sat on his face and rode his short beard and lips like a bucking bronco, they both reluctantly slid out of bed and went to go feed the animals. Since Asher didn’t bother to put up a tree, Santa would have skipped this house, therefore not leaving treats for the animals. This was something she felt the need to remind him of, which just made him snort and smirk.

“I’ll give you a big ol’ piece of wood in the living room, woman,” he’d said before tackling her against Hula-Hoop’s stall and kissing her breathless and silly. “Don’t need a tree covered in lights.”

Macklin had made a noise of protest when he saw Triss giving her affections to Asher and not him, so she pushed her sexy rancher away and went to go give some love to Macklin. “And a Merry Christmas to you, handsome,” she said, kissing Macklin’s nose before holding out her palm with some carrot pieces and apple slices on it. He ate them from her happily, his big, velvety lips gentle on her hand. He nudged her with his nose and she kissed him again. “I can’t move into your stall, I’m sorry. Unlike you, I don’t like sleeping standing up.”

The horse almost seemed to growl like he didn’t think that was an excuse.

“He’s an attention whore with everyone, but I’ve never seen him get this possessive of a person before,” Asher said, wandering up to where Triss was scratching Macklin between the ears. “I think you’ve made an impression on all the animals. Even Fumble has stopped trying to escape, and that goat’s always looking for greener pastures.”

She beamed at him.

“Wanna help me get Mercy into the corral so we can muck his stall?”

Her eyes widened. Yesterday she’d had to browbeat Asher into letting her lead Mercy. Even then, his disposition had been the definition of cantankerous when she proved him wrong and Mercy was a sweet gentleman with her.

It seemed like Asher was finally coming around and believing in her being the Mercy whisperer.

“Sure,” she said, deciding not to rub his nose in anything since they had a good vibe going this morning, and it didn’t seem like his demons from last night had come back wearing elf ears.

They went to Mercy’s stall and the big misunderstood lug hung his head over the door. “Merry Christmas, big guy,” she said, kissing his nose and giving him a scratch between his ears. He ate up the attention, and of course, Macklin down the way made a huff of protest. Mercy glanced up at Macklin and she could have sworn the two had a silent showdown with Macklin making another huff and disappearing into his stall. “Boys, boys, don’t be like that. There is plenty of me to go around.”

She’d set the metal bucket of carrots and apple on a shelf and when she turned to grab it, she accidentally knocked it over instead, sending it to the ground in a horrible, noisy clatter.

“What the fuck?” Asher roared from where he was grabbing the halter beside Mercy’s stall, his hands pressed to his ears. “Be more fucking careful! FUCK! FUCKING HELL!”

Mercy had startled at the bucket dropping, thrashing his head side to side, and neighing loudly, but when Asher hollered the horse actually start to kick and stomp in his stall. His head continued to thrash and his sounds of distress were increasing.

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