Page 45 of Saddles and Snowstorms
As I worked, I couldn’t help but think about what Brooks had shared with me. The losses he’d suffered, the way he’d closed himself off to protect what was left of his heart. It made me ache for him, for all the years he’d spent alone out here. No wonder he was so hungry for touch, so eager to connect. And so resistant to letting anyone close.
By the time I finished with the animals, my fingers were numb despite the gloves, and my face stung from the cold. The snow was still coming down, though lighter now, fat flakes drifting lazily from the darkening sky. I made one last stop at the far end of the barn to check on the calf I’d stitched up only to find him romping around the pen like nothing had ever happened. Clearly, he was doing just fine. Smiling, I trudged back to the cabin, dreaming about hot coffee and the promise of a shared bath.
The warmth that greeted me when I opened the door was heavenly. I stomped my boots on the mat and shrugged out of Brooks’ enormous coat, hanging it carefully on the hook by the door.
“Brooks?” I called, noticing the main room was empty. The fire was still crackling in the hearth, but there was no sign of him on the couch.
“In here,” his voice called from somewhere down the hall. “Bath’s ready if you’re interested.”
My heart skipped a beat. I followed the sound of his voice to a small bathroom at the back of the cabin. Steam billowed out when I opened the door, revealing Brooks already submerged in an old claw-foot tub, his broad shoulders glistening with water. The room was lit with a few candles, casting a warm glow across his features. His cowboy hat hung on a nearby hook, his dark hair damp and pushed back from his forehead.
“Thought you might be cold after tending to the animals,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Water’s still hot.”
I tried not to stare at the expanse of his fuzzy chest visible above the water line, the defined muscles and dark hair trailing down beneath the surface. I failed miserably.
“The animals are fine,” I managed, suddenly feeling overdressed and awkward. “The calf’s acting like he never got hurt in the first place.”
Brooks smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes andmade the corners crinkle. “That’s good. You got a way with ‘em.” He shifted slightly, water sloshing against the sides of the tub. “You gonna stand there all night, or you gonna join me?”
My mouth went dry. “The tub looks a little small for two,” I said, even as my fingers moved to the buttons of my flannel shirt. “I’m not sure we’ll both fit.”
“We’ll make it work,” Brooks drawled, his eyes darkening as he watched me undress. “I’m willin’ to get real cozy if you are.”
I chuckled, unbuttoning my shirt and letting it fall to the floor. The way Brooks watched me—like I was water in the desert—made my skin feel hot despite the chill that still clung to me from outside. I stripped down completely, aware of his gaze tracking every movement, lingering on my cock as it hardened under his scrutiny.
“Like what you see, cowboy?” I asked, suddenly feeling bold.
Brooks licked his lips, the gesture unconscious and all the more erotic for it. “More than like,” he said, voice rough. “Get in here before I haul you in myself.”
I stepped into the tub, the hot water a shock against my cold skin. It took some maneuvering—Brooks wasn’t wrong about us making it cozy—but eventually I settled between his legs, my back to his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me tight against him.
“This is nice,” I murmured, leaning back against the solid warmth of his chest. His erection pressed against the small of my back, hot and insistent, but neither of us made a move to escalate things. For now, this closeness was enough.
“Real nice,” Brooks agreed, his breath warm against my ear. His hand traced lazy patterns across my chest, fingers threading through the hair there before dipping lower to tease my stomach. “Been a long time since I shared a bath with anyone.”
“Been a long time since you shared anything with anyone,” I said softly, not accusingly.
Brooks was quiet for a moment, his hand stilling on my abdomen. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “Reckon that’s true.” His arms tightened around me slightly. “Don’t mind sharin’ with you, though.”
The simple admission made my heart swell. I turned my head to look at him, finding his face closer than I expected. “I’m glad,” I whispered, then pressed my lips to his.
The kiss was slow and deep, unhurried despite the desire building between us. Brooks’ hand slid lower, wrapping around my cock beneath the water, stroking me with deliberate, tender movements that had me gasping into his mouth. I reached back, finding his cock and returning the favor, awkward as the angle was.
“Want you again,” Brooks murmured against my lips, his voice a low rumble that I could feel through my back. “Keep thinkin’ about this mornin’. ‘Bout how good you felt.”
I wanted to lean into it, to let him have his way with me, but something was tickling the back of my mind.
“Brooks?” I said, pulling his hand away gently. “Is this…” I paused, taking a deep breath. “What does all this mean to you?”
I felt his body tense against me, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you mean?”
“I know we’re snowed in together and things got heated,” I said, trying not to sound accusatory, because it was my fault we’d ended up fucking in the first place. “But once the storm passes and the snow melts… what then?”
Brooks stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Just when it seemed like he was going to answer me, he turned his eyes down toward the water.
“We should probably mop this water up,” he said quietly. “Before it ruins the floor.”
My heart sank even though it was the answer I’d been expecting. Brooks had made it clear he didn’t want to get close to anyone. And despite that and my own rules, I’d allowed myself to be hopeful. All those sweet things he’d said to me and all those tiny intimate moments had eaten through my defenses. And now, whether I liked it or not, I was going to hurt. It was nobody’s fault but my own.
