Page 8 of Mountain Man's Muse
Despite his commentary on the terrain and the hint of memories that troubled him, he was not completely unaware of her.
She took advantage of his restless adjustment to nestle closer. “It is a cold magic though. Too cold for me.”
He opened his coat and tucked her in. Pressed tight against him, something harder dug into her hip. She wedged her hand between them to feel the curved top. He sucked in his breath, whether at her icy fingers or sudden familiarity, she wasn’t sure.
She traced the chunk of metal—not iron, but copper—that stood like a shield between her and the rousing heat behind his fly. “What’s this?”
“My belt buckle.” His voice sounded strained.
She tilted a little away from him to look down between their bodies. “That is a mighty belt buckle.”
“Are you making fun, Miss Golden Slippers?”
“Not at all.” From her angle, she couldn’t see much, but the ridges of carving ticked under her questing fingers. “It seems a fine buckle.”
“It holds up my pants.” He caught her hand. “Let’s keep it that way.”
She let him lace his fingers through hers. “You made it, didn’t you?” The echo of his spirit reverberated in the copper. “You are a metal smith, an artist?”
“Just a cowboy. I learned some basics to shoe the horses, do a bit of machining when things break. The buckles…” He shrugged. “I sell a few, enough to pay for a bale of hay here and there. People seem to like them.”
So he had a calling in him, simple though it was. He would be more amenable to her musetta powers. And he might have iron. Could she trick him into capturing the hunter and sylfana? If so, she’d return to the faedrealii a hero.
She bit her lip. Her musetta powers had never been tried against a human on a task more critical than an ode. And look how wellthathad turned out.
When Josh focused on her lips, she forced a smile sultry enough to melt a crater in the snow around them, maybe through the bedrock below. “You’ll have to show me more of your great talents.” More of what was hidden behind the metal.
He must have heard the double meaning in her voice, because he did not let go of her hand again.
Chapter 4
Josh groomed Bunco, but the usually calming routine had no such effect today. With his hired hands spending the weekend in town thanks to the sudden freeze, the chores were all his. He took a slow breath, trying to find serenity in the scent of hay and the snuffle of contented horse.
But his every nerve was fine tuned to the cabin. While brushing Bunco’s tail, he wanted to run his fingers through Adelyn’s dark locks. Would her hair be as silky as it looked? His fingers caught in a knot, and the tail twitched out of his grasp.
“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t watching.” Wasn’t thinking right, either, if he really imagined his gorgeous guest wanted his rough hands on her.
Finally he made his way to the house, only somewhat dragging his boot heels. When he had left this morning, the cabin had seemed right fine. The rambling homestead edged with ferns bravely curling out of the snow wasn’t as grand as the Hunters’ house, but the view it faced was every bit as pretty, especially with the prime Angus making bold black dots against the white field.
But compared to the woman inside, now the silvered cedar logs and slightly warped roofline seemed homely instead of just homey.
His jaw tightened. This wasn’t Hollywood-style, computer-generated fakery. This was a real working ranch. And he was a real working rancher. And neither were without their scars.
He touched his cheekbone though he couldn’t feel the old cut through his calluses. Danielle had once said his partly blinded eye made him look broken-bottle mean. In reality, he’d been working with sheet metal—no, not working, playing—and the edge had slashed him.
Now he had a living, breathing piece of art in his bathroom. He rather suspected she had more sharp edges than she’d shown him yet.
Danielle had always wanted a second bath. That seemed silly to him—who was going to use it?—but now he wished Adelyn wasn’t standing in arms reach of his personal towel, wrapping her fingers around his soap, which was only boring man soap since Danielle left.
And the only reason he was thinking of his ex was because he was ticking off on his fingers how many months had passed since he’d fallen into bed with someone other than himself.
At the front door, he braced his hand on the coat hanger made out of an old horseshoe and kicked off his boots—he’d need his bare toes to complete his calculations of those lonely months—as if he could kick the wistful wishes out of his head.
Not likely.
He stood in the entry next to Wolly, both of them staring down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Josh had left Adelyn a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. His own, of course; he had nothing else to give her.
“I’m back,” he called. Not too loud. Didn’t want to seem like he thought she would care, but he didn’t want to scare her either.
