Page 14 of Craving Her Cowboy
He made the first move. Half a step forward, a question, not a demand. She answered by tilting her chin up, a challenge in the motion.
If she’d blinked, or laughed, or even turned away, it would have been done. But she just waited. So he did, too.
They hung there, suspended. Rage, attraction, a raw need neither could name.
It was too much. He let go of her wrist, stepped back so hard he hit the edge of the gate. “This is a fucking mess,” he said, breath ragged.
She didn’t move. “Then clean it up.”
He didn’t know if she meant the barn, or himself, or the two of them together. He couldn’t handle the ambiguity. He turned and stalked out, slamming the gate behind him so hard the rails shook and a few stray chickens scattered outside. He walked two steps, stopped, and put his palm flat on the barn door, like he needed proof that it was real. His whole body hummed, a nervous, hungry vibration he couldn’t switch off.
He stood there, just outside, breathing.
One count at a time.
Chapter 6
The next day, the storm hit right when the workday was done and she made it to the steps of her cabin. South Dakota rain didn’t believe in moderation. It came at the ranch sideways, full throttle, making the world outside the cabins a mess of churning black and wet noise. Asha lay in her bed, hands locked behind her head, eyes fixed on the ceiling, listening to the barrage.
She gave it thirty minutes. Maybe an hour. When it was clear she wouldn’t sleep, she swung her legs out of bed, barefoot, and padded to the window. The glass was a waterfall, streaked and rattling in the wind. The only light came from the floodlamp over the barn door, and in that hazy cone, she could see a single figure standing motionless in the storm.
It took her two full seconds to register that it was Gavin.
He stood with his head thrown back, eyes closed, rain cascading off his body in sheets. Asha hesitated, one hand on the window frame. Let him drown, her first instinct muttered. He looked like he wanted to. But she couldn’t let it go. The image of him standing out in the rain all alone made her stomach clench.
“Can’t believe I’m going out into the damn rain like this.” She threw on a jacket and boots, and sprinted outside. The rain lashed her face as she kept her head down and barreled toward him. She stopped ten feet away, “You planning to stand there all night?”
Gavin didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. “What do you want, Asha?” His voice was a gravel scrape, barely audible through the rain.
She came closer, water stinging her face and dripping down her collar. “You’ll catch pneumonia, dumbass.”
He finally looked at her, and the fury in his face shocked her into silence. “Maybe that’s the point,” he said.
She gritted her teeth. “Not tonight. Not on my watch.” She grabbed his arm tightly and started pulling him toward her cabin. For a second, he tried to plant his boots in the mud, but a shiver went through his body. His first thought was that he didn’t want Asha out in this weather. That was the one thing that got him moving. He stumbled forward, leaning hard into her grip.
She half-dragged, half-carried him through the dark to her porch. Once inside, she slammed the door, locking out the rain.
Gavin stood dripping in the center of space, hair plastered to his skull, jeans glued to his legs. His chest rose and fell, each breath ragged. She stripped off her jacket, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and threw it at him. He didn’t catch it. It just hit his face and slid to the floor as he stood there.
Asha swore under her breath, scooped up the towel, and started rough-drying his arms and shoulders. He didn’t move to help, just stood there, staring at her with a look she couldn’t decipher. Water puddled under their feet, each drip loud in the tiny space. She finished toweling his chest, then moved to his face, hands rough but not unkind. He caught her wrist, hard, and held it there. For a second, neither of them breathed.
“Why do you care?” he said, the words thick and angry.
She didn’t have an answer ready. The silence yawned between them, filled only by the drumbeat of rain on the roof.
Then she heard herself say, “Because I know what it’s like to stand in the rain hoping it’ll wash everything away.”
His grip softened, but he didn’t let go. He stared at her, and in that moment, something changed. “I need to change.”
“I don’t have anything… Oh, wait a minute. I have some old pajama pants that I brought with me. They’re two sizes toobig for me, but they might be perfect for you.” She pushed the towel at his chest. “Now dry off.”
A few minutes later, they sat on the small couch, close enough to hear each other’s breathing, but not touching. Gavin sat rigid, elbows on knees, staring at the floor. He looked at her then, eyes sharp and clear despite the darkness. “You ever feel like you’re just… pretending to be normal?”
She barked a short, hard laugh. “Normal doesn’t come around here.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes I wake up and there’s nothing. Can’t remember the last time I felt… peace, I guess.” He caught her watching him, and for a second, let himself be seen. “Not sure I’d know it if I found it.”
“You know what pisses me off?” she said, voice raw. “People talk about wounds like they’re something you can just fix. Like the right therapy or the right meds or the right person will make you whole again.” She laughed, low and bitter. “Nobody tells you that sometimes, the best parts get left in a place you can never get back to.”
