Page 57 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“Hmm,” she says. “I’ll have to think about that one.”
She smiles up at me, and I see her teeth are chattering and her whole body shaking.
“You’re cold,” I say.
“A little.”
I frown. It’s clear that’s a blatant lie. She’s a lot cold.
I stride over to the others who are still busy checking over the cattle.
“I’m taking Hollie back to the cabin before she catches hyperthermia.”
“What? NO!” she screeches in horror.
But the other two take one look at the shivering little omega – shivering so hard she can barely stand – and nod their agreement.
“I’m not going,” she says, snatching her hand from mine and crossing her hands over her chest in defiance.
“You either come willingly, little Omega, or I throw you over my shoulder and force you back to the cabin.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” I say with a jerk of my chin. She considers me and then with a sulky huff, concedes and starts walking toward Storm.
“I’ll see you back at the cabin,” I tell the others and then hurry after her, half concerned she’ll steal my horse.
We’re half way back across the field, when Hollie points something out in the distance. “What’s that?” she asks.
I squint against the battering snow storm. “Looks like one of our girls has got separated from the herd.” I yank on the reins and go investigate.
One lone cow, her stomach rounded with a young calf, stands lowing on her own, completely lost and disorientated.
“It’s lucky you spotted her, sweetheart,” I tell Hollie, “She won’t last long out here on her own like this.”
“How are we going to get her back to the others?” she asks. Wrapped in my arms, she’s not shivering as violently as she was, but it’s clear she remains frozen. I need to do this quickly.
“Like this.” I reach down to my saddle, unhook the coil of rope and then I swing it over my head. It’s not easy in the battling wind, but I’m well-practised and lasso around the cow’s neck on the first fling of the rope. Then I yank it tight and have the cow trotting along behind her as I lead her back to the herd. Clay unhooks the rope from her neck.
“Will she be okay?” Hollie asks.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get her warmed up,” Clay says, already rubbing his hands over the cow’s back, “you go getyourselfwarmed up, Hollie.”
Nash tips his head back and looks up to the sky. “You know,” he says, “I think it’s clearing.”
Turns out Nash is right. As we ride back to the big house, the wind drops and the snow settles until it’s light, drifting through the air like the perfect Christmas scene.
I’m guessing the Omega sitting between my thighs agrees, because she coos and says, “This place is so darn pretty.”
“Yeah,” I say, “but it’s a whole lot prettier with you in it.”
I know what the others said. I know what they think.
Hollie Bright is vulnerable. Hollie Bright is grieving. Hollie Bright should be left well alone.
I also know what Hollie herself said back at the house.
Besides, I can’t help myself. Her ass pressed up against me has made me harder than I’ve been in years, and now that the storm has settled, her scent is thick in the air again. I can smell it – I can taste it in my mouth – that sweet, sweet honey.
