Page 11 of An Angel for the Cowboy
By the time we get there, we're both soaked and shaking. I get the horses into the lean-to attached to the cabin, making sure they're secure with feed and water. Anita's already inside getting the wood stove going.
The cabin is tiny. One room with a stove and a narrow bunk bed. Barely big enough for two people to stand up in without bumping into each other.
We're going to be stuck here all night.
"We need to get out of these wet clothes," Anita says, her teeth chattering. "Or we'll get hypothermia."
She's right, but the thought of her undressing sends heat straight to my groin. I turn my back, give her privacy, and strip off my own soaked shirt and jeans. There are old blankets in the cupboard, musty but dry. I wrap one around myself and hear her doing the same behind me.
When I turn around, she's wrapped in a blanket, her wet hair dripping down her shoulders. Even bedraggled and cold, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"I'll see what supplies we have," I mutter, needing to do something with my hands.
There are cans of soup, some crackers, and coffee that's probably stale. Enough to get us through the night. I heat thesoup on the wood stove while Anita spreads our wet clothes to dry.
We eat in silence, sitting on the floor by the fire because there's nowhere else to sit. The storm rages outside, rattling the windows, but in here it's warm. Almost cozy.
"Mel will be okay," Anita says softly. "She knows what to do in situations like this. She's a ranch kid."
"I know." But I'm still worried. Can't help it. "She's more capable than I give her credit for."
"You've done a great job with her."
The compliment blindsides me. When was the last time someone told me I was doing a good job as a father? "I've done my best. But she needs more."
"A mother?" Anita's voice is gentle. "She told me about Jane. About Christmas."
I tense up. "What did she say?"
"That Jane left right before Christmas. That you haven't celebrated it properly since." She shifts closer, and I feel the warmth of her through the blankets.
I don't talk about this. Don't let people get in close enough to talk about this. But something about the storm, the isolation, the way she's looking at me with understanding instead of pity cracks something open inside me.
"She cheated on me." The words come out harsh. "Said ranch life wasn't what she expected and caring for a baby was too hard. She felt trapped." I laugh bitterly.
Anita's hand finds mine under the blanket. "Some women would do a lot to share this ranch and Mel with you."
I turn to look at her. She's so close I see the gold flecks in her dark brown eyes, feel her breath on my face. "How can you be sure? You don't even know me."
"I know enough." She reaches up with her free hand, touches my face gently. "I know you're a good father. I know you workyourself to the bone for this ranch. You’re the faithful, staying kind, no matter how hard it gets. That kind of man isn’t easy to find."
"Anita." I'm drowning in her eyes, the warmth of her touch and the impossible hope that she might be right.
She leans in slowly. I should pull away, protect what's left of my shattered heart.
But I don't.
Our lips meet, soft at first. Then she sighs against my mouth, and I'm lost. I pull her closer, my hand tangling in her damp hair, and kiss her harder.
She tastes like soup and coffee and something sweet that's just her. Her hands slide up my chest, pushing the blanket aside, and I groan when her fingers find bare skin.
"We shouldn't," I say against her mouth, even as my hands find her waist.
"I know." She kisses me again, deeper. "But I want to."
"If we do this," I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, "I don't know if I can stop."
"Then don't stop."
