Page 12 of Faking it with the Cowboy

Birch let go of my hand and stood. “Don’t be a sore loser. You know as well as everyone else, that was a fair hand.”

I couldn’t move. My gaze locked onto the final card. The Queen of Hearts. She was responsible for me winning the huge pile of chips in the middle of the table. Over three hundred dollars.

“Need some help counting your winnings?” Birch passed me the stack of twenties everyone had used as their buy-in.

“I can’t believe I won.” Even as tired as I was, knowing I’d bested the cowboys of the Iron H sent a thrill through me. Most of them were good natured about it, tossing me a “Congrats” or “Nice job” as they filed out.

“Ready for me to walk you back to your cabin so you can turn in?” Birch held out his hand.

I took it without hesitating. “Are you going to provide security so I don’t get mugged on the way?”

He flexed his biceps. “I’d be honored to be your muscle man, though you won’t have to worry about anything bad happening here. The guys around here are the kind who value their honor. I’d trust each and every one of them with my life.”

“Even Brandon?” I wrinkled my nose.

Birch chuckled and tightened his grip on my fingers. “Yep, even Brandon. He doesn’t appear to be cut from the same cloth as some of the old-timers, but I’d trust him in a pinch.”

“I’m glad you found a place where you fit in.” I looked up as the rain started to fall again. “Is it supposed to be like this all night? I hope I don’t have to drive all the way back to Dallas in a thunderstorm tomorrow.”

As if Mother Nature wanted to prove who was in control, the skies opened up. Rain poured down in sheets, drenching us both in a matter of seconds. Birch started to jog toward the cabin a few hundred yards away and I struggled to keep up.

“Come on, Jericho. It’s not much farther.” He wrapped his arm around my back, half carrying me across the dirt. Only it wasn’t dirt anymore. The clearing in front of the bunkhouse had turned into a river of mud.

My heart pounded as panic set in. I couldn’t see where I was going, so I blindly followed. Until I set my foot down and it got sucked into a deep hole full of water. “I’m stuck.”

Birch stopped and grabbed hold of my leg. He was able to free it from the mud, but we both toppled over in the process. Damp coldness seeped through my jeans as the rain continued to pelt us from above.

“Hold on to me, Jericho.”

Before I could ask what the hell he was doing, he scooped me up and cradled me against his chest. My cheek bounced off his shoulder with each step.

I was too scared to argue. We made it all the way to the front porch of the cabin before either of us said a word.

“Are you okay?” He shifted my weight so he could reach out and unlock the front door.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little rain, right?”

“You and I know it’s both a lot more than that.” He set me down just inside the front door. “Are you going to be able to get any sleep?”

“Of course,” I lied, trying to downplay my fear of the storm. Birch knew better, though. He was the one who’d found me the night I got lost in the woods and caught in a horrible storm. I’d been on my way back to my grandparents’ house from his and thought I’d take a shortcut through the trees. I could still remember how the lightning lit up the sky that night as I huddled underneath a dead oak. “I’ll just take a quick shower to rinse off all this mud and probably be conked out before you even get back to the bunkhouse.”

Birch flipped on the light, but nothing happened. My stomach seemed to drop all the way to my feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Power’s out.” He turned and looked back out over the rest of the ranch. A few lights sparkled at the main house, but the rest of the ranch sat in darkness. “The cabins aren’t hooked up to the generator. Do you want me to see if there’s a room at the main house where you can stay tonight?”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey,”—his hand came up to brush the wet strands of hair away from my cheek—“it’s me. You don’t have to pretend to be brave, honeybee.”

The softness in his voice did me in. I leaned against him, hoping I could pull from his strength. “I don’t want to go up to the house. But maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stay here tonight?” I hated the way my voice came out, all soft and needy. Hated feeling so weak.

“Think you’ll be okay while I go back and get some dry clothes?”

“Can’t you just roll up in a blanket? I promise not to look.” I didn’t want to be alone, not even for a second. My therapist said I needed to do some major exposure therapy to get over my fear of thunderstorms, but I’d been doing okay. At least until now.

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