The Rancher's Second Chance (7 page)

“Take off your boots and walk toward the fire,” he said harshly. He was in front of a stone hearth, light slowly infiltrating the space. Melanie walked forward, wincing as her stiff feet ached with each step and her ankle throbbed in a slow, pulsing rhythm. He threw on another log and then stoked the fire with a poker. He glanced over at her when she approached and he quickly stood to look at her. He was frowning as he stared at her face. “You look horrible.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean you look cold,” he said brusquely and she knew she must have imagined the hint of tenderness she heard. His hands went to the front of her coat and he unbuttoned it deftly while she stood there, mesmerized by the concern on his face. She reminded herself it wasn’t personal, that he was the type of man who’d be concerned for someone else’s well-being. Even hers.

“Here. Move closer to the fire,” he said his hand on the small of her back. The warmth from the growing blaze eased some of the chill on her face. “Is your leg bothering you?”

“It’s, um, kind of hurting, but I’m sure once I sit down it’ll be fine.”

He was moving around the small cabin and she turned, curious now to take in the space.

“What is this place?”

He paused, before lighting a lantern and then walking over to her. “A cabin I built a few years ago.” The lantern glowed, the light filtering through as he placed it on a small coffee table. The cabin was rustic. It was one room, except for the washroom, which she guessed was the room close to the front door. There was a pitched ceiling with a massive window that probably had a spectacular view of the mountains during the day. The hearth was made of stones and went from floor to ceiling. There was a neatly made bed with a plaid quilt in one corner, with a rustic nightstand beside it. A kitchenette took up another wall and that was it.

“It’s, um…” She struggled to find something polite to say. “Cozy.”

“It’s not meant for entertaining. It’s just a place I wanted for myself,” he said, with a hint of smile in his voice.

She tried to balance on her good leg and ignore the pain. “Well, it’s very secluded.”

He was a private man. She understood that. His sister was the complete opposite. Cori loved company and parties and being surrounded by people.

“Built it after Sarah died,” he said pulling something down from the kitchen cupboard.

“Oh,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself. What could she say to that? She hated thinking back to that day. His family and Sarah’s family had been devastated. She watched him silently, remembering the palpable anguish she’d seen at his wife’s funeral. He was handsome, proud, and larger than life, and to see a man like that so broken had shaken her. She knew then that he was nothing like the men she knew in her life. Tough as steel on the outside, but Cole knew how to love.

He opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle. “I’ve got whiskey. One glass. Sorry, not used to guests up here. Drink this,” he said, walking over to her. She accepted the glass, her fingers brushing against his and every cold inch of her body ignited.

“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling oddly protected, important. She took a long sip and then licked her lips. His jaw clenched and his eyes darted from hers to her lips. She passed the glass to him and he finished it off.

“I’ve got a change of clothes up here. I can give you the shirt and I’ll take the jeans,” he called out, walking toward the nightstand.

“Oh great,” she said, acting like it was no biggie. Where was that whiskey? He didn’t actually think she was going to parade around in one of his shirts. He wasn’t paying her any attention as he pulled out some clothes from the nightstand and walked over to her. “You can change in the washroom. Then come out here and hang your clothes by the fire.”

She stood there, knowing she looked obtuse. He shoved the navy T-shirt at her. She accepted it numbly. “Um, it’s okay, my clothes aren’t wet,” she said lying.

He looked her up and down, and when his eyes connected with hers, there was a gleam in them that made her mouth dry. “Your clothes are plastered to your body, obviously drenched. No time for arguing. I want to change, too. You’ll never get warm if you stay in those clothes. Here, take the lantern with you.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the washroom.

“Right,” she mumbled, taking the handle of the lantern and limping toward the washroom. She was now going to be spending the night in this remote cabin with Cole. In her chicken fantasies where she was safe in her own little apartment, this would have been fabulous. But now, in this small space, it was slightly more than unnerving. What if he didn’t talk all night and she just chattered on endlessly because she was nervous? She frowned, thinking of the last person that had told her she talked too much. She couldn’t think of that,
him
, now.

She placed the lantern on the ground, lighting up the small washroom. She peeled her soaked clothes from her body, shivering madly in the cold washroom and quickly put on the T-shirt. Cole being much taller made the shirt seem like an oversize nighty. She lifted her leg and looked down, wincing as she touched the swollen ankle. She was going to have to ice it or something. After a few more moments of adjusting she bundled her clothes and opened the door a creak, poking her head out.

She almost dropped the lantern and the clothes when she spotted Cole at the other end of the room. He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. Every well-defined muscle in his fit body was highlighted to perfection. And he was tanned. He shouldn’t be tanned—it was February for crying out loud. She quickly shut the door and tried to compose herself and then looked in the mirror to make sure she didn’t have drool running down her face.

Control yourself. He’s a man. Just like any other man. He’s your friend’s brother. He doesn’t even like you.
The only thing he’d ever noticed about her was that she was short. She’d stood in front of him in revealing clothes and he’d said she was short. Perfect. That last thought did it. She squared her shoulders, picked up the lantern again, and stuffed her clothes under her arm and opened the door.

“If you’re hungry, I’ve got some beef jerky,” he said turning around to face her.

Don’t look below his chin. Don’t look below his chin. Don’t look…too late.
She cursed herself. Perfectly perfect. He could be the poster boy for the hottest cowboy in the country. Too bad he’d taken off the Stetson or it would have been an even better look. She slowly crossed the room, trying not to look like an idiot.

“Why are you scowling at me? You don’t like jerky? It’s organic. My beef,” he said handing her a piece.

“I’m sure it’s great,” she said, accepting the piece. She’d heard all about their ranch. Cori was always going on and on about Cole’s philosophy, the one that he and his wife had shared. She bit off a piece, surprised the salty morsel almost melted in her mouth, not leathery at all.

“I hung up my clothes by the fire. You should probably do the same,” he said, cocking his head toward the hearth. Melanie tried to swallow the piece of jerky lodged in her throat; she should have never looked at the navy boxers and jeans and shirt. She wasn’t going to hang her clothes there. What, her pink-lace bra and underwear dangling from the mantel? They’d sit and stare at her lingerie while eating jerky all night?

“You can use those cans of fruit to hang them from.”

“I’m sure they’ll dry if I just place them over here,” she said walking over to the fire and placing them in a heap on the floor in front of the fire.

“Nah, they’ll never dry like that. Trust me. Want me to do it?”

“What? No, no, I’ll do it,” she mumbled, snatching up the clothes. Her gaze darted back and forth between half-naked Cole and her clothes. “I guess we should have taken Mrs. Harris’s picnic lunch,” she said while unfolding her clothes.

“Yeah, I’ll never hear the end of that one.”

“Anymore jerky?” Maybe that would distract him and make him stop watching her. His face lit up. He seemed very happy about her appreciation for the jerky.

“You bet.” He grabbed a handful of wrapped jerky, the whiskey, and the one glass and sat down on the couch. Then he stretched out his long legs on the coffee table and watched her like a television.

She frowned when there wasn’t even a hint of fat from his stomach when he was seated. Not even a roll. She needed something that would make him less appealing. Maybe he’d belch. She turned around.

“You should have some more whiskey,” she said over her shoulder as she unfolded her jeans.

“Are you sewing a whole new set of clothes over there?”

Melanie jumped.
Hang up the clothes, you ninny.
She placed one of the heavy cans on top of her jeans to hold it in place and then moved onto her shirt. She tilted her head, looking at the display. Then she moved the cans together, giving the appearance of a cinched waist on the jeans.
Perfect.
That was easy enough. Just the bra and underwear. Cole’s loud sigh reeked of impatience. She glanced over at the fireplace accessories stand. Maybe she could just loop the strap on one of those? It would be obscure. She looped one bra strap over the top of the poker, and the underwear through the top of the tongs, and then she turned the stand so that her lingerie pieces were at the back. Perfect.

“Why are you rearranging furniture?”

She ignored him. She was actually quite pleased with herself when she sat down on the other end of the couch.

“You want the bottle or the glass?” he asked, turning to look at her.

She swallowed hard. “The bottle. Definitely the bottle.”

“Impressive.” He smiled, an adorable smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and a dimple appear on one cheek. It made her toes curl and sent ribbons of pleasure through her body. He leaned back into the cushions, his smile falling slightly. She looked at him, from the handsome face to the bare, perfectly sculpted torso to the narrow waist and long, lean legs. She wasn’t going to lick her lips, like the man was a part of an all-you-can-eat dinner buffet, but then he leaned forward to pick up his glass from the coffee table and a ripple effect of muscles over his abs sent a ripple-effect through her body. Why, oh why, did Cori have a brother like this?

Her insides liquefied, and she grabbed the bottle, downing a large swig. She didn’t even cough as the liquid burned a path down her throat.

“I hope I’m not going to have to pick you up off the floor,” he said, again that smile still on his face. She’d never seen him smile so much. He must have downed a hell of a lot of whiskey while she was in the washroom.

“Relax, cowboy, I can handle myself.” Then she cursed herself. She was flirting.
Relax, cowboy?
It was like she was repeating lines from a movie. And then he actually chuckled. More like a smooth, rolling laugh that reverberated through every inch of her body. She tucked her uninjured leg under her and smoothed the long shirt over herself carefully.

“Oh my God,” he yelled, leaning over her.

She backed up into the cushions. “What?”

He was looking at her foot. “Your ankle is huge.”

She wanted to die. “No, it’s
not
. I don’t have huge ankles.”

“It’s the size of a freaking cow hoof. Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was raspy and tender at the same time. Before she could process the cow-hoof remark, he wrapped his strong hand around her injured ankle.

She flinched and gasped out loud.

His head snapped up. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were this hurt?”

She was trying to concentrate, but Cole, up close like this, with his hand on her bare skin was highly distracting. She almost forgot the hoof reference. “I didn’t want to complain.”

“This ankle warrants complaining. You need ice,” he said, gently lowering her leg to the cushion. He stood, walked over to the freezer, and pulled out an ice tray. He grabbed a dish towel from the drawer and dropped a handful of ice into it and sat back down beside her. He held her ankle and gently raised it so that it rested on his thigh. Cole slowly positioned the cold pack on her ankle and then looked up at her. “Better?”

She nodded, forcing the emotion to remain deep inside. She had never witnessed or experienced a man that was so obviously powerful, be so gentle. And so sweet.

“I wish I had some painkillers or something. You really should have told me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be that woman…”

“What woman?”

She waved her hand around, trying to concentrate while he adjusted the ice pack on her ankle. And tried not to think about how hard and warm his thigh felt beneath her leg. “You know, the one in the movie that gets hurt during a big action scene.”

The corner of his lip turned upward. “Well, I wouldn’t have held it against you. I would have helped you. You actually made me feel like an ass, thinking you were walking around like this.” Melanie didn’t say anything for a moment, caught somewhere between the reality of Cole and the memory of her father.

“It’s okay. I’m fine, really. It doesn’t feel horrible now that I’m sitting. Besides, we have jerky and whiskey, right?”

He grinned, holding out a piece of jerky. “Absolutely. Hope this snow blows through during the night and we can get out of here tomorrow morning.”

She accepted it, biting off a piece, listening as the wind rattled against the windows. The cabin was getting much toastier, thanks to the whiskey, the fire, and the cowboy on the couch beside her. “You think it’ll be over by then?”

“Absolutely.”

“I need to get back to town. I have an important client coming in tomorrow at noon.” She needed every single high-end client that came her way, especially during the winter months. “And I’ve probably just lost two potential clients because I wasn’t able to call them to reschedule today’s appointments.”

“Ouch. Well, chances are because of the blizzard they wouldn’t have come to the studio anyway. I’m sure if you explain to them you were caught in the storm without cell-phone service, they’d understand.”

Melanie nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m sure. Who would be going out in this weather anyway?”