“I agree. One of our strengths is how well we’re able to coordinate our efforts, no matter what we’re doing. We’re a good fit.” No sooner had he used that phrase than he wanted it back.
Heat flickered in her eyes and then disappeared. “I made the decision to wait for you instead of squeezing past, but what if I hadn’t? Would that have made you uncomfortable?”
Her body pressed against his, even for a split second? Oh, yeah. Even now, the possibility made his pulse race. “It would have affected me. But like you said, that’s my issue. I’ll work on it.”
“Then I guess that’s where we are. If we want to continue this mutually beneficial relationship, we both have some reprogramming to do. I’m willing to make that effort. Are you?”
“Absolutely.” And it could be the toughest assignment he’d ever had in his life.
Chapter Sixteen
Taryn was committed to the new regime, but she didn’t care to test it quite yet. Thanks to her discussion with Pete, it was officially lunchtime, so she chose to fix them some food and hot tea while he brought in the rest of the wood.
Darkening skies and a wind whipping the branches of the spruce trees out in the front yard prompted her to build a fire. Then she turned on a couple of lamps and the Christmas tree lights.
She set up their meal at the game table instead of the coffee table, though. Not as cozy, and they could see the fire but also keep an eye on the weather through the picture window.
Pete finished bringing in the wood and washed up at the kitchen sink as he always did. Usually she chatted with him while he did that, but today she went into the living room to check the fire.
Maybe tomorrow she’d be better able to share the kitchen with his manly self when he rolled back his sleeves and lathered up. Given another twenty-four hours to recalibrate, she might not notice the golden blond hair sprinkled over his forearms, or the supple motion of his fingers as he worked the suds between them and over the backs of his hands.
“You have a text,” he called from the kitchen.
“Would you please check to see if it’s from Caitlin?” She used the tongs to reposition a log that hadn’t caught. “She promised to send me something by midday.”
“It’s from her. She’s sent you some stills and videos.”
“Great.” Especially since looking at that would give them something to focus on during lunch. Without a distraction, they might eat in uncomfortable silence.
That had never happened before. Topics had always been easy to find. “I’ll get my laptop and we can go through them while we eat.” She retrieved her laptop from the bedroom she’d had remodeled into an office.
“This’ll be exciting.” Pete came into the living room with the aroma of her kitchen soap, a pine-scented one, clinging to his hands and forearms. He hadn’t bothered to roll his sleeves down.
Not as exciting as you, buster. She gave herself a mental slap upside the head. She wasn’t supposed to be evaluating him on her personal excite-o-meter. “I can’t wait to see Crimson Clouds through her eyes.”
“Same here, and I’m glad to report that our decorations are standing up to this wind.”
“That’s good news.”
“That’s why I wanted to wire the heck out of every branch. I’m not ready to feed them to the blizzard gods.”
“Except we’re not having a visit from the blizzard gods. I’m still a little disappointed about that.”
“Stick around this area and you’ll get your blizzard fix sooner or later.” He waited for her to sit down before pulling out a chair. “I’m just as glad it’s not coming in now. A couple of inches will make it look like Christmas and everyone’s holiday lights won’t be knocked out.”
“You want my polite snow?”
“Pretty much.”
She pushed her sandwich plate to one side for the time being, opened her laptop and called up her email. “I kind of wish we’d had polite snow on the ground for Caitlin’s pictures.”
“Must be hard to plan that kind of thing. Caitlin has a schedule and the snow doesn’t.”
“And I have a schedule.” She waited for the first video to download. “I’d like to get the Christmas package on the website in the next day or two.”
“Then be glad there was no blizzard to wrestle with. That would put a hitch in your online giddy-up.”
She glanced across the table and smiled. “Yes, it would. Hey, go ahead and start eating.”
“Waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” The video downloaded and she swiveled the laptop so they could both see it. “This is the one she took after you left yesterday, when the lights came on.”
Ignoring his sandwich, he turned to face the screen as the video began. Caitlin had used an instrumental of Winter Wonderland as the musical backdrop and filmed the lighted decorations in such a way that snow was suggested, if not visible.
When it ended, Pete sat back in his chair. “I’ll be damned. You’d swear there was snow covering the ground even if there were only those little patches here and there.”
“She has talent.” She glanced at his untouched sandwich. “Looks like neither one of us can multitask when it comes to something like this. Let’s eat and then watch the rest.”
“I’m not good at multitasking, period. I have a one-track mind.”
She laughed. Couldn’t help it.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” She picked up her mug of tea, took a cautious sip and put it down again. “Watch that tea. It’s hot.”
“Just how I like it.” Then he heaved a sigh and swore under his breath.
“Problem?”
He met her gaze. “It seems I do have a one-track mind.”
Her stomach fluttered. “Understandable. This might take some time.”
He nodded.
“We have to override a natural attraction. If we’d met under different circumstances…”
“I’ve thought of that. Like maybe I’d already taken a job somewhere and you’d hired a different foreman.” He picked up his sandwich. “A guy in his sixties.”
“Why in his sixties?”
“Wouldn’t want someone who could be competition.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
“I see.” She started eating.
“Then some night we would’ve both ended up at the Guzzling Grizzly, each of us out with friends. I’d ask you to dance.”
“You dance?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Something I didn’t know.”
He finished chewing and swallowed. “No reason to. We’ve never been at the GG together in the evening. Anyway, I’d notice you sitting there and ask you to dance.”
“Why would you notice me?”
“The color of your hair. I’m partial to it.”
“You’ve dated a lot of redheads?”
“Not really. Come to think of it, not any. But your hair is the exact same color as…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“What? The sunset? Your favorite amber beer? Rusty pipes?”
He smiled. “It’s best if I don’t say. Not sure whether you’d feel complimented. What’s amazing is that I didn’t think of the similarity until today, when you came out to get the firewood.”
“If you’re going to tell me that my hair looks like flames, I’ve heard that one before. Several times, in fact.”
“That’s not it. Given that you’ve spent your life in San Francisco, I doubt anyone has ever made this particular comparison.”
“My curiosity is killing me.”
He hesitated.
“Come on. After all this buildup, you have to tell me.”
“Your hair is the same color as my horse Clifford.”
She started giggling.
“It’s why he has that name, because of the big red dog in the kid’s book.”
She nodded and pressed her napkin to her mouth to hold back the giggles that kept coming. Her hair matc
hed his horse’s coat. Most adorable compliment ever.
“But the dog in that book is lipstick red. Clifford is a rich auburn color, just like yours. His coat is amazing, especially after I finish grooming him.”
She used her napkin to wipe away tears of laughter. “I’d love—” She stopped to clear her throat. “I’d love to meet him sometime.”
“Seems odd that you never have, but it makes sense. You were gone for both holidays when we had a parade. Maybe that’s why I didn’t realize the color thing. I’ve never seen the two of you together. He’s a great horse. Had him since I turned sixteen.”
“Is he old, then?”
“He’s twenty. I know there are folks who consider that an old horse, but it’s not. They can live to be forty if you treat ’em right.”
“Maybe on Christmas Day we could pay him a visit since I’ll be at Wild Creek.”
“We’ll do that. He’d really…” The wind howled outside and his attention shifted to the window. “It sure is kicking up out there. Want to check the weather on your computer to be sure nothing’s changed?”
“I’m on it.” She pulled the laptop closer and accessed her favorite weather channel. “It’s taking its time loading.”
“Could be plenty of other folks are trying to get the same info.”
“Could be. Ah, here it comes. It’s…uh, oh.”
“What?”
She turned the screen so he could see it. “I’m not from here, but that looks—”
“Serious. It is.” He pushed back from the table. “Let’s get the horses inside.”
“My parka’s in the kitchen.” She hurried to get it. “How much time do we have?”
“Hard to predict, but the way that wind’s blowing, it could be soon. Fingers crossed we’ll be able to string that line. Looks like you may need it.”
Adrenaline shot through her as she shoved her arms in the sleeves of her parka and zipped it. Frigid air swept into the house when Pete opened the front door and she dashed out on the porch and down the steps. He was right behind her, taking them two at a time.
She tightened the cord on her hood and tied it under her chin, but fingers of wind flung it back, anyway. To hell with it. She put on the gloves she’d left in her pockets after hauling wood. “At least it’s not snowing yet.” Her words were ripped away by the wind. Pete likely hadn’t heard her. And no sooner had she said it than the clouds began spitting snow.
Their little herd of six was huddled near the gate, clearly hoping the humans would show up. A fierce protective urge rose within her. Pete had said the horses could weather a storm better than a person, but she wanted them in that barn ASAP.
Pete’s voice rose above the wind. “I’m not gonna mess with lead ropes. I’ll just grab their halters. I can take two of ’em. Think you can take one more and then close the gate?”
“Yep!” She jogged in place to keep warm as he unlatched the gate, went in and grabbed Spike’s halter in one hand and Marley’s in the other. He led them out the gate and she slipped inside.
“Here we g-go, Honey B-Butter.” Teeth chattering from the cold, she got a firm hold on the palomino’s halter, led him out and latched the gate behind her. She met Pete coming back to the pasture.
“Once you get him in his stall, come back to the door. I’ll be there with the other three.”
“Got it.” She had no idea how he’d do that but he was the boss of this maneuver. Snow pelted her hard in the face. Felt almost like little rocks. Hail?
Pete had left the door open. Yay. The warmth of the barn enveloped her in a hug but Honey Butter shook himself, spraying her with melted snow. “Oh, well. That’s water I won’t need to towel off you later, buddy.” She closed him quickly in his stall and jogged back to the barn entrance.
Pete came toward her riding bareback on Fifty Shades while leading Buster on one side and Junior on the other. Snow was collecting on his hat and the shoulders of his shearling coat. He’d ducked his head to block the wind blasting him in the face.
He lifted his head when he drew close to the barn. “Take Junior. I’ll get the other two.”
She reached for the horse on Pete’s right. “I’ve got him. You can let go.”
Unclamping his fingers from the halter, he slid off Fifty Shades, grabbed the dappled gray’s halter, and led both horses inside the barn. Minutes later, all six geldings were in their stalls and the barn door was closed. Wind whistled through the cracks.
“Now what?” Taryn unzipped her parka, which had become too warm. Her hair that Pete so admired was plastered to her head.
“We need to fetch a couple of scrapers and get the worst of the water out of their coats.” Pete unbuttoned his jacket and took off his hat, tapping it against his thigh to knock off the excess moisture.
“And then?”
“Feed them, even though it’s a little early. Without a rope running to the house, we might have trouble getting down here later.”
“No rope, then?”
He shook his head. “Can’t install one when it’s like this. And whiteouts are a distinct possibility. As are power outages. We need to get back to the house while the power’s still on and we can see the living room lights from here.”
She took a deep breath. “Guess this isn’t a very polite snow.”
He smiled. “No, ma’am.”
“But if we feed the horses now, then maybe the worst of it will be over by morning and I can—”
“I’m not leaving you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I realize it will be awkward, especially after the past couple of days, but this is shaping up to be a monster storm. I’m not leaving you to deal with it alone.”
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Whoops, now she could barely breathe. “You’re…staying? Through the night?”
“It’s not safe for you to be here by yourself.” A gust of wind rattled the barn doors as if to underscore his statement.
“Oh.” Her brain refused to work at all, but her body was throwing a wild party, alternating between heat waves and cold chills.
Maybe he’d draw a line in the sand by announcing that he’d sleep on the couch. He didn’t do that.
Alternatively, she could inform him that’s where he’d sleep. She didn’t do that, either.
Instead she met his steady gaze. “Should be interesting.”
Chapter Seventeen
Pete hadn’t made the decision lightly. If he’d had another choice, he would have taken it. Maybe he and Taryn could be snowbound for hours together without giving in to temptation, but he doubted it.
Promising to stay clear of her was setting himself up to be dishonorable. He had excellent self-restraint but he was only half the picture. She hadn’t made any promises, either, likely for the same reason he hadn’t.
He finished using the scraper on Marley’s bourbon-colored coat and dried the gelding’s face with a towel while telling him what a good boy he was. Taryn was two stalls down doing the same with Fifty Shades. She’d talked to each of the horses she’d worked on, but hadn’t directed any comments to him.
Just as well. This wasn’t the time for small talk. The storm continued to batter the old wooden barn, but it was a sturdy structure. He’d made sure of that before bringing any horses into it.
He finished up when Taryn did and they automatically moved into their feeding routine. Delivering hay flakes took no time at all.
He stowed his wheelbarrow and met her at the front of the barn. “This is it.” He reached for the jackets they’d hung on the wall. “We need to hold onto each other on the way back to the house. Visibility is likely much worse than when we came down here. It’s easy to lose track of someone.”
She nodded. “Understood.”
He buttoned his coat, crammed his hat on his head and put on his gloves. Then he waited while she tightened the cord holding her hood in place and pulled on her gloves. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
He coughed.
“Um, okay.”
“Just an expression.” A gleam of mischief flashed in her eyes.
“I knew that.” His heart was still racing, though. He took a steadying breath. “I’ll have to close the barn door once we’re out there. I’ll go out first. I want you to grab the back of my jacket with both hands, follow me out, and hold tight to the jacket while I close the door.”
“Roger that.” She gave him a little smile and a quick salute.
“I don’t mean to sound like a drill sergeant. But I—”
Her expression softened. “You want us to be safe. I know, and I appreciate it. I’m not making fun, just trying to lighten the mood.”
And now that she had, he wanted to kiss her. Bad time for that activity. “Let’s go.” He unfastened the hooks holding the door. “Grab hold.”
“Gotcha.”
The tug on his jacket told him she’d followed his instructions. Opening the door only enough so his shoulders would clear, he gave an involuntary gasp. Damn, it was cold.
Her boots crunched on the snow as she came out. While he slid the door back into place, she moved behind him, hanging on exactly as he’d instructed. He shoved the bar across and turned, reaching for her. “Put your arm around my waist.”
She snuggled against him as he pulled her in close, which wasn’t easy with the slippery material of the parka. Then he faced in the direction of the house.
Snow eddied and swirled, confusing his sense of direction. Where was the damn house? He glanced over his shoulder at the barn to orient himself. Okay. The house should be right…a faint light glowed and was gone, obscured by a shifting curtain of snow.
He moved forward a few steps and paused, waiting for another rift, another glimpse of that light.
“Can you see the house?” Taryn’s voice wavered. Not much, but enough to betray her alarm.
“Not right this minute. Waiting for the light to show up again. There!” He surged forward, propelling her along with him. Got at least a dozen steps closer before he lost sight of that beacon.
“I get that rope thing.”
“Makes it a lot easier.”
“How soon before the Christmas lights come on?”
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