by Sonja Gunter
“Yes, it was nice of Allan. Why don’t you move in? Then you won’t have to worry about driving to and fro.” Rosalind rolled innocent eyes at Allan.
“I don’t know.” Helen paused and eyed Allan. “It would be easier.”
“If Rosalind wants you to stay, by all means do so. I agree, it will be better,” Allan answered.
Helen joined them at the table, deep in thought. “I can stay during the week and go home on the weekends.”
“Great idea. I’m sure you have things you’d like to do at home.” Rosalind smiled at her husband before she directed her attention to Helen. “You can put your things in Sam’s room.”
“Oh no, honey. I can’t do stairs.”
Allan grinned. “I’ll move my things upstairs and you can have the first floor bedroom.”
“My goodness, you two are angels. I didn’t know what I was gonna do come the first of the year. My dear Henry’s pension benefits come to an end soon. I’d planned on selling my home.”
Rosalind grasped Helen’s folded hands. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I’m stubborn. I prayed something would work out for me.” Helen muffled a sob. “I’ll go home to pack a few things. When I return I’ll start dinner. I made some sandwiches for lunch.”
“Sounds good. It’ll be wonderful to have someone cook for me,” Rosalind insisted.
“She means cook for us, and yes, the breakfast was the best I’ve had in a long time. Nothing beats a home cooked meal,” Allan added.
“It was my pleasure,” Helen babbled and stood. “I enjoyed cooking for someone again. See ya in a jiff.”
Rosalind stood too and moved to the safety of the counter as Helen dried her hands on a towel and left.
At the sound of the front door closing, she looked at Allan. “You have about nine minutes left to get ready if you plan on going with me for a Christmas tree.”
“I’ll be ready.” He rushed from the kitchen.
She bit her lower lip, unsure why her pulse was racing. Or why she’d suggested he go with her. She should be telling him to leave, not including him in family things.
Chapter 23
Allan walked outside the front door with two minutes to spare. He’d borrowed a man’s coat, hat, gloves, and scarf from a hook by the front door. Rushing to the barn, his breath made white puffs in the air. He opened the big door, wrinkling his nose at the mixture of farm smells. Then came to an abrupt stop. Max held the reins of a huge black horse with a patch of white on its forehead, while Rosalind sat astride a reddish and white horse.
“Where’s the horse from the other day?” Allan recoiled a few steps backward, not sure he was ready for this escapade.
“Dawn is my barrel racing horse. I can’t take the chance she’ll get hurt. This here is Ms. Red, and she’s my workhorse. Mount up, you’ll be riding Midnight.”
“It looks more like the devil in an animal form. Is Midnight a boy or girl?”
Max chuckled, moved the beast closer to him, and he heard Rosalind’s stifled laugh.
What did I say?
“Horses aren’t boys or girls,” she chuckled and bent low over the neck of Ms. Red. “They’re mares or stallions. Midnight is a mare. And Ms. Red is also a mare. You do know how to ride, don’t you?”
“I have—no, I don’t know how to ride. I’ve only been on a horse once and it was years ago in Cancun.” Allan sucked in a breath.
Holy shit. This horse is a black monster and a hundred feet tall.
Rosalind sidestepped her horse to him. Ms. Red snorted and stomped her hooves. Allan scrambled backward.
“Don’t worry, City Boy, Midnight will follow my lead. She’s well trained. All you’ll have to do is climb on and enjoy the ride.”
Allan took note of how Rosalind’s cheeks turned a light shade of red before she turned away.
Yes, I did enjoy your ride. And I’d like a repeat.
“Mr. Smith, place your left foot in the stirrup and swing your right leg over,” Max instructed.
“Right. Shit, I’m not sure . . .”
With Max’s help, Allan lifted himself up and sat astride the horse.
“Now take the reins.”
“Like this?”
“Yup, that’s good. Hold them loosely but firmly. Pull on the left rein to guide Midnight left, and pull on the right one to have her step in that direction.”
Max demonstrated and the horse’s head moved. Allan repeated the actions and Midnight reacted accordingly.
I work in downtown New York. I walk, take cabs, or drive. What the fuck am I doing on top of a horse?
“Take it easy. You’re doing fine,” Rosalind said and touched his thigh.
Even through the glove she wore, her touch ignited his lustful appetite for her.
“I put the rope and the folding bucksaw in the saddle bags and tied on the bow saw. You’re good to go.” Max released the bridle.
Rosalind made two short clicking sounds and the horses began to trot as they left the barn. She took the lead and without any guidance on Allan’s part, Midnight followed. They rode single file for at least fifteen minutes, but it seemed like an hour.
Finally Allan burst out, “The snow is deep. We should turn around. I’ll buy you the biggest damn tree you’ve ever seen.”
She turned sideways in the saddle. “You’re okay. My horses are used to the snow. We’ll be reaching the path soon.”
A tamped down path appeared. She’d been right. It did make the ride easier. Snow crunched beneath the hooves of the horses, giving the quiet an uncanny, natural sound. Allan found himself relaxing as he scanned the scenery of trees and more trees. It was magnificent, so different from his normal view of tall buildings with endless glass windows.
I’m not missing the noise, zillions of people or being inside all day? Must be all the damn fresh air.
“What do you think of my land?” she asked.
“You own all this?” Allan swung his arm wide in front of him, almost dropping the reins. Rosalind snickered and slowed her horse, so they were side by side.
“Yes, I do. I’ve received several offers to sell, but no way.”
Allan glanced at her. Gone was her grief. She seemed carefree, transformed from her stiff and abrasive behavior. Her red nose matched her rosy cheeks.
“It’s so vast. Tiffany—that’s my secretary—talked about visiting a dude ranch in Wyoming for a team-building event. I imagined it would be like this . . . not with the snow of course. In New York we get plenty.”
“You should see it in the summer. Everything is green,” she replied, pointing to the right. “See the line of trees past the field?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the land I wanted to buy. It would’ve been a perfect fit, with plenty of space for the Heavens Kiss Sanctuary I’d planned on opening.”
“If you own all this land, why did you need the extra acreage? You could’ve built the barns here,” Allan said.
I need to have Tiffany do something, anything about the land problem I created.
“Most of my land is in what is called The Set Aside Program, so I can’t use it. My grandpa thought it would be best in the long run. I have several years yet before the restriction ends.”
“Do you want me to call the new owners? I’m pretty sure I can convince them to let you use the land,” Allan ventured.
“No, I’ve decided to add on to my existing barn for now. I am allowed to use my money for improvements.”
“I’m sorry the deal didn’t work out for you.”
“I’m over it.”
Her reply was hard and forced, then she urged her horse ahead of him. They rode single file along the snowy trail and despite of his trepidations of controlling the horse, he found the animal easy
to command and relaxed. For the first time since they left the barn, he studied the landscape. There were so many trees it was hard to see when they ended.
“We’re here,” she called out over her shoulder. “I know which tree I want.”
Rosalind made the clicking sounds again and the horses halted. “We need to dismount and walk the horses in from here.”
Allan dismounted and walked to her as she swung her leg around.
“Oh, I don’t need help.” She ignored his hand.
“It’s the gentleman’s way. You know, as in helping a lady,” he assured, grinning.
She swung her leg around and Allan reached up, setting his gloved hands on her waist. To steady herself she put her hands on his shoulders. When her boots touched the ground, she faced him.
They stared at each other. If it weren’t for their bulky winter coats, they’d be touching, breasts to chest, their mouths inches apart. Always the man who never passed on an opportunity, Allan leaned in and imprisoned her sensual lips.
Time stood still as their mouths became one. The kiss, even in the cold, sent an unfamiliar warmth surging through him. Unsure if the crisp air and nature played a part, he only knew the feeling felt right. He slid one gloved hand around her and up to the collar of her coat, to her neck, possessively pulling her closer.
Ms. Red snorted and moved abruptly, breaking the drugging kiss.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I couldn’t help myself. Your lips were so inviting. Must be all this fresh air.”
“Right. Good thing I’m not packin’ anything right now,” she joked.
“Do you usually carry a gun?”
“Of course. Don’t tell me you’ve never shot one.”
“Okay, I won’t, but then I’d be lying,” he admitted.
“For heaven’s sake. Grab Midnight’s reins and follow me.”
Her words matched the cold, but he knew how warm and yielding her mouth could be. He moved around Ms. Red and collected Midnight’s reins.
“I’d follow you anywhere,” Allan muttered.
“What did you say? You have to speak up. The wind is blowing against us, so the sound is carried away,” she bellowed.
He shouted, “I mumbled to myself that this wasn’t one of my wisest decisions.”
Her laughter didn’t disappointment him as they reached a copse of trees. They passed several evergreens before she halted in front of a mammoth pine tree.
“This is the one,” she announced and unbuckled the bow saw from the saddle.
“This oversized thing? It won’t fit inside your house.”
“Yes, it will,” she chortled. “You saw and I’ll hold the tree.”
Allan retrieved a rectangle-shaped object with a jagged blade on one side. “What is this? Where is the ax?”
“We don’t use an ax on this small of a tree.” She brushed snow off limbs.
“As you’re so fond of calling me, I’m a city boy. This might take me a while.”
I can do this. I was a boy scout and read about Paul Bunyan.
Allan knelt, held a few branches back, and positioned the saw at the base of the tree. With a deep breath, he tugged and pushed.
“Ouch.” He stopped as the branch he’d been holding hit him in the head.
“You have to crawl under the tree.”
“I don’t need your advice. I was a boy scout.”
“Oh, a make-believe woodsman. Next you’ll be saying you’re a lumberjack like Paul Bunyan.”
Can she read my mind? Or am I so predictable?
Ignoring Rosalind’s sassy remarks, Allan got on all fours, then to his stomach, squirmed beneath the branches, and repositioned the blade.
She can laugh all she wants. Paul Bunyan, don’t fail me now.
Push. Pull. Push. Pull.
“Almost through. Four more pulls,” Rosalind urged.
The tree loosened and the saw slid into the air. Groaning, Allan stood, breathing hard.
Crap. His knee was beginning to swell. What I’d give for an hour in a hot tub.
While his breathing returned to normal, Allan watched Rosalind tie a rope to the trunk of the evergreen tree. She stomped in the snow to Midnight and attached the other end of the rope to the saddle.
“I’m impressed,” she remarked. “I lost the bet.”
“What?”
“Max said you’d be able to cut it down. I said you wouldn’t and I’d have to do it myself.”
He came up behind her. She turned and looked at him with widened eyes.
“Rosalind . . .”
He didn’t give her time to react as he leaned in, kissed her, then framed her face with his gloved hands and deepened their kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and he softly nibbled her lips to play a cat and mouse game with her tongue.
They paused for air. His voice held a husky tone despite the cold when he rested his cheek next to hers. “I want to make love to you.”
“I want you too,” she breathed out.
“Are you sure? I don’t want a butter knife at my throat again.”
“Yes, I’m sure, but you should know I do keep something hidden under my pillow.”
“I guess I’ll have to keep your hands occupied. Are you inviting me into your bed?”
“I have a king size bed. It would be more comfortable than the twin bed.” She flashed him a speculative smile. “We’d better head back. I have to run Dawn through our exercise. And Mrs. Knutson will be coming to cook us dinner.”
“So, no afternoon delight?”
“Let’s ride, city boy.”
Chapter 24
“Shit. We have company,” Allan shouted.
Rosalind looked toward the house. Six vehicles were parked in the driveway. She halted Ms. Red and Allan trotted up next to her.
“Who is it?”
Allan’s breath whistled between his teeth as he exhaled. “The media are about to descend on us. Sheriff Hoffman said he’d only be able to keep them at bay for a couple of days.”
She heard the tightness in his voice. “Is this because of the pictures on the internet?”
“Yes. I’ve been trying to take care of it. I’ve clearly missed their determination to find me.”
“We’ll go through the back door of the barn. It should shield us.”
Another interruption in her day. When would it end? She took out her cell phone and called Max.
“We’re on the south ridge,” she informed him. “We’ll come through the west side door.”
“Good idea. Sorry, Rosalind. Walt left the gate open for a delivery. I called Sheriff Hoffman. He arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Good. Make sure the barn and horses are protected. No one, and I mean no one, gets inside.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Max replied.
She shoved her phone into her pocket. “Max said Sheriff Hoffman is here too. Allan, I want those people off my property.”
“Let me talk to Sheriff Hoffman. The media shouldn’t have trespassed onto the property.” Allan smoothed his gloved hand over his thigh. “Once we make our way to the house you’ll have to be prepared not to say anything, to anyone, no matter what they ask or yell. Can you keep your temper controllable?”
“I can’t promise much at this point. Come on Ms. Red, let’s ride.” Rosalind used her knees to urge Ms. Red into a trot. She glanced over her shoulder a few times, making certain Allan was keeping pace with her. If they weren’t in such a hurry she’d have found the scene funny. He bounced up and down so unconventionally, he was sure to have a sore ass tomorrow.
They were almost at the barn entrance when it opened. A frowning Max held the door. He grabbed the reins from her hands as she dismounted.
“They’ve been asking all
sorts of questions about you and Mr. Smith. We haven’t said a word,” Max assured her.
“Thanks. Take care of the horses and have someone bring the tree to the house later.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Max stated and held out his hand.
Allan yielded Midnight’s reins and Rosalind motioned for him to follow. They took a couple of steps and his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Wait, let me answer this. It’s Tiffany, my secretary.”
Rosalind nodded and paused, studying him.
When did everything get complicated? Here she was, working with him, and all she wanted was to have sex with him again. But she couldn’t. They didn’t belong together. And she didn’t want a man in her life.
I’m so confused.
She tried to sort through her thoughts as he talked softly into his phone. His rigid stance was familiar. Sam’s coat was too big on him, hiding a view of his cute butt.
Holy cow. One minute I can’t wait for him to leave, then the next I want him to stay. I’m falling for him. Damn it.
He wandered from one side of the barn to the other. She peeked out the door but her gaze kept returning to Allan. When he let out a string of curses, Rosalind took a step toward him.
“Make it happen. Bye.” Allan pocketed his phone. “I thought my people had everything in check. How could they—how could I let this happen? If the culprit or culprits are not found by the end of the week, my company will have a new vice-president.”
He laced his hands behind his back and rocked on the heels of his borrowed boots. It was clear he was upset. She’d seen him act this way before.
“Allan, now what?”
“It’s the internet again. More pictures were posted on the fuckin’ website this morning. I’m sorry my staff wasn’t able to control the situation.”
Rosalind observed him. His tone was stern and he looked madder than a charging bull.