Tamed by Her Cowboy

by Shanna Handel

  My heart aches, yearning…for him.

  In his arms is the only place I want to be. Tears roll down my cheeks and I wipe them away.

  And I wait.

  Buck Jones

  The snow is so thick now I need to abandon the truck. I leave it, shutting the door and trudging up the hill towards the barn. By the time I reach the doors, my face is numb, my legs sore from fighting the deep snow.

  There’s a white wall of snow surrounding the barn. Blocking the doors. I push though till I can get close enough to stretch my arm out and bang my fist on the wood. “Ava Marie! Are you in there?”

  I wait, my heart thumping in my chest.

  If she’s not here…

  The thought has me sick to my stomach. A ball of ice is forming in the center of my gut. “Ava Marie! Tell me you’re here.”

  I hear a muffled shuffling against the door. I just make out her faint words. “Took you long enough, cowboy.”

  A burst of joyous relief dances through me. A choked burst of laughter rises in my throat at her response. “Still sassy even when you’ve snowed yourself into the barn?”

  “You know it. Now how are we going to get my stubborn ass out of here?”

  I step back, taking in the situation. Even with gloves, I’ll never be able to push enough snow away from the doors without getting frostbite. And the heavens are dumping the icy white flakes down in truckloads.

  I need to get her out of this barn and up to my house. Fast. Or we’re both going to be living off feed for a few days. My eyes catch the door to the hayloft at the top of the barn.

  “Buck?” her voice sounds small. Scared. I want to take her in my arms.

  But first, I’ve got to get her the hell out of this barn. “Listen to me carefully; we’ve got to move fast. Grab the shovel from the back of the barn. Climb up into the hayloft. Open the door and toss the shovel down to me. I’ll have you dug out in no time.” I rub my hands together. Stomp my feet, trying to get some warmth back in my extremities.

  “Okay! I’ll be right there.”

  I wait, staring up at the high door. A few minutes later, I see the small rectangular wooden latch turn up. The door swings open and Ava Marie’s smiling face pops out.

  Laying eyes on her and seeing she’s healthy and safe makes another wave of relief wash through me. “Good job, little bit.”

  “Step back,” she calls.

  I follow my tracks backwards till I’m a good distance from where the shovel may land—she always did have terrible aim. I stand, hands on my hips, watching her. “Alright. Let her rip.”

  “Here you go!” She lowers the shovel by the handle, then lets go. It drops down into the snow before the doors.

  I hurry to grab it, grateful for my gloves as I start hauling huge heaps of snow and tossing them to the side. I call up to her as I work. “Close the door to keep the heat in and be sure to latch it tight.”

  “Yes, sir. And Buck?” She’s peering down at me.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Thanks for saving me.” The door shuts, Ava disappearing from view. I can hear the faint sound of her boots as she tromps over the hayloft floor.

  “Someone wouldn’t need saving if they’d just listen to me in the first place,” I mumble. But I feel a relieved smile spread on my face as I say it.

  I’m ten minutes in and starting to sweat when there’s a nudge at the door. It opens a crack and I hear her calling. “Almost there…just a little more and…”

  I reach over giving the door a hard tug. She comes tumbling out, falling into the bed of snow. I have to chuckle. “There you are.”

  She jumps up, not even bothering to brush the snow from her clothing, she flies into my arms. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  I toss the shovel to the side, just in time to catch her. She’s flung herself so hard I almost go tumbling back into the snow. I steady myself, wrapping my arms around her, tightly. “And I’m glad to see you. You scared me half to death.”

  She looks up at me, apologies written in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Buck. I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve gone straight home like you wanted me to…”

  I cut off her words with a kiss. I press my lips against hers, a triumphant celebration of victory over thinking I’d lost her to the storm.

  She’s so warm. I’m suddenly freezing. The sweat I’ve built up from digging turns to an icy glaze. She pulls back, her eyes wide, examining my face. “You’re like a popsicle. Come, let’s get you in the barn.”

  I grab the shovel and follow her into the barn, tugging the doors closed behind us. I stand by the warmer, rubbing my hands together. I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. When I’ve warmed enough to stop shaking, I say, “We don’t have much time. We’ll go to my place since it’s closest to the barn. Hopefully we can make it. We only have a short window before it’s too dangerous to attempt it.”

  Her brow knits, worry and guilt are written all over her face. “How are we going to make it through all that snow?”

  I look around the barn for options to make our trek easier. There’s no way I can shovel us through this mess. And she’s so short the snow’s already almost up to her waist. Am I going to have to carry her up that hill? A thought comes to me, sudden, like fingers snapping in the back of my mind. “Snowshoes. My father kept snowshoes in the shed attached to the back of the barn. He was always prepared and wanted to be sure he could feed the animals and get home if there was a sudden storm.”

  “You’re a lot like him…from the stories I’ve heard about him, that is. Always prepared. Dependable. Good in emergencies.” She looks up at me, shyly.

  I give her a smile. Grab the shovel and tell her to stay put. I climb up in the hayloft, opening the rear square door. I jump through it, landing on the pile of snow. I make my way to the lean-to style shed and shovel scoop after scoop of the heavy snow.

  Finally, I have a well deep enough to almost see the earth beneath the snow. I pry the shed door open. It’s sticking, frozen shut.

  If I can’t get in there, if I can’t get to those snowshoes, we will be waiting out this storm in the barn, with no food, for sure. I feel a surge of sheer determination plow through my body and, using both hands, I pull with all my might. The sound of wood splitting fills the air as I break the door away from its hinges. A repair I’ll have to make after the storm.

  I have just enough room to squeeze inside. It’s dark and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the bright white of the snow. I rumble through the little shanty till I find what I came for.

  Two sets of snowshoes. One belonging to my father. A smaller set that must have be my mother’s. I grab them down from the wall. I rush outside. Climb back up the steep bank, and holler up, “Ava Marie! Let’s go!”

  She appears at the rear barn door. I help her lace up her snowshoes. Hand in hand, we make our way up the hill to my cabin.

  13

  Ava Marie

  Even through his glove, his hand is like ice. I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eyes. His jaw is locked tight, trying to hide his chattering teeth from me. His lips are almost blue. His other hand is wrapped around the shovel, using it like a hiking stick as we go. “You okay?”

  He doesn’t answer, just gives me a tight nod. A thin-lipped smile.

  We can’t seem to get to his house fast enough. My heart races in my chest. I feel terrible for what I’ve put him through and I just want to get him somewhere warm. I lift my feet, one after the other, the snowshoe heavy and cumbersome. But I’m grateful for them because they’re helping save us right now.

  After what seems like an eternity, we finally reach the door to his house. He digs out the door in a matter of moments. We fall into the warm house, the radiating heat an instant relief from the storm we’ve just braved. I shut the door behind us, leaning against it and catching my breath. Snow falls from our clothing, making a white halo on the floor ringing around us.

  We take off all our equipment, now
soaked from the heat melting the snow. His teeth are still chattering, despite the warmth. Once we have all our gear off, he says, “I’m going to take a shower. Warm up. Make yourself at home.”

  He turns to leave but I stop him, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It’s still icy cold. Worrying me. “Thanks again, Buck. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. That was so selfish of me. I can’t believe I did something so stupid—”

  He stops my words with a gentle kiss. Endorphins rush through me, making me lighter than air, floating above the Earth. He pulls away, leaving me with a smile. His bedroom door closes and I’m alone.

  I haven’t been in his house in years.

  I look around. Not much has changed. It’s still simple. Neat and tidy. Rustic, rugged, yet beautiful. Just like its owner.

  He built this house with his two bare hands and a crew of his brothers helping him. It’s a log cabin with warm wood everywhere your eyes turn. Honey blonde floor. Pine walls. Dark wood cabinets with cherry countertops he finished himself.

  It’s just the same. Except for one, slight change. I might not have even noticed if I hadn’t been purposefully looking for it.

  Bookshelves line either side of the huge, rock fireplace in the center of the living room. They’re filled with leather bound classics. A few small picture frames here and there. Minus one, small gold frame. Holding a picture of him and I taken that summer before I turned twenty-one and left.

  It’s gone.

  The absence of the photo hits me like a punch to the gut. My throat’s suddenly thick, tight. I swallow, hard.

  I decide to get to work. There’s a fire already built in the fireplace, ready for the storm. It just needs lighting. I strike a match, holding it to the twist of newspaper he’s placed among the kindling. I blow a steady stream of air over the flame until it takes over. Soon, I’m kneeling in front of a roaring fire.

  I can hear the steady stream of the shower through the wall. What else should I do while I wait?

  I go to the kitchen, light the pilot on his shiny gas stove. Fill the kettle with water and set it to boil. I go to the doors, lifting our heavy, wet clothing. One by one, I lay them out over the wide stone hearth. I realize the jeans I’m wearing are just as soaked. I peel off my heavy jeans, my wet shirt, adding them to the lineup.

  Although I’m wearing only the white bra and panty set I put on this morning, I find I’m much warmer without the wet clothes on.

  The kettle starts to whistle. I dance barefoot across the floor to heed its call. I pull down two of his clay mugs. Throw in teabags and fill them with water, the steam rising and swirling around my face.

  The tea smells heavenly. Warm and earthy.

  The bedroom door opens. I peek around the opening of the kitchen to see him. He steps out, his hair slicked back. He wears a red and black flannel, his old, worn, jeans; I know the ones; light blue and soft to the touch. I breathe a sigh of relief to see the color returning to his cheeks. “You okay? That was a long shower.”

  “I ran out the hot water. Sorry.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. I didn’t get as cold as you did doing all that digging.”

  He enters the kitchen, his eyes lifting in surprise to find me wearing no clothes. “What’s going on in here?”

  “My clothes were wet.”

  He tears his gaze from my body but not before my nipples harden at his attention. “I’ll get you something.”

  He leaves. I take the teabags out of the cups, adding milk and sugar. He can use the calories after what I’ve put him through. He returns, a button-down flannel shirt in his hand. He hands it to me. “This will have to do. You’re so tiny I don’t think I have anything that will fit you.”

  I exchange him the cup of tea for the shirt. He thanks me, taking a deep sip from the mug. I put the shirt on, buttoning up one button at a time. It’s so long, when I’ve finished I find I’ve lined it up all crooked.

  “Here. Let me.” He puts his mug on the counter, stepping in close to me. My heart hammers against my chest at his nearness. The scent of his soap—citrus and bergamot—reaches me. His nimble fingers dance along the seam of the shirt and a moment later, I’m all buttoned up. The flannel is cozy against my skin. It feels good to be all wrapped up in his big shirt.

  “Thanks.” I step back, drunk off his scent. “What do we do now?”

  He looks out the window, watching the snow piling up outside. “First things first. You need to call your father and confess.”

  My nose wrinkles at the thought. “Can’t you just…text him?”

  “Houses only have landlines. Remember.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  His tone changes. Low and chastising. He raises a brow to me. “You owe him a call. He deserves to hear your voice after what you’ve put him through.”

  Heat rises in my cheeks. “You’re right.”

  “Then you need to call Jules. Tell her you’re safe.”

  “Anyone else?” I ask.

  “I already texted Beau. He’s home with my mother.”

  I hold my hand out for his phone. He takes it from his pocket. Sliding it into my palm. His fingers hold on to mine as our eyes lock. He says, “Then, you have me to deal with.”

  There’s a tightening in my core. Dread mixed with what I can only classify as desire. I meet his steady gaze. “Fine.”

  He gives me a hard look, promising to collect on the debt I owe. He leaves the kitchen, going into the living room.

  I dial my home number. My aunt picks up after one ring. “Ava? Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Aunt Betty. I’m safe and sound. Buck found me in the barn. I let the snow get too high and got trapped inside. Now, we are back at his house.”

  She exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness you’re both safe. Here, let me hand the phone to your father.”

  I hear a passing of the receiver on the other end. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Dad. I’m fine, I’m fine. So sorry to scare you guys,” I say.

  “Betty only just told me you were missing about an hour ago. The snow’s gotten so high, we were worried.” Hearing his voice only serves to heighten the guilt I feel over my stupid, selfish move to go to the barn.

  “I’m sorry. I just lost track of time in the barn. But Buck got me out and now we are safe at his cabin.” There’s a long pause. I feel nervous, dirty even, telling my father I’m snowed in here with a man. I wait to hear his disapproval. Instead, there’s a deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “Daddy?”

  He’s belly laughing now. Hardly able to get out the words. “Oh, Ava Marie. You sure do get yourself into pickles, don’t you?”

  “You mean with the barn? Yeah, that was pretty silly of me.”

  He’s talking through chuckles. “No. I mean snowing yourself in with an angry cowboy. Buck’s not one to let something like this go, sweetheart. I’m afraid—well…you may have been safer in the barn, my dear.”

  A white heat of embarrassment creeps up in my cheeks. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. I can hold my own against Buck.” I swallow my words as the doorframe fills with the huge outline of Buck’s frame. He’s staring at me. Hard. “Uh. I got to go, Dad. But call us if you need anything.”

  “We’ll be just fine, sweetheart. I have a reputation to uphold in Scrabble. My sister and I will pass the time, have a little party with the staff that wanted to stay here. You take care of yourself.”

  “You, too. Love you. Bye, Dad.”

  “Love you, Ava.”

  I turn my back to Buck, blocking out his stare. I dial Jules’s number. She answers on the second ring. Her voice is high, flirty. “Hello—o?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Oh.” Her voice falls, disappointed. “Are you alright?”

  I ignore her question. “Were you expecting someone else to call?”

  “No…I just…where the hell were you anyway?” she huffs.

  “I went to the barn. Now I’m at
Buck’s.”

  She sucks in a gossipy breath of air. “Holy cow, Ava! You’re going to be snowed in with him?”

  “Looks like it.” Buck’s got his arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bulging. His dark brow raised. Nerves dance through my belly.

  She sighs. “Lucky. I’m so jealous. What I wouldn’t give to be snowed in with a Jones brother. I’m stuck cleaning out the basement with the town reverend.”

  I sneak another glance at Buck over my shoulder. His face is set in stone, his jaw locked tight. A shiver runs down my spine. “I don’t know if you’d really want to be in my position.”

  “Huh? What’s not to love?” A beat later she says, “Oh…oh! You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

  Now, Buck is over at the kitchen table, pulling a chair out from the table to the center of the kitchen, its legs scraping the floor. He takes a seat on it. His legs spread wide. He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me.

  I gulp. Hard. “Uh, something like that.”

  “I’d better not keep you then. Try to sneak a magazine down the back of your jeans or something.”

  I want to laugh. This man punishes on the bare. Something Jules had best think about before she gets tangled up with one of his brothers. “I’ll try.”

  “Bye, Jules.” Now, his palm is tap, tap tapping against his hard thigh, making me choke on a nervous giggle. I click off the phone. I slide his cell over the wood. Lean against the edge of the counter, facing him.

  There’s only about six feet between us.

  “So, you want to like, play a game or something?” I offer, cheerfully. “I could make us something to eat. Your favorite. Do you have the supplies for chicken and dumplings?” I can’t bear the heat from his heavy gaze another second. I turn away, stand on my tiptoes, reaching up and rummaging through his cupboards. The flannel shirt just covers my bottom as I search through his high shelves. “You must be hungry after that…excursion.”

  “Ava Marie.” His tone is heavy. Warning. It stops me in my tracks. I freeze, one hand on each of the open cupboard doors. “Come here.”