The Cowboy's Pride and Joy

Each word was bitten off as if he resented having to be here at all, explaining himself.

“Okay,” she said, clutching the paperwork even more tightly to her. “That’s probably best anyway.”

“Probably,” he agreed and turned for the door. Before he left, though, he took another long look at her over his shoulder. That’s when Cass knew the heat they’d shared wasn’t gone.

It was being ignored.

* * *

Jake was tired as hell and still wound so tight from tangling with Cass that he could hardly walk without wincing in pain. Hell, he hadn’t been this hard and achy for a woman in longer than he cared to remember.

He’d had a lucky break last night, getting called away before he could give in to the desire that had been eating away at him for hours. The taste of her had haunted him all night. The images of her face, her body, swam through his mind like a movie on constant repeat. He remembered every touch and how her skin—silky, smooth—had felt beneath his calloused hands.

And he’d told himself, in spite of all of that, that it was a good thing they’d been interrupted. One-night stands were bad enough, but with his mother’s personal assistant? That was asking for grief he didn’t need. Besides, he’d already tried being involved with a woman who didn’t understand his need to be here on the mountain. Damned if he’d go through that again.

He’d built the life he loved. Cass didn’t have a place in it. No woman did. He’d never let another one get close—no matter how much he wanted her.

So the next few days were going to be uncomfortable, to say the least. Because his lucky break was over and he was about to get tossed into the flames.

He heard her coming downstairs and walked to the front of the house to meet her. She looked pretty in those sleek black slacks, a deep green shirt and that bright red blazer. She was even wearing her heels again. He had thought that seeing her in those city clothes, back in her professional assistant role, would ease some of the fire inside him. He was wrong.

She smiled and said, “I just came down for some coffee before I head to the airport.”

“You’re not going to the airport today,” he told her.

“What?” Frowning, she came down the last few steps to stand beside him. “Of course I am. My flight leaves in two hours.”

He took her hand, drew her to the front door and threw it wide. “It’s going to leave without you, Cass. There’s no way to get down the mountain.”

She stared at the yard and he watched her eyes widen and her jaw drop. He knew how she felt, and the snow wasn’t even a surprise to him. He’d still been in the barn dealing with the mare when the early storm rolled in. And in the hours since, the steel-gray clouds overhead had dropped at least eight inches of fresh snow and it was still falling.

A cold wind sighed into the house, wrapping itself around the two people standing in the doorway. The walkways hadn’t been plowed yet, so the whole yard looked magical and untouched.

“It’s only October,” she murmured.

“Welcome to Montana,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze before releasing her. “The roads to and from the ranch are closed. It’ll be a few days before the plows get up this high, so you’re not going anywhere.”

“But—” She tore her gaze from the white world spilling out in front of her to look up at him.

He met her gaze and felt as if he were sealing his own fate as he said, “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

Four

“It’s been two days,” Ben said, “and you’ve spent most of that time as far away from that woman as possible.”

Jake glared at his grandfather. “What’s your point?”

Ben leaned one arm on the top board of the stall gate and got comfy. “My point is, whether you like it or not, this storm has stranded Cassidy here and you owe it to your guest to make her feel welcome.”

Jake continued rubbing down his horse. They’d spent the last two hours riding through the heavy snow, checking on the small herd of prize cattle the Hunter ranch held. It was cold and wet and miserable and pretty much summed up Jake’s mood. And still it was better than hanging around the ranch house, smelling Cassidy’s presence in every room.

“She’s not a guest,” he argued. “She’s trapped here.”

“A reluctant guest is still a guest,” Ben countered, then crossed his arms on the fence slat, propped his chin on his arms and asked, “What is it about her that has you hiding out?”