My Southern Bride (The Texas Two-Step Series, Book 4) (10 page)

"Slow down," Monty Joe said. "Take a seat."

He moved his legs to prop them on the coffee table, giving her room to sit beside him.

How could she sit when his goat was missing? And it was her fault. Totally her fault.

She couldn't sit. "I have to find him."

Monty Joe gently tugged her arm until she lowered herself beside him.

He asked, "Now tell me, who escaped?"

Lori took a deep breath, then slowly let it escape. "Your goat. Your best friend in all the world."

"My best friend in all the world? I think that might be overstating our relationship." He grinned. "I'm sure he hasn't gone far."

"I searched the barn for him." Her heart thumped, then seemed to come to an abrupt stop. "I couldn't see him anywhere outside."

She should have known better. She should have closed the barn door behind the horses. She should have known she couldn't take care of Monty Joe's animals, much less him.

Speaking of him, she finally took in their surroundings. "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

"So you noticed. I hoped you wouldn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The power failed. No electricity, no light. But it's no cause for alarm."

Could it get any worse? Now she had to keep the animals and him alive—without power? Without a microwave?

Panic clawed at her. A massive snowstorm was going on outside. Monty Joe was injured, the power had failed, Billy was missing. What else was going to go wrong?

How much more inadequate could a girl feel?

She had been trained for emergency situations—on flights. But a ranch was nothing like an airliner. There was no oxygen to drop. "I'm not smart enough for this, Monty Joe. I'm not strong enough, savvy enough. Good enough."

"Of course you are."

"We're all going to die. Because of me."

"Don't be silly." He reached a comforting arm around her.

A new alarm registered. His arm was strong and reassuring. His muscled chest spoke of strength and capability. His touch made her already over-stimulated nerve endings leap and jump and basically freak out.

In an attempt to corral her emotions, she concentrated on her breathing. But it didn't work. She'd been working so hard at being a better person. At improving herself. At finding a way to give back.

But when push came to shove—and definitely this storm was shoving—all she was left with was herself. And she was completely and entirely inadequate. "I'm not being silly, Monty Joe. We're in bad trouble."

He pulled her closer.

It didn't help. It made her head swim.

"I'm being serious. Even if you were in perfect physical condition to handle everything around here, without the power, we'd be in a tough bind. But without you, we're stuck with me."

"You've been doing a great job, Lori."

"No, I haven't. I lost your goat. And that was when we had electricity." She couldn't control the way her voice rose in pitch. She couldn't stop her frantic breathing. "I need to get busy. To do something. Tell me what to do, Monty Joe."

Their gazes met and held. It amazed her when what she saw in his eyes was a solid trust in her. That he thought she was capable and able. And he trusted her to do whatever was needed.

No one had ever looked at her that way before. Not really.

People just saw her blond hair and fair complexion and assumed she was more eye-candy than useful.

Finally someone appeared to find an inner strength inside her, a solid core—and it had to be someone who could never like her, much less love her. She sank into him and clung close. Life could be so unfair.

When she thought about it that way, it should make his trust all the more powerful.

He believed she was capable.

"I'm telling you, Monty Joe," she said, her words coming out with a hiccup of emotion, "I know you think I can do all this, but I can't. I don't know how to keep all of us alive."

"It'll be okay," he said, then lowered his lips to hers.

Rather than push him away, which in her right mind she would have, she kissed him back. She leaned into him. Pulled him closer. And kissed the worry out of her thoughts.

And it was an incredible kiss.

She kissed him as if it were the last kiss she'd ever share. As if they were the last two people on the planet. As if nothing whatsoever mattered except this kiss shared between them. This kiss with this man who believed in her when even she couldn't.

Monty Joe ran his hands through her hair as he deepened the kiss. Then he broke away and his eyes widened indicating he was shocked by his own action—she could see it, even in the dimness of the room.

She pulled back, too, just as shocked, although her lips still tingled and demanded more kissing.

The moment between them cooled. He gruffly cleared his throat. He kept his hands to himself, and busied those hands readjusting his foot. He glanced at her only once and the air that had crackled between them just seconds ago fizzled out.

His sudden lack of warmth left her perplexed. What just happened and why did he pull back? Had he come to his senses? Remembered who she was? Realize she'd be gone at the first sign of thaw?

This moment shared between them was merely an aberration. A distraction. A way to compartmentalize the fix they were in.

Despite knowing that, she ran a fingertip over the lips he'd just caressed, wanting to store away the memory to think about later. When she had time to do anything other than react.

"Everything will be fine, Lori. Running a ranch means knowing how to stay prepared. We'll make a fire, and if the power doesn't come back on, then we can cook over it like they used to do before houses had electricity." His all-business demeanor had come back in full force.

Nodding, she thought over his suggestions. With his guidance, surely she could perform the necessary tasks.

While he was confident, she fought off embarrassment at the way she'd clung to him. "Why did you kiss me?"

"You needed to calm down."

She shot him a glare.

"It worked didn't it?"

She couldn't argue with that, but she did resent the idea that he was used to calming women by kissing them. Typical he-man cowboy thinking. "You could have come up with some other solution."

"The only other solution I've heard of is—"

He paused and she knew what he meant. A face slap.

"I wouldn't do that to you," he said. A kiss was better. A lot better, if you ask me.

Oh, yeah, it was. His cocky grin grated. She didn't have to admit he was right, either. "Okay, you and I aren't doomed. But what about your goat?"

"Knowing Billy, he never strays too far from his food. Did you try getting out a can of goat grain?"

Until now her brain had been in panic mode. Now it whirled back into operating order. She'd only seen regular goat food. "You never mentioned goat
grain
."

"There's some in the food stall. Go to the barn and leave the door ajar. Get some goat grain and shake it. Billy will materialize as if out of thin air."

"You think?"

"Don't worry. Billy will be fine."

Lori nodded. Okay. Stop worrying. The goat won't freeze to death. They wouldn't die. It will all be good. But darn it, she wasn't sure she would ever be fine again. Not after that kiss. Not now that he'd shown her the total trust he had in her.

Chapter 15

Interminable. That's the amount of time Monty Joe had waited, alone in the dark, for Lori to return from the barn.

Far too much time, as far as he was concerned, to brood about kissing the woman.

His arm had fit around her perfectly.

She was soft and firm in all the right places.

And worst of all, she'd tasted like fresh honey.

If he hadn't known her before, and the kind of trouble she was capable of, he'd think there was more to their kiss.

That it was more than mere loneliness on his part.

That they were developing a relationship.

A romantic kind of relationship.

But he knew, all too well, how Lori had acted when her designs on his brother had been thwarted.

So he needed to think about anything other than how right she'd felt sitting by his side. And that his kiss had been about his driving need to hold her, rather than calming her.

Being on his own was far preferable to a lifetime of being miserable. Yet, late at night, emptiness and longing plagued him.

He had a lot to be grateful for. He had a great life. He could live it on his own terms, but it was far from perfect.

With his brother and sister far away, they no longer served as a substitute for the kind of intimacy every human being longed for.

In those quiet midnight hours, he yearned for that certain someone who would make his life complete. Someone to turn to when he was down, celebrate with when he scored a victory, and share the normal ups and downs of a life worth living. And, in return, he wanted to share all of her victories and defeats.

Even though he was drawn to Lori, he had to keep a clear head. He wasn't searching for just any relationship. Dwelling on their kiss didn't help. Sure, it was an amazing kiss, the kind a man enjoyed thinking back on, but that alone didn't lead to a once-in-a-lifetime union.

Very deliberately, he pushed Lori from his thoughts.

Instead, he chose to brood about the weather.

How much longer could a freak storm last?

In all his days, the Nelson Ranch had never seen weather like this.

He shifted his legs and his nearly-numb bottom, but couldn't find a good position to lie in. After so many hours, the sofa lacked any comfort. Not that he would have chosen to plant himself on it in normal circumstances.

But today was anything but normal.

He'd stayed in one spot more than long enough, especially since he had a battery-operated radio in the kitchen, and he'd forgotten to have Lori fetch it. While he couldn't have TV, a radio station with regular weather updates might keep him from losing his mind from the boredom. Or from driving himself crazy with thoughts about Lori.

Both his body and his mind yearned for activity and needed distractions.

Back in his rodeo days, he'd received far worse injuries than a bum ankle. He'd gotten back on his horse and won the event, broken ribs or no broken ribs.

He could come to only one possible conclusion. He'd been sissying out by babying himself. Time for that to end.

One weak ankle couldn't and wouldn't sideline him any longer.

Gingerly putting both feet on the floor, he cautiously raised himself from the sofa.

So far so good.

He placed a little weight on the bad ankle, and pain ricocheted from his head to his toes.

Not good.

But it wasn't as bad as it had been the day before.

He bent his knee and pulled his foot from the floor. When he started to lose his balance, he grabbed the arm of the sofa.

Pretty good.

At least he could stand. Sort of.

It didn't get him any closer to the radio, especially since he couldn't put weight on that leg.

There had to be a way.

He chewed over his predicament for a moment. What about hopping?

As long as he hopped to something he could balance against, he should be fine.

He mentally calculated the number of hops between the sofa and the opening leading into the kitchen. Only eight good-sized hops. Piece a' cake.

Taking the first hop, he over-calculated, and waggled and flailed to keep his balance.

Okay, make that twelve medium-sized hops were needed.

On his last hop to the doorway, he almost fell. A mad grab for a side-table propped against the wall saved him from landing face-first on the floor.

Taking a fortifying breath, he craned his neck around the wall and estimated it would take another ten hops to reach the pantry where the radio was stored.