The Trouble With Cowboys (16 page)

He was probably right. “Chopping firewood was my grandpa’s chore. He hated it. He had a fireplace at his house and I was always asking him to light it, but he rarely did. Just turned up the thermostat and covered me with an extra blanket.”

“Can you imagine how much firewood they must’ve gone through on a winter’s day?”

“Even in the summer they must’ve needed it at night.”

“I’ll bet he never wanted to see another chunk of firewood again.”

She smiled. “Probably not.”

She shone the light around the room, then checked her watch. She wondered if Sierra and Ryder had returned home. She’d probably stay out till all hours just to prove she could.

Still, it was getting late and they still had to work on the column. “We’d best get back.” She handed him the light and started for the door. On the porch she navigated the steps carefully. Darkness was falling fast and the clouds obscured the moon and stars.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” She skirted Dylan as he held the passenger door.

“My pleasure.” He smiled and touched the brim of his hat in a way that made something flutter in her stomach.

She buckled her seat belt as he rounded the front, taking one last look at the cabin. She’d like to bring Sierra here sometime.

Dylan got in, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. A clicking sound followed. And then . . . nothing.

Dear Regretful,

    
The hardest words in the English language are “I’m sorry,” but it sounds as if you’d better call upon them soon.

17

A
nnie watched as Dylan turned the key. Nothing. His brows pulled together as he turned it again and came up empty.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not sure.” He reached behind the seat and retrieved the flashlight, then pulled the hood release. “Hang tight,” he said as he got out. A moment later the hood went up, blocking her view.

She looked out the passenger window at the growing darkness. Only the skies where the sun had set were lit, and that light was quickly fading.

She heard Dylan tinkering around with the engine. They were awfully far from civilization.
Relax, Annie
.
He’s good with cars, he said so himself
. He’d be able to fix whatever it was. And if he couldn’t, they could call for help.

She could call Sierra or Shay or John. She looked around at the deserted cabin, then at Dylan’s hands reaching into the engine cavity. No, not John.

The lid fell closed with a quiet thump and Dylan returned. Awesome. He must’ve fixed it.

But when he got into the cab he wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t even reach for the keys.

“What’s wrong?”

He gripped the bottom of the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. “A belt snapped.” He was ominously still.

“Okay. Well . . . I’ll call my sister—she may be mad, but she won’t leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere.” Her laugh sounded nervous even to her.

She pulled out her phone, dialed, and put it to her ear. When nothing happened, she checked the screen.

Oh. She should’ve figured, way out here. “No signal.” She turned to him. “Try yours.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Left it in my bathroom.”

Dread sank like a lead weight to the bottom of her stomach. “You don’t have it?”

He tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Nope.”

She couldn’t stay out here all alone with Dylan. At the very thought, dread sucked the moisture from her mouth, the air from her lungs. “Well . . . maybe you can fix the belt.”

“Nope.”

“Let’s walk then. It’s not that chilly and we have a little daylight left.” Very little.

“There are mountain lions and rattlers out there, Annie.”

He was right. Their options were evaporating like a mud puddle in August.

She looked out the passenger window, her insides roiling like a tornado. She couldn’t stay. Sierra would worry if she didn’t come home. And John—what would he think? Heavens, what would
everyone
think if word got around?

But she was getting ahead of herself. Sierra would probably fall asleep and never notice she hadn’t come home.
Annie
was the one who waited up.

“We’d best head inside,” he said. “I have a lighter in the back. I’ll start a fire.”

That’s what she was afraid of. She remembered the small, dark space. The tiny cot in the corner. Panic wedged its way into her chest. “Wait. There has to be another option.”

If only they’d taken her truck. If only he hadn’t asked her to come out here to begin with.

But he had asked her . . . and right at dusk . . .

And now the truck conveniently wouldn’t start. A belt suddenly “snapped.” How did that happen anyway?

She remembered that he’d returned to the truck for the flashlight—or had he? Maybe he’d set this whole thing up. Figured this was his chance to get her alone. It would be just like him to manipulate the situation to suit his whim. Never mind the trouble it would cause.

She peered at him across the darkening cab, the new suspicion sinking in and gaining validity with each passing moment. Hadn’t he said he used to bring girls out here? He’d probably used the broken-down vehicle ploy more than once. He was a regular pro. All it took was a pair of scissors and the cost of a new belt—a cheap fix. And she’d worried that Sierra was gullible!

“What?” He stared back at her, all innocence.

Innocent, my fanny
. “Is this how you got all the other girls up here?”

“What?”

“I’m not all those other girls, Dylan. I don’t want to be here with you. I have a boyfriend. This isn’t a three-minute dance you can bribe me into so you can worm your way into my—my affections, or whatever you had planned. This is a whole night, alone, with people worrying where we are, and I have my reputation to think about, you know!”

He turned his upper body toward her. “You think I
planned
this?”

“Like you’d never do such a thing. I’m not as naïve as you think, and I am not staying here with you all night!” She reached for the handle, opening the door. “I’m walking!”

He grabbed her arm. “Don’t be ridiculous! It’ll be pitch black by the time you reach the creek.”

“I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back.”

“You perfectly capable of fending off wildlife too?”

She wrested her arm from him, glaring at the unwelcome reminder. Both the animals he’d mentioned hunted at night. The thought of stepping on a rattler was enough to stop her, one leg out the door.

“Contrary to your opinion, Annie, I’m not the dog you think I am. I never coerced any woman into coming with me here or anywhere else. Yeah, I like to flirt and have a little fun, so what? Despite rumors to the contrary, I don’t sleep around with the ladies—willing or not. I’m a Christian man; that means something to me.”

She looked out her open door, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Her breath came fast, keeping pace with her heart. Maybe he was telling the truth.

The darkened cabin drew her eyes, and she imagined nine hours alone with him. She’d barely made it through a three-minute dance. Hadn’t actually made it through the whole thing because of what he’d said. And what rankled was, he was right about the chemistry. That’s why being trapped here scared the living daylights out of her. Why a hard knot of fear balled in her chest even now. The thought of rattlers was growing more tolerable by the minute.

A drop of rain splashed on the windshield. Then another. Seconds later, a steady patter began.

“Perfect,” she said.

Dylan grabbed the flashlight and opened his door.

“Where you going?”

“To gather firewood.” He got out, slamming the door behind him.

She didn’t like how easily he was accepting this. Surely there must be something else they could do. She saw the keys dangling from the ignition and reached toward them. She wrapped her fingers around them and paused.

Please, God. I know I got myself into this, but please, just let this thing start, and I won’t ever go anywhere with him again
.

She closed her eyes and turned the key.

Nothing.

She let go and settled back in the seat, releasing a deep breath. Well, there had to be some way to fix this belt. Couldn’t he duct tape it or something? She got out and found Dylan at the edge of the pine grove, gathering wood.

“Don’t you have some tools or something? Maybe you can find a way to rig something up, just enough to get us back.”

“What do you want me to do, Annie, fashion a belt out of branches and pine needles? I’m a mechanic, not a magician.”

He’d obviously given up. Maybe she should too. She pulled her phone out and checked for a signal, holding it skyward, turning every which way.

Nothing.

The realization pressed down on her shoulders. She was stuck here with him, all night, like it or not.

She walked into the copse of trees and began gathering wood.

“Get inside before you’re soaked through.”

“I can help.”

He turned and glared, the beam of light making his eyes glitter. “You can help by staying dry. Take this and go.” He held out the flashlight.

He wanted to do all the work himself . . . fine. She snatched the light from him and started for the cabin. She crossed her arms against the chill in the air, against the cold droplets falling on her.

She stopped inside the door, using the tail of her shirt to dry her face. She shone the flashlight around the room. It had seemed so much more inviting before. Before the sun had set. Before she’d been trapped.

She wondered if Sierra were home yet and if she’d begun to worry. Doubtful. She might even spend the night with a friend, Ryder and all. Annie would probably make it home before she did.

Annie approached the bed and shone the flashlight on the mattress. Foam peeked from the edges where the seam had ripped. Stains of all shades colored the blue-and-white striped covering. She tried not to think about what they were or about the news segment she’d seen on dust mites and bedbugs.

The floor was starting to seem more appealing. She thought of the animal that had scurried away when they entered and shivered. Maybe not. Besides, she’d probably have to flip a coin for the bed.

The door flew open and Dylan came through, dumping a large load of firewood on the hearth. He went back out and came in again a few minutes later with another load.

She shone the light into the grate as he set two large logs parallel, then stacked more on top, the opposite direction. Next went smaller logs, then the twigs and a pile of dry pine needles he must’ve dug for.

His shirt clung to his torso and his arms as he worked. A rivulet of water dripped down his nape and beneath the collar of his shirt.

When he finished, he opened the damper. It croaked as debris fell onto the logs.

“What if it’s blocked?”

He pulled a lighter from his pocket. “Take our chances.”

The room seemed colder since his arrival. Okay, so she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion . . . possibly about more than the truck. She knew she should apologize, but the words stuck in her throat. As uncomfortable as this stony silence was, it was safer than the alternative. His anger was the only barrier between them tonight, and she wasn’t about to remove it.

He blew on the wavering flame and the pine needles hissed as the fire spread. The smoke seemed to be going up at least. He blew some more and a twig caught fire.

“You’re a regular boy scout,” she said, hoping to break the tension. But he said nothing, just lit the other side and tended the flame.

A few minutes later her stomach rumbled loudly. She remembered the pasta she’d so hastily rejected. She wished for a big plateful right now, steaming hot. Her stomach echoed the thought.

The fire began crackling in earnest and the room brightened a bit.

She turned off the flashlight and set it on the hearth. “Wish I’d brought my purse. I had a granola bar in there.”

He crossed the room, retrieving a blanket she hadn’t seen him carry in. She stepped aside as he pulled the cot closer to the fireplace and spread the woolly blanket over the mattress. “Best get some sleep. We’ll want an early start.”

She warmed her hands by the fire as he made his way into the corner and lowered himself onto the dirty floor facing the wall. He tucked his arm under his head and went still.

He was going to freeze over there in the shadows, soaked to the skin. She looked at the blanket covering the cot and started to offer it to him. But the memory of his stony silence stopped her.