Cowboy's Texas Rescue

“Well?” She held her breath.

“I think the locking pin moved, but the underwire broke off.” He banged on the lid, but nothing happened.

Chelsea battled the disappointment that tried to swell in her chest. Stay positive.

“Watch out,” Jake said, pushing her legs aside with his hand. “Give me some room.”

She scooted as far back from the lock as she could. “What—”

She heard a thud, then another, and the trunk hook bent slightly so that a crack of light and chilly air seeped in. In the weak light that filtered inside, she could see Jake bring his knees to his chest, then kick out with an abbreviated thrust. The heel of his boot hit the lock once, twice…and suddenly the lid sprang open. Chelsea gasped as a blast of icy wind swept over her and relief flooded her veins.

“Hallelujah,” she whispered.

Jake rolled his head to face her, grinning. “And amen.”

He smacked a kiss on her forehead, then grabbed the car frame to pull himself out of the trunk in one swift motion. As he jumped to the pavement, he clutched a hand to his temple, and she remembered the blow to the head he’d taken as he collapsed from the stun gun.

“Are you okay?”

He raised a startled look to her. “Me? You’re the one turning into a human popsicle.”

“I saw you grab your head. You hit it pretty hard when you fell.”

He waved away her concern with a flick of his hand. “I’ll be fine. Right now we have to get something for you to wear.”

She climbed out of the car and tested her cramped legs’ ability to hold her upright. Weak, but she stayed vertical. Spotting his cowboy hat in the trunk, she reached for it, then turned to hand it to him.

He took the hat but jammed it on her head instead of his. “You need this more than I do.”

Admittedly, without the trunk’s protection from the wind or Jake’s body heat cuddled near her, her cold factor had risen exponentially. Along with her awkward, self-conscious factor. Being nearly naked with a stranger in a dark trunk paled to being nearly naked with a hunky cowboy outside in the light of day.

Jake raked his gaze over her, and he frowned.

Her cheeks stinging with humiliation, she wrapped her arms around her middle, both fighting off the cold and hoping to hide her love handles from his scrutiny.

He marched past her and opened Ethyl’s back door. She thought about the horrid orange jumpsuit the escapee had been wearing, and her stomach roiled. Even as cold as she was, the idea of wearing the creepy killer’s prison castoffs disgusted her. But when he backed out of the car shaking his head, she knitted her brow. “The orange jumpsuit?”

Jake shrugged and headed toward her with his hands upturned. “He must have taken it with him. It was evidence of his trail after all. So…unless you have an emergency blanket or some spare clothes stored in there…”

Chelsea heaved a shivering sigh. “No.”

Already large snowflakes danced around her head and dusted the ground.

Her shoulders slumped. “Now what? The car is out of gas.”

Jake stopped in front of her and started unbuttoning his shirt. “For starters, you take my clothes.”

She jerked her chin up and met his gaze. “B-but then you’ll freeze. I can’t—”

“So be it.” He stripped off his long-sleeved chambray shirt and dumped it in her hands. “A gentleman doesn’t let a lady go without.”

Tears of gratitude prickled her eyes. Being a good Samaritan, stopping to help the stranded driver, could have cost Jake his life, and he was still making sacrifices on her behalf.

“Th-thank you.” Her voice cracked as she wrapped the shirt around her and jammed her arms in the sleeves. The fabric still held his body heat and traces of his woodsy scent. A quiver spun through her that had nothing to do with the chilly weather.

When she glanced up from buttoning his shirt, he’d kicked off his boot and shoved his jeans to his feet. Her breath backed up in her lungs. The sight of his broad bare chest, tautly muscled legs and clingy boxer briefs rooted her to her spot. Oh, Texas, the man was sexy!

“Here.” He extended the jeans to her, rousing her from her gawking stupor, and a new level of awkward reality slapped her. No way would his jeans fit her size 14 butt. If she tried to zip his jeans and couldn’t, she might as well rent a lighted sign with arrows that blinked Chubby.

“I, um…Keep those. You n-need to wear s-some-thing.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right wearing them if you were—”

“Jake.” She grabbed his arm. “I…God, this is embarrassing.” She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “They won’t fit me.” She exhaled harshly, creating a white cloud that slowly dissipated, along with her pride. “I’m too fat for them.”

Jake scowled, his gaze wandering over her as he shook the jeans out to put them back on. “If you say so.”

Chelsea turned away, biting the inside of her cheek and choking down the burn of humiliation that climbed her throat. Even Todd’s cruel bluntness when he’d dumped her hadn’t stung this much. She knew she shouldn’t be so sensitive, shouldn’t care what Jake thought of her appearance. She’d probably never see him again after today. But her waist size was a sore spot for her. And not just because Todd had used her weight gain as an excuse to break up with her.

The extra pounds reminded her of a dark time in her life, long months spent at the side of a hospital bed, weeks of eating fast food and junk snacks from a vending machine so that she could stretch extra minutes from the day. She’d turned to comfort food when she thought she might lose her mother. The added pounds represented grief and a loss of control in her life that she was still struggling to reclaim.

“For the record—” Jake’s voice drew her from her gloomy thoughts “—you’re not fat.”

She cringed mentally at his attempt to comfort her. She didn’t want his pity or his false flattery. “Todd thought so,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You’re not.”

“Whatever.”

She heard the rasp of his zipper as he re-dressed, the thump as he stomped his foot back in his boots. She stared down at her own feet. At least Brady—or whatever the convict’s name was—had let her keep her tennis shoes. They had miles to walk before they’d reach shelter and a phone.

“And along those same general lines, when you tell your friends about today, be kind.” She lifted a puzzled look to Jake, and he sent her a wry grin. “Remember that it was cold out here.”

When his meaning became clear, she darted a glance at his groin, then back to his face. And laughed. “Seriously? That was c-cold mode, and you’re worried what I’ll tell my f-friends?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Just sayin’.”

An icy wind buffeted her, burrowing to her bone and stealing the return quip from her tongue. Chelsea hunched her shoulders and blew into her hands. “My parents’ house is about s-six miles that way.” She aimed a finger down the road, her teeth chattering. “That’s where I’m staying while they’re on vacation.”

“Is that where you were headed when the car ran out of gas?”

She nodded.

Jake folded his arms around her, blocking the brunt of the wind with his body. He lifted her hand and rubbed her frozen fingers between his palms. “Is it safe to assume Brady headed there when he left here? Did he know where your parents lived?”

She ducked her head to look in Ethyl’s front window. “Well, the GPS is s-still in the car, so it’s hard to s-say. I was driving, and the GPS only g-gives one step of direction at a t-time. He knew the general d-direction we were headed but maybe n-not a specific address.”

The idea of an escaped criminal breaking into her parents’ house, eating their food, sitting on their sofa to watch their new flat-screen TV made her skin crawl.