Stranded with the Rancher

“You can’t sleep sitting up. Either we both lie down, or we perch on these folding chairs until we fall over.”

“Stubborn woman.”

“Definitely the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Are you tired?”

“I don’t really know. All my synapses are fried. Sheer terror will do that to you.”

She was right. The adrenaline had flowed hot and heavy this afternoon. “I’m betting if we keep still long enough we might be able to sleep. We’ll need rest to handle whatever happens tomorrow.”

He heard rather than saw her stand up. When her hand touched his arm, he realized that she had come to him.... one human seeking comfort from another. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

He nodded, squeezing her hand briefly. “Yeah. Wind strong enough to lift whatever is on top of us will have done a hell of a lot of damage.”

Her sigh was audible. “Let’s get settled for the night, then. The sooner we sleep, the sooner morning will come.”

* * *

Beth wanted to weep with joy when Drew turned on one of the flashlights so they could construct their makeshift bed. Being able to see his face gave her a shot of confidence and relief. Everything in Royal might have changed, but Drew was still Drew. His features were drawn and tired, though. She could only imagine what she looked like. It was probably a good thing she didn’t have a mirror. Her hair felt like a rat’s nest.

Thankfully, the cellar was not as bad as she’d imagined. Drew checked every corner and cranny, killing a couple of spiders, but nothing major. By the time they had spread the silver blanket on the floor, she was more than ready to close her eyes.

But first, she had to deal with something that couldn’t wait. “Drew...I....” Her face flamed.

He was quick on the uptake. “We’ll both use the facilities.” He went to the ladder and stood with his back to her, beaming the flashlight toward the cellar doors, diffusing the illumination so that she could see but not feel exposed.

Beth did what had to be done and swapped places with him. In hindsight, it was not nearly as embarrassing as she had expected. She and Drew were survivors in a bad situation. No point in being prissy or overly modest.

At last, they were ready to court sleep. She knelt awkwardly, wincing when the concrete floor abraded her knees through the thin barrier that was their only comfort. She curled onto her side, facing the wall.

Drew joined her, facing the same direction, but leaving a safe distance between them. “All set?” he asked.

“Yes. But I should give you your shirt. You’ll get cold.”

“I’m fine.” He sighed, a deep, ragged exhale that could have meant anything. “I’m turning off the light now.”

Her stomach clenched. “Okay.”

This time the darkness was even worse after she’d been able to see for the last half hour. Her eyes stung with tears she would not let fall. She was okay. Drew was okay. That was all that mattered.

Her heart thundered too rapidly for sleep. And she couldn’t regulate her breathing. She trembled all over—delayed reaction probably.

Drew’s arms came around her, dragging her against him, his hands settling below her breasts. “Relax, Beth. Things will look better in the morning.”

The feel of his warm chest against her back kept her sane—that and his careful embrace. Her head rested on his arm. It must have been painful for him, but he didn’t voice a single complaint.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Go to sleep.”

* * *

For Drew, the night was a million hours long. He barely slept—and then only in snatches. His gritty eyes and aching body reminded him that he wasn’t a kid anymore. But even a teenager would have trouble relaxing on a bare cement floor. To take his mind off the physical discomfort, he concentrated on Beth.

It took her a half hour to fall asleep. He knew, because he kept sneaking peeks at his watch. Her body had been tense in his embrace, either from the miserable sleeping arrangements, or because she was uneasy about their inescapable physical intimacy. Or perhaps both.

Either way, she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

He liked holding her. As he tucked a swath of hair behind her ear, he inhaled the faint scent of her shampoo. Apple maybe...or some other fruity smell. In the dark, his senses were magnified. The curl he wrapped around his finger was soft and springy and damp. He allowed himself for one indulgent moment to imagine Beth’s beautiful hair tumbling across his chest as they made love.

The image took his breath away. All these months of verbal sparring had hidden a disturbing truth. He was hungry for Beth Andrews—totally captivated by her spunky charm—and physically drawn to her sexy body.

If he hadn’t been in pain, and if every one of his muscles weren’t drained from battling a tornado, he would have been more than a little aroused. As it was, his body reacted. But only for a short moment. He closed his eyes and prayed for oblivion.

* * *

Beth woke up with a sensation of doom she couldn’t shake. It was only after she opened her eyes that she remembered why. Her concrete prison was still intact with no way out.

Despite the circumstances, it wasn’t the worst morning after she’d ever experienced. Far from it. Drew’s right arm lay heavy across her waist. His right hand cupped her breast. Even though his gentle snore reassured her that he was still asleep, she blushed from her toes to her hairline. Until yesterday, Drew Farrell had been nothing more than her annoying, arrogant neighbor.

Except for the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous, masculine and sexy, she had been able to ignore him and his continuing dissatisfaction with her thriving business. But now, in one brief stormy adventure, they had been thrust together in a pressure cooker. No longer were they merely bickering acquaintances.

For better or for worse, they were comrades in arms. Friends.

It was difficult to sleep with someone, even fully clothed, and not experience a sense of intimacy. Not necessarily sexual intimacy, though that was certainly a real possibility when it came to her feelings for Drew.

But they shared another equally real type of closeness. They had stared death in the face.

Even now the words sounded too dramatic. But when she remembered looking over her shoulder and seeing the monster storm barreling toward them with ferocity, something inside her shivered with dread. Disaster had come close enough to breathe down their necks. They had escaped with their lives, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

It was probably still early. Whatever landed on them during the tornado had darkened most of the tiny holes in the cellar doors that let in light. But the few that were left filtered the faint glow of dawn.

She felt no real urgency to move. Though her hip ached where it had spent the better part of the night battling with the unforgiving floor, she was surprisingly content. Being held close in Drew’s warm, comforting embrace was better than a tranquilizer. His big body was hard and muscular, reminding her without words that she was under the protection of a confident, capable male.

There was something to be said for primitive responses. Though Beth could hold her own in most situations, the fact remained that Drew was larger and stronger and more equipped to deal with the physical challenges of their crisis.

She let her mind wander. How badly had her farm been damaged? What about Drew’s horses? And the town of Royal? Had it avoided a direct hit? Thankfully, the storm had struck late enough in the day that most children would have already been home from school. But businesses in town would still have been open.

The not knowing drove her crazy. Even so, worrying accomplished nothing. She had no other choice but to live in the moment.

Closing her eyes, she savored the unfamiliar sensation of her cheek resting on Drew’s arm. The light covering of masculine hair tickled her nose. His scent was so familiar to her now that she could pick him out of a crowd in a dark room.

He must be very uncomfortable. But there was no reason to wake him. Had he thought it odd to hold her like this?

They had been adversaries from the beginning. It seemed he was always rubbing his good fortune in her face. Though perhaps she was too sensitive on that score, because most people thought he was a great guy. In fact, the only person she knew in Maverick County who ever got crossways with the owner of Willowbrook Farms was Beth Andrews.

Their feud had gone on a long time, probably because they were too much alike. Both stubborn. Both sure they were right.