Chapter 6 #2
Before I can ask questions, he eases the snowmobile forward, and I instinctively wrap my arms tighter around his waist. When we pick up speed, I cling to him tighter, the wind whipping around us as we glide along. The cabin disappears behind us as we follow the snow-packed road to the barn.
The cold bites at my fingers, but the gloves Shep gave me are tucked into my coat pocket. I forgot to put them on before we left, and I’m too afraid to retrieve them while we’re on the move.
I lean forward, resting my head on Shep’s back and letting my hands drift up his chest seeking warmth.
He stiffens under my touch, and I expect him to pull away—but instead, he shifts in his seat, unzipping his jacket and guiding my hands inside.
I let out a soft moan as heat finally reaches my freezing fingers.
The ground is soft underneath the snowmobile’s treads, and the trees we pass lean under the weight of the snow, their limbs sparkling like glass. We take the next turnoff, and I spot the barn in the distance, its red silhouette a beacon through the frosty woods.
As we pull up in front, the engine hum fades to silence, and I reluctantly remove my hands from Shep’s chest so he can get off the snowmobile. Once he’s dismounted, he turns around, cupping my elbow to help me down. The snow crunches beneath our boots, and I shiver despite my layers.
Shep scans my face with concerned eyes. “You alright?”
“Just a little cold,” I admit through chattering teeth.
“You should have worn the gloves, like I told you.”
“I forgot to put them on,” I admit sheepishly.
His features soften as he pulls off his own gloves, tucking them into his back pocket. He takes my hands in his, the warmth from his palms spreading through mine. The teasing brush of his fingers against my skin feels dangerously sinful, and I lean in without thinking.
“Better?” he asks, his voice low.
I look up, his gaze lingering on my lips. “Uh-huh.”
I wonder if he kisses with slow and deliberate precision or if he’s bold and demanding.
Here I go again, caught in a steamy daydream, imagining him closing the space between us and putting his mouth on mine.
Snap out of it, Noelle.
This isn’t a romance novel where the grumpy cowboy gives me a bruising kiss or pins me against a stack of hay bales as he rails into me.
I blink rapidly, reeling in my thoughts before I embarrass myself.
“Should we go in?” I ask.
Something unspoken flickers in his eyes, vanishing as fast as it appeared, and he lets go of my hands.
“Yeah. There’s a heater inside, so it’ll be warm,” he replies.
I nod absentmindedly as he ushers me through the barn door, my jaw dropping at the sight.
The space is huge, with high ceilings stretching overhead, twelve large stalls, rows of tack and feed stacked on shelves lining the walls, and an open wash bay near the entrance that smells faintly of hay and saddle soap.
As I approach the stalls, I see the first two on the left have been converted into a chicken coop,
with several hens clucking in their wire-mesh enclosure. In the other stalls, horses stick their heads out, curious about their visitors.
“Shep, this is incredible. Is this all yours?”
He looks up from where he’s scooping oats into four large buckets, his eyes soft as he straightens and squares his shoulders.
“Yeah, it is.”
I stroll down the barn aisle and stop at the first stall on the right, where the horse Shep was riding the day we met neighs his greeting.
His copper mane reminds me of the color of pennies, and he has a white stripe running down his nose.
A polished nameplate on the stall door has his name, Blaze, etched in block letters.
“Hello there, handsome.” I give him a scratch under his chin.
“Don’t let him fool ya.” Shep chuckles as he carries over two buckets. “He’s got more attitude than manners.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I whisper to Blaze. “You’re perfect.” He nuzzles my hand, letting out a soft snort. “See? Blaze agrees.”
Shep rolls his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but he’s only after the sugar cubes he knows I’m good for.”
I hold out my hand, grinning. “Well? I can’t let him down then, can I?”
Shep sighs as he pulls out a handful from his pocket and gives them to me.
“Thanks.” I offer a couple to Blaze, who greedily chomps them down. “Can I give some to the other horses, too?”
“Go ahead, but make sure your hand stays flat. Some of them can get overzealous and might mistake your finger for a snack.”
“Copy that. I’m off the menu.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across his face, the corners of his eyes softening.
As I walk to the next stall, a loud, persistent bleating echoes throughout the barn.
I furrow my brow. “Do you have sheep?”
Shep shakes his head. “Nope. A sheep wouldn’t be that demanding for attention.”
Eager to investigate, I follow the noise to the last stall on the right, where a shiny black nose pokes through one of the slats, letting out a plaintive bawl as I approach. Without waiting for Shep’s permission, I pull open the gate, revealing a fluffy Highland cow with a golden-brown coat.
“You’re the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” I gush, holding out my hand, letting the cow snuffle my fingers and press her head gently against my palm.
“Blaze might get jealous of all the attention you’re giving her,” Shep teases as he joins me, with a bucket of oats in hand.
“He’ll forgive me as long as I keep giving him sugar cubes,” I say, running my fingers through the shaggy tuft of hair hanging over the cow’s eyes.
Shep steps around me, tossing the oats into a trough in the corner.
“Sounds about right,” he agrees.
I nod to the baby cow who’s trying to eat my hair. “What’s this darling’s name?”
“Maple.”
“That’s the cutest. Did you name her?”
“My cousin, Birdie, did.”
“Oh. Does she live in the area?”
“No. She’s in Bluebell, Montana. She rescues animals, and every so often hears about one in trouble in a different state, including this little lady.
” He pats Maple on her rump before raking around the hay in her stall.
“Maple was only four months old when she was found in a backyard petting zoo, jammed into a small enclosure with no roof or grass to graze on. Her coat was matted and caked with dried mud.”
“That’s awful. You poor thing,” I murmur, stroking her neck.
“She was found three hours from here, and Birdie called me asking if I’d take her in,” Shep continues.
“It’s a good thing you agreed. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t?” I shudder at the thought.
“Birdie would have picked her up and taken her back to Montana,” Shep reassures me. “She’d never leave an animal in a dangerous situation. She has a bad habit of getting into trouble to save them. Good thing her dad’s the sheriff in Bluebell, or she’d have landed herself in jail already.”
Of course, Shep would downplay his good deed and how much he cares about Maple. But I’ve learned that how a person treats animals often says a lot about how they treat people. Shep can play the gruff guy all he wants, but driving three hours to rescue a baby cow proves he has a heart of gold.
“Birdie sounds amazing, but Maple seems happy here,” I state.
“Only because she gets lots of treats when she does tricks. Wanna see?”
He’s dodging the topic of the good deeds he’s done, but I let it go, too intrigued to see what Maple can do.
“Is it something they taught her at the petting zoo?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “No. I did.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. “You taught Maple tricks? The same man who acts like he doesn’t want her staying here? Someone’s totally smitten.”
“Not you, too,” Shep grumbles. “Birdie said the same thing, and it’s still untrue.”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t believe him for a second. “Now show me these tricks Maple can do.”
Today, it seems I’m discovering a new side of Shep every hour, and I have to admit it only makes him more endearing.
I watch as he takes a bag of sliced apples from his coat pocket and moves to the other side of the stall before holding out the treat.
“Come, Maple,” he orders gently.
She sniffs the air, slowly pivoting to face Shep. Her tail flicks as she trots over to him, darting her tongue out to scoop the apple from his hand. She tosses her head proudly as she chews her prize, and Shep gives her a broad smile.
Did I hit my head and tumble into Wonderland, where rabbits wear waistcoats, tea parties never end, and the brooding cowboy’s usual scowl has flipped to a smile?
“Such a good girl, Maple,” Shep praises. “Want to see her do another trick?”
I draw in a long breath to steady my racing heart. “Yep, I’d love to.”
Shep holds an apple slice in one hand, stretching the other out flat in front of him.
“Maple, down.”
She flicks her ears at the sound of his voice, shifting her weight as if considering his command.
Gradually, she tucks her hind legs beneath her, lowering her broad frame to the ground with unexpected grace.
Her large brown eyes remain fixed on the apple slice, but she doesn’t move until Shep gives a nod of approval.
The second he does, she stretches her neck forward, lips curling around the treat.
“She’s so clever,” I coo.
Shep gives her another apple slice and grins as he runs his hand over her head. “Atta girl, Maple.”
Seeing this side of him makes my heart flutter, and if I’m not careful, I might start hoping the snowstorm never ends.