Chapter 18 #2
“At least ten different people have already offered to put us up for the night. We won’t be sleeping in the truck.”
The line starts to crackle again and I don’t hear her next few words.
“Annie? Annie?” I say. “Are you still there?”
But the phone goes dead, and when I look at it, I can see I’ve lost all signal. Great. It must be down to the weather.
I type her a text message anyway in the hope it might get through, and then I snuggle up under the blankets and try my best to watch the movie.
It’s just coming to an end – the heroine and hero smooching on screen and declaring their undying love for one another – when there’s a large, thumping knock on the front door. I scream so loud I swear half the baubles on the Christmas tree smash.
Dolly leaps to her feet and barks and even Kenny’s ears shoot up dead-straight.
I freeze.
This is how every horror movie I’ve ever watched starts off, right? The heroine by herself in the big house, trapped in the snowstorm, all alone, and then a knock on the door. There is no way in hell I am answering that door. It could be a bogeyman, or worse, it could be a yeti.
I hunker down in my blanket, close my eyes, and hope I imagined that thump. Except next thing I know there’s a loud knocking on the large glass windows. I scream again. Dolly barks like mad and Kenny starts thumping his back paw.
I know I shouldn’t look to see what’s out there, but I’m unable to help myself. And this is how every heroine dies. It’s always their curiosity that gets the better of them.
Yeah, but I can’t help myself. My gaze shoots that way and I scream a third time. Possibly the loudest. Forget yetis or mass murderers, there’s an abominable snowman glaring at me through the glass doors.
Dolly, far more brave than I am, goes charging toward the window, ready to protect me from the creature who is, any moment now, sure to smash through the door.
Except, Dolly doesn’t bark or growl or look intimidating in any shape or form. Instead, she jumps about excitably, her tail wagging like mad.
The snowman brushes snow from his face, and waves at us through the glass.
I almost cry with relief. It isn’t a yeti or a bogeyman or a mass murderer. It’s Clay, Nash, and Tucker, covered in snow and peering through the glass.
I untangle myself from the blanket and scurry their way, unlocking the back door and almost screaming again at the blast of cold, snowy air that comes hurtling right at me.
“Just came to check you were okay, Hollie,” Clay says. “We heard the others got trapped in town and that you were here alone.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” I say.
“I’m hanging out with my new best pals.” I gesture to Dolly who is busy sniffing Clay’s boots and Kenny already dozing again on the couch.
“You just gave me a bit of a scare, that’s all,” I press my hand to my still racing heart.
Although I’m not quite sure if it’s racing now from the shock and the fear and the scary atmosphere, or if it’s racing because the three alphas in front of me are so startlingly good-looking it could set a girl to fainting.
Especially when those three men are decked out in their winter gear, covered in snow, looking more manly than it’s possible for three men to look.
“You sure?” Clay says, eyes darting around inside the living room. “Is the heating working alright?”
“Erm…” I say, having no idea.
“We’ll start a fire for you, just in case it goes out.
” He marches inside, the other two following behind him.
They kick off their boots and then they set to work around the fireplace, loading it full of logs of wood, kindling, and old pieces of newspaper.
Then Clay strikes a match and the whole thing leaps up into flame, and the fire’s soon roaring, toasty warm.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone build a fire so quickly and so effectively before, and I will now be squirreling that little image away in my brain alongside the tree cutting, the hay throwing, the horse grooming, and the kissing. Maybe Annie’s right. Maybe I am just one big horny pervert.
“Fill the sink with water – and fill some bottles too,” Clay tells me next. “Sometimes the pipes can freeze up if the heating goes out or we lose the electricity.”
I nod, twisting my hands behind my back.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask them. The thought of being in this confined space with all three alphas sends my heart into a stuttering mess and my panties into an even bigger one. But, it doesn’t feel fair to resign them to the cabin in this storm. I’m obviously only considering their welfare.
“We’re off to check the cattle,” Clay says.
“Check the cattle!” I screech. “You’re going out in this!”
“Got to. The cattle are our responsibility and we can’t risk them getting lost in a snow drift or suffocated up against a fence. We need to check they’ve got enough to eat and the water supply hasn’t frozen over.”
I look out toward the snow whirling outside the window. I can’t imagine anyone making it through that. They’d be lost in a snowdrift.
“Will your truck even make it through?” I say.
“Truck, possibly not. The horses will, though,” Nash says.
“You’re taking the horses out in this?”
“The storm’s easing. It’s much more settled out there now. Perfect window of opportunity to go check on the cattle,” Nash tells me.
And then I don’t know what possesses me. Maybe it’s my horny brain, or the big fright I just got, or the fact that I can’t bear to think of the horses and the cattle out in the snow, but I say, “I could come with you. I could help.”
The three alphas stare back at me in shock.
“How… how could you help?” Nash says, sounding puzzled.
“I’m a vet. I know about sick animals. And I imagine you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“We’re not taking you out in a snow storm, Hollie,” Clay says.
“Why not,” I scowl at him, “Because I’m a girl or because I’m an omega?”
“Because you’re precious and I don’t want you getting hurt or sick or injured.”
My mouth falls open in surprise and I gape at him. Did he really just say that? Did he just confess he has feelings for me?
“I’m … I’m precious?”
“To Annie,” he clarifies, not quite able to meet my eye, “she’d never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”
Of course. I’m seriously dumb. That’s the reason.
“And I’ll never forgive you,” I snap, “if you leave me here worrying about the lot of you, all on my own, at Christmas time.”
“It’s still a no.”
I stamp my foot in frustration. “Can everyone stop treating me like I’m made of glass!
My mom died, that’s all, you don’t need to tiptoe around me, refusing to freaking kiss me or knot me or whatever me, because you’re scared I might fall apart.
And I’m an omega, not a porcelain princess.
I’ve been looking out for myself for an awful long time.
I am tougher than I look. I’ve wrestled misbehaving Great Danes and sedated boa constrictors. ”
Tucker visibly shudders. “I freaking hate snakes,” he mutters.
“I held my mom’s hand when she was sick, I nursed her when she was ill, I even organized her funeral all by myself. I’m not scared of a little snow storm. So let me come!”
Clay considers me, stroking his fingers over his stubbled chin.
“Let her come,” Tuckers says, clearly won over by my argument.
“But have you ever ridden in thick snow before?” Nash says, clearly not liking the idea either.
I want to stick my tongue out at him and tell him I’ve ridden in plenty of snowstorms before, but obviously that would be one big fat lie, so I shake my head reluctantly instead.
“She can ride with me,” Tucker says. “On my horse.”
“Great,” I say. “Then I’ll come.”
And before Clay Jackson can start arguing with me again or listing all the reasons why this is a stupid idea, I run off to find my newly acquired winter-weather clothing.
I’m back in a matter of minutes, half convinced they’ll have gone without me.
But they haven’t. They’re waiting for me by the back door.
“You sure you want to do this, Hollie?” Clay says. “It’s horrible out there. It won’t be pleasant by any stretch of the imagination.”
I shrug. I don’t tell him that what else am I going to do – sit on my own watching TV like I’ve been doing for months? The only thing that will achieve is that sadness creeping in through the cracks and overwhelming me, especially on Christmas Eve.
I’m sick of that. I want to feel alive. I want adrenaline pumping through my veins. And, yes, if I’m totally honest, I want to spend time with the three of them – even if it is in a snowstorm.
“Come on then,” Clay says. “Let’s go.”
And he leads the way out to where the horses are sheltering under the overhang of the barn.
Tucker motions for me to mount Storm, and I do.
Then he’s following up after me, settling himself in the saddle right behind me, his arms coming to wrap around my waist and take a hold of the reins.
The snow swirls angrily around us, slapping into our faces with a bitter coldness.
Tucker shakes the reins, clicks his tongue, and then we’re on our way.