Cowboy Mountain Man’s Curvy Complication (Date Night In The Mountains #8)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

AUSTIN

Dark clouds threaten in the distance. White powder sparkles beneath Dolly and Dasher’s hooves, tails swishing restlessly.

“I know, ladies,” I croon, standing between them and taking turns scratching the noses of the sister Quarter horses. “Long, cold day. Too many loud kids. Too much chaos. Time for a rub down and warm oats.”

Dasher shifts restlessly, tipping her head up to sniff the air. Dolly nickers as if she’s got an opinion. Worked with these rescue horses long enough to know they both do. “Storm’s blowing in fast now. Be lucky if we make it back to the cabin—”

“Hey!” The voice is gruff, with a city accent. I bristle, turning slow and easy.

The man in front of me reeks of impatience, money, and whiskey. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”

My jaw tenses, eyes flicking momentarily to the woman next to him.

Long mahogany hair, heart-shaped face punctuated by a dimple in her chin.

Large, lavender doe’s eyes framed in a thick fringe of lashes that just miss brushing the smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles on her pink cheeks and upturned nose.

“Do you have a hearing problem or something?” The man asks, going full belligerent. Yep, definitely whiskey. The expensive stuff.

“Don’t answer to ‘hey,’” I say, spreading my legs where I stand, jaw set.

The woman tugs on his arm. “Trevor, no, it’s okay. We don’t—”

He jerks away from her, fury in his indigo eyes, pale face quivering with rage. “Is that how you talk to customers?”

“You’re no customer,” I drawl. “Not taking anymore rides today.”

“To hell you aren’t.”

That gets my attention. I straighten a little more, cracking my neck. Too bad the lady’s got to be here. Fear flickers across her face as she wets her lips.

“It’s okay, Trevor—” She steps forward, raising an arm.

“The fuck it’s okay,” he roars. Then, hands on his hips to me, “One more ride.”

I shake my head, sizing him up. Maybe six feet to my six foot four. Puny arms, city built. Easier to bale than a stack of hay.

“Horses are tired. I’m—”

“What’s this about? Money?”

I shake my head, gritting my teeth.

“Too good to give another hayride?” He steps closer.

I fist my hands at my sides, frowning.

“Done for the day.”

Apparently, he is, too.

“I’m sorry,” the woman chimes in, reaching for the man’s arm again, and I swear I’ll knock his block off if he jerks away from her again. Or does anything else threatening to the lady.

“You’re going to ruin our date,” he screams, sticking a finger in my face. It takes every ounce of self-control not to break it.

“Done that yourself. Gonna make a fool of yourself now, too?” In the distance, I see Mack, one of the local sheriff’s deputies, clocking the exchange.

So does she.

“Trevor please,” she begs. Her watery eyes plead with me, though I don’t know what she wants.

For one moment thick with tension, my body tenses, ready for what comes next.

Instead, he huffs a dark laugh, shaking his head and finally listening to his girlfriend.

Good luck with that date.

My eyes follow the woman despite myself. Brown curls hitting mid-back, figure soft and curvy in a purple puffy jacket that matches her eyes, light-wash skinny jeans, and knee-high gray Sorrels.

How the asshole suckered in that beauty I’ll never know. But then, I never could figure out the whole relationship thing.

Mack closes the distance, eyes narrowing as he watches the couple walk away. He shakes his head, whistling low. “Some men don’t know how to hold their liquor.”

“Or their women,” I grunt.

“Thought for sure you’d punch him,” he chuckles crossing his arms.

“Surprised I didn’t.” Can’t stand to see a woman handled rough. “Tourists. I’ll be happy when ski season is over, and we can go back to what matters.”

“And what’s that? Rescuing horses for you and arresting perps for me? A thankless, endless job.”

“Speaking of jobs, I’m out.” I nod, eyeing the distant, threatening clouds. “Leave now, and I might miss the worst of it.”

The deputy eyes the same sky. “Maybe, though your mares look tired.”

“Long day,” I answer, climbing up into the sleigh. I tip my hat, and Mack waves as the sleigh lurches forward into the rising wind. Five minutes in, and my cheeks burn and sting. The storm blowing in has to be at least ten degrees more frigid than the ambient air.

I pull my scarf up around my mouth, falling into the mindless rhythm of the horses’ hooves crunching through snow.

Minutes fly by, the sky going angry black, clouds burgeoning. Up ahead, a red Toyota 4Runner sits parked along the snowbank.

“Dumbass,” I remark under my breath. Talk about a fine location to get stuck in a blizzard.

Suddenly, a high-pitched voice pierces the silence, and a woman in a puffy purple jacket bursts out of the driver’s side.

“Stop, Trevor,” she hollers, darting for the snowbank.

“Give me my keys!” City slicker emerges from the passenger seat, scrambling through the snow toward the woman.

For God’s sake.

I crack the whip, closing the distance fast. “Gee,” I holler, and they veer right. Then, “Whoa!”

“Leave her alone,” I growl.

But Trevor’s not listening, still in full chase mode. “Allison! Come back here!” he screams.

Not happening. Not today.

I jump down from the sleigh into the snowbank, easily clearing the remaining space between us. Grabbing him by the scruff of his coat, I drag him backward away from Allison. “Leave her the fuck alone!”

Allison gasps, eyes wild.

Trevor whips around, fists first. But he’s drunk as shit, and highly predictable. A quick block and a devastating blow to the jaw later, he sits in the snow, cradling his jaw and raging. “That bitch! That fucking bitch!”

“Another word out of you about the lady, and you’ll wish you didn’t have a tongue.” The words come out low and dangerous. No yelling, no bluster, all promise.

His indigo eyes round. His hand tightens on his bleeding mouth, as if he’s got to clamp it closed to make it behave.

A couple long strides, and I reach the woman with the purple jacket.

“You okay?” I ask gently, shoving my bruised and bloodied knuckles into my Carhartt pocket to avoid scaring her.

“Yes,” she whimpers, blinking hard twice. “Can you… Can you…” She stares at the man in the snow, brows knitting, tears streaming down her pretty pink cheeks. “Can you please get me out of here?”

“Done.” I offer her my good hand. She takes it in her hot pink gloved fingers, squeezing hard, like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.

Time freezes for one fraction of a second. All warm sparks, luscious pink lips, and a fragrance like sugarplums. She starts forward but almost falls, her legs no longer working.

A part of me—the brutish part—wants to sweep her in my arms and carry her back to the white lacquered sleigh piled high with fur blankets. But, no. I’m no cave man.

“You’re safe with me,” I say, the way I talk to my rescue horses. Grounded, safe, weighted to the earth.

“I know,” she answers, disbelief threading her voice. But her face tells me she means it.

At the sleigh, she hesitates. “What about Trevor?”

“Still have his keys?” I whisper.

The creep sits straighter.

She nods, patting her purse.

Trevor’s mouth works, face fuming, as if he’s about to say something.

I just glare, eyes drilling into his ugly face. Heard enough out of you. Drunk or not, he gets it without me saying a word.

“I’ll call Deputy Mack,” I reassure when she bites her bottom lip, eyes shifting back and forth between us. “He won’t freeze,” I add, and the ambivalence drains from her face.

He should. But that’s another story.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls from the other side of the road—one of the resort groundskeepers.

“Todd,” I nod.

“That guy serious?” he asks, shaking his head. “Trying to start a fight with you?”

Trevor snarls like a rabid raccoon, then freezes when I turn his way with another grimace.

I shrug.

“You all good? Need me to call it in?”

“Please,” I answer, helping the woman into the sleigh. “Mack’s just around the corner.”

Todd nods. “I’ll let him know you were just defending yourself.”

I grunt. Hadn’t even thought that far. Only knew I wasn’t letting him touch her again.

Once she’s bundled up next to me, I text Mack to confirm he’s spoken with Todd. Then, the sleigh flies.

The woman goes pale—despite the icy wind splashing her cheeks—and quiet, too. Like she can’t comprehend what’s going on. “He’s going to be so mad,” she says, eyes searching my face. “So mad.”

That wasn’t mad? I want to ask. But I don’t. Instead, a pit forms in my stomach as mountains streak past on either side.

She snuggles deeper into the blankets. Snow swirls around us, coming faster and more furious with each gust of wind. She doesn’t ask where I’m going, which makes it easier to not think about the obvious. Why we’re headed for my cabin instead of the ski lodge.

Something tells me, by the crease of her forehead, the frown pressed into her lips that the resort—and Trevor—are the last things she wants to see right now.