Page 68 of Wild and Wrangled

“No, Dusty. I want to go with you to Montana. Next week. Take me with you.”

Chapter 30

Cam

When Dusty and I grabbed our coats and ran out the gala doors, we were met with a wall of falling snow. The flakes were huge, and I could barely see in front of me. There were at least six inches piled up in the parking lot. Dusty pulled me closer to him and used the arm around my waist to lift me into a fireman’s carry.

“Those shoes you’re wearing won’t make it through the snow,” he said. I let my head fall back with a laugh, and my feet kicked involuntarily.

I tried to look forward, but the snow got in my face, so I looked up at Dusty instead. I looked at his sharp jawline, and his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. I wanted to memorize how he looked right now—this close to me. I used one of my hands to push down the white collar of his tux so I could see the entirety of his “A” tattoo. I pulled myself closer to him so I could kiss it again.

“Ash,” Dusty breathed when I did.

“I forgot how much I loved this,” I said as I kissed it again. Dusty groaned, and I watched his jaw flex.

“I didn’t,” he said. He managed to keep hold of me as he reached into his pocket and grabbed the keys to my car. I heard it unlock. I reached out to open the door, and when I did, Dusty set me carefully inside.

“You have four-wheel drive, right?” Dusty asked. One of his hands was on my hip, and the other was on the side of my neck.

“Obviously,” I responded. “We live in Wyoming.”

“Smartass,” he said and then kissed me quickly—like he would do it a million more times. It felt so natural, but the effect it had on me was anything but.

I brought my hands up to his suit jacket and held him to me for a second. He let me. He didn’t ask me why—just stood in the snow while I sat in the car and let me breathe him in—let me imprint this moment in my brain. When I let him go, he flashed me a smile. “Put your seatbelt on, angel.”

Whatever bubble we were in right now, I didn’t want it to pop.

Then he pulled back and shut my door softly. I did what he said. When he got in the car and started it, he reached over and turned my seat warmer on for me before grabbing the snow brush out of the backseat and getting back out to clear the car off.

I watched him through the windows as he cleared them. I didn’t know if anyone else had ever cleared my car off for me. I had gotten used to doing it myself—just like everything else. For a second, it scared me, how easy it would be to get used to this—to have someone turn my seat warmer on and clear off my car, who could drive when I didn’t want to.

Did I want that? I always thought that if I could take care ofmyself and my daughter, if I never had to depend on anyone, then I’d never run the risk of disappointing anyone, either. I was sick of feeling like such a disappointment, at least in the eyes of my parents. But I had to admit: It made me feel extremely lonely sometimes. What if there was a different way? A way that allowed me to share the load, to give up full control every once in a while?

When Dusty got back in the car, he shook the snow out of his hair and rubbed his hands together before grabbing one of mine. The two silver rings on his hand were ice cold, and I loved the way they felt against my skin.

“Ready?” he asked, and I nodded—grateful again that he was here. I hated driving in the snow. I should probably be used to it after all this time, but it still scared the shit out of me. But when I looked at Dusty, he was calm and in control of the car.

“Can you check the weather alerts for the highway?” he asked. “Honestly, I would be shocked if the canyon isn’t closed.”

“I think we should just get a hotel,” I said. “Even if the canyon is open, I don’t think it’s safe to go all the way home tonight.” I pulled out my phone and searched for hotels nearby. “Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.” I kept scrolling as Dusty started driving closer to town. There wasn’t anything around the ski resort, and it would probably take us at least thirty minutes to get farther down the mountain toward some sort of civilization.

“What have we got?”

“No dice so far.” I let out a sigh. “There don’t seem to be any good options.”

“Have you tried, you know, just looking out the window for a neon vacancy sign through the snow?”

I actually laughed out loud at that. “Yeah, no,” I said. “That’s not for me.” Neon signs did not usually match up with my preference for crisp white bedsheets and fluffy robes.

Dusty chuckled and shook his head. “You know…there’s a motel like ten minutes up the road. I bet we might have some luck there.”

I groaned but when I looked up from my phone and saw what the road ahead of us looked like—a total whiteout—I relented: “Okay.”

“I promise it’s not bad,” Dusty said. “Probably one of the nicer places I’ve stayed in my life.”

“Yeah, but you’re not fussy like me,” I said.

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