Page 14 of CowSex
“I ain’t actually got a Scooby, that’s why I’m saying thanks.”
He stares at me blankly. I give a quick nod, turn, and head up the stairs.
THE ROOM IS SO COLDthat I have to fight off a polar bear just to get through the door. The vent for the heating is on the ceiling, and I can’t reach it. I don’t want to ask for any more help from the man downstairs, so I’ll have to go cold. I get lucky in the bathroom, the vent is on the floor, so I open it and heat instantly starts to fill the room. I find some sheets and blankets in the cupboard on the landing and start to make the huge bed. That’s when I remember my cases are still outside.
I really don’t want to go back downstairs and face the cowboy, but I have no choice. My new luggage came with a lifetime warranty covering a lot of things, but I have no clue if snow damage is one of them.
I head back down the wide staircase and out the front door. The cases are so light that I’m able to push two of them at once. I place them inside the hallway, but in my rush to collect my third case, I turn, step one foot out onto the snow-covered veranda, and feel my foot slip right out from under me. Stupidly, so bloody stupidly, I put my hands out to either side of my hips, falling heavily to my right, I land partially on my already battered bum cheek and partially on my arm. The pain that shoots through the back of my hand and my wrist is excruciating, and I give out a cry.
Fuck my life. Fuck this night, and fuck snow and ice. Fuck Emilys who die and inefficient Alma-Mays. And absolutely fuck big, bad, brooding fucking cowboys.
I kick my legs out in front of me and bang my heels into the snow like a two-year-old having a tantrum. As I stare at the pitch-black sky, I scream in frustration at my predicament.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I don’t even attempt to hide the fact that I’m in pain and crying from my voice. “I fell. I think I’ve broken my arm. It really fucking hurts.”
There’s a moment of silence before I hear the sound of his big boots crunch on the snow beside me, then I give out a little yelp as he slides his arms beneath my knees and around my back and lifts me.
I bury my face in my own chest and let him carry me through the front door and into the kitchen, where he places me gently on the worktop.
“Which one?”
I finally look up at him. His jacket’s gone, but he has a long-sleeved T-shirt on. It’s in a mulberry kind of colour and suits his skin tone perfectly. Apparently, not even pain can turn off the fashionista in me.
“Which one?” he snaps at me this time.
“What?” I sniff.
“Fuck’s sake. Stop checking out my chest and tell me which motherfucking arm you think you broke.”
With absolutely no shame, I wail, “The right one.”
“Take your jacket off. I can’t see anything through your coat.” His voice is soft but doesn’t leave room for me to argue.
I unzip my Roxy duck down snowboarding jacket but then realise I’m a little incapacitated.
“Can you help me please?” I again sniff.
He helps me pull my left arm out, and then with surprising gentleness, he pulls the jacket inside out and releases my right arm from the sleeve.
I’m wearing a skin-tight Under Amour breathable top underneath. It’s a bit clingy, but I wasn’t actually expecting to be taking my jacket off in front of anyone tonight, so I dressed for warmth and comfort not to hide my boobs, which he has zoned in on.
“Stop checking out my chest and look at my broken arm, will you?” I use his words from earlier, and I swear I see his lips twitch behind that beard of his.
“I’m gonna have to cut this sleeve, it’s too tight for me to pull up, and your fingers are already starting to swell.”
“You can’t cut my top,” I whine.
“Well, I reckon you’ll have to take it off too then.”
His eyes, which are more of a golden colour than brown, are quite beautiful. Much like the rest of him.
“You’ll have to help me.”
His eyes widen, his brows rise, and we stare at each other for a few seconds. I have a vest on underneath my top, so it’s no biggie. He’s oblivious to this fact, and the perv thinks he’s gonna get a crack at the girls.
Got news for you, Cowboy, that ain’t gonna happen.
