Page 4 of Her Grumpy Cowboy
I’m too flustered to argue.My arms loop around his neck automatically.He smells like cedar, snow, and something faintly smoky, like nights spent near a campfire.
We leave the ranch behind, snow creaking under his boots, and head back to Main Street.Mistletoe Mugglows in the distance, windows fogged from the espresso machine and strung with white lights.The sign in the window readsBelieve in Small Miracles—and a Latte Bit of Love.
His stride is steady, but everything inside me feels like it’s jolting loose.Every bounce of my body against his chest reminds me I’m not wearing the thickest bra.That I’m holding onto him too tightly.He smells like pine smoke and snow and something so masculine and warm it short-circuits my brain and makes me want to dream about him naked.
Grady exhales sharply as he adjusts me in his arms.It’s not a grunt of effort—it’s something else.Like a man trying hard not to want something too much, too soon.He carries me right through the door, the bell chiming overhead.The smell of coffee and sugar wraps around us.
Jamie freezes mid-pour, the milk pitcher halfway to the cup, eyes wide.“Wow.That’s not how I expected you to bring in new customers.”
“Hey, Jamie.Twisted ankle,” I manage.“Minor accident.Not kidnapping.”
Grady carries me past curious customers and into the back room, lowering me onto a stool like I’m made of spun glass.“Ice?”
“Freezer, behind the cinnamon-scented snowballs,” I murmur helpfully.
He finds it, wraps a towel around the pack, and kneels to press it against my ankle.His hands are rough and warm, sending a shiver up my spine that makes me forget about the pain.
“You’re good at this,” I whisper.
“Years of practice in bad places with limited medical supplies,” he says evenly.
It’s what he doesn’t say that tugs at something in my chest.I have a sudden urge to cry for reasons that have nothing to do with my swollen ankle.
I can’t stop watching his hands.Big, scarred, competent hands.I bet he’s the kind of man who could take apart a generator and make me come with the same calm certainty.
The thought shocks me.
I’ve literally just met the man, yet he’s stirring something low and insistent in me I’ve never experienced before.Not just lust, though that’s definitely happening.It’s this...awareness.As if my body has been asleep, and he’s the first real thing I’ve touched in a long time.
His knuckles brush my ankle again as he adjusts the ice pack, and a shiver dances up my spine.He doesn’t look up, but my skin hums like it knows he’s going to matter.
My cheeks burn.I’m not this girl.I don’t swoon.I certainly don’t get turned on by first-aid.
But with him?
I want to climb that ladder again so I have an excuse to fall into his arms.
God help me.
Grady secures the towel with an elastic like he’s done this more times than he wants to count.When he ties it off, his knuckles brush my skin.Heat zigzags through me, sudden and bright.
I know he feels it too because his breath hitches and his jaw flexes.
I swallow.“Thank you, Grady.”
When he stands, he nods toward the window where snow is falling softly and relentlessly.“Storm’s coming in.Stay off that foot.”
“Is that an order?”I tease.
“A request.”He looks at me then, and the flicker of warmth in his silver eyes feels like the first spark in a cold hearth.My heart does the thing again—swoop, tumble, and land somewhere inconvenient.
“I should head back to the ranch,” he says, heading for the door.
“Okay.Thanks again for carrying the wreath.And, you know, me.And for the whole first-aid thing.”I can hear myself babbling, but stopping’s never been my strong suit.
Grady pauses with his hand on the knob.“Angel,” he says without looking back.
“Yeah?”
