Safe In The Rancher's Arms. Catherine Mann

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      There were two more box-shaped flashlights in the footlocker. If he wanted to, he could turn on one of the smaller ones they were already using to illuminate their living space—until the juice ran out. But on the off chance their incarceration lasted longer than twenty-four hours or more, it made sense to preserve the batteries.

      He rummaged a second time and handed Beth a bottle of water. “Drink only half if you can. We need to hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

      “If we ever get out of here, I’ll put that on a T-shirt for you. The wisdom of Drew Farrell.”

      “Are you making fun of me?”

      “Not at all. Merely trying to stave off feminine hysteria.”

      He grinned in the darkness, chewing the jerky and swallowing it with a grimace. “You’re about the least hysterical woman I’ve ever met.”

      “I have my moments.”

      “Not that I’ve seen. I admire you, Beth, despite my grousing.”

      “There you go again...being nice. It creeps me out.”

      “That’s because you’ve only seen one side of me. I can actually be quite a gentleman when I choose. Case in point, I promise not to have my wicked way with you while we sleep tonight.”

      She laughed out loud. “I don’t think I can get down on this floor unless we turn on a light and check for spiders and other nasty stuff.”

      The husky feminine amusement in her voice made him happy. At least he’d distracted her for a moment. “That’s doable. I came across one of those reflective silver space blankets in the trunk. I thought we could spread that on the ground. It won’t make us any more comfortable, but at least it will be clean. I’ll sit up and lean against the wall. You can put your head in my lap for a pillow.”

      “You can’t sleep sitting up. Either we both lie down, or we perch on these folding chairs until we fall over.”

      “Stubborn woman.”

      “Definitely the pot calling the kettle black.”

      “Are you tired?”

      “I don’t really know. All my synapses are fried. Sheer terror will do that to you.”

      She was right. The adrenaline had flowed hot and heavy this afternoon. “I’m betting if we keep still long enough we might be able to sleep. We’ll need rest to handle whatever happens tomorrow.”

      He heard rather than saw her stand up. When her hand touched his arm, he realized that she had come to him.... one human seeking comfort from another. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

      He nodded, squeezing her hand briefly. “Yeah. Wind strong enough to lift whatever is on top of us will have done a hell of a lot of damage.”

      Her sigh was audible. “Let’s get settled for the night, then. The sooner we sleep, the sooner morning will come.”

      * * *

      Beth wanted to weep with joy when Drew turned on one of the flashlights so they could construct their makeshift bed. Being able to see his face gave her a shot of confidence and relief. Everything in Royal might have changed, but Drew was still Drew. His features were drawn and tired, though. She could only imagine what she looked like. It was probably a good thing she didn’t have a mirror. Her hair felt like a rat’s nest.

      Thankfully, the cellar was not as bad as she’d imagined. Drew checked every corner and cranny, killing a couple of spiders, but nothing major. By the time they had spread the silver blanket on the floor, she was more than ready to close her eyes.

      But first, she had to deal with something that couldn’t wait. “Drew...I....” Her face flamed.

      He was quick on the uptake. “We’ll both use the facilities.” He went to the ladder and stood with his back to her, beaming the flashlight toward the cellar doors, diffusing the illumination so that she could see but not feel exposed.

      Beth did what had to be done and swapped places with him. In hindsight, it was not nearly as embarrassing as she had expected. She and Drew were survivors in a bad situation. No point in being prissy or overly modest.

      At last, they were ready to court sleep. She knelt awkwardly, wincing when the concrete floor abraded her knees through the thin barrier that was their only comfort. She curled onto her side, facing the wall.

      Drew joined her, facing the same direction, but leaving a safe distance between them. “All set?” he asked.

      “Yes. But I should give you your shirt. You’ll get cold.”

      “I’m fine.” He sighed, a deep, ragged exhale that could have meant anything. “I’m turning off the light now.”

      Her stomach clenched. “Okay.”

      This time the darkness was even worse after she’d been able to see for the last half hour. Her eyes stung with tears she would not let fall. She was okay. Drew was okay. That was all that mattered.

      Her heart thundered too rapidly for sleep. And she couldn’t regulate her breathing. She trembled all over—delayed reaction probably.

      Drew’s arms came around her, dragging her against him, his hands settling below her breasts. “Relax, Beth. Things will look better in the morning.”

      The feel of his warm chest against her back kept her sane—that and his careful embrace. Her head rested on his arm. It must have been painful for him, but he didn’t voice a single complaint.

      “Thank you,” she whispered.

      “Go to sleep.”

      * * *

      For Drew, the night was a million hours long. He barely slept—and then only in snatches. His gritty eyes and aching body reminded him that he wasn’t a kid anymore. But even a teenager would have trouble relaxing on a bare cement floor. To take his mind off the physical discomfort, he concentrated on Beth.

      It took her a half hour to fall asleep. He knew, because he kept sneaking peeks at his watch. Her body had been tense in his embrace, either from the miserable sleeping arrangements, or because she was uneasy about their inescapable physical intimacy. Or perhaps both.

      Either way, she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

      He liked holding her. As he tucked a swath of hair behind her ear, he inhaled the faint scent of her shampoo. Apple maybe...or some other fruity smell. In the dark, his senses were magnified. The curl he wrapped around his finger was soft and springy and damp. He allowed himself for one indulgent moment to imagine Beth’s beautiful hair tumbling across his chest as they made love.

      The image took his breath away. All these months of verbal sparring had hidden a disturbing truth. He was hungry for Beth Andrews—totally captivated by her spunky charm—and physically drawn to her sexy body.

      If he hadn’t been in pain, and if every one of his muscles weren’t drained from battling a tornado, he СКАЧАТЬ