KIDNAPPED COWBOY (4 page)

It wasn’t her fault she was petite.  A few scant inches over five feet.  And next to his towering height, she felt even smaller.

“Okay,” she said with a resigned sigh.  “Just give me a minute.  I’ll think of some way to get you out of those cuffs.”

“Don’t do us any favors,” he said as he sank back down onto the sofa.  “I’ve seen firsthand how well your plans work.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” she snapped in frustration.

He leaned back as much as he could manage in his handcuffed state and stretched out a long, denim clad leg.  “Let’s start by making a call.  Grab your cell phone.”

She swallowed hard.  “You’ve changed your mind about calling the police?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.  “I’m gonna call my brother and let him know we’re stranded out here.  Otherwise, we’ll be stranded out here until the road out is drivable.  And without it being plowed it could be days before that happens.”

“Days?” she gasped.  “I can’t be stuck here that long.”

“And you think I can?  I have horses to tend to.  Brandon can send out one of the ranch plow trucks to clear the road for us in the morning.”

“In the morning?”

“They sure as hell aren’t gonna attempt it tonight.  Not with the snow still coming down like it is.”

She glanced toward the window.  He was right.  The weather was getting worse if anything.  Since Stoney Brook was located several miles outside of the town on private land, and the retreat was only operational during the summer months, the road leading to the camp’s cabins was never plowed. 

Just her luck.  A freak snowstorm in April.

Turning, she walked over to the table where her belongings were strewn out and picked up her cell phone.  She held it out to Dalton.  “Here you go.”

He looked down at the phone she held in her hand and then back up at her, his dark blue eyes narrowing questioningly.  “You’re kidding, right?”

Her gaze dropped down the front of his black leather jacket to where his arms disappeared behind him.  “Oh, sorry,” she said, smiling sheepishly.  “I’ll dial for you.”

“That’d help.  Brandon’s number is─”

She held up a hand to stop him.  “No need.  I have it memorized.  For all the good it’s done me.  And you can pretty much guarantee he’s not gonna answer my call.”

“Look, the last thing I thought I’d be doing tonight was defending his brother, but what you’re saying doesn’t make sense.  Brandon is an astute businessman.  I can’t imagine him intentionally ignoring your calls.  There has to be some sort of explanation for it.”

“There is,” she replied, flipping open the palm-size cell phone.  “Money.”

He shook his head.  “Brandon has money.  I don’t think that’s the reason.”

“Then your guess is as good as mine.”  She started to punch in the numbers that were so clearly embedded in her mind and then paused, her finger resting on the unlit number pad.  “Shoot.”

“Shoot?”  He drew back his leg and shifted to face her.  “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

She bit at her lower lip as she lifted her gaze to his.  “The battery’s dead.”

He hung his head with a frustrated sigh.  “Okay, so plug it in and charge it.”

“I can’t.”  She shrugged.

“Don’t tell me.”

“I don’t have the charger with me.”

“Car charger?”

“Nope.”

“And why would you have a charger with you?” he grumbled.  “It’s not like you planned to get snowed in here with your captive.”

“No, of course not.”  She sighed in dismay.  “I should’ve gone upstairs to my apartment after my shift at the diner ended and thought things out a little more.  Then none of this complicated mess would have happened.”

“Ethel’s Diner?”

She nodded.  “I wait tables there when the retreat is closed.” 

“They don’t let you handle the knives, do they?”

“Real funny.”

He grinned.  “Sorry, couldn’t resist.  So how about the cabin?”  He scanned the room.  “Surely it has a phone.”

“It does,” she replied with little enthusiasm.

“Great.”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Unfortunately, it’s only connected during the summer months when the camp is in use,” she admitted, biting nervously at her bottom lip.

“Of all the...”  He muttered several more expletives before dropping back against the sofa with a groan.

She had to do something to right her wrong. 
Come on, Caitlin, think.

She looked around anxiously, scanning the cabin for something, anything that would get them out of the mess she had gotten them into.  Her gaze settled on the utility drawer across the room.

“That’s it,” she exclaimed as she sprang to her feet.

Dalton’s head snapped around.  “What’s it?”

“I’ve got it!”

He looked up at her, a dark brow arched inquiringly.  “And
it
would be?”

She set her phone back on the table with the rest of her things.  “I just remembered that there’s a hand saw in the utility drawer.”

“A saw?”

“Yes,” she replied excitedly, her smile widening.  “We can use one of the fire logs and set it upright on the floor.  Then you can kneel in front of it and rest the cuff chain over the end of the log while I saw through it.  I’ve seen it done in-”

“The movies,” he finished for her in a clearly mocking tone.

“Yes.”

He exhaled with agitation.  “Anyone ever tell you that you watch way too many movies?”

She was tempted to tell him that’s what women do who have no social life, but decided to keep that tidbit of information to herself.  “It just so happens I enjoy watching movies.”

“Yeah, well, I happen to like my hands attached to my body, so I think I’ll pass on that plan of yours.  We’ll have to come up with something else.”

She walked over to the window and stared out into the night.  The frosty windowpanes rattled in protest of the gusting winds outside.  “Suit yourself.”

“I intend to.”

She ran a finger along the timeworn grooves in the windowsill and took in the musky scent of the aging cabin.  “Fine.  Forget it.  Just don’t come crying to me when you have to use the little boy’s room.  You’re on your own there, cowboy.”

Damn.

He hadn’t given that part of his predicament any thought.  His gaze shot back to the auburn haired waif at the window.  He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask her for assistance in doing
that.
  But the mention of it had just reminded his body of how much tequila he had put down that night.

Dalton shifted uncomfortably, wondering just how long a man could hold
it
before
it
finally came out his ears.  “It looks like all we can do is kick back and wait the storm out,” he said, trying to sound more relaxed than he felt at that particular moment.  

Her soft sigh echoed through the tiny cabin as Caitlin turned from the window.  “I suppose you’re right.  It is nearly the end of April.  A storm this time of the year can’t last that long, can it?”

He cast a glance in the direction of the rumbling pane.  Thick, wet flakes clung fiercely to the window outside.  “I hate to be the one to burst your bubble of hope, but it’s not how long it snows.  It’s how much.”

She turned her attention back to the storm outside.  Auburn curls, still damp from the gusting snow, settled limply over her shoulder.  “But this late in the year?”

“These kinds of storms are unpredictable.  And that one is putting down heavy, wet snow with an ice mix.  The kind that takes down phone and electric lines.”

“And makes travel nearly impossible,” she added with a groan as she turned to face Dalton.

“That too.”

Just then, the cabin light flickered, threatening to leave them in the dark.  She gasped.  “Oh, no.”

“Just great,” he muttered, shaking his head.  Could this night get any worse?  “That’s all we’d need is for the electricity to go out.”

“There’s a flashlight in the drawer.  I’ll get it.”  She hastened across the room and began rummaging through the drawers in search of it.

A minute later she returned, smiling victoriously.  “Found it.”

“That’ll work,” he said as he eyed the flashlight in her hand.

“Good, because it’s all we have.”

“It does have batteries in it, doesn’t it?” he asked, looking up at her.  One never knew the way things were going for him that night.

She smiled.  “Yes, it has batteries.”  She flicked it on to show it worked.  “Now what do we do?”

He shrugged.  “Not much we can do at this point.  Hopefully, when they go to plow the main street they’ll call Brandon to move his truck.

She bent to place another log on the fire.  “Do you think your brother will be worried about you, disappearing the way you did?”

Dalton couldn’t help but laugh.  “Brandon?  Hardly.  Knowing my brother, he’ll be ranting about my leaving his truck out in this snowstorm.”

Caitlin’s soft gasp blended with the crackling of the glowing fire.  “You think he’d be more worried about his truck than you?”

He nodded.  “My brother’s pretty particular about his truck.”

Green eyes studied him from beneath thick, black lashes.  “I take it you two don’t get along very well.”

“Let me put it this way.  Brandon and I are like night and day.  We meet in the middle but for the most part our lives are separate.”

Caitlin stood, slipping off her coat.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You are?”  Not the response he’d expected.

“Yes.  You have no idea how lucky you are to have a brother.  Even if he is the town ogre.”

He chuckled.  “You want mine?  You can have him.”

“I’d rather have appendicitis,” she blurted out, then promptly blushed.

Dalton tossed his head back with a roar of laughter, drowning out the sound of the storm outside.  “Keep that up,” he choked out, “and I’m gonna split a gut.  And by the way, those are my thoughts exactly, but unfortunately I’m stuck with him.”

He watched as she walked over to hang her coat on a hook by the door and then settle onto the far end of the sofa. 

“Dalton...” she said almost hesitantly.

“Yeah?” he muttered as he watched her tuck her slender, denim covered legs beneath her. 

“Why don’t you and your brother get along?” 

Sexy.
  That was all he seemed to be able to focus on as Caitlin settled in beside him. 
Damned sexy.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she said, bringing him from his thoughts.  Thoughts he shouldn’t be having. 

“What?”

“Why you and your brother don’t get along,” she explained, her wide, green eyes studying him with curious intensity.

He shrugged.  “Typical birth ranking stuff.  Brandon, being the ‘big’ brother, thinks he can run my life.”

Her gaze moved over him in a clearly assessing manner.  Then she looked up, her eyes meeting his.  “You know, I find it almost impossible to believe that anyone could push a man your size around.”

He grinned at that.  “I said he
thinks
he can, not that he’s succeeded in doing so.”

Truth was Brandon was nowhere near as bad as people in Lone Tree made him out to be.  His problem was that he was just like their father had been - all work and no play.  Undoubtedly, the reason their mother left all those years ago.  She flat-out got tired of being second best.

Caitlin leaned back against the sofa, amusement flickering in her eyes.  “Sounds like I had better keep you prisoner here to protect you from your big bad brother.”

“I can take care of myself where Brandon is concerned,” he replied with a wide grin.  “But thanks for the offer.”

She smiled.  “You’re welcome.” 

Dalton’s gaze drifted downward.  To that smile.  Those lips.  The urge to kiss her again was nearly overwhelming.  Maybe it was a good thing he was still wearing handcuffs or he’d drag her up against him and do just that.

“Are you hot?” she asked softly.

His mouth quirked.  “Excuse me?”

“With your coat on,” she clarified, the color deepening in her cheeks.  “I thought with the fire going you might be getting warm.” 

He glanced down at the black leather jacket he wore, the one he had purchased in Waco the fall before.  While it should have been, it wasn’t the fire or his coat making him hot.  It was her.  “Yeah, maybe a little.”

              “Would you like me to take your coat off for you?” she asked, and then frowned.  “At least, as far off as the cuffs allow.”

He highly doubted removing his coat was going to ease his discomfort.  The heat he was experiencing was lower.  But if it eased her guilt, he’d go with it.  Leaning away from the sofa, he accepted her offer.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”  She scooted closer, slipping her fingers under the heavy, leather jacket as she pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms.  “It’s the least I can do after all the trouble I’ve caused you tonight.”

He closed his eyes as she leaned over him, far too tempted to sample those full, pink lips once more.  But, even without seeing her, the scent of her, all soft and sweet like wild flowers after a spring rain, continued to torture his senses.

“There,” she said and then promptly returned to her place at the far end of the sofa much to his disappointment.  “Any better?  If not, we could switch places so you won’t be as close to the fire.”

Opening his eyes, Dalton forced his gaze to the red-orange flames flickering in the hearth, trying to think of something other than the woman seated so close to him.  A seemingly impossible feat with Caitlin’s alluring scent still lingering in the air around him.

“No, I’m fine.”

Why hadn’t he chosen to become a magician instead of a bull rider?  At least then he’d be able to get out of these cuffs and kiss her like he wanted to do.  Not for punishment, but for pleasure.

“Maybe you could stand and slip your hands down behind you until you can step back through the cuffs.  You’d me more comfortable with your hands in front of you.”

No kidding.

He turned to her with an incredulous look.  “I’m not a contortionist, Caitlin.  Though I am beginning to feel like one.”