Texas Bossa Nova (Texas Montgomery Mavericks Book 5) (8 page)

She sagged into a relaxed position as he worked the soreness out of her shoulder and then moved his fingers up her neck. The tension there was surprising. It felt like he was rubbing a board.

“Wow, Magda. You need some serious rubbing.”

Turning her head to look over her shoulder, she said, “There are just so many things wrong with that statement, I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Well, since you made me promise no dirty talk, I’ll go directly to the suggestion that you need to hit the Garden of Eden Spa in town.”

“And how do you know anything about the Garden of Eden?”

“I get around.”

She chuckled. “I bet you do.” She pulled away and stood. “Thanks,” she said, rotating her shoulder. “Feels much better.” She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “Stick me with a fork, ’cause I’m done. See you in the morning. Night.”

“Night,” he said to her back as she walked away.

He loved that Magda was quick to pitch in any way she could to help keep the ranch running. Cleaning stalls was a horrible job, and yet there she was, pitchfork in hand, ready to shovel manure. He loved her cooking, be it a meal or even a microwaved cookie treat. Coming home exhausted and walking in to a dinner ready to eat had brightened more horrible days than he could count.

He loved that the house always smelled like lemons after she dusted and that she sang while she cleaned.

He loved how his life had changed since she’d come back into it. She made him laugh with her irreverent comments and groan with her horrible jokes. She made him happy.

But in love with Magda? No. That couldn’t be right, could it?

Chapter Nine

Magda was cold. Very cold. A shiver shook her as she pulled her blanket and bedspread up to her chin and snuggled down in the sheets. She was dropping off when a pounding at her door woke her. Confusion was her first reaction, followed by squinting. Why was it so bright in her bedroom?

“Magda? Wake up.”

The last time Reno had banged at her door, Darren had had the accident. Zeb jumped to the front of her mind. Had something happened?

She scrambled from the bed and scurried to the door to open it. “What’s happened? Is it Zeb?”

“Zeb? No, no. We have no electricity. Power lines must be down.”

“Oh.” She scrubbed her face and stopped. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

“Damn it. I overslept.”

“No problem. I noticed you hadn’t gotten up when I went down to the kitchen a couple of hours ago. I turned the horses out for some exercise.”

“In this weather? Isn’t that dangerous?”

He smiled. “No. They’ll do just fine. But I was surprised when I got back and my coffee wasn’t waiting on me.”

“Oh, gosh. Sorry. Give me a minute and I’ll get going.”

“Slow down, Mags. I’m just kidding. I know how to make coffee on the gas stove. That isn’t the issue. The problem is I don’t know how long we’ll be without power. I’m taking Gordo down the road until I find the problem. Either I’ll be right back or I’ll be gone for a while. Can you check on the horses in about an hour? Just make sure they’re okay. The barn door is open so they can go in if they want, but don’t be surprised if they are outside. It’s fine. But take a look. Oh, and can you get a fire going in the fireplace? I opened the flue so it’s ready. This old house is going to get mighty cold without heat.”

“Done and done,” she said. “Take your cell phone in case you need anything.”

“Done,” he said, repeating her words with a grin. “This is going to be pioneer living for a day or so.”

“We’ll pretend we’re camping,” she said.

“You used to go camping?”

“No, but I did say pretend.”

He chuckled. “I’m gone. See you when I see you.”

Electing warmth over panache, Magda dressed in heavy socks, sweat pants, two tank tops and a thick flannel shirt. Dragging out a pair of unbelievably ugly, but deliciously warm, fuzzy house shoes, she went to the living room to hone her fire-building skills.

She ripped pages from Darren’s oldest issue of
Ranchers
magazine and stuffed them under the fireplace andirons. Hopefully, none of the pages held the secret grail to instant financial wealth. Reno had left some kindling in the front of the firewood box for easy access, which meant she didn’t have to actually leave the house to find some. She promised herself she’d be nicer to him for that.

The flame leapt from the tip of the match to the paper and began to greedily eat away at the print. The kindling snapped and cracked as the fire began licking the bark. Before long, the one match flame had spread itself over the kindling. Magda added some smaller, dry wood pieces, which caught the fire easily. She continued to feed the snapping fire and before long, she was able to place the first log on.

While that last piece of wood lured the fire its way, she headed to the kitchen to see what she could do about coffee. Without power, Mr. Coffee was dead in the water.

But luckily for her, and Reno, one of the useful skills she’d learned on the streets was the talent of boiled coffee. It took the right amount of boiling to get the coffee to the right color, and thus correct strength, but right now, just hot water would help toast her insides.

The kitchen stove was propane fueled, so they weren’t without resources. However, everything else—refrigerator, heat, hot-water tank, laundry—were all electric. Apparently, as the older appliances had to be replaced, the previous owner had moved away from gas to electric. Right now, Magda would kick his ass if he were here, or if she knew who he was. At least they had a stove, so they wouldn’t starve. And with the temperatures outside, anything needing refrigeration could go on the porch. Somewhere from the recesses of her mind, she remembered something about not opening the deep freezer after a power outage and that the frozen foods would stay frozen for a few days. She couldn’t remember how long, but that was a problem for another day. For now, the plan was survive today and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

She turned on the kitchen faucet for coffee water and nothing happened. “Damn. Frozen pipes.” But after checking the bathrooms, she found no running water anywhere in the house. Then realization smacked her upside her head. They were on a well. The well required electricity to pump, thus they had no water.

So it’d be melted snow and ice converted to coffee or no coffee. Really? Was there any question what she was going to do?

She changed into her heavy boots and tromped outside. The snow was halfway up her calf, allowing the wet stuff to ooze down into her boots. She wasn’t a happy camper.

Deciding that the snow on the hood of Reno’s truck—that he hadn’t parked in the carport and should have—would probably be the cleanest, she packed a Dutch oven to heaping full and headed back in. By this time of the day, without her morning caffeine chugging through her system, she had the temperament of a momma grizzly with new cubs. In other words, nobody better fuck with her.

Since hauling in snow was a hassle and any resulting water might be too precious to waste, she moved some of the fresh snow into another pot. That way, as the snow melted, she wouldn’t lose any to drips down the sides of the Dutch.

She set the snow-packed pot on the stove, the propane flame providing not only the heat for melting but also the only heat in the kitchen. While the snow melted, she checked the fireplace and was pleased to find a small fire burning steadily. She added a large back log and a front log, and put a medium log between. Another skill learned from the streets…how to build a fire that will keep you warm all night.

The water was simmering when she got back. She measured out the coffee grounds while she waited for the water to boil. Making coffee would have been so much easier if there had been an old-fashioned percolator, but this would do. When the water boiled, she poured in the grounds and let the mixture continue to bubble until she got the dark color she liked. When it was finally dark enough, she set the pot off to the side to let the grounds settle and checked on the fire again. Heat was seeping into the room.

She shut off the upstairs rooms and what she could of the downstairs area to keep as much heat in one localized vicinity. As she was closing her bathroom door, she realized Reno had been gone for quite some time. She opened her bedroom door to check her clock and then realized what she was doing. No power meant no clock.

Her cell phone was in the kitchen, with her coffee, so she headed back there. The battery on her cell was still full and the coffee was settled enough to pour a cup that would have minimal grounds to chew.

She poured her coffee first, sure Reno would be walking in the door any minute and probably stealing her first cup of hot, wonderfully hot, nirvana. Checking the time on her phone did not ease her concern about Reno’s absence. He’d been gone close to two hours. She could call, but then he’d be irritated if she interrupted something like she had last week when he’d dropped a bale of hay in the barn trying to answer her call.

With only the two of them living in the house, she didn’t really have that much to do. Plus, even if she wanted to do housework, dusting was probably the limit. A wet mop would probably freeze to the floor, not to mention she was not going to use her coffee water to clean floors.

The horses. She’d forgotten to check on the horses.

She shoved her feet back into heavy boots, grabbed Darren’s old cowboy hat off the wall peg, tossed on her coat and headed to the pasture closest to the barn. In her mind, she pictured four horses frozen solid, standing in the field because she’d been more concerned about her coffee than their poor plight.

Yeah, not hardly. The horses were not only
not
frozen, they were playing. Sam was on his back, rolling in the snow. Archie and Layla were running up and down the fence line in what looked like a game of tag. Of course, they weren’t, right? Jasmine was nickering and tossing her head and mane around as though this was the greatest day ever.

Dumb horses. Didn’t they realize Texas wasn’t supposed to have snow like this?

Since everybody was outside and happy, Magda checked their stalls to see if they needed mucking, not that mucking came close to the highlight of her life. Reno must have been in earlier. The stalls were clean and food troughs full. The water buckets had frozen, however.

It took a while, but she found a hammer to use to bust up the icy water. She learned quickly that the water wasn’t frozen that solid when she smashed through the first one and got splashed. Lesson learned, and she was so glad there was no one—Reno—here to see that.

Apparently, to the horses, her arrival meant treats. It’d taken about a day and a half for them to learn that Magda had apples. One by one, they walked into the barn, greeted her, took an apple and left…right back outside to the snow. Everybody seemed happy, so she left the door open for them and went back to the house for coffee and some heat.

At close to one in the afternoon, her worry about Reno clawed at her gut. Like the frozen horses from her earlier fears, now she pictured Reno lying in a ditch, his leg broken—no, wait. She thought for a minute. Concussion. He was lying in a ditch with a concussion, covered in snow and dying while she drank coffee and stoked a warm fire. If she pissed him off by calling, so be it.

She’d just started scrolling for his number when the back door slammed shut.

“Damn it to hell and back.”

Reno was home.

Reno ringed his hat on a wall hat peg.

“Two points.”

Magda stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, a steaming mug of something cradled in her hands. If his nose didn’t deceive, it was coffee.

“I was outside the three-point line.”

She chuckled. “Three points then.” She moved on into the room. “Want coffee?”

“Like I want to breathe.”

The flame under the kettle on the stove was barely on, but it was enough that when Magda poured, a delectable aroma accompanied the steam. While she was pouring, he took the time to remove his heavy coat, scarf and gloves. The coat and scarf joined his hat on wall pegs. The gloves, he set on the counter.

She passed him a cup of coffee. “Here. You look like you need this.”

He wrapped his stiff fingers around the mug, letting the heat penetrate the cold.

“One more thing,” he said. “I’m not leaving my boots outside tonight, I don’t care what’s on them. And if I find them in the evergreen in the morning, I’ll…I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do. I won’t kick the ass of a lady like I would Darren’s, so just don’t do it.” Firing her for such a transgression wasn’t on his radar either. However, mucking came to mind. She did hate that. But the shoulder massage he’d given her had been almost too much for his cock last night.

She pointed to the corner, where a couple of rugs and towels were under a pair of rugged hiking boots. “Me neither. I made us a spot.”

“Good,” he said. He sat on a kitchen chair to remove his boots and then set them next to hers. His socks were damp. Ah, hell, they were more like soaking wet. He jerked them off and tossed them alongside his boots.

“Idiot. Your toes are going to freeze and fall off,” she said and hurried out of the room.

To him, the house felt as pleasant as a June day compared to what he’d been out in all day. He walked barefooted to the living room and saw the snapping and cracking fire. The warmth in here felt like heaven. He turned his frozen ass toward the flame to give it a good toasting.

Magda came down the stairs carrying two pairs of thick socks. “Do you even have a pair of warm house shoes? Your toes must be little icicles.”

Reno rolled his eyes up as he thought. House shoes. What had happened to them? He snapped his fingers. “I did have some,” he said as he caught the rolled socks she tossed to him. “Seems like I might have left them somewhere.” He remembered where he’d left them. He just didn’t want to tell Magda another woman had worn them home the morning after since she hadn’t wanted to put on her high heels. Nor that he hadn’t seen that chick since and probably wouldn’t, which meant his house shoes were long gone.

“Hmm. I’m thinking some woman’s house,” she said with a grin.

Good Lord. The woman was a mind reader. He must have looked stunned, because she started laughing and wagged a finger at him. “Watch out for those women who borrow a man’s clothing to wear home,” she warned. “It’s a ploy to get you to come get them.”

He nodded. “I’ll remember that.” He gulped his coffee. “Guess those shoes are gone forever.”

“Hungry?”

“Starved. What’s in the fridge?”

“Not a thing.”

“What?” His eyes popped open wide.

“I said, not a thing.” She winked. “Everything’s outside on the porch. I decided it would all stay colder out there. But don’t open the deep freezer. It’ll hold for at least seventy-two hours if we leave it alone. But I figure we’ll have power by then.”

Reno rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“Maybe I’d better sit down for the bad news.” Magda sank into the sofa cushions and tucked her feet under her. “Okay. Shoot.”

He blew out a long breath and joined her on the couch, making sure the back of his head was out of slap range. She was not going to be happy with his news.

“I took Gordo as far as the downed lines. They are about a half a mile from here.”

“That’s good, right? I mean, you’ve found the downed line. We report it and it gets fixed. Easy.”

“Yeah, well, not so much. Beyond the downed line are a ton of broken branches and trees. Those small limbs breaking last night were just a warning shot from Mother Nature. Before Texas Electrical Co-op can get in to fix the lines, all those downed trees and branches are going to have to be cut up and moved.”