Chapter 5

Nikki didn’t like washing down a PB &J with water, but that’s all she had. What she wouldn’t give to have an ice-cold glass of milk.

At least her stomach wasn’t growling anymore. Not exactly five-star cuisine. This was definitely roughing it.

After brushing the crumbs off her hands, she went to her car and retrieved her suitcases from the trunk. She wanted to have most of her things inside before it got too dark.

A shiver of dread ran down her spine. Staying in the middle of nowhere by herself at night didn’t hold a bit of appeal. At least in the city, she knew what to expect. This country quiet was more than a little unnerving.

She carried her cases inside and set them down in front of the bedroom door. Hadn’t she left it open? Apparently not, or it would still be open. Her short laugh was supposed to reassure her, but it came off sounding a little cracked. There were no such things as ghosts. Cal had probably shut the door when he left and she hadn’t noticed.

But after she opened it, she stood there for a moment looking around before she picked up her cases and went inside. Of course the room was empty. Really, what had she expected? A ghost to jump out and scream, “Boo!”?

But it still didn’t stop the cold inside the room from washing over her-a damp, muggy feeling.

“I’m really losing it,” she muttered.

She carried the cases over to the bed and set them down, then sniffed.

What was that smell? She sniffed again. It smelled like apple pie. She closed her eyes and inhaled a little deeper. Nice. Just as quickly she opened them, realizing just how ridiculous she was being.

This was what happened when she didn’t take off time from work. The next time she spoke to Marge, Nikki was going to tell her she wanted a real vacation and she didn’t care what her parents thought. She was a big girl.

The bedroom didn’t look too bad. She’d removed the two sheets that had protected the mattress from dust. There was bedding in one of the boxes. It took her only a few minutes to make the antique iron bed. It looked comfortable, almost cozy.

Whatever she had to tell herself.

She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. The evening stretched before her. Boredom had never been a problem. She always had an invitation to go to a party or something. Friends, good wine, good food-her nights would stretch into the wee hours of the morning.

She glanced at her watch again. Three and a half minutes had passed.

So now what did she do? Unpack?

There was an armoire, and when she cautiously looked inside, she found hangers. No critters. But when she opened her suitcases, she realized she’d brought all the wrong clothes. She had two pair of slacks that would work, but she was afraid the dresses and her loungewear wouldn’t do at all. She certainly didn’t want to ruin the expensive clothes she’d worked hard to buy. Maybe the last town she’d driven through would have something more suitable.

She sat on the side of the bed, the energy suddenly draining from her. What was she doing out here? Really. Was she chasing after a story or a man-or something more? Sometimes she felt as though her life wasn’t complete. Which was crazy. She’d traveled all over the world; she had an exciting job; she dated, went to lots of parties.

It was because she was almost thirty. That had to be it. She was getting old.

Enough! She wasn’t getting old; her biological clock could tick all it wanted because she wasn’t keen on having kids or getting married anytime soon, if ever. She stood and quickly went back to unpacking.

Why the hell was she even thinking like this? Hormones? No, that was over last week. Allergies? Maybe she was allergic to all this country air. That had to be it. Once she was back in the city, she wouldn’t have time to be morose.

She closed the suitcases after unpacking what she thought she could use, then stuck them under the bed before wandering to the front porch. The rocker looked safe enough. She dusted it off, then gingerly sat in it and gave a gentle push with her foot. At least it didn’t collapse beneath her.

Silence.

No, there was another sound. The rumble of a pickup. She stayed where she was as the sound grew closer. Then the pickup came around the corner, headlights glaring at her.

Excitement made her heart beat faster, but she kept her seat. Outwardly, she knew she looked calm. She watched as the pickup came to a stop.

Cal.

He killed the engine and got out, then reached in the back. Her gaze moved south. She liked the way his jeans stretched taut over his backside.

Nice. Very nice.

He turned, grasping an ice chest by the end handles. “Your block of ice. I brought some perishables, too. They’re in the back.”

She had a feeling that meant she was supposed to carry them inside. His gallantry took her breath away.

Not that it made that much difference. Her parents had always taught her to carry her own weight. Even though they had plenty of money, she had her own chores when she was growing up. It didn’t bother her a bit to carry in the other box. She was not a frail female-well, unless there were wild critters around.

She grabbed the open box, glancing at the contents as she carried it inside the cabin. Butcher paper. Meat? Probably. Catsup, mustard, and mayo. No butter. No eggs. She frowned. Eggs would’ve been nice. Butter, too. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to cook an egg.

Cal was just putting the block of ice in the box when she walked inside the kitchen.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you in the morning.” He started back through the cabin.

“You’re leaving?” She set her box on the table. “Right now?”

He stopped on the porch and studied her. She could feel her nipples tightening as his gaze slowly caressed her.

“Was there something else you wanted?” he drawled.

Maybe it was the way he’d said the words, all soft and lazy. It made her think he would stay if he had the right incentive. But what else did she want?

Cal in her bed, that was what else she wanted, but she didn’t tell him that. He looked a little too smug. She wasn’t sure what his game was, but she wasn’t playing, at least not this time.

“Is it always this quiet?” she asked instead.

“Quiet?”

She thought for a moment he’d leave, but instead, he half sat on the wooden rail that ran the length of the porch. “It’s not quiet at all. Listen.”

She did but still didn’t hear anything. She shook her head. “What am I listening for?”

“A sparrow is angry. Another bird is probably trying to steal her nest. Can you hear her?”

She cocked her head to the side. The bird was raising a big fuss. “Yes, I can.” Strange that she hadn’t heard any birds earlier. “She does sound put out, doesn’t she?”

“And look over there in that pile of leaves and sticks. There’s a squirrel foraging for nuts.”

She followed where he pointed and stared for a few minutes. It was getting dark enough that she could barely see. But sure enough, a squirrel popped its head up.

“The chickens have already bedded down for the night,” he told her. “But you’ll see and hear them in the morning when you gather the eggs.”

“Gather the eggs?”

“They have nesting boxes. It’s not that hard. You just reach beneath them and take the eggs.”

Eggs didn’t sound nearly as good as she had thought they would. “Don’t they bite…or something?”

He grinned as though she’d said something funny. How the hell was she supposed to know what chickens did?

“They might peck, but most of them don’t mind if you get their eggs.”

She was stealing their eggs, then eating them. Murdering their offspring. Of course, they probably wouldn’t mind. Uh-huh, sure.

“See you in the morning.” He straightened and went to his pickup.

She couldn’t think of another excuse for him to stay and keep her company. Unless she wanted to rip off her clothes and throw herself at him. She wasn’t quite that desperate-yet.

Nikki could only watch him drive away. At least it wasn’t quiet anymore. No, now she heard all kinds of animals making noise, rustling in leaves. Critters. She missed the quiet.

She went inside and walked to the back door, then stared at the shadowed outhouse. She’d have to use the flashlight so she could see the path.

How much water would she need to take in to ward off dehydration but keep her from having to go to the outhouse as often?

Procrastination didn’t sit well with her.

With determination, she grabbed the flashlight and went out onto the back porch. She gritted her teeth and stepped off, then marched down the path. She could do this. It wasn’t as though she was made of glass. Anything Cal said she had to do, she would do. She was made of sterner stuff than he could even imagine.

She swung the door open and stepped inside.

Oh, Lord, it was worse than she’d remembered. Her eyes crossed as a shiver of revulsion made her tremble from head to foot. She clamped her lips together.

All she had to do was hold her breath. She swam at the gym pool all the time and she could hold her breath a long time. She jerked her skirt up and her panties down, then gingerly sat over the hole, careful not to get a splinter. That’s all she needed-an infected ass. Try explaining that one.

Oh, God, she needed to breathe.

Why the hell had she drunk so much water?

She hurried to finish, then yanked her panties up and her skirt down, opened the door, and was halfway down the path before she inhaled. Fresh air.

She stumbled to the back porch, falling across it as she inhaled mouthfuls of sweet air. She finally had her oxygen levels back up to normal and pushed to a sitting position, frowning.

This really sucked.

Bzzzzzz.

She waved her hand in front of her face.

Bzzzzzz.

A mosquito as big as a fly landed on her arm. Nikki swatted it, but his brother attacked her other arm. Great, she’d probably end up with West Nile virus on top of an infected ass!

She jumped to her feet and hurried inside the cabin, closed the door, and reached for the lock. Not that she thought the mosquitoes could open the door, but she wasn’t too keen on burglars or whatever they had in the country. Cattle rustlers, maybe.

No lock. It figured. Not that anyone would have trouble getting inside. Hell, sneeze and the place would probably collapse into a pile of toothpicks.

Marge had told her to come home if things got too bad. Maybe she would take her up on it. She collapsed in the chair, resting her head on the table. Who was she kidding? To leave would be running away and that wasn’t in her character.

So, she’d stay. At least for a while longer.

A bath would help. She felt as though she wore at least one layer of dirt. She leaned sideways and eyed the stove.

Hot bath?

Okay, she’d settle for a cold wash. How bad could it be? Especially if she hurried.

Real bad, she found out a few minutes later. The water was freezing. More so than city water. But she did the best she could, then quickly crawled beneath the quilt on the bed to get warm again.

She was physically and mentally exhausted. She only wanted to sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day.

It damned sure couldn’t be any worse!

She yawned, closing her eyes, then smiled as she immediately visualized Cal sauntering toward her. She snuggled deeper beneath the cover. Umm, nice dream.

“Cock-a-doodle-do!”

Nikki came straight up in bed. She was being robbed! Someone had broken inside her apartment and in the next minute, the robber would be in her room to do all kinds of bodily harm. Her gaze flew around the semi-dark room.

This wasn’t her apartment.

She’d been kidnapped. Drugged and brought to this…this dump.

Escape! She stumbled out of bed, dragging the quilt with her, and rushed outside, almost falling off the porch.

She caught her balance and whipped first to the right, then left. Okay, she hadn’t been kidnapped. She was at the cabin on the dude ranch. But someone had still screamed out…or something.

She had to get out of there. Where were her car keys? Where…

“Cock-a-doodle-do!”

She spun around, almost tripping herself as the quilt tangled with her legs. She kicked it out of the way and shoved her hair out of her eyes.

“Cock-a-doodle-do!”

This was her thief? Her intruder? A friggin’ rooster?

She looked at the sun, which was just barely peeking over the horizon, then back at the blasted bird. He thrust his chest out and pranced back and forth along the top rail of the wooden fence. Several chickens stood on the ground below as if adoring this wonderful spectacle of arrogant feathers.

She jerked the quilt around her shoulders more securely and glared at the feathered Romeo. He drew in a deep breath and let loose with another screeching yodel. The chickens cackled, apparently thinking he’d performed some grand feat.

Enough was enough. She usually slept until at least eight. Her gaze fell to the ground. She smiled, picked up a rock, and when the bird inhaled again, let it fly.

The rooster squawked, fell off the fence, kicked twice, and lay silent.

Oh, crap!

Her hand flew to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to kill the blasted bird, only scare it. In all her life, she’d never murdered anything.

She let the quilt fall and rushed over to the fence. The chickens glared at her. She squatted next to the rooster. Could you do CPR on a bird? She didn’t think she wanted to try. She’d have to live with her guilt.

How proud he’d been prancing along the fence rail, and with good reason. Up close, Nikki could see how magnificent he was. Feathers as bright as a brand-new copper penny, dark red, brilliant orange, emerald green. Sniffing, she gently touched him.

In a flurry of feathers, the rooster leapt up ushering loud noises and flapping his wings. Nikki screamed and jumped to her feet. The rooster turned toward her.

She stepped back.

The bird advanced, no longer prancing but with a slightly off-balance, drunken gait.

Nikki turned and fled back inside the cabin, grabbing the quilt as she went. She scrambled back in bed and pulled the covers over her head.

No utilities. The toilet was outside and smelled horrible. Taking a bath meant she had to risk her life and light the black beast of an oven or wash in ice water. The rooster from hell. Maybe even a ghost-not that she believed in them. She hated it here. She wanted to go back to the city, where toilets flushed and they had real burglars, not some crazy-ass bird!

Was she ready to admit defeat?

She sniffed. Damn it, she wasn’t. Not this early in the game. No, she refused to give up. She only needed a few more hours of sleep.

Life sucked right now, but she would get her story. Scrunching down farther in the bed, she pulled the blanket even higher. Her eyes drifted closed as she yawned.

She didn’t want to think about any of it right now. She wanted to sleep and dream about ivory towers and palaces. Vacationing where they had room service. She snuggled deeper into the feather mattress. Sunning on pristine beaches. Her eyelids drifted downward. She yawned.

And sex.

How long had it been since she’d had sex? Too long. Immediately a dark-haired cowboy with smoldering green eyes filled her mind.

He walked toward her wearing only a hat, cowboy boots and twirling a rope. There he was in all his naked glory. She snuggled the quilt closer to her. Oh, yeah. This was what she wanted to dream about. It was even better than her last dream-more X-rated.

Cal would jerk the quilt away from her and pull her against him. She would caress each and every one of his delicious muscles as her hands roamed over his body.

She moaned, then stifled a yawn. God, she was so tired. Her whole body ached from being jostled when she’d driven down that damned dirt road.

Cal began to fade as she drifted further asleep.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled, but it was already too late. She sighed just before sleep overcame her.

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