Page 41 of CowSex

Reggie.

If I don’t answer, I’m confident that he’ll just keep calling, and then I won’t be able to listen to my tunes while I shower. So, I listen to my inner bitch and block both his mobile and work numbers before heading to the bathroom.

A half hour later, still wrapped in a towel, I take a peek out of my bedroom window. The strange scraping noise I’d heard earlier has been replaced by the sound of an engine running.

It actually isn’t snowing today, the sky is a beautiful pale blue, and the sun is shining brightly. Out on the drive is one of those huge, American style—which makes total sense because I am in America—pickup trucks. Attached to the front of it is one of those blade type things that you’d see on the front of a snowplough. The truck is moving back and forth in such a way that it’s pushing all the snow from the drive and onto what I assume is grass.

I can’t see who’s behind the wheel, as the windows are tinted black, but I hazard a guess that it’s Koa. I struggle with my one good hand to dress in jeans, a thermal top, a jumper, and my snow jacket, gloves, beanie, and sunglasses but get there in the end. I then head downstairs to investigate.

When I step outside onto the evil veranda of death, I instinctively hold on to my right arm. Memories of how it had tried to take me out just a few days ago still manage to leave me feeling a tad traumatised.

Even though the whole area has been cleared of snow and salt has been spread out, I still give it a death look as I slowly make my way down the stairs to the walkway, which has been cleared all the way to the drive.

I lean against the fence that runs around the edge of the EVoD—Evil Veranda of Death—and watch the truck until it disappears around a bend in the drive. I angle my face up to the sky and breathe in the cold, crisp air. My nose tingles, and I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the temperature. Zero. A big fat nought degree Celsius. Despite feeling warm and toasty in my highly fashionable, yet practical and perfectly coordinated winter get up, I shiver.

A few seconds later, the truck reappears and makes its approach slowly towards the cabin, stopping right in front of me.

Moments pass before Koa climbs out of the driver’s side. While I was showering, I thought about how this would go. I wondered if he would be embarrassed about breaking down the way he did last night, or if he would pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe we’d just carry on as we were before, him giving me whiplash as he switched from sweet and gentle to almost aggressive.

“Anything I can do to help?” I call out.

“About done now, Essex. Could have used your help about two hours ago, but you were still snoring on my couch. Even if you weren’t, not sure that you’d be a lot of use to me with just one hand.”

He moves around the front of the vehicle and out of sight. I make my way tentatively down the steps—not forgetting that they, too, attempted to assassinate my arse, literally—and move towards him.

He’s focused on removing the snowplough extension thing from the truck, and when it’s finally detached, he allows it to fall safely to the ground.

“You’d be amazed at what I can achieve with one hand, Cowboy.”

He’s wearing mirrored aviators, and when he turns his head to look at me, he uses one finger to slide them down his nose, his brown eyes land on mine as they peer over the top.

“Is that right, Essex?”

“Truth,” I tell him, feeling brazen.

He licks his perfectly plump bottom lip and then drags his teeth over it before pushing his glasses back up his nose and straightening.

He’s wearing jeans, a khaki green North Face jacket, and the kind of chunky, square-toed boots you’d expect to see Jax Teller wearing onSons of Anarchy. They’re so fucking hot that I have to swallow down the heat that’s rising in my belly.

The slouchy beanie covering his head is the sexiest I’ve ever seen on a man and does nothing to douse the flames of desire licking at my insides.

“I’m gonna head into town and stock up on supplies, you wanna come with?”

“I...erm, yeah, sure. If you don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t be inviting you if it were a problem, now would I?”

His tone is a little abrupt, not playful or teasing the way it was last night, so I decide to dish it back.

“I don’t know, Koa, would you?”

He tilts his head to the side, and I assume he looks at me. I can’t actually be sure of this, though, because his sunglasses are hiding his eyes, and I hate it.

“No, Essex, I wouldn’t.”

“Fair enough, let me just grab my purse, and I’ll be with you.”

As soon as I’m safely back inside, I quickly run back to my room, grab what I need, and head back.