Page 17 of Saddles and Snowstorms (Sagebrush Cowboys #4)

Brooks

T he fire was stoked, and the cabin was a beacon of glowing warmth as the blizzard raged on.

Night came early thanks to the storm, and the world was plunged into darkness.

The television murmured softly in the corner of the room, playing the only staticky channel I could find thanks to the snow.

But neither me nor Rowan were paying much attention to it.

So far, the majority of our time had passed by in a tension filled silence.

I watched Rowan from the corner of my eye as he sat in the worn leather armchair, his long legs stretched toward the fire.

The flames cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and that small scar.

I could tell he didn’t want to be in my cabin, trapped with me for the night.

But I couldn’t help admiring how nice the view was.

Maybe it was selfish, but I was glad he was there. Without him, I’d be dead in the snow.

“You want another?” I gestured to his empty mug, desperate to break the silence that hung between us like a physical thing.

Rowan’s dark green eyes flicked up to mine, appraising. “Sure,” he said finally, his voice low and rough from disuse. “But you’re not getting it. You’re gonna stay right there and rest that sprained ankle. ”

Our fingers brushed as he took my mug, and I felt that same electric current that had been building since that night I’d let him touch me at the diner.

City vet he might be, but Rowan Walsh knew his way around livestock—and had a way of looking at me that made my throat go dry and my sweatpants tighten.

In fact, I was secretly happy he was getting more coffee instead of me because I wasn’t sure I could stand up without being indecent.

His earthy cologne had filled the cabin, and it was having a profound effect on me.

“Some storm,” I offered lamely from my chair. “Lucky you got here when you did.”

His lips quirked in what might have been the beginning of a smile. “Lucky for you ,” he corrected. “You’d be dead by now if I didn’t make it out here. You’re a damn fool for going after that calf in the first place.”

“Steers are how I make my livin’,” I grunted. “I can’t just let my cattle die in the snow.”

He came back, smacking the mug down next to me. “So, you’re okay with just dying for a bit of money?”

“It’s not just money,” I replied, shifting in my seat to hide my growing predicament. “It’s responsibility. Something you city folk might not understand.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened at that, the scar on it catching the firelight. “Don’t presume to know what I understand, cowboy .”

The way he said ‘cowboy’—like it was both an insult and something else entirely—made heat pool in my belly.

He stood there, looming over me, those dark green eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made me wonder if he could see right through me.

Clearly, he was irritated with me and for some reason, it made me want him even more.

“Sorry,” I muttered, breaking eye contact first. “That wasn’t fair.”

Rowan sighed and returned to his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. “No, it wasn’t.”

Another silence fell between us, but this one felt different, charged, like the air before lightning strikes.

I sipped my coffee, watching him over the rim of my mug.

His strong hands were wrapped around his own cup, long fingers tapping against the ceramic.

Those same hands that had examined my ankle with such gentle precision earlier.

“You’re good at what you do,” I said suddenly. “Tending to animals, I mean. And people, I guess.” I cleared my throat, feeling foolish .

Rowan’s expression softened slightly. “I’ve had practice.”

The fire popped loudly, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows in their frames.

“How long you think this’ll last?” I asked, nodding toward the window where snow was piling against the glass.

Rowan shrugged those broad shoulders. “Weather report said it could go all night. Maybe into tomorrow.” His eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. “You might be stuck with me longer than you bargained for.”

My mouth went dry. “I don’t mind the company,” I admitted, the words out before I could stop them.

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “That so?”

I nodded, feeling heat creep up my neck that had nothing to do with the fire. “Gets lonely out here sometimes.”

Rowan set his mug down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The position pulled his henley tight across his chest, revealing the contours of muscle beneath. “I thought you hated me, Brooks.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “I just don’t take to strangers easy.”

Rowan’s eyebrow arched. “I’ve been in Sagebrush for over a month now. I’m still a stranger?”

“You know what I mean.” I shifted in my seat, wincing when I accidentally bumped my ankle. “People come and go. They don’t put down roots. Even those that do… they leave, eventually. Everyone does.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d given away too much. Rowan’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. He stayed quiet for a moment, studying me with an intensity that made me want to look away. But I didn’t.

“Not everyone leaves, Brooks,” he said finally, his voice low. “Some of us are just looking for the right reason to stay.”

I snorted, trying to dismiss the hope that flared in my chest. “That why you’re in Sagebrush? Looking for a reason?”

He took a long sip of his coffee before answering. “I came here because I needed to get away. But staying...” His eyes met mine again. “That’s a different question altogether.”

The wind shrieked outside, throwing snow against the windows like someone was hurling handfuls of sand. The old cabin creaked and groaned around us, but inside, it was warm. Too warm. I tugged at the collar of my flannel shirt.

“Yeah, well… maybe it’s better to just be alone,” I grumbled. “Then you can’t get hurt.”

Rowan’s eyes darkened, and he set his mug down with deliberate care. “Is that what you really believe? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you don’t have to take any risks?”

I glanced away, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. “Ain’t about risks. It’s about knowing how things end.”

“And how’s that?”

“Badly,” I said, my voice low. “Always badly.”

The fire crackled between us, filling the silence. Outside, the wind had stopped its howling, but the snow continued to fall in heavy sheets, insulating us from the rest of the world.

Rowan stood suddenly, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might head for the door, storm be damned. Instead, he crossed the small space between us and lowered himself onto the armrest of my chair, so close I could smell the coffee on his breath.

“Brooks,” he said, his voice gentle in a way I hadn’t heard before. “Look at me.”

I did, reluctantly, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

“Not everything ends badly,” he said. His fingers brushed against mine, igniting a spark in my chest. “Sometimes they can go well.”

“Oh yeah?” I snapped, not wanting to give in to this man I craved so badly. “Is that what happened with you and your ex? The one that got you fired?”

Rowan’s face hardened, the firelight carving shadows into the planes of his face. For a moment, he looked like he might pull away, and I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

“No,” he said finally, his voice low. “That ended exactly as badly as you might imagine. But that doesn’t mean everything has to. And I’m not gonna live in fear because of it.”

His fingers were still touching mine, and despite my harsh words, he didn’t pull away. That small point of contact burned hotter than the fire crackling in the hearth.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “That was a low blow.”

“It was,” Rowan agreed, but his expression softened. “But I understand why you said it.”

He shifted on the armrest, his thigh now pressing against my arm. I could feel the heat of him through his jeans and my flannel shirt. My heart was racing so hard I wondered if he could hear it over the storm.

“You’re scared,” he continued, those green eyes seeing right through me. “So am I.”

I snorted. “You? The fearless city vet who charges into blizzards to save stubborn ranchers?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That’s not courage. That’s just stupidity.”

His face was so close now, I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. My throat went dry.

“Then what are you afraid of?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rowan’s hand moved, sliding over mine with deliberate slowness. His palm was warm and calloused—not the soft hands I’d expected from a city boy. Those were working hands. Healing hands.

“This,” he said simply. “Whatever this is between us.”

The air in the cabin seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. I could hear nothing but the crackling fire and the pounding of my own heart.

“There ain’t nothin’ between us,” I lied, my voice rough.

Rowan’s eyebrow arched. “No?” His thumb traced circles on my wrist, sending shivers up my arm. “Then why does your pulse jump when I touch you? Why do you try so hard not to look at me?”

I swallowed hard, unable to look away from his face. “Rowan?—”

“I’ve seen the way you watch me,” Rowan said, his voice dropping even lower. “When you think I don’t notice.”

My heart jumped into my throat. I couldn’t deny it—not with him this close, not with his scent filling my lungs and his hand on mine. The pretense I’d maintained since he arrived in Sagebrush was crumbling like a sandcastle in the tide.

“Maybe I do,” I admitted, my voice rough. “Don’t mean anything has to come of it. ”

Rowan’s fingers tightened slightly around mine. “And if I want something to come of it?”

The fire popped loudly in the hearth, sending shadows dancing across his face. His eyes were dark with something I recognized because I felt it too—hunger, raw and undeniable.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” I warned, even as my body betrayed me, leaning imperceptibly closer to his. “I ain’t good at... this. People.”

“I’m not asking for forever, Brooks,” Rowan said, though something in his eyes made me wonder if that was entirely true. “Just tonight. Just... this.”

His words hung in the air between us, tangible as smoke. Something deep in my chest constricted, a feeling I hadn’t allowed myself in years.

“Just tonight,” I repeated, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.

Rowan nodded, but there was uncertainty in his eyes now. “Unless...”

I didn’t let him finish. Maybe it was the storm isolating us from the world, or the fire warming my blood, or just the way he looked at me—like I was something worth wanting.

Whatever it was, I found myself reaching up, my calloused fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw, tracing the line of that scar I’d been staring at for weeks.

His breath hitched, eyes darkening as they locked with mine.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmured, even as my thumb traced his bottom lip.

“Probably,” Rowan agreed, his voice rough. “Want me to stop?”

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

That was all it took. Rowan moved from the armrest, careful of my injured ankle as he lowered himself onto my lap, his weight settling against me in a way that drew a groan from my lips.

The heat of his ass pressed against my groin made all my nerves come alive.

I went from half to rock hard in an instant and I knew he felt it.

“Can… Can we do this slowly?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “It… It’s been a long time.”

Rowan reached up, cupping my cheek and turning me to face him, those green eyes boring into my soul. “We can go at whatever pace you want, Brooks. We’ve got all night. ”

The last little bit of reluctance I had melted away. He was right, we were all alone with no chance of being found out or interrupted. If I was looking for a single night to give in without consequences, this was my chance. It was now or never.

With a deep breath, I gave in.