Stranded and Straddled

Stranded and Straddled

All Rights Reserved

Stranded and Straddled

Copyright Em Petrova 2013

Amazon Edition

Editor Kierstin Cherry

Cover design by Fantasia Frog Designs

Electronic book publication November 2013

Stranded and Straddled

Born and bred Texan, Trace Allen knew tornadoes. And this was just like a tornado—without the lashing rain. He sat inside his toasty warm Ram truck, watching the snow and ice that pummeled his windshield. An eighty-mile-an-hour wind sliced across the rest stop, and the truck rocked under the assault.

“Hell, when is this gonna let up?” His mutter was all but swallowed by the shriek of the wind. After forty hours of being stranded on the interstate just outside Oklahoma City, he was pretty damn sick of his own company. Who’d a thought a freak snowstorm in March could incapacitate the entire region? A hundred miles slowed to a halt.

Thing was, the rest stop was bursting with other marooned cowboys on the rodeo circuit, along with their wives, groupies, horse wranglers, and even an Uncle Jeb or two. Which was why Trace liked the confines of his truck and travel trailer just fine.

A dark blob suddenly appeared against the blinding white of the blizzard. Dumbass people were still walking around in this? Not a one of them was outfitted for inclement weather. The best Trace had was a drover coat and a pair of leather gloves, and he was lucky. For the twentieth time since the road had been closed, he thanked the higher powers his friend Mark had left with his horses hours before the storm hit. Caring for animals in this would have been impossible.

The form moving toward him swayed as another gust of wind struck her.

Trace squinted through the blowing snow at the insane female. Her hair flew wildly, the long strands made darker by wetness.

“Jesus, Lacey.” Before he could think twice, his hand was on the door handle, and he jumped out into the frigid world. Storming across the knee-deep snow didn’t ease his anger, since he was doing more trudging than stomping.

She saw him coming and flapped a hand from inside her thin cotton coat pocket to wave him away. Her words were snatched by the howling wind.

“Like hell I’ll go away.” He caught her quickly, thanks to his long legs. Up close, her pixie features were chapped by wind, and ice clung to her arching brows and made her lashes spiky.

“Turn right around and get back into your truck, Trace Allen.”

That incensed tone wasn’t lost on him—his groin heated. It was a lazy heat that reminded him they were stuck outside of Oklahoma City together with a lot of time on their hands. Trace nudged the front of his jeans to ease the tightness.

After breaking up and making up with her a few times, Trace anticipated her anger in an unexpected way.

He glared at her. “What in fuck’s name are you doing out here?”

Her grass-green eyes glittered. “What are
you
doing out here?” She didn’t seem any happier to be in that crowded truck stop than he was.

He paused. He and Lacey had enjoyed more than one night in the solitude of his trailer, escaping the media and rodeo groupies. They’d lain in bed and dreamed of owning a chunk of land in the country.

Well, that didn’t happen.

He wrapped his gloved fingers around her arm and steadied her against his side before she was knocked into the snow by the brute-force wind.

“I’m goin’ back to my car, you high-handed ass.”

God, her sweet drawl was music to his deprived ears. One flare of his temper after he’d lost a big cash prize had sent her packing, and he’d regretted it every minute since.

She and her father worked with some of the bulls on the rodeo circuit, and that put her right in Trace’s path more often than he was comfortable with.

He shook his head to clear it and continued to haul her through the snowdrifts to his truck. She dug in her heels, but like the rest of the stranded travelers, she was wearing slippery cowboy boots, and she didn’t have a chance against his strength.

After ripping open his truck door, he tightened his grip in case she made a break for it. As expected, she struggled even more.

“Stay,” he barked.

“Am I your dog now?” Too bad her incensed tone wasn’t snatched by the wind.

He shot her a look from the corner of his eye. “Hershey listens better than you most of the time.”

Hooeee, that was the wrong thing to say. She tried to wrench her arm free, and he tightened his grip again, battling a smile. Damn, he loved to see that spark in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, Lacey. You know I’m teasing.”

She glared through ice-coated eyelashes. “How would you like it if I compared you to my dog?”

He probed her gaze for a long second. “Woof.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you think I’m going to pet you—”

Before she completed the sentence, he tugged her against his chest. The wind threatened to rip his hat off, and he nudged it down a bit more. Was it his imagination or did Lacey’s pupils dilate?

A gust of wind sprayed snow over them. Cold flakes filled his collar, and Lacey shivered.

“Let’s get you out of the wind,” he said.

Still, the waves of her fury were stronger than the blasts of ice and snow. “Let me go back to my car.”

He bit his lip to keep from smiling, and reached inside his truck. He switched off the ignition. Then he shut the door and tugged on her wrist. She followed him to the travel trailer, if being dragged like a calf on a rope counted as following.

He shoved her into his trailer without even drawling a “welcome home.” As he followed her inside, he was given a perfect view of her shapely ass. He reached back to shut the door, and she whirled on him, murder in her eyes.

A laugh rumbled in his chest.

The fire in her eyes grew hotter. “What is so funny?”

“You.” He drew off his gloves and dropped them to the small counter where he had little room for more than a coffee maker. Before she could guess his intentions, he cupped her cold face in his palms and thumbed the snow and ice from her brows. “You look like an abominable snow-woman.”

“Always the charmer. First I’m a dog, now I’m a mythical beast.” Still, she didn’t move from his touch, just locked her gaze on his lips until his balls throbbed.

Her sweet scent lingered in his nostrils, filling him with too many memories. Countless weeks spent together on this once-lonely tour, her silky body trapped under his as he kissed the blush into her cheeks.

She released a shaky breath. “You’re not doing this to me again, Trace.”

He let her go, unbuttoned his coat, and removed it. “You’re not leaving, so you might as well get comfy.”

“My dad wouldn’t like it. Not after what happened between us.”

Trace resisted the urge to run his hands down her spine. “Your father’s not here, is he? I thought he headed out before you did.”

“No, he isn’t stuck here in this icy hell. He managed to beat the storm. So Trace, I don’t need—”

Lowering his head a notch, he stared at her. “You need. Now take off that wet jean jacket, and I’ll fire up the heater.” Thank goodness he’d had the foresight to fill his propane tank before leaving Oklahoma City. The heater had kept him from being cramped inside the truck stop, which boasted a gift shop, greasy-spoon diner, and gas station. Hundreds of people were crowded in there, eating up everything in sight.

“Where you been staying, Lacey?” She twisted away to peel off her jacket. He eyed her stiff spine as she shed the wet denim.

“In my car.”

He nodded. “Stubborn as always.”

“Have you even been inside that truck stop? People like sheep, sitting on top of each other, pigging out on Snickers bars like they’ve survived the apocalypse.”

He laughed at her words. She always could make him laugh, which was a feat to a stressed-out cowboy on a losing streak.

“Go ahead and laugh. You don’t have to go inside other than to use the restroom.” She pivoted to face him in the small area. His trailer was one long, skinny box, equipped for a guy who didn’t have the extra cash to waste on motel rooms. He had a love seat, coffee maker, TV, and a bed in the back. All he needed.

Right now, the sight of his rumpled bed in the nook behind Lacey drove Trace mad with lust. Her tight curves tormented him, from her skinny jeans to the short-sleeved, rodeo tour T-shirt. He nearly closed his eyes at the sight of her upper arms. Damn, what was it about those golden arms that made him struggle to keep from thinking of ropes?

Silence crashed between them, a bucking bronco of sexual tension and unspoken hurt.

“I need to get back to my car.”

He took a hasty step toward her, effectively pinning her between him and the love seat. “What’s the hurry? You have important business in the front of your Chevy?”
In the front of my Ram, yes.
Stretched out on the seat, arms locked around his neck, and their hips moving to the music of their passion.

“Trace…”

He didn’t move back out of her space, but he did let the thread of his desire go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to account for his actions.

“Why didn’t you leave early when your pa did?” he asked.

She shook her head. Melting tendrils of hair clung to her throat and snaked into her cleavage.

He clamped his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. At this moment, there seemed to be nothing more important than exploring her sweet skin and full breasts.

He shivered.

She shivered.

Springing into action, he grabbed a warm woolen blanket from the love seat. He slung it around her shoulders. He hovered over her, bending just close enough to get a whiff of her feminine scent—body wash and a hint of perfume she sometimes dabbed behind her ears.

Lacey fell still as their gazes locked. One heartbeat…two.

Using the blanket gathered in his fist under her chin, he yanked her against his chest.

She sucked in a breath, eyes darkening. He stared at her for a full minute before propelling her toward the seating. He made her sit, and then returned to the coffee maker. He added water from a gallon jug and fragrant coffee. In seconds, the aroma of coffee filled the trailer, but it didn’t disguise Lacey’s vanilla scent.

“So?” He leaned against the counter and watched her.

She hunched her shoulders under the blanket, her loose hair spread over the cloth. Confusion creased the smooth skin between her brows. “So what?”

“Why didn’t you leave early like your pa?”

“Oh…well, I was helping out a friend, and I told Pa to go on without me.” Her gaze slithered away, telling him this “friend” was important to her. She wasn’t avoiding Trace’s stare because she admired the cracked linoleum floor.

Possessiveness reared in him, bucking wildly at his ribcage. But reminiscing about all the good times with Lacey wouldn’t do him any good. He’d lost her to his filthy temper. Scared her when he’d gone through his trailer on a rampage and knocked everything to the floor, kicked it, and then slammed a fist into the thin, paneled wall.

All because he hadn’t won that big title.

Except it wasn’t the belt buckle he’d wanted—it was the cash prize. He’d had every intention of blowing that wad of money on a big ring for her. But after his temper tantrum she’d vanished from his life. He’d tried to talk to her a few times, but she always managed to avoid him.

His gaze drifted to the hole in the wall. “Who is he?” His tone sounded as if he’d drunk spurs with a chaser of whiskey.

“What?”

“The friend you were helping.”

A flush stole over her high cheekbones. “Oh…” Again she flapped a hand from inside the blanket, making it wave like a red flag in front of a bull.

Then she did
it
. Gave him that look he was all too familiar with—the one she wore when he was about to slide between her thighs.

He approached her slowly, each boot heel hitting the floor precisely. She wiggled and bit her lower lip. The sight of that plump lip caught between her sharp white teeth sent him over the edge. He grabbed her around the waist and tumbled them onto the love seat.