when he walked back past her to shut the first one. “I can shut the next one,” she offered.
He looked at her doubtfully, then shrugged. “Go for it.”
So at the next one, she did. And the one after that. The gates were heavy and awkward. Fortunately Cole did the hard part, opening them before he’d plowed the road through. But they were still difficult to move, and when she grabbed the second one, her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her butt in the snow.
The door to Cole ’s truck jerked instantly. But Nell was already scrambling to her feet. “I’m fine,” she shouted at him. “Just clumsy.”
She got another doubtful look at that, but the door shut again and he let her deal with the gate. Once she was back in her truck, he led the way the last quarter mile to the highway and pulled off to the side of the road so she could go around him.
Instead she pulled up next to him and stopped, then reached over to roll down the passenger side window so she could see him scowling at her through his own window. A moment later he rolled it slowly down.
“ You all right?” he asked gruffly.
“ My pride is damp,” Nell told him. And her elbow hurt where she’d whacked it on the ground. But she wasn’t saying that. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Thank you. The plowing helped. And the tail lights. And opening the gates.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, one hundred percent strong silent cowboy. If he tipped his hat, Nell swore she would get out, go around to his truck, open the door and kick him. Lucky for him, he didn’t.
“ Good night,” she said. “Thanks again.” Then she added deliberately. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” No doubt about the challenge in that.
He might have grunted a reply. It was hard to hear over the sound of both engines. Swallowing a sigh, Nell rolled her window back up. Cole did the same. She swished the wipers again to clear off the snow that had accumulated in the couple of minutes they had stopped there, then eased her way up onto the deserted highway.
The big county snowplow must have come through less than an hour ago. While the road was snow-covered again, the cover wasn’t deep and the snow pushed up onto the margins of the road made it easy enough to see where she was going.
She glanced in the rear view mirror to see when Cole turned around and headed back toward the ranch. Instead she saw him pull out onto the highway behind her. Nell frowned. Was something wrong? Would he catch up and tell her she was going the wrong way?
She wasn ’t going the wrong way. In the far off distance across the valley she could see the glow from Marietta’s street lights reflected in the low-hanging clouds. Nell slowed down, expecting him to pull alongside. There was no one else on the road for miles as far as she could tell.
But he didn ’t speed up. He stayed steadily behind her, slowing when she slowed, speeding up when she did. She considered trying to call him, to ask what he was doing, but she didn’t want to take a hand off the steering wheel to fumble for her phone. Besides, the closer they got to Marietta, the more she thought she knew what he was doing: he was seeing her home.
It was Cole all over —Mr Responsible. He wasn’t leaving her halfway to Marietta on a snow-covered highway. Despite the late hour, despite his obvious exhaustion, despite the fact that he would have to turn around and drive all the way back home again—even further up to the cabin—and despite having to get up again in a few short hours to do it all over again, he was determined to do what he thought needed to be done. Shaking her head, Nell drove on.
Cole followed her all the way into Marietta. She ended up parking at the far end of the Graff Hotel lot because, of course, all the other spots were taken. He sat in his truck in the deserted street as Nell got out of the truck, locked it and clutching her bag against her chest, slogged through the unplowed parking lot
He looked at her doubtfully, then shrugged. “Go for it.”
So at the next one, she did. And the one after that. The gates were heavy and awkward. Fortunately Cole did the hard part, opening them before he’d plowed the road through. But they were still difficult to move, and when she grabbed the second one, her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her butt in the snow.
The door to Cole ’s truck jerked instantly. But Nell was already scrambling to her feet. “I’m fine,” she shouted at him. “Just clumsy.”
She got another doubtful look at that, but the door shut again and he let her deal with the gate. Once she was back in her truck, he led the way the last quarter mile to the highway and pulled off to the side of the road so she could go around him.
Instead she pulled up next to him and stopped, then reached over to roll down the passenger side window so she could see him scowling at her through his own window. A moment later he rolled it slowly down.
“ You all right?” he asked gruffly.
“ My pride is damp,” Nell told him. And her elbow hurt where she’d whacked it on the ground. But she wasn’t saying that. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Thank you. The plowing helped. And the tail lights. And opening the gates.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, one hundred percent strong silent cowboy. If he tipped his hat, Nell swore she would get out, go around to his truck, open the door and kick him. Lucky for him, he didn’t.
“ Good night,” she said. “Thanks again.” Then she added deliberately. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” No doubt about the challenge in that.
He might have grunted a reply. It was hard to hear over the sound of both engines. Swallowing a sigh, Nell rolled her window back up. Cole did the same. She swished the wipers again to clear off the snow that had accumulated in the couple of minutes they had stopped there, then eased her way up onto the deserted highway.
The big county snowplow must have come through less than an hour ago. While the road was snow-covered again, the cover wasn’t deep and the snow pushed up onto the margins of the road made it easy enough to see where she was going.
She glanced in the rear view mirror to see when Cole turned around and headed back toward the ranch. Instead she saw him pull out onto the highway behind her. Nell frowned. Was something wrong? Would he catch up and tell her she was going the wrong way?
She wasn ’t going the wrong way. In the far off distance across the valley she could see the glow from Marietta’s street lights reflected in the low-hanging clouds. Nell slowed down, expecting him to pull alongside. There was no one else on the road for miles as far as she could tell.
But he didn ’t speed up. He stayed steadily behind her, slowing when she slowed, speeding up when she did. She considered trying to call him, to ask what he was doing, but she didn’t want to take a hand off the steering wheel to fumble for her phone. Besides, the closer they got to Marietta, the more she thought she knew what he was doing: he was seeing her home.
It was Cole all over —Mr Responsible. He wasn’t leaving her halfway to Marietta on a snow-covered highway. Despite the late hour, despite his obvious exhaustion, despite the fact that he would have to turn around and drive all the way back home again—even further up to the cabin—and despite having to get up again in a few short hours to do it all over again, he was determined to do what he thought needed to be done. Shaking her head, Nell drove on.
Cole followed her all the way into Marietta. She ended up parking at the far end of the Graff Hotel lot because, of course, all the other spots were taken. He sat in his truck in the deserted street as Nell got out of the truck, locked it and clutching her bag against her chest, slogged through the unplowed parking lot
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