foreign
territory. Already he had established a niche, or he hoped so.
Perhaps in time he, too, would actually be accepted.
Here and now, Trent wanted Holly more than
he’d wanted any other woman. Desire consumed him. She’d haunted him
nights since he’d met her two months ago. Last night he came very
close to acting out his erotic dreams. This time, at long last, he
had been able to hold her.
Having her in his arms was even sweeter than
he had imagined. No matter how perfect holding her seemed, she
wasn't for him, or he for her. She’d made that all too clear. Even
if they didn't work together and even if they were not from totally
different worlds, he could never surmount her irrational dislike of
him. He had to quit thinking of her as his own special
"Princess."
If only Tucker had not been so stubborn, the
man could have held on to his job—but with Trent as his supervisor.
Then maybe Holly would have given him a chance to prove himself.
Damn Tucker for being a loser, for gambling everything he had on a
dream.
Despair swept over Trent. And how am I any
better? Although he had no family to consider, he had risked
everything he’d accrued in almost twenty years on the meeting he
would miss in a few hours. Overwhelming panic consumed him and, for
a few moments, he had to put his head on his arms and give in to
the terror.
"Trent, what are you doing, sleeping on the
job?"
He hadn’t heard her approach and jumped. "I,
um...I need something to clean the furnace burner openings. Can you
find me some toothpicks or broom straws?" When she turned back to
the kitchen, he calmed himself. Everything would work out. It had
to.
He pulled himself up and sat with his back
against the wall, legs stretched beside the furnace opening. One
glance at his watch told him he should wait a couple of hours
before trying to reach his assistant again on the cell phone.
He called to her, “Hey, with the wind letting
up, maybe the phones service will be restored soon.” Unless the
isolation of this godforsaken wasteland ruled out cell phone
contact. In the meantime, his only chance of sanity lay in
believing the meeting had been successfully postponed.
In less time than he expected, Holly handed
him broom straws and toothpicks. “Here. Let me know if you need
more.”
He sighed and returned to his task.
Peripherally, he saw Holly move through the
dim glow of the lantern toward the photograph of a young couple
with their children. Yesterday, she and he decided it must be the
Martins. Mrs. Martin, a tiny woman except for the very pregnant
bulge of her stomach, held a child no more than a year old. Mr.
Martin held a boy of about two or so. The photograph presented a
happy family, for all the apparent young age of the parents.
Holly hugged her arms. "How on earth do those
babies stand this house? Even when the furnace was on yesterday,
this floor was too cold for children."
"Martin said that if they can make it through
this winter, they'll have enough saved to start a home improvement
project. They plan to build two more rooms, another bathroom, and
install central heat. I think the kids mostly stay with their
grandparents in cold weather, especially with their mother having
trouble with her pregnancy."
She turned toward him. "You didn't mention
pregnancy problems."
Without looking up he shrugged a shoulder.
"Yeah, well, I was a little upset at the time Martin told me. They
were in town to see the kids at her parents’ and then the Martins
were coming back here."
"So, it's even more important that the
animals do well to pay for the new baby and a home loan. Would the
cattle have died without us here?"
He paused to consider a moment, then resumed
tinkering. "No, probably not. Maybe a few who were separated in
isolated pens. Those in the big pen would have bunched together."
He looked up at her and smiled. “You know, shared warmth.”
With a shake of his head he added, "I don't
pretend to understand Martin’s system for cattle,
territory. Already he had established a niche, or he hoped so.
Perhaps in time he, too, would actually be accepted.
Here and now, Trent wanted Holly more than
he’d wanted any other woman. Desire consumed him. She’d haunted him
nights since he’d met her two months ago. Last night he came very
close to acting out his erotic dreams. This time, at long last, he
had been able to hold her.
Having her in his arms was even sweeter than
he had imagined. No matter how perfect holding her seemed, she
wasn't for him, or he for her. She’d made that all too clear. Even
if they didn't work together and even if they were not from totally
different worlds, he could never surmount her irrational dislike of
him. He had to quit thinking of her as his own special
"Princess."
If only Tucker had not been so stubborn, the
man could have held on to his job—but with Trent as his supervisor.
Then maybe Holly would have given him a chance to prove himself.
Damn Tucker for being a loser, for gambling everything he had on a
dream.
Despair swept over Trent. And how am I any
better? Although he had no family to consider, he had risked
everything he’d accrued in almost twenty years on the meeting he
would miss in a few hours. Overwhelming panic consumed him and, for
a few moments, he had to put his head on his arms and give in to
the terror.
"Trent, what are you doing, sleeping on the
job?"
He hadn’t heard her approach and jumped. "I,
um...I need something to clean the furnace burner openings. Can you
find me some toothpicks or broom straws?" When she turned back to
the kitchen, he calmed himself. Everything would work out. It had
to.
He pulled himself up and sat with his back
against the wall, legs stretched beside the furnace opening. One
glance at his watch told him he should wait a couple of hours
before trying to reach his assistant again on the cell phone.
He called to her, “Hey, with the wind letting
up, maybe the phones service will be restored soon.” Unless the
isolation of this godforsaken wasteland ruled out cell phone
contact. In the meantime, his only chance of sanity lay in
believing the meeting had been successfully postponed.
In less time than he expected, Holly handed
him broom straws and toothpicks. “Here. Let me know if you need
more.”
He sighed and returned to his task.
Peripherally, he saw Holly move through the
dim glow of the lantern toward the photograph of a young couple
with their children. Yesterday, she and he decided it must be the
Martins. Mrs. Martin, a tiny woman except for the very pregnant
bulge of her stomach, held a child no more than a year old. Mr.
Martin held a boy of about two or so. The photograph presented a
happy family, for all the apparent young age of the parents.
Holly hugged her arms. "How on earth do those
babies stand this house? Even when the furnace was on yesterday,
this floor was too cold for children."
"Martin said that if they can make it through
this winter, they'll have enough saved to start a home improvement
project. They plan to build two more rooms, another bathroom, and
install central heat. I think the kids mostly stay with their
grandparents in cold weather, especially with their mother having
trouble with her pregnancy."
She turned toward him. "You didn't mention
pregnancy problems."
Without looking up he shrugged a shoulder.
"Yeah, well, I was a little upset at the time Martin told me. They
were in town to see the kids at her parents’ and then the Martins
were coming back here."
"So, it's even more important that the
animals do well to pay for the new baby and a home loan. Would the
cattle have died without us here?"
He paused to consider a moment, then resumed
tinkering. "No, probably not. Maybe a few who were separated in
isolated pens. Those in the big pen would have bunched together."
He looked up at her and smiled. “You know, shared warmth.”
With a shake of his head he added, "I don't
pretend to understand Martin’s system for cattle,
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