A Cowboy's Gift by Anne McAllister

Author:Anne McAllister
Format: epub

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Chapter 7

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They went outside into the cold and the snow and the silence.

Gus had hold of her arm so she couldn't slip and take a fall. His grasp was firm but gentle. He held her carefully—the same way she'd seen Shane hold on to Poppy when they'd left a while ago.

"You okay?" His breath was warm against her ear.

"Yes. Fine." She could feel the heat of his body through both of their jackets as they picked their way through the snow toward his truck. He hovered. Solicitous. Gentle. Caring.

Gus.

Mary tried to distance herself from this version of Gus Holt. It was far too close to the one she'd dreamed of all those years ago.

But it was hard to pretend it wasn't happening when it very definitely was.

His fingers tightened on her arm. "Be careful," he cautioned. "The ground's uneven."

She tried to be careful—and not just of her footing. Of her heart.

Gus opened the door to his truck and helped her in. He reached around her and fastened her seat belt because he had a better angle at it than she did. His hat brim brushed her chin as he did so.

"Sorry."

Mary ran her tongue over her lips. "It's all right."

He went around and got in, starting the truck, then turning up the heater full blast. "There's a blanket in the back if you want it."

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She gave him a bright smile.

The look he gave her in return was grave.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "If you'd rather not take me—"

"Of course I'm taking you," he cut her off. He flicked on the windshield wipers and put the truck in reverse, then concentrated on getting the truck turned around and headed down the lane toward the county road.

But he didn't speak. Didn't say a word. Mary wondered at that, then decided it was better that way. If he left the conversation up to her, she could direct it however she wanted—which would be into safe, impersonal lanes.

She settled back against the seat, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She watched Gus out of the corner of her eye. He had his own gaze firmly on the snow-covered lane.

"It was a lovely Thanksgiving," she ventured finally.

"Yeah."

They wound down the narrow, winding road. The world seemed all shades of silver and gray and black. Only the snow sparkled white in the glare of the headlights. She rubbed her belly. "I'm stuffed," she said. "Aren't you? Such wonderful food. And so much of it."

"There was a lot."

"I should never have had that piece of pie. I don't know why I did. I certainly didn't need it." She prattled on about the dinner, the people, the games all the way to town. Gus managed the occasional monosyllable, only in response to direct questions on her part.

More than once she slanted him a glance, wondering at his taciturnity. It wasn't like Gus to have nothing to say.

They pulled up in front of her house, and she fumbled to undo the seat belt.

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