Home For a Cowboy Christmas(6)
She pushed her fingers through her hair and yawned as the smell of bacon wafted through the air. Her stomach growled in response. Emmy tossed aside the covers and jumped out of bed. She hurried to dress before stopping in the bathroom to make sure her hair wasn’t sticking out everywhere. She smoothed the wavy, tangled, frizzy locks as best she could, then went downstairs.
Except Dwight wasn’t there. A plate of bacon and warm biscuits sat on the stove. Emmy grabbed a piece of bacon and wolfed it down, along with a biscuit. After three more strips of bacon, she poured herself some coffee and leaned against the counter, delighting in the food and caffeine.
She quite liked the kitchen. It meshed well with the openness of the house. The dark gray cabinets, white quartz countertops, and stainless-steel appliances were nice, but she was in love with the rectangular kitchen table that seated six. It looked like reclaimed wood, but she suspected it wasn’t store-bought. It might, in fact, be heirloom.
Dalton had told her that the ranch had been in Dwight’s family for generations, but someone had obviously taken it upon themselves to keep the inside of the house updated. She hadn’t paid too much attention to her en suite bathroom since she had been half-asleep. She certainly would look more closely the next time she went upstairs.
She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. She needed a shower—just as soon as she finished stuffing her face with the delicious meal. As she munched on another perfectly cooked slice of bacon, she turned to look out the kitchen window toward one of the barns. Her gaze locked on Dwight as he opened the gate to the pasture with a bucket in one hand and a rope in the other.
The sorrel mare lifted her head when she heard the gate. When the horse saw Dwight, she started toward him, the sorrel foal with its white forehead star following quickly. Emmy was transfixed as she watched Dwight set down the bucket so the mare could eat. He spent time petting the horse while the colt remained close to its mother before venturing nearer to Dwight. He never put the lead on the foal, simply let it get used to him and the rope.
Emmy finished her coffee and rinsed the cup before putting it into the dishwasher. Then she searched the cabinets for some containers for the leftover food. Once it was in the fridge, she took one last look at Dwight and the horses before going upstairs.
That’s when she saw the pile of clothes near her door. They had been on the opposite side so she hadn’t spotted them when she went downstairs. There hadn’t been time to pack anything when Dalton had spirited her from the hotel. Nor had they dared to stop for anything more than gas and food on their trip. But Dalton must have told Dwight that she didn’t have anything—not even a jacket.
Emmy bent and lifted the clothes before taking them into her room. She used her foot to shut the door behind her. After setting the pile on the overstuffed chair, she made the bed so she could spread out the clothes.
There were two pairs of jeans in different sizes, three long-sleeved shirts, two plaid flannel button-downs, and a sweater. There were also socks and a thick coat. Emmy held the jeans up to her. They were on the short side, but they would do. In the meantime, she would wash her clothes, including her underwear.
She went to the bathroom and stripped. In the sink, she washed her bra and panties and left them to dry. Then she pushed back the shower curtain and turned on the water for a shower. Just like in the kitchen, Dwight had modernized the bathroom. It was nice without being overdone. The cabinets were navy, bringing in the blue from the bedroom. The granite counter was beige with flecks of brown, copper, and various blues. The floor was the same wood as throughout the house. Two of the walls were wood, but the other two were decorative stone.
Emmy sank her bare toes into the thick navy rug before the tub. She found towels rolled up in a basket. Another look around uncovered small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and soap—just like in a hotel.
When the water was the right temperature, she got in and sighed as she stepped beneath the spray. She stretched her neck, rotating her shoulders to work out some of the knots that had formed. The heat from the water worked wonders.
She couldn’t let her guard down completely. She might be in the middle of nowhere, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be found. Still, she would enjoy this moment while she had it. Emmy poured the shampoo into her palm and then worked it through her strands, lathering. She washed her hair twice before letting the conditioner sit as she scrubbed her body four different times.
No matter how much she cleaned herself, she couldn’t wash away the fear of her near-death experience or her escape from Denver. Emmy sighed and rinsed her body and hair. When she turned off the water and pulled back the curtain, steam filled the room. But she felt much better after the shower.
Drying off, she wrapped the towel around herself and then twisted her lips at her underwear. She didn’t want to put them on wet, but the thought of going without wasn’t an option. That’s when she looked beneath the sink and found a blow-dryer. A smile graced her face as she plugged it in and alternated between drying her panties and bra and her hair.
Her underwear dried quickly. She opted to layer the long-sleeved shirt and the sweater. It helped to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The socks warmed her icy feet. She then tried on the longer of the two pairs of jeans. They were a little tight around the waist and stopped well above her ankles, but they would do. She shook her head as she looked down. She’d always had trouble finding jeans for her long legs.