Joe’s plans for a romantic rendezvous go awry when Mother Nature intervenes, but that’s not the worst of it…
Rating: T Word Count: 745
CAUGHT IN A STORM
He had ridden the wind from town all the way to the fork, where he left the main road and followed the trail through the trees. It was quicker, he’d discovered, and the sooner he could get to the line shack the more time he’d have with Ellie. She’d be there waiting for him, just like before.
The memory of their last rendezvous sent a ripple of pleasure through his core. Pretty Ellie Marks was a force of nature, and everything in Joe Cartwright’s nature responded to her in a most visceral way. It was no secret he loved women, from form to fashion to the feel of them in his arms – dancing, kissing, or any other delights a man could engage in with a woman who was willing. And Ellie was certainly willing. She had proven that at the July Fourth picnic when they managed to slip away from the crowd. The summer sun wasn’t the only heat that day.
When he saw her in church the following week, it was hard to reconcile the prim and proper young lady seated so piously next to her father with the sensual coquette whose appetite had rivaled his own; beyond that, it was impossible to concentrate on the sermon when all he could think about were Ellie’s silken shoulders and supple flesh beneath the high necked Sunday frock. After the service, when she barely acknowledged him, he wondered if he’d made a miscalculation. But he needn’t have worried. Ellie was a smart girl, cautious when she needed to be. She pressed a note into his hand as she and her father departed, along with a coy smile assuring him he’d been right all along.
And so began a delicious romance under the guise of a casual friendship, thrilling in its secrecy, stolen moments that were mostly harmless though not exactly innocent. Admittedly, there were times when they danced a little too close to the fire. It was up to him to do a better job of leading, though with his enthusiastic partner it could be a bit of a challenge. The only thing that seemed to worry Ellie was her father. With good reason, Joe supposed. He certainly had no desire to run afoul of Jebediah Marks.
Mr. Marks was in town for the Cattleman’s Association meeting this afternoon where Pa would also be tied up. Joe had volunteered to stop at the line shack and make a few minor repairs before heading home. He’d see the job done even though it wasn’t his primary order of business. He hadn’t counted on the weather though. The clouds burst above him before he reached his destination.
Inside the shack, Ellie was wringing water from her long blonde hair. She did not look happy.
Joe was soaked too. “At least we’re out of the weather.”
“Are we?” She pointed to the drip from the ceiling.
Joe grabbed an old oaken bucket from the corner and set it under the leak. “There. That’ll do until I can fix it.”
Ellie pouted. “Just look at me. How am I going to explain this?”
There was a lot to look at, with her wet blouse molded to her curves. Joe pulled a blanket from the cot and draped it around her. “We’ll just have to wait out the storm, give ourselves a chance to dry.” He pulled her closer to kiss her. “In the meantime…”
“Joe, maybe we shouldn’t…we’ve been lucky so far but if my father ever finds out about us….”
Those were her words but her eyes lips told him otherwise. He couldn’t hear anything but his heart hammering in his ears as she nestled against him.
Entwined in a passionate embrace, they jumped apart as if struck by lightning when the door flew open. Ellie squealed, clutching the blanket in front of her with both hands, caught in the glare of a drenched and formidable figure in black.
“I told Pa I’d come by and give you a hand with the repairs, but I can see you don’t need my help.”
“Adam, I can explain.”
“Don’t bother.”
Adam lit a fire, and they all huddled around it to try and dry off. The drip, drip, drip of rain into the bucket marked the long seconds of silence that followed. Joe gazed mournfully at Ellie, who scrunched her face into a frown and stared at the floor.
“Adam…”
“Not one word, Joe.”
Drip… drip… drip….
END
