Taken By Storm

The brewery needed more than he could give, too, and convincing the family of that was one of the major reasons for this trip. If he succeeded, then maybe he would have time to fly to Virginia.

The minutes crawled by. The arrival and departure screens flashed a notice stating that O’Hare was closed until further notice. Not good. Televisions were tuned to The Weather Channel or news stations discussing the weather. Maps showed the middle of the country as a blob of white and blue with fringes of purple. Roads were closed. Transportation was at a standstill. He watched lots and lots of footage of stalled cars buried in snow and icy branches that had fallen on power lines.

Great. Just great. Cam got out his phone and texted Richard that his flight had been delayed due to weather. This probably wasn’t news to Richard, but Cam had to give him some explanation for being late.

For the next few minutes, he checked his phone, hoping that Richard would text back right away. At some point, he became aware that the background noise had changed. He raised his head, trying to figure out what was different, and noticed people were starting to line the glass of the exit vestibule that buffered the outer doors. Beyond them, where he should have spotted taxis and shuttles picking up passengers, was a wall of white.

Just as he realized he was seeing snow, and a lot of it, and that Ryka and her dog were out in that mess, people backed away from the entrance. Ryka and the dog and a bunch of snow blew in through the automatic doors.

She stomped her feet and the dog shook himself. They continued through the next set of doors into the main area where she stopped to wipe more snow from the dog. Her funny candy-cane hood fell back and she jerked it and the scarf off impatiently and shook them. Then she used them to brush snow off her coat as Casper plopped down and tried to chew off his booties. Ryka saw what he was doing and removed them—without trouble this time. She stared at the mess in her hands and Cam smiled at the face she made before stuffing the booties into her pocket along with her mittens. She jostled her scarf once more and reached behind her neck to free her hair.

Glossy brown waves cascaded down her back as she raked her hair away from her face with her fingers and fluffed her bangs, which were hopelessly crinkled from being squashed beneath her hat.

The scene was like a commercial. It only lacked slow-motion camera effects.

She said something to the dog and tugged at the leash. Looking skyward, she shook her head, straightened and spoke a command. The dog immediately got to his feet and positioned himself at her side. Together, they jogged toward Cam and the crate in that peculiar trot used at dog shows.

Cam didn’t need TV special effects. He saw them in slow motion. Ryka, her cheeks flushed and hair swinging, a dog in a goofy outfit trotting beside her...and a soundtrack. A voice from on high chanting, “If you claim her, do not leave her unattended. Keep her in your possession at all times and do not allow strangers to give her anything to carry.” And to make sure he got the message, the voice chanted it in a couple of different languages.

He got the message, all right. His heart pounded and his man juices bubbled, just the way Gus said they would.

And then she noticed him sitting there and her step faltered. The wary expression on her face stabbed him in the chest; he’d blown any chance of spending more time with her.

Cam got to his feet so quickly, he became lightheaded. He forced a smile and mouthed, “You left your backpack” to her as he pointed. Understanding wiped the wariness from her face, but Cam wasn’t going to push it. He raised a hand in farewell and walked blindly in the opposite direction.

“Oh, hey!” he heard but didn’t turn around. He could have imagined it, and anyway, he didn’t want her to think he was paying attention to her.

But he slowed. A little. Just in case.

Seconds later, he heard her say, “Excuse me,” and felt her hand on his arm. He was sure it was her hand because at the touch, his skin burned beneath the leather jacket...and beneath the navy cashmere pullover his mom had given him for Christmas and beneath the shirt he wore under that. Yeah. He reacted that strongly to her touch.

Gus’s words echoed in his mind, One day, you see a female and you blow your top, just like that batch of summer ale the first year. It’s why men make poor decisions with the wrong women, or they let the right one get away ’cause they’ve got no finesse and scare her off.

Cam turned then and gave her a questioning look. Finesse. Think finesse.

“Um, thanks. Again.” She smiled uncertainly. “I appreciate you watching my stuff.”

“No problem,” he murmured. There. Finesse. His voice hadn’t cracked or anything. He was especially pleased that he hadn’t grabbed her and planted his mouth on her lips, lips that were clearly made for kissing. Generous. Wide. Not too pillowy.

“I’ve got to ask you another favor,” she burst out.

“Okay.” He tried to avoid appearing overeager.

“I—” She stopped and exhaled. “Casper won’t get in his crate and I’ve got to go to the restroom. Would you please watch him for me?”

“Sure.” Cam allowed himself a smile and glanced down at the dog. I owe you, buddy.

“Oh, thank you!” She shoved the leash at him. “I’ll be just a minute!” And she hurried toward the restrooms.

Cam watched her go, her hair rippling. She had great hair—straight, long and glossy. He wanted to run his fingers through it. He wanted to feel it against his bare skin. He wanted to lie back in bed and have it curtain their faces as she leaned down to kiss him.

He heard a frustrated sound, and at first he thought it had escaped him. But then he realized it had come from the dog, who was staring down its long nose at him, as though he could read Cam’s mind.

“Hey, Casper,” he said. “How’s it going, buddy?”

With a tiny whine, Casper sat down.

“I hear ya.” Cam looked in the direction of the restrooms. As was typical, the women’s had a line and Ryka, or whatever her name was, hadn’t made it around the corner yet.

“What say we walk over to your crate?” Cam said. The backpack was still lying on the floor next to it.

He started walking and the dog followed him, which was good because he didn’t want to have to drag the animal across the floor.

Once they got to the crate, Cam sat on the floor again, and the dog flopped beside him, head on his paws. Another little whine escaped.

Cam reached out to pat him. “Hey, this thing she’s got you wearing is all wet.”

She couldn’t want her dog to stay in wet clothes. He took off the blue bonnet. “Oh, buddy. I thought the hat was bad.”

Casper’s fur was white, as Cam might have guessed from his name. But the hair on his head and ears was gathered in blue elastic holders. Probably to keep it out of the way. Cam scratched Casper all over his head, and if the dog had been a cat, he would have purred.

Another glance toward the women’s restroom revealed that Ryka had only just made it to the corner beneath the sign.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get this off you.” Slowly, Cam reached around the dog’s stomach, seeking the straps. Casper obligingly rolled onto his side. Cam unhooked the clasps and peeled off the wet coat, releasing the aroma of wet dog and something sweet—doggy shampoo?

Casper panted.

The rest of his hair was also bunched with blue bands, but Cam could see there was a lot of hair and it was all white. And damp. Unfortunately, the baggage terminal floor wasn’t very clean, with people tracking in the wet sludge from outside. Occasionally, the maintenance crew came by with mops, and earlier they’d placed black rubber mats by the exit, along with yellow tented caution signs.

Cam draped Casper’s outfit over the crate to dry out and gently petted him, scratching between the ponytail bunches.

“Does that feel good, boy?”

Casper licked his mouth and resumed panting.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Cam liked dogs, although he didn’t own one. If he did, he’d never pick this breed. Too much hair.

Casper twitched and rolled over onto his back, curving himself into an S shape.

“You want a tummy rub.” Cam used both hands. “This must mean you’ve warmed up to me. Now let’s see if we can get your owner to warm up to me, too.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.