Curves and the Russian Wrangler

Soon, he promised himself, aware that he’d been telling himself that since the first moment he laid eyes on her, when those two boys had almost knocked her down in the street.

 

But while his groin tightened every time he saw her, he wanted the moment to be right for both of them. Although his kisses had become more demanding and passionate in the last few weeks, he did not want Amber to feel pressured into making love with him.

 

And they would be making love.

 

His jeans tightened at the thought of her, laid out before him on his king-sized bed, flushed with desire, and waiting for him. It had to be soon. Because the waiting was killing him.

 

He strode out of the house, determined to give Amber a romantic stroll in the woods. And if they couldn’t find her bracelet, he would buy her another. Ten of them, if that would make her happy. And he did want to make her happy.

 

His breath caught whenever she smiled at him. And when she kissed him he couldn’t believe he’d been able to show such restraint.

 

He told himself to focus on more mundane thoughts as he entered the wooded area behind his house. The horse trails, the small patch of woodland and the wildflower meadow were all part of the reason he’d chosen to buy this ranch out of the dozens he’d looked at in Montana and Wyoming. For some reason, this place felt like home.

 

“Amber?” He passed the clearing where they’d had their first picnic, a smile lightening his features as he remembered touching her cinnamon colored hair for the first time, soft as silk under his calloused fingers.

 

When there was no reply, his smile faded. Although the area of woodland was relatively small, it would take a while to check every inch of ground for her bracelet. Perhaps she had gone into the furthest reaches of the woods and was working her way back.

 

“Amber?” His shout was edged with concern. He hoped nothing had happened to her. Cursing himself for letting her go on ahead, he hurried over the rough ground, his gaze searching the surrounding trees and bushes.

 

“..hail.”

 

He paused. Was that a faint cry? Mikhail stilled, every muscle tensing, waiting to hear the sound again.

 

“Mikhail.” Amber’s voice was faint but definitely recognizable.

 

“Amber!” He hiked toward the sound of her voice.

 

She called out again, sounding closer this time. He strode through the woods, intent on reaching her as quickly as he could.

 

***

 

Amber breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Mikhail heading toward her. Everything would be all right now.

 

“Are you okay?” He squatted in front of her, cupping her face in his hands, his gaze searching her face.

 

“I am now.” She smiled shakily. “But I’m not sure about my ankle.”

 

He followed her glance to her swollen left ankle. “Let me see. I studied first aid last year.” His strong, tanned fingers carefully probed the tender flesh, but he didn’t miss her wince. “I think you have a mild sprain.”

 

She nodded. “I’m just glad I haven’t broken it.”

 

“Why didn’t you call me?” He frowned in concern.

 

“I left my phone at the house,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Lapushka.”

 

Mikhail wrapped her in his arms, and she nestled against his strong chest, breathing in his scent of subtle spicy cologne and hay. Although she wasn’t sure what the exact translation of lapushka was, from the way he held her, she thought it might be similar to sweetheart. Warmth blossomed inside her.

 

When he finally pulled back, he asked in a thick voice, “Can you walk?”

 

“I can hobble.” She tried to smile. “You must think I’m a real klutz. First I nearly fell over in the street and you caught me, and now I’ve fallen over this log because I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m not usually clumsy like this.”

 

“Those boys were not paying attention.” He shook his head. “I was probably the same at their age. I’m just glad I was there to help you.”

 

“So am I.” She inhaled shakily. When he looked at her like that, like she was the most precious thing in the world, her knees turned to jelly.

 

“Did you find your bracelet?”

 

“Yes.” Amber drew out the bracelet from her pocket and showed it to him. “It was over there.” She gestured to the clump of orange wildflowers nearby.

 

“Good. I shall take you back to the house and you can rest your ankle.”

 

She put the bracelet back in her pocket, checking it was secure, then stood, her hand grasping Mikhail’s shoulder for support.

 

“Hold on to me,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her, and lifting her against his chest.

 

“Mikhail!” she squeaked, clutching his firm, broad shoulders. “What are you doing? You can’t carry me.”

 

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