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He extended his arm and helped her balance beside him. Bracing themselves, they shoved in tandem against the unforgiving wood. Beth’s foot slipped, and she nearly tumbled backward. “Sorry,” she muttered.
Drew beat his fist against the doors. “Damn it, this is pointless. It won’t budge. Whatever is up there has us pinned down for good. I’m sorry, Beth.”
She could do one of two things—indulge in a full-blown panic attack...or convince Drew that she was a calm, rational, capable woman. “No apologies necessary. I’m sure someone will find us. Eventually.” When the roads are cleared and when at least one person remembers that Drew came to Green Acres this afternoon. She cleared her throat. “Did you happen to mention to anyone at the ranch that you were coming over here to read me the riot act?” Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
“No.” He helped her down to the floor and began to pace. It wasn’t much of an exercise since his long legs ate up the space in two strides. “Will your family check up on you?”
“We’re not close,” she said, choosing not to go into detail. No need for him to see the seedy underbelly of her upbringing. Despite Drew’s cell phone experience, she pulled hers out of the pocket of her shorts and tried to make a call. No bars...not even one.
Drew saw what she was doing. “Try a text,” he said. “Sometimes those will go through even with no signal.”
She stared at the screen glumly, holding up the phone so he could see. “It says not delivered.”
“Well, hell.”
Her sentiments exactly. “I wish I had eaten lunch.”
“Concentrate on something else,” he urged. “We don’t want to dig into the food supply unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
What he wasn’t saying was that they could be trapped for days.
Beth refused to contemplate the implications. The storm cellar was equipped with a small, portable hospital commode tucked in the far corner. Things would have to get pretty bad before she could imagine using the john in front of Drew Farrell. Oh, Lordy.
Now all she could think about was waterfalls and babbling brooks and the state of her bladder.
Drew sat down beside her. They had both extinguished their flashlights to save the batteries. She gazed at her phone, feeling its solid weight in her hand as a lifeline. “I suppose we should turn these off.”
“Yeah. We need to preserve as much charge as we can. We’ll check one or the other on the hour in case service is restored.”
“But you don’t think it’s likely.”
“No.”
In the semidarkness, soon to get even more inky black when the sun went down, she couldn’t see much of him at all. But their chairs were close. She was certain she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I feel so helpless,” she said, unable to mask the quiver in her voice.
“So do I.” The tone in his voice was weary, but resigned. It must be unusual for a man who was the undisputed boss of his domain to be bested by an act of nature.
“At least we know someone at the ranch will realize you’re missing,” she said. “You’re an important man.”
“I don’t know about that, but my brother, Jed, is visiting from Dallas. He’ll be looking for me.”
She wanted to touch him, to feel that tangible reassurance that she was not alone. But she and Drew did not have that kind of relationship. Even without the filter of social convention, they were simply two people trapped in an untenable situation.
His voice rumbled in her ear. “Why don’t we call a truce? Until we get rescued. I’ve lost the urge to yell at you for the moment.”
“Please don’t be nice to me now,” she begged, her anxiety level rising.
“Why not?”
“Because it means you think we’re going to die entombed in the ground.”
He shifted on his chair, making the metal creak. “Of course we’re not going to die. At the very worst we might have to spend a week or more in here. In which case we’d run out of food and water. We’d be miserable, but we wouldn’t die.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Farrell.” His analytical summation of their predicament was in no way reassuring.
The dark began to close in on her. Even with Drew at her side, her stomach jumped and pitched with nerves. “I need a distraction,” she blurted out. “Tell me an embarrassing story about your past that no one knows.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Not at all. What happens in the storm cellar stays in the storm cellar. You can trust me.”
His muffled snort of laughter comforted her in some odd way. She enjoyed this softer side of him. When he stood to pace again, she missed his closeness. His scent clung to the shirt he had given her, so she pulled it more tightly around her in the absence of its owner and waited for him to speak.
* * *
Drew was worried. Really worried. Not about his and Beth’s situation. He’d leveled with her on that score. But what had his stomach in knots was the bigger picture. He should be out there helping with recovery efforts. To sit idly by—while who knows what tragedy unfolded in Royal and the surrounding environs—made him antsy. He was not a man accustomed to waiting.
He made things happen. He controlled his destiny. It was humbling to realize that one random roll of the dice, weather-wise, had completely upended his natural behavior. All he could do at the moment was to reassure Beth and to make sure she was okay. Not that he regarded such responsibility as insignificant. He felt a visceral need to protect her. But he also realized that Beth was a strong woman. If they ever got out of here, she would be right by his side helping where she could. He knew her at least that well.
Her random request was not a bad way to pass the time. He cast back through his memories, knowing there was at least one painful spot worth sharing. The anonymity of the dark made it seem easier.
“I was engaged once,” he said.
“Good grief, Drew. I know that. Everyone knows that.”
“Okay. Then how about the time I took my dad’s car out for a joyride when I was ten years old, smoked a cigar and got sick all over his cream leather upholstery?”
“And you lived to tell the tale?”
“Nobody ever knew. My brother helped me clean up the mess, and I put the car back in its spot before Mom and Dad woke up.”
“Are your parents still living?”
“Yes. Why?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Are you going to complain to them about their hard-assed son?”
“Don’t tempt me. And for the record, my secret is not nearly as colorful. One day when I was nine years old I took money out of my mother’s billfold and bought a loaf of bread so I could fix lunch to take to school.”
“Seriously?” he asked, wondering if she was deliberately trying to tug at his heartstrings.
Without answering, she stood and went to the ladder, peering up at their prison door. “I don’t hear anything at all,” she said. “What if we have to spend the night here? I don’t want to sleep on the concrete floor. And I’m hungry, dammit.”
He heard the moment she cracked. Her quiet sobs raked him with guilt. He’d upset her with his snide comment, and now he had to fix things. Jumping to his feet, he took her in his arms and shushed her. “I’m sorry. I was being a jerk. Tell me the rest.”
“No. I don’t want to. All I want is to get out of this stupid hole in the ground.” Residual fear and tension made her implode.
He let her cry it out, surmising that the tears were healthy. This afternoon had been scary as hell, and to make things worse, they had no clue if help was on the way and no means of communication.
Beth felt good in his arms. Though he usually had the urge to argue with her, this was better. Her hair was still wet, the natural curls alive and thick with vitality. Though he had felt the pull of sexual attraction between them before, he had never acted on it. Now, trapped in the dark with nothing to do, he wondered what would happen if he kissed her.
Wondering led to fantasizing which led to action. Tangling his fingers in the hair at her nape, he tugged back her head and looked at her, wishing he could see her expression. “Better now?” The crying was over except for the occasional hitching breath.
“Yes.” He felt her nod.
“I want to kiss you, Beth. But you can say no.”
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “You saved my life. I suppose a kiss is in order.”
He frowned. “We saved each other’s lives,” he said firmly. “I’m not interested in kisses as legal tender.”
“Oh, just do it,” she said, the words sharp instead of romantic. “We’ve both thought about this over the last two years. Don’t deny it.”
He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “I wasn’t planning to.”
When their lips touched, something spectacular happened. Not the pageantry and flourish of fireworks, but something sweeter, softer, infinitely more beautiful. Time stood still. Not as it had in the frantic fury of the storm, but with a hushed anticipation that made him hard as his heart bounced in his chest.
Beth put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined connecting with her at this level in the midst of a dark, dismal, cellar. Women deserved soft sheets and candlelight and sophisticated wooing.
There was, however, something to be said for primeval bonding in life-and-death situations. He was so damned glad he had been with her. In truth, he didn’t know if she could have managed to lock herself in the cellar on her own. And if the hinges hadn’t held.... It made him ill to think of what might have happened to her.
“Beth?”
“Hmm?” The tone in her voice made him hungry for something that was definitely not on the menu at this moment.
“We need to stop.”
“Why? I enjoy kissing you. Who knew?”
He swallowed against a tight throat. “You’re doing something to me that won’t be entirely comfortable given our situation.” Gently pushing his hips against hers, he let her feel the extent of his arousal.
Beth jerked out of his arms so quickly it was a wonder they didn’t both end up on the floor. Her voice escalated an octave. “You don’t even like me.”
Three (#ulink_cd9ced45-d666-5226-a299-774a7a9efeba)
Beth was mortified...and aroused...and exhausted from their ordeal. And aroused. Did she say that out loud? Fantasizing about kissing Drew Farrell was nothing like the real deal. For one thing, he was far gentler with her than she’d imagined he’d be. Almost as if he expected her to be afraid of him. Fat chance. She’d been dreaming about this moment for months.
But why did it have to happen in such incredibly drab and dreadful surroundings? As truly thankful and grateful as she was to be alive, getting out of this cheerless hole was fast becoming a necessity. She was pretty tough. Not only that, she had beaten some pretty tough odds to make it as far in life as she had. But claustrophobia and fear of the dark were gaining the upper hand. Even hanky-panky with Drew was not quite enough to steady her nerves when she felt the walls closing in.
She decided to ignore his situation. He’d been right to call a halt to their exploratory madness. Such impulsive actions would only embarrass them both after they were rescued.
When she sat down again, her legs weak, Drew resumed his pacing. If sexual energy had an aura, she was pretty sure the two of them could have lit up their confined cell without ever using a flashlight.
Silence reigned after that. With her phone turned off, she had no way to check the time. She didn’t want to ask Drew. So she sat.
The chair grew harder. The air grew damper. Far in the distance, she thought she heard the wail of sirens. Not another tornado alarm, but a medical vehicle this time. Now, she could no longer pretend that she and Drew were a couple enjoying an innocent kiss. What waited for them above was terrifying. She had no clue what to expect, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.
After a half hour passed in dead quiet, she heard him sigh heavily. He reclaimed his spot beside her, scooting his chair a few inches away from hers. She didn’t waste time being offended. It was survival of the fittest at this moment. Sexual insanity would only exacerbate matters.
When he finally spoke, she jumped.
“Did you really steal money to buy bread?”
* * *
Drew wasn’t sure why he wanted to know. But he did.
After a very long pause, Beth finally spoke. “Yes. My mother was not very responsible when it came to things like that. I often had to fake her signature on permission slips for my brother and me. Most kids learn to count money in kindergarten and first grade because it’s part of the curriculum. I learned out of necessity.”
Drew sat in silence absorbing the spare details of Beth’s story. Contrasting her early life with the way he had grown up made him wince at his good fortune.
He knew instinctively that she wouldn’t want his sympathy. So instead, he focused on that kiss. Beth had been eager and responsive and fully in the moment. He adjusted his jeans, groaning inwardly. The last thing he needed right now was to acknowledge an attraction that had been growing for two years. Beth was beautiful and smart and capable. Of course, he was drawn to her. But that didn’t mean he had to be stupid. His sole focus at the moment needed to be making sure he and Beth could manage until help arrived.
Her quiet voice startled him. “Will you check the time, please? And see if cell service is back up.”
“Sure.” He hit the dial on his watch. “Nine o’clock.” He turned on his phone, waited, and winced when he saw the battery at sixty-eight percent. “Still nothing.”
Sitting was no longer an option. His muscles twitched with the need to do something...anything. He went to the cellar doors and tried again to push upward. Whatever was holding them in place might as well have been an elephant. He and Beth were never going to be able to get out on their own.
Leaning his hip against the ladder, he admitted the truth. “We might as well accept the fact that we’re going to be here overnight. It’s dark up top. There are probably power lines down and roads that are blocked. Search and rescue will have a wide area to cover, and they may not get to us until morning.”
“If then.”
He let that one pass. “I think it’s time to eat something.” Rummaging in the footlocker, he found a small metal tin full of beef jerky. He removed a couple pieces and handed one to Beth. “Bon appétit.”
She didn’t say anything, but he heard the rustle of plastic packaging as she opened the snack.
There were two more box-shaped flashlights in the footlocker. If he wanted to, he could turn on one of the smaller ones they were already using to illuminate their living space—until the juice ran out. But on the off chance their incarceration lasted longer than twenty-four hours or more, it made sense to preserve the batteries.
He rummaged a second time and handed Beth a bottle of water. “Drink only half if you can. We need to hope for the best and plan for the worst.”
“If we ever get out of here, I’ll put that on a T-shirt for you. The wisdom of Drew Farrell.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all. Merely trying to stave off feminine hysteria.”
He grinned in the darkness, chewing the jerky and swallowing it with a grimace. “You’re about the least hysterical woman I’ve ever met.”
“I have my moments.”
“Not that I’ve seen. I admire you, Beth, despite my grousing.”
“There you go again...being nice. It creeps me out.”
“That’s because you’ve only seen one side of me. I can actually be quite a gentleman when I choose. Case in point, I promise not to have my wicked way with you while we sleep tonight.”
She laughed out loud. “I don’t think I can get down on this floor unless we turn on a light and check for spiders and other nasty stuff.”
The husky feminine amusement in her voice made him happy. At least he’d distracted her for a moment. “That’s doable. I came across one of those reflective silver space blankets in the trunk. I thought we could spread that on the ground. It won’t make us any more comfortable, but at least it will be clean. I’ll sit up and lean against the wall. You can put your head in my lap for a pillow.”
