Page 42 of Downpour

“Go,” he gritted out.

“You’re standing,” I whispered. “Am I dreaming?”

“Get the hell out of my room,” he barked.

I snapped out of my haze and reached for his hand. “Can I help you?”

“Don’t fucking touch me, Brooke.”

I took a step back. That must’ve been good enough for Ray. I watched in amazement as he took small step after small step, crossing the three-foot space between the bathroom door and his bed. He used the vanity, the wall, and the nightstand for support, but he was doing it.

I cupped my hands over my mouth. “Ray, that’s incredible.”

Hair, dripping with water, hung in his eyes as he kept his head down, watching each small lift and slide of his feet. When he reached the edge of the nightstand and reached for the bed, his knees gave out. Ray fell toward the bed but caught the edge and managed to pull himself up on top of the mattress.

His sculpted chest heaved as he sucked in deep breaths. It must have been exhausting.

“You keep your mouth shut,” he growled, then pointed a finger at me. “You hear me? If you say a fucking word about this, I’ll fire you. Have I made myself clear?”

I couldn’t even speak. He was furious at me, but I didn’t care. “Ray, this is amazing. We should celebrate! What do you need? Do you need anything? What can I do to help?”

The heat I usually saw in his eyes had been replaced by something far more sinister. His head hung low. “Get the fuck out.”

My heart dropped. “Ray?—“

“I don’t care what you do,” he shouted. “Just get out.”

Tears flooded my eyes at the hatred in his voice. I thought we had been making progress. I really thought we had started connecting.

I choked on the lump in my throat. “Are you okay?”

His laugh was maleficent. “Do I look okay? Don’t be so fucking naïve.”

“I won’t say a word,” I whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

And, like a switch had been flipped, all that heat, hatred, and fire in his eyes turned to ash.

“No. Leave.”

I stumbled to the guest room and found my sneakers. I needed to move. I was going to go stir-crazy if I kept sitting here, knowing he was behind that door and wouldn’t even let me near him.

I left a note on the kitchen counter so he wouldn’t worry—not that I expected him to— and made sure the front door was unlocked before jogging down the ramp.

I found myself walking the dirt path that led back to the developed part of the ranch. Even though it was the middle of the day, it seemed deserted. I didn’t know much about the cattle ranching operation—Ray never talked about it—but I guessed that everyone was out with the cows. Wherever that was.

I passed a cluster of sheds, but they seemed lifeless. I passed the office. Through the postcard window, I could see Cassandra typing away on a computer.

She scared me, so I kept walking.

A barn with neat landscaping and a fresh coat of paint called to me. I loved animals. Maybe a walkthrough wouldn’t hurt. I wouldn’t be bothering anyone. I just needed to get out of the house for a little bit.

The shade of the stables was a welcome reprieve from the midday Texas sun. The concrete floors looked freshly swept, and the rubber mats had been hosed off. It smelled like animals, but I didn’t mind. The warmth of hay and feed was comforting.

“Oh, hello,” I said to a beautiful chestnut horse when it stuck its head over the lip of the stall. I smoothed my hand up and down his nose. “You’re a handsome fella.”

“Beautiful,” a man said.

I whipped around and clasped my hands behind my back like a kid who got caught making a move for the cookie jar.

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