Page 52 of Downpour

Ray sighed and dropped the rope. “Go on.”

“How do you pay for all this? I mean—your house, all the physical therapy. I’m sure you have crazy medical bills.”

Ray shrugged. “We didn’t grow up having a lot. Cattle and four boys are expensive. My folks taught me how to stretch a dollar. When I wasn’t traveling the rodeo circuit, I worked for a ranch in Colorado. I lived on my paycheck from the ranch and invested all my winnings, sponsor checks, and endorsements.”

“So, youdidhave a backup plan.”

“No,” Ray said as he went back to following the pattern on his phone. His left hand looked more steady today, and he wasn’t having trouble pinching the rope with his thumb and index finger like he had been. “A backup plan is what you’ll do when you fail. Not when you live a different life. I have a nest egg. Not a backup plan.”

“Sorry for asking,” I said quietly.

“Go on a walk or something if you’re going stir-crazy.”

That did sound tempting... “Are you sure?”

“Don’t wear flip-flops.”

“I won’t be gone long. Maybe half an hour?”

Ray tipped his head toward the door. “If I promise not to get out of my recliner until you get back, will you just go?”

I hopped off the couch. “Pinky swear?”

Ray huffed. “Are you twelve?”

I stuck my pinky out at him until he relented and offered his. Sparks danced up my arm when our hands touched. Our fingers curled together. We paused for a moment, frozen in time.

His thumb brushed my wrist, and his grip on my finger tightened.

“I won’t be long,” I rasped.

Ray let go, and dammit—I didn’t want him to.

He said nothing as I rummaged around in my room to get socks and sneakers, then slipped out the door.

The sun was scorching. Waves of heat radiated off the horizon. Maybe this was a bad idea. Air conditioning was great. Why would anyone want to be out here?

But Ray was right. I was going stir crazy.

I started toward the front of the property, where all the barns were. I’d say hello to the ladies in the stables, dole out a few treats, and walk to the front gate and back.

But that was the only part of the property I had seen...

I turned on my heels and went the opposite direction. I vaguely remembered someone saying something about the lodge and restaurant being built out this way. It would be cool to see the progress.

Dry grass crunched under my sneakers as I traipsed through the pasture. The sheds and warehouses grew to specks in the distance.

The fresh air—hot as it was—felt good on my shoulders. I picked up my pace to a jog and let the burn in my lungs fight out the intrusive thoughts about Ray.

I had dreams of him. Dreams of those tattooed arms and his chest. Every night, I fell asleep to the delusion that I was back on the couch with my head in his lap. I fantasized about his fingers combing through my hair and gliding over my shoulder.

The cuts and bruises from Mr. Wilson’s outburst had healed, but the memory of Ray cradling my chin in his hand hadn’t gone anywhere.

He was so gentle when he wanted to be, but there were moments where he scared me. He was like the Beast, angry andhurt. I knew it was in his nature to be soft, but the circumstances had made it hard for him.

I stumbled over a rock, but caught myself. Where was the construction site? Surely I was getting close.

I looked at my phone. No service, but I had only been walking for about fifteen minutes. I’d go a little further and then turn around.

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