Page 38 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Yes. That’ll be fine.”

An awkward beat of silence fell and all my thoughts started catching up. How many ways was I going to put him out? The list was growing by the second. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. I got here so late, ruined your evening, messed up the inside of your truck. I?—”

He shrugged again. “Part of ranch living. Crap’s always happenin’ around here.”

If he was trying to make me feel better, it only kind of worked.

TEN

Bea

By the time we parked under a carport behind the main house at Meadowbrook, mud dripped down my face. I gagged as it leaked into my mouth.

“Hang tight, I’ll help you.”

He came around to my side, opened the door, and grabbed my hands, guiding me out of the truck. Mud seeped into the corners of my eyelids, and I hissed a painful breath; it burned like fire. Scribbs told me to keep them shut, so I let him lead me as I slowly picked my way across gravel like a wobbly newborn calf.

“Alright. I’m gonna spray you off. Lemme have that purse.”

I blindly thrusted it his general direction. He took it then placed my hands against a brick wall. “Don’t move,” he warned. I heard asqueak, squeak, squeakand a release of pressure. “Here comes the water. Three, two, one.” A stream blasted me in the back. I screeched because it took me by surprise, but the water was deliciously warm and chunks of mud detached from my skin and skirt. After a while, he handed me the hose and I ran the water over my face and hands. Practically jet-streamed it into my eyes. Scribbs watched, interjecting to point out places still covered every once in a while.

“Get under your ear.” He opened and closed his hand a few times to signal me. “Here just hand it back.”

I passed him the hose and he pinched the end, running the water over the back of my neck and shoulders and behind my knees. I felt the softest brush of his fingers in multiple places.

I stayed facing the wall. As the muddy water dripped from my body and pooled at my feet, a million insecurities rose from my heart. Hair stuck to my neck, cheeks, and forehead. Translucent blue fabric clung to my skin, accentuating my soft midsection. My black underwire bra was like a neon sign at the moment. My skirt sagged, hanging lower on my hips than it ought. Panic shot through me.

The bright porch lantern poured light over us.

Oh, help me!

I didn’t want to turn. I didn’t want to face him likethis. As if driving into the mud wasn’t bad enough, now I looked like a wet rat. I searched for my voice, looking at him over my shoulder. “Did we get it all?”

“Turn slow.”

I groaned inwardly. I wanted to refuse, but I was about to march my muddy drippy self into his guest room. Could I really keep him from double-checking?

I turned. Actually twirled, quick-like, with my eyes shut tight and arms tucked in.

“I said slow!”

I swallowed and twirled one more time, my toe pressing a divot into the soft driveway. When I stopped, we were face to face, looking at each other. Time seemed to glitch. Neither of us looked away.

His eyes—I could see them now. Slate gray, intense, and seeking. A spot of hazel heterochromia in his right eye interrupted the flat gray. The complicated color stole my breath away. It made me wonder what his beautiful eyes had seen, how they’d taken in the world.

As I stood there, an expression I couldn’t put my finger on furrowed his brows. He frowned in confusion. His thumb slipped off the end of the hose, leaving the water to jet full blast at the ground, pounding a crater into the gravel.

All warmth fled from his voice. His question was breathy, shaky. “What—what is your name again?”

Strings.I wanted to scream it.

“Bea Thompson.”

He dropped the hose and stepped closer, his frown deepening.

My voice turned breathy, mirroring his. “What?”

His gaze bounced between my eyes. “You…remind me of someone. You look vaguely familiar, too.”

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