Page 33 of Relentless

Shiver

Oakleigh bundled up tightly in her thick jacket, pulling her arm around her middle to conserve her heat. The cold chill nipped at her cheeks as she led her speckled gray horse into the warmth of the barn. Maeve had persistently reminded them that winter was on the way and might even hit early.

As usual, she was right.

It wasn’t Oakleigh’s first harsh Montana winter, but she wasn’t sure she would ever become accustomed to the extreme weather.

Once her horse was cozy in its stable, she filled the trough with a large scoop of pellets. The mare gave a gentle wicker as Oakleigh offered her a sweet treat from her palm. She hung her leather saddle bag securely on the wall and pulled her travel mug from the side pocket. The satchel was hand-sewn with a convenient pocket built in just for travel mugs. The smooth leather bag had been a birthday gift from Maeve. The simple gesture meant so much more than the extravagantgifts her parents used to buy, like her flashy Mercedes G-Wagon that she received on her twenty-second birthday.

What a difference two years had made.

Holding the warm steel travel mug between her hands, she thawed her frozen fingers after the long ride around the property. She thumbed open the lid and drew a hearty swallow. The coffee was still surprisingly steaming hot, giving her core temperature a much-needed boost. She heard the rumble of a truck engine pulling up in front of the ranch house. Her heart began to beat a little quicker, hoping Crew was back from town a little earlier than expected.

Pushing open the heavy barn door, she carefully crossed the soft, mushy dirt now cluttered with mounds of snowflakes. It wasn’t quite cold enough to ice over, making the driveway a sloppy mess.

Oakleigh shielded her eyes from the icy droplets, and was surprised to see Dallas’ new truck parked out front. Maeve climbed out of the driver’s seat and forcefully closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing home early?” Oakleigh called out with her gloved hands cupped around her mouth. The sharp cold hit her throat, making her cough. “Did you miss my coffee that much?”

“I did miss the coffee,” Maeve admitted. Leaning back on the truck, she appeared distracted.

Oakleigh’s boots threatened to slip in the muck, but she was excited to report how well she had managed the ranch in Maeve’s absence.

“A bear ripped through the fence in the west pasture,” she announced.

Maeve folded her arms and glanced up at the star-filled sky. “Oakleigh, I probably should’ve called you—”

“Sawyer wants me to carry a gun,” Oakleigh rattled off. “You know how I feel about that, Maeve.”

The passenger door of the truck opened and slammed shut. In the dim light from the porch, Oakleigh could only assume it was Dallas.

“Also —“ her voice going an octave higher, ripping the news off like a bandaid. “Wemighthave some new animals.”

“Oakleigh,” Maeve interjected to no avail.

“Sawyer made a huge deal about it as usual,” Oakleigh said with an eye roll, “but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Oakleigh’s eyes strained in the darkness. The passenger carefully tottered around the truck, giving away that it certainly wasnotDallas.

Illuminated by the truck’s high-beam headlights, recognition hit Oakleigh like a kick to her stomach.

She gasped.

Her fingers released their grip on her mug, and it slipped into the slushy mud with a splash.

“Mom,” Oakleigh stammered. “You’ve got to stop showingup like this.”

Harper used the truck’s hood for stability and cautiously stepped through the slick, icy muck as though the ground itself was offending her.

Tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, Oakleigh searched Maeve for any reasonable explanation.

The woman, who was rarely at a loss for words, simply ran her fingers across her brow and mouthed —

“Sorry.”

Oakleigh averted her gaze and marched past them both toward the porch stairs, laser-focused on keeping her boots from sliding in the soft earth. Her mother seemed to thrive on chipping away at her dignity at every turn, and the last thing she needed was to end up covered in mud.

“Come now, Oakleigh,” Harper called after her, opening her arms wide. “It’s been months.”

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