Page 31 of Burn the Wild

His lips pull into something resembling a smile. “No.Thisis Mouse.” He reaches down and flips the cat into his arms. She curls up without protest. “And she’s a menace. Just like you.”

Together, we stand.

“Lock your door,” Ford orders. “Eat your food.”

Then, with Mouse in his arms, he crosses the space between the chalet and the wild woods before climbing onto the UTV and taking off.

I leave the door unlocked. Just to spite him.

The next morning, I blink away the fog of sleep. Relishing the silence, I stretch cat-like in the cool sheets. Just me. No hangover. No strange man in my bed. No Gavin barking orders.

I smile at the ceiling.

I can do this.

As I slip into a sparkly dress, I realize how poorly I packed. But shimmery showgirl attire is all I owned—all I grabbed in my haste to get out of Nashville. After dabbing my cheeks and lips with dusky-rose blush, and adding mascara to my lashes, I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair, now the color of honey and ash, tumbles in unruly waves.

I chance a smile. I love it.

Ready for the day, I retrieve the slender gold bangles I bought myself after Muirwood from the nightstand and slip them on my wrist. With that, I step onto the front porch, instantly enveloped by the sticky morning heat. No eviction notice in sight, but Ford was right. There is nothing around me, and seeing as they don’t have Uber out here, I’ll have to walk.

I look down.

In heels.

As if to solidify my terrible fashion choices, when I step off the porch, my heels sink into the soft earth.

My heart thuds and I close my eyes.

I can do this.

But first, I need every ounce of coffee in the entire world. I need to go into town. I need to call Gavin too, but that is a problem for a caffeine-medicated Reese.

With a grunt, I rip my heels from the earth and start moving, breathing deeply until the noise in my head quiets.

For a second, I forget about the trek ahead of me, and lose myself in the moment. The birdsong in the trees. The sunlight on my bare skin. Emerald fields filled with horses. It feels like summer, and a sunrise builds in my chest. The ranch isstunning. There’s something about seeing it on a new day that bolsters my hope.

How long has it been since I looked at the world with fresh eyes? Breathed clean air?

It’s like taking my first step into a life I’ve never met.

It’s the wild burn of freedom.

A cowboy on a black horse thunders past me. A group of people, fishing poles held in their hands, trek toward the forest with a guide. A white van stenciled with Runaway Ranch on the side putters up the gravel drive to the wrought iron sign in the distance.

I stick on dark sunglasses so no one recognizes me. The last thing I want to do is give away my cover, though most people wouldn’t expect Reese Austin to be at some Podunk ranch in Montana.

By the time the fifteen-minute trek is over, I’m at the Lodge. After grabbing a town map, I wander the building. Today is less busy, and I’m not preoccupied with a search for whiskey, so I’m able to pay more attention. The common area is a western sanctuary with plush leather armchairs, a rock wall fireplace, and spectacular views in every direction. There’s a cantina and a gift shop next to the front desk. Across the way, a small alcove with a sign above that reads THE CORNER STORE.

I duck inside.

It’s adorable. Like a cowboy bodega. While I explore the tiny store, I scan the shelves. Cans of soup. Boxes of cereal. Bottles of soda. Tampons and blue boxes of macaroni and cheese. A sign posted in the window says HELP WANTED. My mouth waters over the iced coffee machine, surprisingly fancy for the ranch. I need a strong pick-me-up for what’s ahead of me.

I open my wallet, and my stomach drops when I see the lone twenty-dollar bill. The only money I have until I can replace mycredit cards and access my banking account. I worry my lower lip between my teeth. How long will it last? How long can I?

I cringe at the thought of how much I’ve wasted on stilettos and designer clothing. How foolish I’ve been to give Gavin control of my accounts, my money.

I need a job. And a lawyer.

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