Page 32 of Some Cowboys Brave the Flames

Wind whipped at her hair, and she regretted not pulling them into the braids she loved so much. She closed her eyes for brief moments, letting her other senses flood her mind with her surroundings. The sound of the wind through the trees. The crickets chirping in the brush. She could smell the fresh-cut hay in the field at her right and the barest hint of wildflowers that managed to survive year after year.

In this moment she could relax and push off any worry she had for the future. She had to trust that the news reporters would have mentioned if one of the heroes had been injured. She had to believe that Ash was okay, because if she gave up, then she didn’t know how her heart would survive.

Time lost all meaning as she continued to ride. The skies got darker. Her horse grew more antsy, and when the first raindrop pelted her face, she knew it was time to turn around. The small drops splashed against her skin, goosebumps prickling along her arms. The closer she drew to the house, the heavier the rain became.

She couldn’t even be mad. The rain was needed, welcomed, prayed for. Charlie turned her face to the sky and let out a laugh. It was beautiful.

Rose didn’t seem to appreciate the change in weather though. She didn’t even slow down when they reached the barn. Instead, she darted right into the shelter and skidded to a stop once she got out of the rain.

Charlie laughed again, leaning over to pat Rose on the neck. Then she climbed down from the saddle and made quick work of getting Rose brushed down and dried off.

Her hoodie was heavy with moisture and the cold bit into her jeans, making her legs ache. Water no longer dripped down her face, but her hair was as wet as if she’d stepped out of the shower. At least the tension she’d been dealing with had eased up.

If Ash didn’t call anyone by tomorrow, she was going to march over to his place herself and give him a piece of her mind.

She tossed one last look around the barn, lit only by a few dim lights so they could see their way around at night. Her hand trailed against the stalls, then the doorway itself. Charlie waited there for a moment, a memory tugging at the back of her mind.

It had been a rainy night when Ash had kissed her. It had also been a night wrought with tension and heartache.

She heaved a sigh and started jogging toward the house.

A figure stepped out of the shadow of a tree, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to stop from screaming. “Ash?” she hissed. She could barely see his features in the glowing light from the porch a few yards away. “Ash!” Instincts took over and she threw her arms around his shoulders. “I was so worried about you.” She pulled back and frowned at him, tempted to slug him like her brothers might. “We wereallworried about you!”

He wore a hoodie, but he hadn’t covered his head. His hands were shoved into his front pockets and the expression on his face was pained.

She peered at him in the dark, her eyes squinting with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Ash shifted, twisting and digging the toe of his shoe into the grass at their feet. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

No, he wasn’t.

Her first thought was that someone had gotten hurt and only he knew about it. Then upon looking at him closer, she disregarded that thought with a shake of her head. Her hand reached out, and she touched his forearm. “What’s wrong?” she tried again.

His eyes darted toward the darkened house. It looked as though her family had gone to bed. Not one light was on.

She glanced there as well, her concern growing. “Should I go get?—”

“No!” he said, sharp and quiet. Then his expression relaxed but only slightly. The rain was still coming down, but it wasn’t a downpour. It had lightened to that nice sort of rain that made her blink when the droplets hit her lashes, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was the kind of rain someone could sing and dance under.

Charlie reached for his arm. “Let’s get out of this rain.” She tugged him toward the side of the house, beneath the roof’s awning. She pressed her back to the building and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. An apology was already forming on her lips for the last conversation they had, but he spoke first.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Charlie.”

She didn’t think she heard him right. She glanced at him, confusion flooding her senses.

Ash pulled both of his hands out of his hoodie pocket, forming fists at his sides. His voice was low and serious, but it was his eyes that made her grow still. There wasn’t a drop of teasing. All she read there was desire and longing. “I’m in love with you, Charlie.”

She gasped, shaking her head. “No.”

“No?” he demanded, his voice hoarse, painful.

“No,” she repeated firmly. “We can’t do this. You said so yourself. Your girlfriend?—”

“She doesn’t exist.”

Her mouth fell open, then she dug her fingers into her hair, letting out a baffled laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him.

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