Page 9 of Wrecked for Love
“You know exactly what it means.”
I pivoted, nodding toward the house, the outline just barely visible through the swirling wind. “Come on, are you coming or not?”
Raindrops began to tap against the car roof, a steady rhythm quickly turning into a relentless downpour.
“I’m staying here,” she declared, crossing her arms like she had just made an unshakable decision.
I blinked, unable to hide the disbelief from my face. “You’re seriously going to sleep in the car?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” She punctuated her words by slamming the door shut, leaving me standing there, soaked, jaw hanging open.
“Fine! Suit yourself!” I shouted, making sure my voice carried above the roar of the storm. “Just don’t blast that weird music of yours. Wouldn’t want the coyotes thinking there’s a new mating call in town.”
Her expression was priceless—completely thrown off—but I couldn’t even enjoy it. I didn’t feel any victory in walking away, but dragging her along wasn’t exactly the move either. There were limits, and I wasn’t about to push her past them. Someone could end up hurt.
I turned on my heel, Koda padding beside me, though he kept glancing back at her like even he couldn’t quite believe how things had played out.
“Come on, pal,” I urged him along.
Being back in the house made the cold from outside feel even more biting. I shrugged off my damp jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. My rifle was next. It was empty.
“Un-fucking-believable,” I muttered under my breath. Who on earth raised her? That woman had serious trust issues.
Figuring she could keep the bullets as a parting gift, I made my way to the kitchen table, where my accounting still lay scattered, just as I’d left it when she showed up.
I sat down, trying to focus, but the numbers blurred. Feed costs were sky high, and with prices like these, I’d have to pull off a killer cattle sale in the fall, or the ranch would be in trouble. Still, no matter how long I stared at the figures, her stubbornface kept creeping in, crowding out any shred of concentration I had left.
Another storm alert blared from my phone—upping the wind gusts and rainfall. Looked like we were in for a gale-force smackdown.
Buffaloberry’s volunteer weather watchers were always on top of things. The town itself was a double-edged sword. I mostly kept to myself—not out of anger, just preference. Life was simpler that way.
People talked. They always did. I’d never bothered to confirm or correct their opinions. It wasn’t their fault. That’s just how small towns worked. And while I wasn’t one for community gatherings, I knew its importance. Some folks, like the weather watchers, were dependable. So was my best friend, Logan Pierce.
His text came through.
Not saying you’d get blown away, but if you wake up in Oz, let me know.
We grew up together—three years apart, him the big brother type. I shot back a quickstill here. If only he knew I wasn’t riding out the storm alone.
With a sigh, I tossed the accounting papers aside. No winning tonight—against the numbers or the storm in my head.
Koda was already curled up on his bed, his little heater switched on. The old guy felt the cold more these days.
“Lucky you.” I pat him lightly on the head. At least he didn’t have a mind full of problems to keep him awake.
I switched off the lights and trudged down the hallway toward my bedroom. The bed creaked as I slid beneath the covers, the familiar side of the bed somehow feeling smaller each night. I turned to face the inner side, where the other half stretched out in a dismal emptiness.
Shifting like a squirrel trying to get comfortable, I pulled the blankets over me while the storm raged outside. Sleep and I hadnever been close companions, but with thoughts of her out in the cold, the night felt like slow torture.
4
CLAIRE
The storm roared so close that it felt as if I were sitting in a convertible with the top down. Even the dog had given me a look earlier like I was an idiot. Maybe staying in the car wasn’t my brightest move, but what choice did I have? Sure, the guy didn’t exactly scream ‘serial killer,’ but crashing at his place for the night? That was a step too far.
Who knew who else might be lurking in that house? His family? His fellow cowboys? And even if he were alone, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play socialite tonight. Honestly, I couldn’t decide which scenario sounded worse.
I tugged the blanket higher, though it barely covered me.
