Page 16 of Wrecked for Love
That thought made me smile. True to form, she’d done the opposite of what I’d told her. But after what she’d been through, if she needed a soothing, furry companion beside her, I wasn’t about to argue. She wasn’t running from just a nightmare. She was running from something real and terrifying.
I headed to the kitchen, planning to whip up breakfast, not just for me but for her too. It felt strange having someone else around, someone to cook for. I wasn’t even sure why I was doing it, but something in me wanted her to have a decent start, especially after last night.
Moments later, she appeared, looking a bit more refreshed.
“Morning.” I gave her a side glance, keeping my attention on the chopping. An unexpected pang hit me when I realized she was dressed, bag in hand, ready to go.
“Morning. Didn’t know ranchers moonlight as chefs. So, you’re more than just a sandwich artist, huh?”
“What can I say? Multitalented,” I replied, finally letting myself look at her.
Her hair was tied back, a few strands framing her cheeks. And those eyes—blue like the Buffaloberry River’s upstream—were bright under the sunlight. At first glance, she might’ve passed for some fragile doll with that gaze. But she was as far from sweet and docile as a habanero pepper is from sugar. That spark beneath her cool exterior? It could set a forest on fire.
I hadn’t been thrilled about having my night interrupted by an intruder, especially by her. But now…now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted her to leave just yet.
We sat down to eat.
“Now, this is a proper meal,” I said as I handed her a plate stacked with eggs, bacon, and toast.
“This is amazing!” she said, digging in like she hadn’t eaten in days, which was actually true, apart from my quick sandwich last night.
Koda wandered over to her, his nose twitching at the smell of bacon, eyes big and pleading.
“Koda, come here, pal,” I called, standing up to slip him a treat, steering clear of the greasy strip. After that, I returned to her side.
Claire gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I did let him sleep on the bed. I couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes.”
I replied with an amused hum, already knowing she’d caved to them. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that out. “It’s fine. He has that effect on people.”
She picked up another strip of bacon, savoring each bite and licking her fingers with a grin of pure satisfaction. “What’s it like, living in Buffaloberry Hill?” she asked, her enthusiasm still evident.
“It’s nice. But like anywhere else—whether it’s a big city or a small town—there are things you won’t love.”
“People or the surroundings?”
She fired off the questions like she wanted to unravel my story, but she was careful not to reveal her own.
“A bit of both, I guess,” I replied. “Some folks are stuck in their ways, and as for the environment, well, let’s just say the winters are tougher than the people. In some ways.” I didn’t want to go into the detail of how differently you could interpret the meaning of “toughness” in this town. It was all in its history.
“I suppose the farm’s why you stayed? Must’ve been in the family for generations,” she probed.
“Well, how about this? Tell me where you’re from, and I’ll tell you mine.”
She tilted her head, then cocked her brows. “Buffaloberry—is that a real thing?”
A diversion.
Fine. She wasn’t going to tell me.
“It is an actual fruit,” I replied. “They’re these tiny red berries with a sharp, tangy bite. They grow all over the hills around here, practically the town’s claim to fame.”
“Are they edible?”
“Definitely. My buffaloberry jam is a must-try.” I didn’t know why I was so eager to impress her. Maybe because I didn’t want her to leave. There was a muted satisfaction in pleasing someone—not the buyers at the market looking for cattle, but someone who might sit across from me at the breakfast table. Someone like her.
We finished up breakfast, and despite the lightness of the moment, I knew she’d be on her way soon. Something inside tripped me, like a wake-up call that I was about to miss my last chance. But I shoved the feeling aside. I couldn’t afford to go all starry-eyed, especially not with someone hiding secrets as big as hers.
She followed me outside. The storm had certainly left its mark. The ground was soaked, puddles reflecting the pale morning sky. The fresh scent of wet earth filled the air, sharp and invigorating.
