Page 127 of Braving the Storm
“Thank fuck. We need you up here at the ranch.”
“Someone injured?” Shit, I run my hand over the back of my neck. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worried about Colt getting hurt or some fresh hell like that, and with how isolated they are, medical help is always going to be a long way away.
“No—but one of the horses. They’ve thrown a shoe.”
I blow out a breath. At least it’s not a call for help with Colton Wilder half bleeding to death on my hands.
“Don’t fucking scare me like that, Layla.”
“Well, in my world, this is an emergency. Winnie looks to be in pain, and I’m asking, politely, for you to get your ass up here right now.”
The radio crackles.
“Please, Storm? For Winnie?”
“I’m on my way. Just keep her in the barn, stop her from moving around too much, and wrap the hoof if you need to until I get there.”
“Thank you. I know you’ll take excellent care of her for me.”
“Be there soon.”
Hanging the radio up, I don’t have time to keep thinking about the girl I’m missing, like my fucking heart has vacated my chest and crawled after her. There is too much shit I gotta do, and this visit to Devil’s Peak Ranch is likely to take me the rest of the day.
Grabbing my jacket and hat and shoving into my boots, I pause with one hand on the door handle.
Before leaving, I tug my phone out of my pocket and snap a quick photo of the vase of flowers. There’s no opportunity to linger or agonize over typing a caption, so I just post it to my Instagram and add it to the collection of daily photos, trying to at least show Briar that even if she’s not here to see it, this place is always going to be her home.
I shiftthe truck into park and hop out onto the gravel of the deserted yard. Just as I’ve slammed the door shut behind me, ready to make my way straight toward the barn where I know Layla will be waiting with Winnie, I hear a throat clear roughly.
“Stôrmand.”
Leaning on the rail to the porch of his fancy fucking mountain property, looking out over the ranch and Devil’s Peak, Colton Wilder gives me a look I can’t interpret. Or, more to the point, I can’t be bothered to.
“Get your ass up here.” He beckons me with a wave to join him, and as he stands straight, I see he’s got two beers dangling from one hand.
“Bit unlike you to be taking an afternoon off, old man.”
He hits me with a grunt and a shake of his head. “Just come sit with me for a minute, would ya.”
“Take it your horses are all fucking fine, then,” I grumble as I climb the short flight of steps flanked by stonework and cedarwood, joining him in one of the ridiculous oversized outdoor chairs he’s got on this porch.
“How else was I supposed to get you up here,hmm?” He hands me one of the drinks and then settles back with a sigh and readjusts his cap, tugging it back down over his dark hair.
“Preying on my weakness. You know I’d run up here on two legs through snow if those damn horses were injured. Thought only your asshole son was the one to stoop low enough for bullshit pranks around here.”
“Quit your bitching and drink your damn beer.”
I stretch my boots out in front of me and drop my hat onto the seat beside mine, so I can sink right back into the plush cushions.
We both sit there in silence, listening to the creak of the pine trees in the wind, as a long sip of my beer goes down on a smooth glide.
Colt eventually clears his throat, again.
Turning to face him, I narrow my eyes. “If this isn’t about aproblem with your horses, and you seem to have something wedged in your windpipe over there, wanna spit it out?”
“Look, I’m no expert… but speaking as someone who almost fucked everything up because I didn’t go after the girl…”
Heat races up the back of my neck.
