"You're alright," I murmur close to her ear. "It’s just thunder. You need to start gettin’ used to it around here."
She shakes her head, and her golden locks brush against my forearm. "No, not that," she whispers, pointing a trembling finger toward the side door. "Listen."
And so, I do. And there it is—atap tap tap, persistent.
For a heartbeat, we stand still, her back pressed to my chest, my senses heightened by the proximity, by the softness of her, by the incredible way she smells.
I guide her behind me and pull the blinds back, squinting into the darkness outside. Nothing but shadows.
"Stand back, darlin’." I unlatch the side door and ease itopen. A faint smile spreads across my face once I realize what it is.
"Looks like we got ourselves a real problem out here," I say, doing my best not to laugh.
"What's funny? Who is it?" she asks, inching closer, peering around me.
And then she sees it—a pair of shiny orbs caught in the act. A big-eyed raccoon, knee-deep in the aftermath of its scavenging stares back at her with equal parts surprise and indignation.
"Dammit," Sawyer mutters under her breath, the fight seeping out of her as she leans back against the doorframe. "Guess you can stand down, cowboy."
“Seems like it,” I say, stepping outside. “Looks like you’re safe from danger after all.” My eyes flick to the door. “Lock this door behind me.”
“Wait.”
The word’s soft, almost swallowed, but it stops me. “For what?”
She tugs at the hem of that oversized shirt again. “I… just made a sangria mix.” She glances up at me, eyes lingering longer than they should. “You wanna sit on the porch and watch the lightning with me?”
“Thought you couldn’t stand bein’ stuck with me during a storm,” I say, thunder rolling like it’s backing me up.
Her smirk is quick, but there’s warmth in it. “What can I say? Storms make me reckless. And it feels like they’ve been chasing me lately.”
I always figured storms were messages, sent down from the ones who came before us. My granddaddy tryin’ to speak to me most of all. Every bolt of lightning or rumble of thunder felt like him warning me, or maybe even sayin’ he was proud. And lately… Fuck if it doesn’t seem to roll in every time she’s around. Doesn’t seem like a coincidence, more like somethin’ I oughta pay attention to.
“Reckless how?” I tip my chin up, knowing damn well I shouldn’t ask.
“For starters, letting you stick around... but you did save my life tonight.”
“Guess that earns me a drink,” I say, taking a seat on the porch.
She disappears inside. When she comes back, two glasses glow dark red in the storm light. When she passes one to me, her fingers brush mine, sparking something hot that has nothing to do with the weather.
“Cheers to me rescuing you from death by raccoon,” I say, raising my glass.
“Congrats on the rescue, cowboy. But in Chicago, I once watched a rat bigger than that drag an entire slice of deep dish pizza off the train. Your little ranch raccoon doesn’t even rank.”
“Well, darlin’, I may not deal with subway rats, but I did drive across the ranch to fight your garbage monster. That’s gotta earn me somethin’.”
I catch her grinning over the rim of her glass. “If you keep making me smile, I might start thinking you’re good company.”
“I make damn good company,” I tell her, lifting my glass toward the sky. “And you can’t tell me city life’s got anything on this.”
Lightning forks in the distance, the sky putting on a show, but it’s nothing compared to her. Sawyer’s sittin’ across from me, glass in hand, hair piled up in a messy twist like she didn’t even try. No makeup, nothin’ but her—and somehow she’s the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. It knocks me sideways, the way she’s got me feeling. Likethe storm ain’t just out there in the sky, it’s workin’ its way through me too.
“It’s beautiful here,” Sawyer says after she takes a drink. “But it’s just a vacation. I’ve gotta get back to reality. My job. Harrison will probably hold this trip over my head for months, and his dad will eat it up. He just loves any excuse to say I’m not cut out to be an agent.”
I let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a place I wouldn’t wanna work.”
She gives a humorless laugh. “I’ve worked my ass off for years, proved myself over and over. Still never feels good enough—for his dad, and sure as hell not for him.”
