He doesn’t answer—no surprise—rubbing a sweet, herbal-smelling ointment into her brown pelt. “Like horses more than people.”
I laugh. “Theydotalk less.”
He pauses, eyeing me with too-intense eyes.
“Maybe not less than you, though.”
“Words are overrated, Allison.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I stammer, realizing how backward this whole exchange has been so far.
“Austin Fitz.” He starts to offer a hand, then nods toward the ointment.
“Allison Montgomery, but, yeah…” I’m about to tell him my nickname, unthinkingly. But then, I stop myself. Something about his silence unnerves me. Compels me to fill the space with useless chatter.
“Allison. That what you prefer?”
That question catches me off guard, as if the man’s reading my mind. “That’s whateveryonecalls me.”
“Not my question,” he says, turning toward me.
Allison is professional. Polished. Grown up.Something tells me none of that matters to this man.
“My grandpa always called me Allie.”
“Allie, then,” he says with a firm nod. “Unless you say otherwise.”
I huff a laugh. I think it’s the most I’ve heard him speak so far.
He scowls, working more of the medicinal balm into tired flesh, as I return to brushing. Trying to somehow process a day that started with a loud drunk and ends with a wordless cowboy in some isolated corner of Big Sky country.
Chapter
Three
ALLIE
Afire crackles in the hearth, soft golden light fanning across the living room. I stare into the flames, gaze distant, unseeing.
“Drink?” the cowboy asks, rounding the kitchen island.
I startle, eyes jumping to the whiskey and tequila bottles tucked beneath his kitchen cabinet.
Of course.
In one quick move, he grabs them by the necks, tucking them out of sight. Then, he turns, frowning.
I exhale sharply, the adrenaline of earlier washing back over me. Far from the first time Trevor’s been drunk. But uglier. “Tea or coffee, maybe. Just notthat.” Though I try to deliver the words steadily, my voice still quivers at the end.
He nods, turning to rifle through the cupboard for two mugs.
A great gust slams against the side of the cabin. Timber and boards strain but hold. I shiver, imagining what it must feel like outside. Imagining Trevor alone and bleeding on the snowbank.
He’ll kill me for this.
“You okay?”
My eyes catch his. Anger flashes. If only he’d left well enough alone. If only I didn’t feel indebted to him. I nod, clenching my teeth.
