My heart slams into my throat.
I scream.
It rips out of me—high, sharp, echoing off the rafters. The horses startle at the sound, shifting and stamping behind their stall doors, but the body doesn’t move.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, every horror-movie scenario crashing into me at once.
Dead transient. Dead drunk. Escaped criminal. Murder victim.
A few years ago, we had a break-in in the middle of the night. It cost us dearly when thieves took off with our horses. Matty has made sure that all the new stables and facilities have been fitted with state-of-the-art security systems, but so far, the only part of this original structure that’s been upgraded with cameras and alarms is Matty’s office.
With my heart thundering in my chest, I take one cautious step forward.
Nothing.
Another step.
I tell myself it’s probably just one of the contract workers sleeping on the job, although I didn’t notice any of their trucks in the drive on the way to the barn.
Please, God, don’t let him be dead.
As I get closer, I hear the faint sound of snoring.
Thank God.
I hold the head of the water hose like it’s a weapon and walk to his side. Tall. Broad. One arm is slung awkwardly over his chest, the other dangling toward the concrete. His boots are expensive—too expensive for ranch work—and absolutely filthy.
I swallow hard and force myself closer, tiptoeing, like that’ll help.
Then I recognize him.
Waylon Ludlow.
Passed out cold in a pile of our dirty hay.
My fear evaporates in an instant, replaced by a hot, furious anger.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I mutter.
He looks like shit.
His hair’s a mess. Shirt wrinkled and half untucked. Jaw dark with stubble. He reeks of whiskey, even from six feet away.
I stare at him for a long second, debating my options.
Then I smile.
I clutch the head of the water hose and squeeze the nozzle.
I don’t ease into it. I don’t warn him. I don’t hesitate.
I blast him full force with freezing cold well water.
Waylon comes to life like he’s been struck by lightning.
“Geezus!” He bolts upright, slipping in the hay, flailing, cursing as water soaks him head to toe. “What the hell?!”
He stumbles, catches himself on a bale, blinking wildly as he tries to orient himself.
