Fourteen
Who could imagine the outback sky would display such a splendour of watercolour purples and dusty oranges blending into one another, as the last breath of night gave way to dawn.The air was cool and crisp, a fleeting mercy before the sun claimed the day.
In this moment, it was pure perfection.
Amara breathed it all in, stretching out the stiffness from sleep.She loved her mornings now—that quiet time with her horse, and now the prospect of riding before she went to work.
Should she swing by and pick up Finn, in case he’d left his car at the pub again?
Not his babysitter, Montrose.The thought a whisper, as if Porter was standing over her shoulder and saying it himself.
She pushed it aside and focused on the moment—hat in hand, boots on, jodhpurs snug and ready.Then, with a deep breath, she stepped off the verandah to greet the day.
The place still didn’t feel entirely hers, but this—the routine and the promise of time alone with her horse—felt like something familiar.Homely even.
The scent of earth and dry grass rose beneath her boots as she crossed the yard.There was no sign of Porter’s vehicle—who must still be on night shift.Even better.She wasn’t sticking around for his smart-arse comments on her new list of house rules stuck to the fridge, either.
Grinning, with a skip in her step, her boots crunched softly over the dirt as she approached the stables with anticipation curling in her chest.
‘Tempest?Are you ready for a ride before breakfast?’
She slowed down to listen for the horse.
He should have shifted in the yard, or something.
But the silence stretched on for far too long.
Her steps quickened…
Suddenly skidding to a halt as her heart rose to form a heavy lump in her throat.
The yard was empty.
The gate open.
And the boundary fence line… Cut!
She raced over while trying to think of what Cowboy Craig would do with his exceptional tracking skills.She found hoofprints in the dirt—but they were leading away from the stables.
No, no, no.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.This wasn’t an accident or some mistake.
Her horse was gone.
Her legs felt locked in place as a cold, hollow weight pressed against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.
Her horse.Gone.Stolen.Again.
She’d sworn it would never happen again.She’d promised herself, after the last time, that she would never be this careless, this vulnerable.That she would not feel this gut-wrenching loss twice in a lifetime.
But she had—and it was all her fault.
She’d gotten attached.
She’d been so damn foolish when she should have been more vigilant.She should have checked the locks.Should have checked the yards before going to bed.
And she should have never bought that horse in the first place.
