I’d like to keep working, but it looks like the storms are starting to roll in, and this time, the electricity is going to join in the party.
I open the door to my studio just as thunder rolls overhead. My soundproof booth kept the noise out, and that was amazing.
“It’s okay.” I take a deep breath and go back in for my noise-canceling headphones. “Wear these, crank the music, and do some stress cleaning.”
That’s how I usually deal with summer storms.
The power flickers once more and then goes out altogether, and I blow out a breath.
Great.
I know that the house has a generator, but I have no idea how to get it going. I don’t want to text Ryker and interrupt him because I’m sure he’s still cleaning up from yesterday’s storms.
If the power’s still out in an hour, I’ll shoot him a text and ask him to guide me through starting the generator.
With that decided, I raid the cleaning supply closet in the laundry room and fill a bucket with glass cleaner, toilet scrub, brushes, sponges, and plastic gloves, and then make my way to the primary en suite bathroom.
With P!NK blaring in my ears, I get to work, starting with the shower. Halfway into scrubbing, I get too hot, so I shed my T-shirt and continue working in my bralette and shorts.
Of course I notice the flashes of light through the windows, but I do my best to ignore them, safe in my music from the thunder.
When that bathroom is finished, I work my way down the hallway to the one off my old room and get busy in there. When I turn to thevanity, I get lost in going through my makeup, deciding what’s old enough to toss and what I should keep.
But then there’s a noise I can’t ignore. Even through the noise-canceling headphones and the music, I can hear it.
Or it’s the rumble making its way through my body that I recognize, and that has me pulling the earphones off, and I gasp.
Holy shit.
The rain! It’s coming down in sheets, no droplets anywhere in sight.
And then the thunder starts again, and my stomach climbs into my throat.
Shit, this is a bad one.
Without overthinking it, I rush down to my studio and close the door, and it blocks out all the noise, and I huddle in a corner, pull my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around my legs, and pray that the storm passes quickly.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryker
Last night’s wind blew so many trees down over my fence line, and cows got out, got lost in the woods, and it’s been a goddamn clusterfuck all day.
“More storms blowing in,” Spike says, lifting his chin at the clouds on the horizon.
“Yeah, I know.” I want to know if my girl is okay, but I haven’t had time to text her, and there’s definitely been no time to go to the house to check in with her. “How’s that southern border coming?”
“We got the fence patched and the cows back in the pasture,” he says. “But the north side is a fucking nightmare.”
Wincing, I brace my hands on my hips, looking out to where Dusty’s wielding a chainsaw, working to get trees moved.
Aiden and Micah are both on horseback, guiding cows back into the pasture.
“I don’t like the boys being up that high with lightning coming.”
Spike nods. “I’ll get them off. I think those are the last three cows we lost.”
We ride over to where the others are, and I start barking out orders.
