“Hope so,” I mutter. “We’ve still got a bit of work to do. Reid’s out with the herd. Might need to send him back in early, depending on how bad it gets.”
I move toward the tarps, scanning the shelves.
Joe follows. “You’re telling me. I can feel it in my bones. You know how it is. This time of year, those storms come out of nowhere. You blink, and your whole day’s ruined.”
“Yep, too true.”
“And you have to be careful, right?” Joe continues. “You never know what’ll blow in with it.”
I pay up and start to load up the back of the truck in endless trips. It doesn’t help that the rain is now coming down steadily. My shirt’s already soaked through as I grab the fencing wire.
The cold, sharp gusts of wind make it feel even worse. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t have much time before the worst of it hits.
I make a mental note to check on the animals as soon as I get back to the ranch, but first, I need to get this last load in. I grab a feed bag and sling it up onto my shoulder, wincing at the weight.
Halfway across the lot, the sky cracks open, and the rain comes down in a brutal downpour. It’s as if someone’s thrown a bucket of water over the whole town.
I curse under my breath and move quickly, but the feed bag slips in my hands. I lunge forward, scrambling to keep the feed dry, but the rain is relentless.
I look around, heart racing. There’s no time to load it properly now, but I can’t leave the feed in the open.
The old shelter at the side of Joe’s lot is only a few steps away, a rickety wooden structure that’s barely held together over theyears. It’s the kind of place you don’t trust for long-term shelter but is good enough to keep something dry in a pinch.
I hurry inside the shed, ducking under the roof and leaning the feed bag against the wall. Before I can catch my breath, I hear a voice.
“Oh… hi.”
I freeze, my body tensing, the sound sending a jolt straight through me. For a split second, I think I might’ve imagined it. But no, I know that voice.
It’s a voice I haven’t heard in six years, a voice that’s been haunting me in the back of my mind ever sincethatnight.
One random night at the Silver Bit Tavern, after the rodeo, when everyone was just letting loose and having the best damn time.
Especially me.
I turn, trying to process what I’m seeing. There, standing just a few feet away from me, her hair plastered to her face, isher.
Holy hell…
My heart stutters in my chest. She’s standing there in front of me, a ghost from the past, but so much more real.
So much more… alive.
She’s still beautiful. Damn it, she’s still got that way about her, that look that made me feel I couldn’t breathe right. But there’s something different in her eyes now.
It wasn’t there before. Guarded, maybe even tired. The years have done a lot to her, but they’ve only made her more mysterious, more untouchable in a way I can’t explain.
She’s holding onto a small child, a boy, maybe five or six. His little rain jacket is sticking to his body, his brown hair falling into his eyes. He’s clutching the hem of her shirt, looking up at me with wide, curious eyes.
I glance from him back to her, confusion and disbelief choking me.
For a long moment, neither of us says anything. The storm rages around us, but in this tiny space under the shelter, time seems to slow down, and the world feels smaller.
Then, finally, I manage to speak.
“Dakota?”
CHAPTER THREE
