Page 46 of Branded Betrayal

It’s over. Finished.

When we get back to Red Rock, Tyler opens the door for me and walks me up the steps.

“I had a really great time, Savannah,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against the side of my face.

“Me too,” I whisper. He dips his head to kiss me, and I part my lips eagerly, praying, wishing, hoping for a spark to ignite between us.

It doesn’t.

It’s a nice kiss, a soft, sweet, first-date kiss. But it’s completely void of the passion, the fire, and the elusive spark I was so desperate to feel.

Tyler clearly has a different perception, though. He beams, his eyes twinkling as he gazes down at me. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

I watch him get back into his truck, then I walk into the house, where I can try to figure out why Blaze kissed me like he couldn’t breathe without me and then walked away like I was poison.

He told me to stay away from him.

That he’s no good for me.

Then why the hell did he kiss me at all?

And why do I feel like despite everything he said, despite every logical reason why I should forget about Blaze Hartman for good, I’m already in too deep to save myself?

The next morning, I spring up from my bed, a gasp catching in my throat as I’m yanked out of my blissful slumber. My laptop sits open on the bed next to me. I’d been watching YouTube videos on all kinds of ranching mechanics before I dozed off, any distraction I can use to eradicate my mind of Blaze and that kiss.

My eyelids are heavy, but the jarring cattle sounds are enough to shake off the grogginess. I flip on the light and grab clothes, pulling on a shirt as I run down the stairs, skidding on the shiny wood. Sliding my feet into my boots, I stuff my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and say a little prayer that all hell hasn’t really broken loose, even though my instincts tell me otherwise.

It’s so early, the sun barely peeks over the horizon. I run toward the pasture, my heart lodging in my throat as the sounds get louder and more desperate. Whatever went wrong, I’m on my own to fix it.

I wind through the cattle milling around one of the water troughs in the pasture. My jaw drops.

It’s empty.

“What the hell?” I mutter, running over to the other troughs. All of them are bone dry.

Panic bubbles in my chest. I have no idea how long the cattle have been without water. I didn’t come out here again after Nash worked on it yesterday.

I check the garden-hose-line setup for each trough, and everything looks fine. Nothing is detached. There are no holes in the hoses. But then why isn’t the water running? I expel a shuddering breath.

Nash told me we have a two-well system hooked together underground by poly pipe, and that’s the main water source. It’s distributed through water lines that are laid out aboveground around the fenced pasture.

Okay, so maybe one of the lines got trampled by a cow.

I walk around the lines, checking them all to see if there’s any sign of damage, but I can’t find a single thing wrong with any of them.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck. It’s going to be a hot one today, and if I don’t get this fixed as soon as possible, I’ll have two hundred cattle suffering from dehydration or worse. The cows cluster around the empty troughs, their distress reverberating between my ears.

I pull out my phone and dial Nash’s number, but it goes to voicemail. I dial Mikey’s number next.

“Sorry, Savannah,” he says after I explain the problem. “I’m workin’ out at the Bakersfield ranch with Randy this morning. I can get there later to check things out. In the meantime, get water in those troughs so the cattle can drink.”

“Okay, thanks.” I press my fingertips to my temples. “Shit,” I yell, stomping my boot on the limestone granite where the troughs sit. I go to Google next to search for a twenty-four-hour local repair service and find one not too far from here. My finger zooms over the keyboard on my screen to dial the emergency-service number. Once help is on the way, I can get to work filling those troughs.

“Wells Bells Repair Service,” a chirpy female voice answers.

My fingers clench tight around the phone. “Hi, I have a water emergency on my ranch in Whiskey Creek. I’m not getting any water to my troughs, and my cattle look ready to stampede me right now. How quickly can you get someone out here to repair it?”