Chapter 39

A cool breeze drifted over her, bringing unusual scents she wasn’t used to. Wide open spaces, conifers. Evergreens that flowed over countless acres of land. And…a bit of machine diesel.

She shifted, burrowed her body into softness. Felt a tinge of something cold on her pillow. Awoke with a start.

Where the hell was she?

Tabby peered around. She was in some kind of a room, the pale light of dawn present. Greyed wooden boards ran vertically up, up, to the beams of the unusually high roof over her. She heard the call of birds as they winged through the sky, and saw them through the big opening in the wall, a rough-hewn door nestled on stalwart rails against the side of the opening. It showed the far off vista from high up, told her she was on the second floor.

She rose onto her elbows, scanned the space. Heard the snorts, shuffles, bangs on the boards and whinnies below.

Realization dawned. I’m in the loft, over the stables.

Rustic furniture…and rustic was a friendly term. A wooden crate sat beside the bed, and there was a scrawled note on it.

“Breakfast at 6, go see Ma anytime. Even if you’re later. There’s always grub. I’ll see to Sheba. P.S. Thanks for the night.”

Beside that was her cell, a thermos of water, and a hunk of dark chocolate, still in its wrapper.

And a single stem of purple salvia.

Warmth flooded through her.

Her own personal welcoming committee…

Just as quickly though, her mind searched for how she’d ended up here. She remembered immediately being with Cole. His anguish, and the feeling he couldn’t be reached. Being determined to do so, regardless. Sitting beside him, leaning into him. Then just staying. Staying until….

Realization dawned. Cole must have brought me up here last night.

Had he carried her? Or had she stumbled up the stairs, with him holding her around her shoulders or her waist, directing her? She had absolutely no recollection at all. Last thing she knew, they were huddled together, breathing deep, fingers entwined.

Or had they slept together, here, in this narrow little bed, all night together? All naked and…

Her eyes popped wide, but no. Her clothes were still on, though her jeans were unbuttoned. There was a crazy cacophony of old blankets on her. Cotton quilts, along with rough, scratchy wool blankets with bits of straw in their coarse fibres.

Well, okay then. This was all pretty innocent, though jarring. She allowed a smile. What an initiation to Dawson Ridges.

Her first night in a new place, on a ranch, for crap’s sake, among all kinds of men. And she hadn’t even slept in her own bed.

This new life could prove interesting.

But life went on. One crazy, unexpected, odd night did not a life make. She lay there for a few minutes, crafted her plan for the big day ahead.

The sooner she got this book written, the sooner she’d ensure another stream of royalties. And when readers knew there was a second book planned, it upped sales of the first ones. Because truthfully? The sooner she started paying for her keep, the better. Holy hell, it had become apparent from the few hours she’d been here that they needed another body to take care of like they needed another major act of sabotage.

She made up her mind. She’d give Cole the first chunk of cash tomorrow. With the advance coming in soon, she could afford to do it. It would be tight, but she had what she needed here.

“Plus, my pretty face ain’t gonna cut it forever,” she quipped out loud, in the quiet, and snorted a belly laugh.

Yeah. She was regaining her center.

She swung her legs over the low, makeshift bed, and her gaze landed on the little arrangement he’d left behind for her. Especially the chocolate. Something in her stirred.

Sweet.

She pulled off the wrapper, set her gaze on that far off vista. There was something about all those wide-open spaces. It was stable. Solid.

But out there too, she had no delusions about it, was real life. Nature watched the battle for survival, every day. Among all the cute little bunnies being born, there was also death. An unlucky badger, a fierce, far-flying eagle. One won, one lost. It went down all day long, every day.

And her life, which had gone so well for so many years, then twisted so cruelly, was proof of that. Of how bloody uncertain everything was.

She wasn’t planning on being on the receiving end of see you later, been nice knowing you. Of being the badger, ever.

Meanwhile, she unwrapped the chocolate, took a moment to smell it, enjoy the scant bit of pleasure, then bit into it.

She heard noise downstairs, then firm and solid boot steps on the wooden stairs to the loft. A vivacious voice shouted up to the loft. “Hey, you up there. You decent?”

Aggie? Krys?

Aggie, she decided. After her for breakfast.

Was she decent? Unfortunately, she was still in her clothes, she thought, and laughed at the crazy dichotomy in her uncensored thoughts. No cowboy boots strewn about, ripped, tattered bras hanging off the rough-hewn rafters. Damn. Her voice was a bit hoarse, and she blamed the night spent breathing in the cool British Columbia air. She’d essentially slept outdoors. Go figure. “Yeah.”

The throaty voice called up the stairs. How had it turned one thousand percent sexy and suggestive in the last few seconds? And the words made her sit up straight, her eyes pop open wide.

“Well, don’t you worry none, you hot, hunk of 100% man flesh. I’ll make sure to get us mightily indecent, lightning-fast, Sugar Cheeks.”