Page 1 of The Gruff Loner’s Bargain

chapter

one

Brook

People like to say that when God closes a door, he opens a window.

I’ve been working really hard to make that analogy work for my life. So how does that go, exactly?

When God burns your life’s work to the ground, he …. what?

I haven’t figured out the end of that sentence yet.

I’m trying really hard not to be a whiny, morose, sad sack about the state of my life. Really hard.

After all, I’m not destitute. When a wildfire took out nearly all of the vineyard I’ve been working my ass off to establish up in the panhandle, it was bad, but not a total disaster.

I mean … legally, according to the insurance, it was actually a disaster, but … well, you get what I mean.

At least, I had insurance. I have the means and the knowledge to rebuild, and this time I’ll do it someplace … moister. Less prone to acts of God.

And, luckily, my half-sister, Natalie, has settled down in Saddle Creek, the perfect little town in the Texas Hill Country. So I’m rebuilding my life here.

I will say this, the rain is a welcome sight after living in the panhandle for so long. Dry and flat there. It’s the exact opposite here, and I have a good feeling about this move, even if it means I’m temporarily living in her guest bedroom and sharing a room with a baby goat.

I’m fairly certain I see a rainbow peeking through the clouds, and I smile. But then a squirrel runs into the road in front of me. He freezes, and I swerve to try to miss him, only to hydroplane and run myself off the road.

When the car comes to a stop, I open my eyes. Well, that’s no good. I shouldn’t have closed them in the first place, considering I was driving. Further proof that I’m not so excellent at impending danger.

Thankfully my airbags didn’t deploy, or my car would be screwed. Nope, I’m just on the side of the road in the grass, and Mr. Squirrel has just run up a tree. Little shit.

I mean can anything else go wrong?

Don’t answer that. Of course it can.

Because when I put the car in reverse, my car doesn’t budge. No matter what gear I put it in, no matter how light or heavy I hit the gas, all I get in response are spinning tires.

I am stuck.

In the mud.

Trapped.

This feels like a metaphor for my life.

I slam my palms on my steering wheel and stomp my feet. Then I scream, because sometimes life kicks you in the teeth and you need a good scream.

“You about done?” A man’s voice comes from outside my car.

I scream again, this time for another reason when I look out my window and see him. It’s raining men. Alleluia, indeed.

He’s beautiful. Well, I guess he’s too rugged and hairy to be considered beautiful. But definitely handsome and clearly full of trouble if that grin is any indication.

He makes the motion for me to roll down my window.

I do as he asks.

Then he leans forward so his face is closer to mine. Now I can see the golden flecks in his pretty brown eyes. His hair is brown. Well, I think it is; he’s actually got a ball cap on backwards hiding most of his hair. But he’s got a pretty, full, brown beard covering the lower half of his face.