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They wanted me dead.
The question is, who?
While Zander is making life difficult, he wouldn’t try to kill me to get my family to cooperate. And even if Will occasionally pisses off the city council with his decisions, I can’t think of one rancher who would take it that far.
I don’t have enemies. At least—
I shake my head, refusing to think about that night. Refusing to think about what I did—what I lost.
Dread fills my stomach, so I close my eyes and catch my breath, focusing on the smell of Shane’s soap. I focus on the hot water washing away the goose bumps. I let the rivers from the shower wipe the tears from my face, and only once the tears have stopped and I’ve collected myself, do I finally turn the shower off.
I grab for the bag Nora packed me. I was too shaken to pay attention to what she was shoving inside, but I find a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt that fit me comfortably, even if they’re a little long since I’m shorter than Nora.
My wet hair is stringy as I run the towel through it. There’s no hair dryer under the sink, so I have to make do. There’s not much of anything in the bathroom.
Shane’s towel is bunched where it hangs. His toothpaste, toothbrush, and deodorant sit out on the counter. In the cabinet, I find his cologne, which I can’t help lifting to my nose to erase any lingering scent of smoke.
Chestnut. A hint of currants.
A dash of Shane.
I shake my head, putting the cologne back.
Once I’m done braiding my long wet hair, I take a final look in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom.
“Thanks—” I stop short when I see Shane asleep on the bed, fully dressed except for his boots.
He’s on top of the blankets with his hands folded over his stomach. Like he laid down waiting for me to get out of the shower and fell asleep.
I glance at the closed door, debating what to do. He mentioned me sleeping in his bed, but I don’t think he meant with him in it. I could grab a blanket and move to the couch or one of the many bunks at the other side of the bunkhouse.
But as I look back at the bed—at the large open space beside him—I don’t want to be alone.
It might make me insecure or weak or scared. But as I sit on the other side of the bed, there’s something about having him next to me that calms my nerves.
Pulling the blanket back, the thick smell of floral detergent hits me from his freshly washed sheets. I climb in, and the pillow smells like him.
I lie on my side, facing him.
His expression is softer when he sleeps, even with his sharp features and endless tattoos. Beneath the scars and tattoo ink is a man I’m still figuring out. One I don’t really know anything about.
Rolling over, I curl into the blankets and close my eyes. There’s a chance we made this worse tonight, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. With Shane at my back, I find the safety I need to drift to sleep.
13
HARLOE
In the middle of the night, I woke up drenched in sweat and shot upright in bed. It took me a moment to realize the heat was only from the warm night and not the fire from my nightmare. Panic surged, and I could barely breathe until Shane reached for me.
I was too shaken to pull away as he tugged me close. I curled against his chest, and he rubbed my back until I fell back asleep. I slept peacefully the rest of the night.
By the time I woke again, the sun was up, and Shane was gone. His side of the bed was crumpled, but he was no longer in it. There was a note sitting on the dresser saying that he’d gone into town to check on the bar because of course he did.
He’s always doing little things to help without asking if I need it. I can’t decide if it’s sweet or insulting. Is he genuinely thoughtful, or does he find me completely incapable?
Cowgirl,
Ran into town to meet with the guys and check on the bar. The keys to the truck are hanging by the front door… unless you’re still fine-tuning your hot-wiring skills, then by all means, have at it.
