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Flinn clears his throat, obviously wanting to know what’s got me standing still with my pulse kicking up a notch. I turn the phone to face him and show him Sky’s text.
His eyes flick over what she’s written, and much the same reaction as mine washes over his expression. That gaze flits to hold my own, and he scrubs one hand over his mouth.
“Well, shit.”
CHAPTER 12
We’re cut
Trees off. came down blocking the road after last night’s snow storm rolled through. Which means that even though the snow might not stick around for too much longer, the handful of properties out here are all isolated until further notice. The texts Brad shows me are from his friend with the pink hair. Sky. In them, she’s forwarded the updates put out by the local sheriff’s office.
Looks like there’s not going to be any quick escape from my sister’s ex-boyfriend after all.
“We can go take a look and do what we can to get started on clearing the road.” I run a palm over the back of my neck. While it’s tempting to fall into a trap of feeling like this is a cute little rom-com moment and we’re snowbound together, the reality is Brad doesn’t have any fucking food in this house … and I’m certainly not gonna share the mystery cat’s goddamn dinner.
“Umm …” Brad’s eyes bounce between me, our half-shed suits from last night, and the snow beyond the window.
“I’ve got a chainsaw in my truck.”
“You … have a chainsaw … in your truck?” Brad repeats the words back to me slowly, his brows zipped together.
“Yeah.” My shoulders lift in a shrug.
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I was expecting a horse boy to be carrying around.”
“Horse trainer.” I offer in explanation, narrowing my eyes in his direction. “I work on ranches, remote properties. Sometimes I’m roughing it, camping out in the wilderness for a while rounding up the wild ones. You never fucking know what you’ll need.”
He swallows, runs a hand through his hair and types something onto his phone. “Yeah. Of course. Makes sense.” The words sound a little distant. Like his head is somewhere else entirely. Not standing in this kitchen looking like the bottom of a whiskey barrel.
“Have you got anything … any clothes I can …” My throat tightens as I awkwardly gesture at myself. Heat races up the back of my neck to flame the tips of my ears. This is surprisingly intimate, needing to ask him for something to wear, and doesn’t my stomach know it. Immediately doing somersaults at the prospect of getting to wear his clothes.
Brad clears his throat. “Yeah, of course.” Then he chews on his bottom lip for a second, a flicker of something dashing across his eyes as he looks at my chest. “Might be, uhh, a little tight. But I’m sure we can make something fit.”
Snow might be thick on the ground, and the temperature’s already starting to drop as the evening approaches, but sweat beads across my brow and clings to my lower back.
The buzz and drone of the chainsaw vibrate through my arms as I slice off another branch from the hundred-year-old pine lying prone across the road. It’s slow work, but methodical, making my way through the slash on this side—meanwhile down below at one of the bends further along the road, the sheriff’s crew is busy clearing more pines that dropped from the other side.
As I step clear, machine idling in my hands, Brad reaches in to drag what he can off to the side of the road. Goddamn, he looks fine. There’s not a lot I can do to keep my eyes from straying to him. Continuing to notice the sight of him looking in his element. This version of Brad isn’t the art student on a college campus … no. Right now, he’s the rancher, dressed much the same as I am. We’re both in our chaps and boots and thermal work gear. The only difference right now is that there isn’t a horse in sight.
I shouldn’t be checking him out amongst the spit of sawdust flying up every time he bends over to haul freshly cut chunks of pine out of the way, and yet here I am. I’m no better than this tree, felled by the sight of his ass in a pair of Wranglers.
A sharp whistle catches my attention over the hum of the motor, and as I pull my earmuffs away, I’m greeted by the sight of one of the sheriff’s crew waving in our direction from the other side of the massive tree trunk. It’s easily six feet in diameter. A hell of a size. Considering how many other trees of similar stature must have come down, this isn’t going to be a quick job to work through.
When I cut the motor, the sudden lack of noise brings a wave of silence to the forested slopes around us. I catch the tail end of what the guy is saying as he climbs nearer. “… brought you boys some essentials.” He gets to a point where he can safely reach over and hand a carton in our direction. “There are some frozen meals in there. Dried goods. Enough to get you through the night, then we’ll be able to reassess tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Next to me, Brad climbs up to be able to take everything out of his hands.
“Anyone with medical concerns on the property?” He pulls out a radio from his belt clip.
“Nah, it’s only the two of us. We’re all good.”
My stomach swoops at those words. Only the two of us.
The radio unit beeps. “All clear up here, boss. Over.” Then he clips it back in place and gives us a nod. “Thanks for making progress from your side. Can’t promise an ETA of when it’ll be stable enough for y’all to get a vehicle in and out, but there’s a contact number written down for you in case you need anything. Or if there’s an emergency, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Sure thing. Keep up the good work.” Brad flashes one of those smiles that makes him so damn effortless to talk to and be around people in general. “You’ve saved us from dining on cat kibble for supper.”
The guy laughs and starts to clamber back down. “Sheriff’s orders to call it a day, fellas. No need to be risking your neck after dark since it’s getting late.”
