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“This is Blaze,” he said as they approached a beautiful ginger mare. Tied to a tree trunk, she stood tall and threw her head high in the air, as though nodding, when they reached her. “She’s a good girl.”
“She’s stunning,” Reese said as he hoisted her onto the saddle.
He mumbled a thank-you as she kept watch, looking for any movement other than branches being nudged around by the wind while he took up the reins. The rain had stopped, and lucky for them had not saturated the ground, which would make getting away on horseback faster.
Ignoring the thunder in between her temples, she sucked in a breath when Darren’s arms closed around her from behind. Awareness skittered across her skin as he held tight to her, his chest against her back as he squeezed his thighs around Blaze, telling her to go.
She couldn’t count how many times they’d ridden his horse Peanut, or how much teasing he’d endured for the name. It didn’t matter that Darren had named the paint horse when he was ten. Peanut was stuck with the name, and so was Darren.
One hand wrapped around the saddle horn and the other holding the weapon, Reese kept her eyes on the trees. Since it was December, there were no leaves to hide behind in this area. The clouds shielded their eyes from the sun, but other than it obviously being daytime, she had no clue what time it was.
Had this been about robbery?
Her missing purse indicated that was a possibility, but did robbers kidnap people and stick around after getting their bounty? Maybe her purse was somewhere back in the old building. They’d gotten out of there so fast, she didn’t think to search the place. Wouldn’t a robber have knocked her on the head, stolen her handbag and hurried away? Instead, she was taken to a specific place, where several men had stuck around. There’d been no female voices, as best as she could recall. And then, somehow, Darren Pierce had arrived.
To spare herself the agony that thinking was causing, she pushed aside her thoughts. Besides, Blaze’s canter was enough to scramble her brain.
Seeing him again reminded her of everything she’d had to give up to get out of Cider Creek. At eighteen, she hadn’t realized how long the nights were about to become, or how lonely living by herself might be. Darren’s uncle had offered her a chance to leave her life behind. Young and naive, she’d jumped at the opportunity to get away from her grandfather. He’d helped her with the transition and the two had become involved romantically, much to her later regret.
Darren stopped in front of a small, tidy barn big enough for a pair of horses, and then helped her down. Standing there, for a split second it was almost like she had gone back in time, and was in his family’s barn, looking into those serious eyes. His irises were the most incredible shade of brown, surrounded by clear white rivers, framed by thick, almost black eyelashes. His curly hair was always in need of a haircut, his face was almost too hard, and there had been just enough scruff on his face to give her goose bumps when his skin had come in contact with hers as he feathered kisses on the nape of her neck.
Reese shoved away that unproductive memory. It had her wanting to grab a handful of shirt and tug until his lips met hers. She missed the way he looked at her when they used to stand this close. It was gone now, which was a good reminder they were no longer a couple. She’d shut that down when she took off, too young to realize the tug at her heart when she thought about him would last a decade.
Coincidence might have brought them together again, but the reunion was temporary at best. She needed to assess the damage and then figure out how to get home to Dallas. Cider Creek, actually, she corrected herself.
“How are your legs now?” Darren asked.
“I think I can manage with a little help,” she said.
Darren nodded, then removed Blaze’s tack and ushered her into a stall where there was hay and water waiting. When he turned around to wrap an arm around her, his face twisted, as if touching her brought on physical pain. Since this didn’t seem like the right time to apologize for leaving town and then dating his uncle, she kept her lips closed. She knew Darren. He would never forget what happened or forgive her despite her reasons.
The house was log-cabin style but modern. Everything seemed new, from the pine beams to the granite countertops. The living room and kitchen were open-concept and the place had Darren’s warm and comfortable feel to the decor.
Two steps in and she took note of two walkers, the kind for babies to run around in. There was a pair of pink swings off to one side around the granite island.
Was Darren married with kids?
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Reese said to him. “I’ll arrange transportation. I’m sure your family needs you.”
“The twins are with their grandma and law enforcement will have questions for you,” he said to her. She immediately screwed up her face, because his mother had passed away when they were teenagers from a rare and aggressive cancer.
“Your in-laws,” she said as he helped her to the brown leather couch. There was a flat-screen TV on top of the fireplace mantel.
“Something like that,” he mumbled so low she could barely hear. He didn’t look like he wanted to explain, so she left the subject alone. Instead, she glanced at his ring finger and was surprised when there was no band or tan line.
Shelving those details under the heading “no longer her business,” she eased onto the soft leather.
“What can I get you? Water? A pillow? A blanket?” he asked, then checked his phone. “The law just arrived to the site.”
“Do you mind asking them to look for my purse?” she asked. “I take it everywhere with me. And my phones. I’m lost without them.” The work messages might be stacking up despite her competent assistant stepping up to cover.
“Is there someone you can call? Someone who can handle work for a few hours?” he asked, holding out his cell.
“I have someone, who I hope will be fine. But, seriously, who remembers anyone’s number anymore?” she asked, a little embarrassed that she couldn’t remember the number to her right-hand person.
“We can do an online search later,” he suggested.
“Right,” she said, blinking a couple of times, as though the movement could help with her nausea. Those systems weren’t even connected. “You asked if I needed anything. Water would be nice.” Her mouth was as dry as the year she licked a hundred stamps for Christmas cards. She’d feared her tongue might stick to the roof of her mouth for the rest of her life.
