CHAPTER EIGHT
Amber
Sunday morning, I woke to the sound of town. The soft hush of traffic on the streets outside. The low rumble of voices as my mother and aunt talked. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom, and let myself think the thought I’d been avoiding since yesterday.
I loved him.
I was in love with Dalton King.
The realization didn’t make me feel warm or hopeful. It just made me tired.
Because I loved a man who’d told me not to call him. Who’d made it crystal clear he didn’t want me in his life beyond the temporary job I was there to do.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and the weather alerts covered my screen. The storm moving in faster than expected. Heavy snow. Hazardous road conditions.
I should stay here and wait until it passed.
But I’d told Dalton I’d be back this afternoon. And something in me needed to keep that promise. I needed to prove—to him or to myself, I wasn’t sure—that I was different from Sarah. That when I said I’d come back, I meant it.
Even if he’d told me not to call him.
Even if it hurt.
Even if I was probably a fool for going back at all.
Mom was sitting by the living room window when I went downstairs, watching the birds flutter around the bird feeder we’d placed there last summer.
“The weather’s bad,” she said, worry creasing her face when she saw I was dressed and ready to leave. “You should stay.”
“I know. But I promised I’d be back today.” I kissed her cheek. “I’ll be careful. I’ll text you when I get there.”
And that was all there was to me returning to Dalton’s ranch. Just the job. Nothing else.
I was lying to myself, but Mom didn’t call me on it.
She just pulled me into a hug with her good arm. “Drive carefully. And if that man doesn’t apologize, you tell him where he can shove it.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. What had started out as a weekend to be with my mother had ended with a crying session on her shoulder. “I will.”
The drive started fine. Clear roads. Light traffic. I made it an hour before the snow started.
At first, it was just flurries. Pretty. Manageable.
Then it got heavier.
I slowed down and gripped the wheel tighter as visibility started to drop. But I made it to Lone Mountain. Now, to make it to the ranch. To finish the job and figure out what the hell I was going to do about Dalton King.
The thought distracted me for just a second.
Just long enough.
The car hit a patch of ice.
I felt the wheels lose traction and the vehicle start to slide sideways. Panic shot through me as I tried to remember what Dad had taught me—turn into the slide, don’t brake, stay calm.
I tried.
It wasn’t enough.
The car slid off the road and into the ditch with a jolt that threw me hard against the seatbelt. My head snapped forward and the world tilted.
Then silence.
It was quiet with just the hum of the engine and the thick snow blanketing the outside world. I sat there, hands still gripping the wheel, trying to process what had just happened.
I’d crashed. I was in a ditch. In a snowstorm.
Shit.
Dalton’s words came back to me. The damn man had jinxed me.
I moved carefully, taking inventory. I wiggled my fingers and toes and turned my head sideways. Everything worked. Nothing hurt beyond the ache where the seatbelt had caught me.
The airbag hadn’t deployed, but the car was tilted at an angle, passenger side down. It could be worse.
Taking a deep breath, I put the car in reverse. If my guardian angel was up for another save, I’d be able to drive out of the ditch. No such luck. The wheels spun uselessly, whining against snow and mud.
I was stuck.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and stared at Dalton’s name in my contacts.
Don’t call me when it goes wrong.
The words echoed in my head. If I’d had Cade’s number I would have called him. But I didn’t. Only Dalton’s.
My pride was telling me to search for the nearest tow truck service. Show the damn rancher what I thought of him. But I didn’t want to sit and wait for a tow truck as I watched the snow fall harder and the cold seep inside my little car.
I blew out my breath, knowing what I had to do.
I called.
He answered on the first ring as if he’d had it right by his side.
“Amber? What’s wrong?” Was that a hint of desperation I heard? When I didn’t answer fast enough, he said, “Tell me where you are now.”
“Why, so you can tell me I told you so?”
“Damn it, Amber.”
“I’m stuck in a ditch.”
Silence greeted me.
“I can call a tow truck—”
He cut me off. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where exactly are you?”
“Not far from the ranch.” I looked around through the snow-covered windows. “There’s a big red barn on the left side of the road.”
“I know where you are.” His voice shifted—still controlled but with an edge I couldn’t identify. “Listen to me. Stay in the car. Do you hear me? Stay in the damn car. Do not get out. Do not wander off. If you get out of that car, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
Heat flooded through me despite the cold. Despite everything. Despite the fact that I was furious with him and terrified and stuck in a ditch. “Dalton—”
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’ll stay in the car.”
“Good.” I heard movement. A door slamming. An engine starting. “I’m coming. Just sit tight.”
“Dalton, the storm—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the storm.” The words came out harsh. Raw. “You’re sitting in a ditch and I’m coming to get you. End of discussion.”
My response to the command in his tone was totally inappropriate for the situation I found myself in. Or maybe it was the note of fear I heard. For me.
“Be careful,” I said quietly.
“You’re the one in a ditch and you’re telling me to be careful?”
“Just hurry.”
“I’m already in the truck.”
The line went dead.
I sat there in the tilted car, snow piling up on the windshield, and wrapped my arms around myself.
He was coming.
Despite what he’d said yesterday. Despite the fight.
He was coming.
The minutes seemed like hours as it grew colder inside the car. I was afraid to run the engine in case my tailpipe was blocked. I rubbed my hands together trying to stay warm. I really needed to get me a better winter coat, I thought a little hysterically.
Then, finally—finally—I saw headlights cutting through the snow.
My heart kicked hard against my ribs.
The truck pulled up and my heart did that little thing it did every time I saw him.
Damn the man.
I grabbed the door handle and got myself out of the car with some creative maneuvering. I knew I should have waited, his warning echoing in my head, but I didn’t.
I wanted to go to the ranch. Go home. With him.