Chapter Two
Meredith couldn’t believe she’d pulled a gun on a police officer.
Of all the blunders in her life—and there were many—this one ranked near the top. It was somewhere between marrying Tripp Gilley, getting in a car with a drunk driver, who was also Tripp Gilley, and dropping out of high school.
Bad decisions were nothing new to her, but she’d been trying to start fresh in Lost Lake.
She needed to stay out of trouble. The last thing she wanted to do was attract the attention of local law enforcement.
She’d come to Nolan Ranch to escape her past and lie low.
Blasting a shotgun at a cop was the opposite of lying low.
In her defense, she’d thought he was an intruder.
When she’d seen him in the kitchen, cowboy hat obscuring his face, she’d panicked.
She’d thought he was Tripp, who deserved a good shooting.
Then he’d turned toward her, and she’d realized he was a stranger.
A tall, intimidating stranger, with shoulders that spanned the width of the fridge.
Right or wrong, she’d assumed he was there to hurt her.
She hadn’t been trying to kill him, however.
She’d only wanted to scare him off. Instead, she’d scared herself.
When he’d yanked the gun from her hands, shouting at her, she’d been certain he was going to tear her apart.
Tripp would have. She made a mental note to avoid firing a warning shot if Tripp ever caught up with her.
Offering to bandage Wade’s hand was another miscalculation.
Her instincts told her to keep her distance, but he’d been bitten by her dog, and she felt responsible.
She didn’t want him pressing charges or demanding vaccine records.
She also couldn’t afford to lose her position as Wynona’s housekeeper.
Meredith’s attempt to make amends had brought them too close for comfort.
Sitting next to Wade had caused her heart to race like a schoolgirl’s, and touching his hand made her entire body tingle with awareness.
He was the kind of man women noticed. Well-built, with arresting features that set him apart from the crowd.
Instead of staring at his handsome face, she’d focused on his injured hand.
It was strong and suntanned, his skin several shades darker than hers.
He didn’t have scars on his knuckles or heavy calluses on his palms. He had long fingers, like a guitar player.
Capable of great tenderness, or devastating harm.
She’d heard his intake of breath as she’d applied the tincture.
It was a mistake to look up at him, and to let her gaze linger.
His whiskey-colored eyes, framed by thick lashes, were absurdly beautiful.
His tawny, hat-rumpled hair was long enough to brush the edge of his collar.
There was an electric charge in the air that had nothing to do with low pressure, and it scared her almost as much as their initial exchange.
Although she’d done her best to appear plain, she got the impression he wasn’t fooled.
He struck her as an observant type, and a natural admirer of women.
He had that prowling, assessing, man-on-the-hunt vibe.
Maybe all cops had the ability to measure people at a glance.
Wade Hendricks looked like he could estimate her bra size and guess the color of her underwear without blinking.
He would remember her in detail.
She was considering ways to get rid of him when the tornado warning was issued. Residents of Hill County were advised to take shelter immediately. Multiple funnel clouds had been sighted on the outskirts of Lost Lake.
Nolan Ranch was on the outskirts of Lost Lake.
“My dogs,” she said, leaping to her feet.
She hurried outside, wind whipping her ponytail around her head.
She glanced up at the sky. Although she didn’t see any twisters, the storm clouds that had been hovering in the distance were directly above them now.
They looked ominous, and they’d moved in fast.
King was pacing the dog run in agitation, while Chico yapped at the gate.
Daisy, not the smartest creature, had jumped on top of the doghouse instead of taking cover underneath it.
The dog run was a basic open corral design, without a roof or sunshade for protection.
The heavens chose that moment to break open.
Clusters of marble-sized hail began to pelt Meredith’s head and shoulders.
Meredith opened the gate and picked up Chico, who was quaking with fear. King trotted to her side, silent and stoic. Daisy stayed on top of the doghouse, as if a flash flood were eminent. When Meredith called to her, she barked, but didn’t budge.
Meredith couldn’t handle all three dogs at once, so she headed back toward the house with Chico and King.
To her surprise, Wade went into the dog run and lifted Daisy into his arms. In the distance, a piece of corrugated aluminum went flying in the wind.
Beads of hail littered the ground like mini snowballs.
“Get to the basement,” Wade shouted.
She was already on her way. The basement was the only storm shelter available, and it was right off the kitchen.
She opened the door and flipped on the lights.
She’d never been in the basement before.
She wondered if Wynona kept her moonshine down here, or maybe a collection of skeletons.
King wasn’t a fan of stairs, due to his long, spindly legs, but the wolfhound descended them without complaint.
As she reached the bottom step, which was loose, lightning struck with a loud crack. The power went out, casting the space into darkness. She continued forward and moved aside, aware that Wade was right behind her. She could hear him cursing, still carrying her foolish pet.
“Watch out for—”
There was an awful splintering noise as the loose step gave away under his weight.
Then came Daisy’s startled yip, a whoosh of energy, and an earth-shattering crash as Wade careened into something, perhaps a set of shelves.
It sounded like a bar fight, with broken furniture and flailing limbs.
She stepped backward to avoid his awkward landing.
Glass smashed on the concrete at her feet, and the scent of peaches filled the air.
Meredith cringed at the destruction. Broken glass was a trigger for her, a reminder of her lowest moment. She listened as one of the dogs, probably Daisy, ate peaches off the ground. “Wade?”
He didn’t respond. Maybe he was unconscious.
“Are you all right?”
She heard a muffled groan as he grappled for purchase in the rubble. Glass crunched and Daisy huffed like a pig searching for truffles.
“Get this damned dog out of my face,” he said.
Meredith reached out blindly in the dark.
She found the dog’s leather collar and pulled her away from the carnage.
Then she sat down on the cool cement floor with Chico in her lap.
The basement door was still open, so she could hear the sounds of the storm.
Hail plinked against the kitchen windows, and the wind continued to howl.
She took slow, steady breaths, and tried not to let the sharp edges of her past creep in.
Her nerves hadn’t been steady since she’d fired the shotgun.
She’d cowered against the wall afterward, waiting for a blow that never came.
Instead of dwelling on that vulnerable moment, she focused on present.
Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, little by little.
Wade had managed to sit up against the busted shelves.
“Wade?” she asked again, in a whisper. She didn’t know why she was whispering.
He lifted a long-fingered hand to his temple. Broken glass fell from his elbow as he explored the injury.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit, and a flashlight.”
He didn’t argue. Either he knew he needed medical attention, or he was too shaken up to speak.
Meredith told Daisy and King to stay, but she carried Chico with her.
She didn’t want him terrorizing her patient.
Upstairs, in the kitchen, she retrieved a lantern-style flashlight from the cabinet and turned it on.
Then she grabbed a bag and filled it with supplies.
No tornadoes struck while she was up there.
Balancing Chico with the lantern and bag, she made her way back to the basement, closing the door behind her.
The scene wasn’t pretty. King stood guard at the base of the rickety stairs, while Daisy sat near her gallant rescuer.
Wade was still sprawled amidst the detritus of Wynona’s shelves.
Luckily, most of the items he’d dislodged were paperback books.
Unluckily, he appeared to have broken his fall with his face.
There was a visible lump above his right eyebrow.
His thick hair was coated with dust and cobwebs.
She scanned his rangy form for bones sticking out or blood gushing. She didn’t see any other injuries. He looked quite fit below the neck. His bent arm, even in a relaxed state, had well-defined biceps. His jeans-clad legs were long and lean.
Meredith set down Chico, along with the lantern and supplies. She found an old broom to sweep away the glass. When the area was safe, she knelt beside Wade for a more thorough inspection. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed.
“What hurts?”
“Just my head.”
“Did you pass out?”
“No.”
“Do you feel sick?”
“I’m all right,” he said gruffly, which probably meant yes.
She had some ice and a plastic bag among the supplies, so she made him an ice pack. He grunted his appreciation, holding it against the lump on his temple. He also accepted two aspirin and a bottle of water. When he kept that down, she passed him an antacid tablet.