Sunrise & Serenity (Wild Ember Ranch #1)

1. Sage

SAGE

Whose bright idea was this?

Oh, that’s right. Mine.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my palms clammy as rain batters the windshield.

The wipers work furiously, barely making a dent in the downpour.

Overhead, the sky is almost pitch-black until lightning forks through the clouds like nature’s own strobe light, illuminating the wind-tossed fir trees lining the road.

Why didn’t I stop at that small town twenty miles back? I could have had dinner at the cute roadside diner I passed, or even just a coffee to keep my gritty eyes open. Maybe with apple pie. Apple pie seems like the right thing to order at a country diner.

But I didn’t stop. I checked the time on my dash, peered at the increasingly ominous horizon, and figured that if I kept going, I could make it to Mia’s place in Silverford before the bad weather hit.

I guess storms move a lot faster in Colorado than they do in New York.

Lightning splits the sky again, and I blink away the afterimage, slowing even more as I count the seconds in my head. I only make it to two before thunder crashes, rattling the car and vibrating through my chest.

By now, I’m moving at a crawl. I’d wait it out if there were a place to pull over, but on one side of the road is a ditch and a wall of trees, and on the other, a drop-off that seems to tumble down for miles.

The sudden, shrill ring of my phone makes me jump out of my skin. How is there even cell service up here? Without taking my eyes off the road, I jab the answer button on the dash. “Hello?”

A faint crackle, then, “—you there, Sage? Why is—so loud?—you driving?”

I wince at Mia’s static-laced horror. “I’m not not driving.”

“Why didn’t—stop—Aspen Falls—wait out—storm?”

Aspen Falls must be the town I blew through in my eagerness to reach Silverford.

The sky lights up again. This time, the teeth-rattling boom of thunder follows almost instantly.

I think I whimper a little.

“Can—pull over?”

Even with the call breaking up, the concern in Mia’s voice is unmistakable.

Shit. As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate.

She uprooted her life for her daughter, Ruby, moved halfway across the country, and is still finding her feet as a rural vet.

The last thing she needs is me adding to her worries.

Infusing my voice with as much cheerful confidence as I can, I say, “I’m sure I’ll find somewhere soon. In the meantime, snails are moving faster than I am.”

“—Snails?”

I scrunch up my nose. Probably not the time for humor. “Sorry, the signal’s really bad. I’m driving carefully, I promise.”

The line crackles again, and when she speaks, her voice is fainter. “—far away are you?”

I dare a glance at my GPS. “About twenty-five miles. I’ll be there before you know it. Prepare yourself for hugs and some kind of alcohol.”

I think she laughs, but it’s hard to tell.

“Drive safely—get—soon.”

She may not hear my goodbye, but I press the End Call button anyway.

Darkness closes in again. Without Mia’s voice to distract me, I’m back to navigating the storm and this narrow mountain road all on my own. I let out a breath, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension.

It isn’t all from the weather.

This past month has been a disaster. Walking away from my four-year relationship with Graham after learning he was cheating hurt enough. But realizing how much control I’d let him have over my career—and what that means now that we’re broken up—hurts even more.

New York’s photography scene, which had opened its arms to me when my name was linked to his, turned its attention to something newer and shinier almost overnight.

Doors that used to be open to me suddenly weren’t.

Mia’s call couldn’t have come at a better time.

A ranch near Silverford, the small Colorado town she now calls home, was looking for a photographer for a three-month contract.

One hastily arranged interview with the ranch manager and co-owner, Sterling McBride, and a secondhand car purchase later, I was driving west.

Easing my foot almost completely off the accelerator, I navigate a blind corner, only exhaling once I’m around the bend. The rain-smeared glow of my headlights reveals the same thing I’ve seen for the past ten miles.

A dark, wet road without a single other soul in sight.

But on the other side of this mountain lies the career stepping stone I desperately need.

Wild Ember. A working ranch that, according to Sterling, is about to become a premium agritourism destination.

My job will be to capture it on camera so future guests can picture themselves there.

Horses in open fields. Scenic trails. Dusty cattle roundups and mountain sunrises.

It sounds perfect.

Right now, anywhere that isn’t New York City sounds perfect.

So I’m going to spend the next three months photographing the hell out of Wild Ember Ranch. It might not lead to gallery shows or international acclaim, but it will be a start. An accomplishment built on my work—not on Graham’s name.

Another bolt of lightning makes me flinch. Never mind accomplishing something on my own. At this point, I’ll be lucky to make it to Mia’s in one piece.

A few miles later, the hammering of the rain on the roof eases, and the next flash of lightning isn’t followed quite so quickly by a crash of thunder. I finally loosen my cramped grip on the steering wheel and let my head fall back against the headrest.

Arriving for my new job on the heels of a storm may not be ideal, but there’s a certain symmetry to it. From a stormy ending in New York to a stormy start in Colorado.

I roll my eyes at that overly dramatic thought, then flick another glance at the GPS. Less than half an hour away now. Thank god.

My muscles loosen further.

The thought of a cozy catch-up chat with Mia, perhaps with a glass of wine, has me pressing the accelerator a little harder.

A flash of movement at the edge of my vision is the only warning I have before some kind of large deer bounds in front of the car. My heart catapults into my throat as I instinctively slam on the brakes and jerk the steering wheel to the side.

For a split second, my headlights freeze-frame the animal, its delicate head thrown back, a huge white-rimmed eye rolling toward me as I bear down on it in what feels like slow motion.

Then, with an almost impossible leap, it’s gone, crashing into the brush and trees on the far side of the road.

I don’t have time to be grateful I didn’t hit it. I’m too busy grappling with the wheel as my car spins and slides sickeningly on the wet road. As the front end drops sharply, I scream, imagining myself plunging off the edge of the mountain.

With a sudden jolt, I come to a stop.

My heart thunders in my ears. I stay frozen, hands still clutching the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, afraid to move. My terror lessens as I realize I’m not hanging off the side of a cliff. The car’s just wedged nose-down in the ditch on the opposite side of the road.

The fear, the rush of adrenaline, and everything that’s been building in my chest over the past few weeks burst out of me. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and dissolve into tears.

Sobs I’ve been holding back since the moment my relationship—and career—imploded burn my throat.

For the first time, I don’t force them down.

Here, on this dark, wet, lonely Colorado road, I let it all pour out.

All the anger, heartache, and self-doubt erupt in a storm almost as violent as the one I’ve been driving through.

But in the same way the weather has eased, my tears eventually subside.

With a shuddering breath, I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. Then I let out a slightly hysterical laugh, even though there isn’t a single part of this situation that’s funny.

Once my hands stop shaking, I twist the key in the ignition.

The engine coughs and turns over, but when I shift into reverse and press the accelerator, a harsh metallic clunk echoes from beneath me.

The engine revs, but the car doesn’t move.

Instead, a horrible grinding noise comes from the same spot as the clunk.

Air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I close my eyes, summoning what little calm I still possess.

Okay, I had cell reception when Mia called, so I can hopefully call for help. I check my phone screen, perking up at the sight of the single bar still visible.

Unfortunately, the battery icon is red. I might only have enough power for one call.

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I weigh my options. I could call Mia, but if she’s already put Ruby to bed, it might be hard for her to come get me. And searching for a local tow truck driver will probably drain the remaining battery before I can even make a call.

Which leaves only one option.

I scroll through my contacts and find the number Sterling gave me for the ranch. My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment. This isn’t the first impression I was hoping to make on my new employer. Then again, I don’t exactly have a choice. I blow out a breath and tap the Call button.

Silence. Call failed.

My stomach sinks, and the backs of my eyes sting again. I squeeze them shut, fighting back more tears. Crying won’t help.

Getting out of the car might, though.

The corner of the door scrapes the wet ground as I push it open, and I grimace as my white sneakers sink into the mud. My comfy driving outfit—a maxi skirt and a cardigan-covered tank top—is instantly drenched by the rain. Pulling the cardigan tightly around me, I shove the door shut.

Thank god I make it to the road without face-planting. Blinking raindrops out of my eyes, I hold my breath and try the number for Wild Ember again.

When the call goes through and the line rings, I exhale heavily.

“Hello?” The deep voice is familiar.

“Hi, Sterling. It’s Sage Emerson.”

“Sage. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow. Is everything okay?”

I scrunch my nose. “Actually… I stupidly decided to drive up the mountain during the storm, and, well… now I’m in a ditch.”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his tone suddenly sharp.

Heat creeps up my neck. “No, I’m fine. I’m just… stuck. But my phone is about to die, and I need help getting out of here.”

“Where are you?” His voice is all business now, and it’s reassuring.

I scan the area. Dark trees. Dark road. Not much to go on.

“Uh… I’m on the main road that goes over the mountain, just under half an hour from Silverford. I’m not sure how far that is from you.”

“We’re ten minutes past Silverford. That’s no problem. I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

Relief floods me. “Thank you so much. Would it also be possible for you to message Mia to let her know what happened and that I’m okay? She’ll worry if she doesn’t hear from me.”

“I’ll handle it. Just stay in your car, and someone will be there soon.”

After saying goodbye, I check my battery. There’s only a sliver left. I’m tempted to message Mia myself, but that could drain it completely. The thought of being trapped out here in the dark with a dead phone is scarier than I’d like to admit.

Visions of bears and wolves hiding in the trees send a shiver down my spine, and I rush back to the safety of my car, locking the door the moment I’m inside. I peer through the rain into the shadows. I’m cold, wet, and currently regretting every horror movie I’ve ever watched.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I sink lower in my seat.

Hopefully, whoever my knight in shining armor turns out to be won’t take too long to get here.