Chapter 5 Storm Shelter
Thunder Between Us
The weather changed faster than anyone expected.
One minute the sky was clear.
The next, it looked like the end of the world.
I noticed the clouds while repairing a fence line nearly two miles from the main ranch buildings. The morning had started hot and humid, the kind of weather that made sweat cling to your skin before breakfast.
Now dark clouds rolled across the horizon.
Fast.
The wind picked up first.
Tall grass bent beneath powerful gusts.
Dust swirled across the open fields.
Something about it felt wrong.
Even the horses seemed uneasy.
The ranch hands noticed too.
Conversations became shorter.
People worked faster.
Nobody wanted to get caught outside when a Texas storm decided to make an appearance.
Unfortunately, fate apparently had a personal grudge against me.
Because that was exactly what happened.
I was helping move supplies from one of the outer fence lines when the first crack of thunder echoed across the ranch.
The sound was so loud it seemed to shake the ground.
I nearly dropped the toolbox in my hands.
A second later rain began falling.
Not gentle rain.
Not normal rain.
A wall of water slammed into the ranch with almost no warning.
Within seconds I was soaked.
"Move!"
Someone shouted.
Workers immediately started heading toward vehicles and nearby structures.
I looked around.
The main ranch buildings were too far away.
The nearest shelter was an old storage barn sitting alone near the edge of the property.
I grabbed the toolbox and started running.
Rain hammered the ground.
Wind pushed against me.
Mud splashed across my jeans.
Lightning flashed somewhere behind the clouds.
The storm felt alive.
Angry.
I finally reached the barn and pulled open one of the large doors.
The old structure groaned beneath the wind.
Inside smelled like hay, dust, and weathered wood.
Not ideal.
But better than getting struck by lightning.
I stepped inside and pushed the door partially closed behind me.
Rain continued pounding against the roof.
The noise was deafening.
For several seconds I simply stood there catching my breath.
My heart raced.
Water dripped from my clothes.
Thunder rolled across the sky again.
At least I had shelter.
That counted for something.
Then a familiar voice spoke behind me.
"You're supposed to stay away from lightning, not run toward it."
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Spinning around, I found Ryder standing near the back of the barn.
Of course.
Of course he was here.
Apparently the universe wasn't satisfied with trapping me inside an isolated barn during a storm.
It also wanted me trapped with Ryder Cole.
Fantastic.
The cowboy sat on a stack of hay bales.
One boot rested against a wooden support beam.
His black T-shirt clung slightly to his broad frame from the rain.
Water darkened his hair beneath the brim of his hat.
Even soaking wet, the man somehow looked completely unbothered.
I hated that.
"Could've warned me you were here."
One corner of his mouth twitched.
"Could've looked."
Fair.
Unfortunately.
I set down the toolbox.
The storm raged outside.
Lightning flashed through small gaps in the walls.
Thunder followed seconds later.
Neither of us looked particularly eager to venture back outside.
Which meant we were stuck together.
The realization made me oddly aware of the space around us.
The barn wasn't small.
Yet somehow it felt much smaller with Ryder inside.
I moved toward a nearby stack of feed sacks.
Keeping a safe distance.
Or attempting to.
Silence settled between us.
Not uncomfortable exactly.
Just unfamiliar.
Most of our conversations involved work.
Or mistakes.
Usually my mistakes.
This felt different.
The storm continued pounding against the roof.
Rain drummed overhead.
Wind rattled old wooden boards.
Eventually I sighed.
"This weather is insane."
Ryder glanced toward the barn doors.
"Happens."
"That's your professional opinion?"
He shrugged.
"Storm."
I stared at him.
The man managed entire conversations using single words.
It was genuinely impressive.
"I've noticed."
That earned a small snort.
Progress.
For a while we simply listened to the rain.
The storm showed no signs of stopping.
Lightning illuminated the barn.
Thunder followed immediately afterward.
Closer this time.
I tried not to flinch.
Failed.
Ryder noticed.
Of course he did.
"You always jump like that?"
"Only when the sky explodes."
Another snort.
The closest thing Ryder ever came to laughter.
A strange warmth settled inside my chest.
The realization was annoying.
I liked making him laugh.
Or almost laugh.
Whatever counted as laughter in Ryder's world.
Outside, rain continued falling.
Inside, the conversation slowly became easier.
Not effortless.
But easier.
Maybe because there wasn't anywhere else to go.
Maybe because storms had a way of stripping away distractions.
Either way, we started talking.
Actually talking.
I learned Ryder had lived in Blackthorn his entire life.
The ranch had belonged to his family for generations.
He'd left briefly in his early twenties.
Then returned.
I told him about college.
Art classes.
City life.
Coffee shops.
The differences between our worlds felt enormous.
Yet somehow the conversation kept flowing.
At one point another flash of lightning lit the barn.
For a brief second, Ryder's expression became distant.
Thoughtful.
Almost sad.
The change caught my attention.
"What?"
His eyes returned to me.
"What?"
"You got that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're thinking about something."
Ryder stared.
Apparently nobody had informed me that asking personal questions around him qualified as dangerous behavior.
I waited anyway.
To my surprise, he eventually answered.
"Nothing important."
"That's not true."
His jaw tightened slightly.
Interesting.
I was getting better at reading him.
Not good.
But better.
The silence stretched.
Then I noticed something hanging on one of the barn walls.
A framed photograph.
Old.
Weathered.
The image showed a younger Ryder sitting atop a horse.
Crowds filled the background.
A large buckle rested at his waist.
Trophies surrounded him.
The man in the picture looked confident.
Victorious.
Famous.
I frowned.
"Who's that?"
Ryder followed my gaze.
Immediately his expression changed.
Something guarded settled over his features.
The reaction alone told me the answer.
"You."
A pause.
Then a nod.
My eyes widened slightly.
I stood and walked closer to the photograph.
The younger Ryder looked almost unreal.
The same face.
The same eyes.
Just younger.
Happier.
The crowd behind him appeared massive.
"Wait."
I looked back.
"What is this?"
Ryder remained silent.
That usually meant the answer mattered.
I studied the photo again.
Then another one nearby.
And another.
Every image showed horses.
Crowds.
Competitions.
Awards.
Suddenly the pieces clicked together.
"No way."
Ryder sighed.
The sound carried years of resignation.
"You rode rodeo."
"Yeah."
I turned toward him fully.
The realization hit all at once.
Not just rodeo.
Professional rodeo.
Big rodeo.
The photographs made that obvious.
The trophies too.
"You were famous."
Ryder rolled his eyes immediately.
Which was confirmation.
My mouth literally fell open.
For weeks I'd assumed he was simply a ranch owner.
A stubborn, intimidating ranch owner.
Apparently there had been an entire other life before Blackthorn Ranch.
A huge one.
"You never mentioned that."
"You never asked."
Technically true.
Annoyingly true.
I moved closer to the photographs.
The younger Ryder looked fearless.
Untouchable.
The kind of man who belonged in magazine covers and sports documentaries.
Not hidden away on a ranch.
"What happened?"
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Immediately, silence filled the barn.
The storm continued outside.
Rain hammered the roof.
Thunder echoed through the distance.
Inside, something shifted.
Ryder's expression became unreadable.
Not angry.
Not exactly.
But closed.
Like I'd wandered too close to a door he preferred keeping locked.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Ryder looked toward the rain-covered entrance.
His voice came lower than before.
Rougher.
"I got hurt."
Simple words.
Heavy meaning.
I glanced at the photographs again.
Then back at him.
The pieces weren't complete yet.
Not even close.
But I understood enough.
There was a story there.
A painful one.
One Ryder clearly wasn't ready to tell.
The realization settled between us.
Quiet.
Unspoken.
Outside, thunder rolled across the dark sky.
Inside, surrounded by rain, shadows, and old memories, I stared at the man I'd thought I was beginning to understand.
Only to discover I barely knew him at all.
Because Ryder Cole wasn't just the owner of Blackthorn Ranch.
Once upon a time, he had been something much bigger.
A rodeo champion.
A man with trophies, crowds, and a life that seemed impossible to imagine now.
And somehow, trapped together in a storm, I'd just uncovered the first piece of the mystery hiding behind those guarded blue eyes.
Too Close
The storm should have been my biggest problem.
It wasn't.
The storm was predictable.
Storms rolled across Texas all the time. They arrived fast, caused trouble, and eventually moved on.
Oliver Hayes was becoming considerably harder to ignore.
I sat on the hay bales and listened to the rain hammer against the roof.
Across the barn, Oliver studied the old rodeo photographs hanging on the wall.
His attention remained fixed on them.
Thoughtful.
Curious.
The kid had a way of looking at things that made them seem important.
I'd noticed that already.
Unfortunately.
Most people would've glanced at the pictures and moved on.
Oliver looked like he was trying to understand them.
Trying to understand me.
That realization made me uncomfortable.
The smart thing would have been changing the subject.