Chapter Fifteen Savannah #2
The next morning, I spring up from my bed, a gasp catching in my throat as I’m yanked out of my blissful slumber.
My laptop sits open on the bed next to me.
I’d been watching YouTube videos on all kinds of ranching mechanics before I dozed off, any distraction I can use to eradicate my mind of Blaze and that kiss.
My eyelids are heavy, but the jarring cattle sounds are enough to shake off the grogginess.
I flip on the light and grab clothes, pulling on a shirt as I run down the stairs, skidding on the shiny wood.
Sliding my feet into my boots, I stuff my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and say a little prayer that all hell hasn’t really broken loose, even though my instincts tell me otherwise.
It’s so early, the sun barely peeks over the horizon. I run toward the pasture, my heart lodging in my throat as the sounds get louder and more desperate. Whatever went wrong, I’m on my own to fix it.
I wind through the cattle milling around one of the water troughs in the pasture. My jaw drops.
It’s empty.
“What the hell?” I mutter, running over to the other troughs. All of them are bone dry.
Panic bubbles in my chest. I have no idea how long the cattle have been without water. I didn’t come out here again after Nash worked on it yesterday.
I check the garden-hose-line setup for each trough, and everything looks fine. Nothing is detached. There are no holes in the hoses. But then why isn’t the water running? I expel a shuddering breath.
Nash told me we have a two-well system hooked together underground by poly pipe, and that’s the main water source. It’s distributed through water lines that are laid out aboveground around the fenced pasture.
Okay, so maybe one of the lines got trampled by a cow.
I walk around the lines, checking them all to see if there’s any sign of damage, but I can’t find a single thing wrong with any of them.
Sweat beads on the back of my neck. It’s going to be a hot one today, and if I don’t get this fixed as soon as possible, I’ll have two hundred cattle suffering from dehydration or worse. The cows cluster around the empty troughs, their distress reverberating between my ears.
I pull out my phone and dial Nash’s number, but it goes to voicemail. I dial Mikey’s number next.
“Sorry, Savannah,” he says after I explain the problem. “I’m workin’ out at the Bakersfield ranch with Randy this morning. I can get there later to check things out. In the meantime, get water in those troughs so the cattle can drink.”
“Okay, thanks.” I press my fingertips to my temples.
“Shit,” I yell, stomping my boot on the limestone granite where the troughs sit.
I go to Google next to search for a twenty-four-hour local repair service and find one not too far from here.
My finger zooms over the keyboard on my screen to dial the emergency-service number.
Once help is on the way, I can get to work filling those troughs.
“Wells Bells Repair Service,” a chirpy female voice answers.
My fingers clench tight around the phone. “Hi, I have a water emergency on my ranch in Whiskey Creek. I’m not getting any water to my troughs, and my cattle look ready to stampede me right now. How quickly can you get someone out here to repair it?”
“Hmm,” the woman says. “I’m looking at our schedule right now, and I’m afraid we can’t come out to figure out the problem before this afternoon.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. How quickly can it be fixed?”
“Well, depending on the issue, we’d need time to order any parts and then to do a full installation. Maybe a week.”
“A week?” I yelp. “That’s not going to work. My cows need water now.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. But that’s the best we can do.”
“Argh,” I growl and hang up on her.
Then I take a gamble and dial Tyler’s number, but the call goes straight to voicemail.
I push back my hair and stare at the herd of cattle, my options rapidly shrinking. “I’m so sorry, you guys. But I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
There is someone who can help me, someone who’s an expert with ranching operations.
Blaze. Fuck.
And my last words to him last night after that soul-searing kiss were “Stay the hell away from me.”
I press a hand to my forehead. My choice is simple. Swallow my pride or kill off my livestock. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself the strength to dial his number.
On the third ring, Blaze answers, the deep timbre of his voice sparking tingles in my core despite me starring in this shit show. “Are you calling just to remind me to stay away from you? Because I got that message loud and clear last night.”
“And you deserved that message.” I chew on my lower lip. “But this is business, nothing more.” He doesn’t respond, so I keep talking. I tell him about the empty troughs and the emergency-repair service that has zero sense of urgency. “I, uh, really need your help.”
He still doesn’t speak.
“Did you hear everything I said?” I ask, my throat so tight, I can barely choke out the question.
“Yeah, I got it. I’ll come over to check things out.”
“And fix the problem? Because I don’t know what else to do. And I’ll pay you too. I would have paid a repair service.”
“I’m not a repair service.” He grunts. “I’ll be over in half an hour. In the meantime, fill some buckets and get those cows hydrated.”
“Okay, I’ll do it right—”
He hangs up on me before I can finish.
“Blaze Hartman, you are such an insufferable ass,” I yell, running toward the barn for buckets. Over the next half hour, I manage to get water into each trough, but there are too many of them trying to drink at once.
The sun is up when I hear the welcome sound of Blaze’s truck pulling up the gravel driveway.
I wipe the sweat off my face with the sleeve of my shirt and tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears.
I can’t even imagine what a mess I am right now, but Blaze barely acknowledges me as he strides past and heads toward the irrigation system.
“Keep filling the troughs,” he snaps. “They’re nearly empty again.”
“Yes, sir,” I grumble, running off to refill the buckets.
I keep sneaking looks at him as I dart around the pasture.
He studies every inch of the system, jaw tight, toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
His hands test each nozzle and hose line, and I hate to admit it, but my insides melt a little when he smiles and nuzzles a few of the cows following him around.
His voice is soft as he talks to them, almost too soft for someone who’s just been barking orders at me.
A glimpse of the guy I once knew, beneath all the armor.
My throat tightens. He’s still in there.
“So what are you doing to find the problem?” I finally call out to him. The silence is deafening, and I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m testing water pressure at different points to figure out where the problem is.”
I take a few cautious steps toward him after refilling the last trough. “Can I help?”
He slowly turns, his gaze heavy under the brim of his hat. The toothpick moves from one side of his mouth to the other as his gaze burns hotter. “No.”
I throw my hands into the air. “Well, how am I supposed to handle things in the future if you won’t even explain what I need to look for?”
Blaze raises an eyebrow. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“What happens if you’re not here the next time?” I pace in front of the trough. “Actually, no. You won’t be here next time because I need to figure this shit out for myself. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m just going to find another repair service.”
Blaze snorts. “They’ll charge you out the ass and take their sweet time getting here. Those city outfits don’t understand real ranch emergencies.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I say through clenched teeth.
He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, come on over here and I’ll explain.”
I close the distance between us and crouch down in the dirt next to him where the pump is located.
“I can hear the pump motor running,” I say. “So where’s the water?”
“Just listen,” he says.