3
Darana
“What did you say?” I set the coffee cup down on the counter with such a sharp thud that I almost knock it over.
When I turn toward Ricky, the poor kid looks like he wants to sink into the floor or run back the way he came. It’s not his fault at all, poor thing, but I need him to repeat every single one of those damn words. And I need it now, before I have a heart attack.
“That… that the Meteorological Institute has decided at the last minute to send Camila Bennet to study the phenomena battering the area,” he repeats, and I can feel the fear trembling on his lips.
The truth is, I don’t blame him. My first impulse is to smash the mug in his face for giving me such shitty news after I’ve already been surrounded by nothing but shit.
I glance sideways at the wall clock hanging on the main pillar in the kitchen.
Well, okay, technically it’s noon, which means that Camila Bennet—none other than the treacherous, selfish, and slutty Camila Bennet—has already been wandering around my ranch for a couple of hours.
Unsupervised. And, above all, without my fucking permission.
“Can you tell me why the hell you didn’t let me know as soon as you found out?” I snap at him, crossing my arms.
“You were in the stables with Byron, boss, and you don’t like to be disturbed when you’re training him,” he defends himself, shrugging.
Fair point. He’s got me there. I can’t fault him for being a professional through and through.
“And does Bert know yet?”
“He was the one who unlocked the guest cabin for her, though we were in such a rush we didn’t have time to stock her pantry,” Ricky announces with an apologetic look.
As far as I’m concerned, they could’ve put her up in the oldest, mustiest, cobweb-filled barn in the whole place—and I mean it.
“Originally, the team of scientists was supposed to be two people, but now… since there are three of them, she’s gone into town in her car to buy supplies while her colleagues arrive.
Or so she told us. But she’s already requested the permits to start setting up the measuring equipment in the different areas. ”
I swear I don’t even catch the last part of what he says.
My brain just shuts down. “I bet that little viper went straight to see Lily,” I think with a pang of rage.
Lily has always been on her side, no matter what.
It’s obvious she doesn’t have the faintest idea of the hell Camila put my brother through.
I press my lips together so hard they hurt, tilt my head back, roll my neck toward one shoulder and then the other, and down the rest of my coffee in one gulp.
I need fuel in my system for what’s coming my way.
“Can you rearrange the shifts? I need to deal with this woman personally. I’m not going to let her roam my land as she pleases.”
“Sure, boss. We don’t have any routes scheduled for today anyway, so Maddie and I can handle the cattle and the classes without any problem,” he says, clearing his throat and glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
I can still see the flash of discomfort and panic in Ricky’s eyes.
I try to give him a forced smile so he doesn’t think I’ve turned into the “cave monster”—a cute nickname I earned a while back among the hands because of my serious demeanor—and it takes me less than half a second to pull my hat down over my eyes and storm out of the main house like a Miura bull, heading straight for my Ford Ranger.
The main house is built on a hill that gives me a spectacular view of the entire property: the vast expanse of pastures, the training tracks, and that fork in the dirt roads leading to the various horse stalls and barns.
Before opening the car door, I stand there transfixed for a moment.
I take in the contrasting colors of my homeland, the changes in the landscape, and the way the horizon blends into the distant hills beneath a blue sky so perfect it seems unreal.
“I have no idea why that smart-ass Camila has to come here to study storms,” I say to myself.
And as soon as my mind utters her name, a whirlwind of unease and resentment churns in my gut, and I can’t control it in the slightest.
As soon as I get into the car, I slam the door shut with enough force to make the windows rattle.
I toss my hat onto the passenger seat and stick the key in the ignition, but I don’t turn it.
I sit still, tilt my head back, grip the steering wheel, and decide to buckle my seat belt…
on the third try, because the damn thing has decided to drive me up the wall and get stuck against my will.
Just what I needed! It’s hard to believe that, no matter how many years go by, Camila Bennet still has this extraordinary effect on me.
And in the worst possible way. It’s a very serious matter, really. Too serious for my mental health.
I still remember the last time we saw each other as if it were yesterday.
It was the day of Elijah’s funeral, after months and months of fighting to get her to sign the divorce papers that my poor brother never got around to giving her.
Camila renounced any share of the inheritance that was hers—at least in that, she showed a glimmer of dignity—and took off again the way she’d come, without looking back.
Not even a measly “I’m sorry,” not an “I know it was my fault,” or a “Sorry for ruining your lives.” Nothing.
“And now… she deigns to show up here as if she were the Queen of Sheba,” I mutter under my breath.
Damn it, this can’t be happening to me.
I lean back in my seat, connect my phone to the car’s hands-free system—thanks to Telstra’s network—and start the engine, which roars like a beast. I floor the gas pedal as if I were in the middle of a chase after runaway cattle and race down the dirt road leading to the guest area at full throttle, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
To be honest, I’m not quite sure what I’m hoping to achieve by showing up there.
Although, come to think of it, I could just kick her off my property and not give it a second thought.
If it weren’t, of course, for the fact that the damn Meteorological Institute has made it very clear that we have to work together to prepare for future storms and that, otherwise, we could suffer consequences far more catastrophic than those that ravaged us years ago.
Remembering that disaster makes my hair stand on end and my blood run cold, but I just can’t help feeling this visceral hatred toward a woman who…
“Shit. What’s going on now?” I ask the universe out loud when I see my Aunt Elizabeth’s name flashing on the dashboard screen. I nearly punch the accept button. “Tell me, Auntie.”
“Have you heard yet?” she blurts out without preamble.
“Doesn’t the whole damn town already know?
Everyone except me, of course—I’m always last on the list,” I reply, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out something outrageous through this little mouth of mine.
“I can’t believe they’ve stabbed us in the back like this, honestly. It’s unbelievable.”
“Well, Darana… To her credit, Camila is the best in the country at investigating this kind of atmospheric phenomenon. You have to give her that, sweetheart.”
Excuse me? Was that a compliment I just heard? My own aunt is praising that bitch Camila Bennet after what she put her nephew through? I’d have to be dead not to be outraged.
“And, for heaven’s sake, don’t you dare start acting like Angus now,” she pleads.
Angus is our most prized donkey, the ranch’s favorite, and also the most stubborn, headstrong, and grumpy creature in all of Birdsong Hills. A medium-sized animal, but with the spirit and guts of a bull.
I hear my aunt let out a deep sigh through the speakers.
“I know perfectly well that things with her have never been easy after everything that happened—I really do—but don’t forget that in a relationship, there’s never just one side to the story, Darana.
I think you should at least give her a chance to explain herself, to make amends for the past, and to do her job properly. Our lives depend on it.”
Is she scolding me? Is she giving me the fucking lecture of the century?
Unbelievable. I jerk the wheel violently, sending dirt flying into the air.
Several ranch hands stare at me with eyes as big as saucers as I speed past them, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from yelling at them in a way I might regret later.
“The climate is changing, and someday we’ll have to start understanding storms if we want to move forward and survive.
” I suddenly remember one of the countless things Dad told me before he died.
A piece of advice that carried the hidden message, “You should leave the damn past where it is—buried and sealed tight,” but I’m not at all sure I’m that generous.
I can’t. And as I press my foot harder on the gas pedal, I realize that this turn of events is going to have some pretty serious consequences down the road.
“Fine, you win,” I grumble, swallowing my pride. “I’ll try to behave and not rip her head off.”