12
Camila
A roar jolts me awake. And no, it’s not some damn thunder. Nor is it the devil’s wind creeping across the roof. It’s something much more mundane, earthly, and annoying. The constant hum of tractor engines.
It takes me exactly two seconds to get my bearings, even though my brain is racing.
The sweet, rustic smell of straw permeates the air around me, along with a devilishly comforting pressure right beside me, which snaps me back to reality like a slap in the face.
It also brings with it a spark that reignites my brain.
Darana is pressed so close to my body that I can count her eyelashes.
The dawn light in this blessed corner of Australia filters timidly through the wooden slats of the hayloft, drawing golden lines across the dust floating in the air.
For one absurd, idyllic, and totally out-of-place second, everything seems perfectly calm.
Until I remember that damn dream from a little while ago.
Fucking her wildly on top of the hay? Good God, my hormones must be going haywire.
I glance sideways at her mouth and swallow hard, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
Until the real world decides to blow the moment to smithereens.
“Boss!” Bert’s voice cuts through the air. “Boss, if you can hear me, please answer! Are you up there?”
Damn it. Just what I needed to complete the picture.
Darana sits up suddenly, as if a bug had bitten her on the butt. The wool blanket slides down her back, and the morning chill pierces our skin. Our eyes meet. A moment. A single second that holds all the tension we’ve been building up since I set foot on this ranch.
“We have to…” she begins.
“Yeah, I know,” I cut her off, moving in a hurry. “We can’t just sit here fooling around. Let’s go.”
Reality sets in quickly. We part with almost comical abruptness, each heading to one side of the loft.
We toss the blanket aside as we search for our shirts, which—to add to the morning’s delight—are still a little damp.
I pull mine on in a hurry, cursing under my breath as I feel the icy fabric against my breasts.
It’s damn uncomfortable. And when I see the stains and how wrinkled it is…
“Oh my God, if a lightning bolt doesn’t strike me down today, an anxiety attack will. ”
Darana gets dressed with her back to me. I don’t meet her gaze either. I’ve got enough on my plate processing this rush without also trying to figure out what’s going on in Calloway’s little head.
“Hurry up,” she murmurs, more to convince herself than me, as she struggles with the buttons.
We move awkwardly, like two teenagers who’ve just been caught.
As soon as Darana opens the trapdoor and climbs down the ladder, she undergoes a metamorphosis worthy of study.
She touches the ground, straightens her back, and slips that mask of a ruthless matriarch firmly back onto her face.
She’s Darana Calloway again, the queen of Birdsong Hills.
The one who doesn’t waver for anything or anyone.
I follow right behind her. The shed’s double doors swing wide open with a crash. And immediately afterward, Bert bursts in like a Miura bull, covered in mud up to his eyebrows, his hat a mess, and a look of concern on his face that’s downright frightening.
“Boss!” the man exclaims, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you’re both alive. We’ve been looking for the car since dawn.”
Darana brushes a couple of pieces of straw off her pants, as if she hadn’t spent the night shivering, pressed up against my body.
“It takes more than four hailstones to send me packing, Bert,” she snaps at him. “Secure the sheds in this sector and check that the beams aren’t in danger of collapsing. We’re heading to the main house right now.”
The foreman nods, taking off his hat.
“Yes, boss. But… are you sure you want to go on foot? The access road is in terrible shape.”
“I know my land inside and out, Bert. We can take the tractor part of the way, but then we’ll continue on foot. I need you to take care of this.”
The old man’s eyes shift from Darana to me.
He stares at us a second longer than he should, narrowing his eyes as if his tracker’s instincts were telling him there’s been more tension in that barn than in a power plant.
But, for the sake of his job, he keeps quiet.
Great. I’m not in the mood to explain why I look like I slept in the back of a moving truck.
We step outside, and the scene is enough to make you want to cry.
Part of the property is unrecognizable. The main paths have vanished beneath a thick, disgusting layer of reddish mud that swallows our boots.
Some of the fences that were such a source of pride for Darana are down or broken.
There are shattered eucalyptus trees, and the main utility pole is split into two perfect halves, with wires scattered across the ground.
“Oh my God,” I say, stepping carefully so I don’t sink into the mud as we make our way toward the tractor. “The wind must have been over sixty miles an hour to uproot those trees. This is a disaster.”
“I have eyes, Bennet,” she says, keeping her chin up. “I know exactly what I have to do. I don’t need a damage report right now.”
We climb into the cab of the big tractor with Bert.
The engine roars to life with a deafening growl that, thankfully, drowns out the awkward silence that has settled between us.
I press myself against the window, staring straight ahead, but it’s impossible to ignore the carnage.
The tractor lurches forward, and with every bump, my shoulder brushes against Darana’s, sending a tingle through my stomach that reminds me of that damn dream. Damn subconscious!
Until the tractor reaches the end of the road and we arrive at the crown jewel.
The plantation. Or rather, what’s left of it. The sea of colors that rippled in the wind yesterday is now, for the most part, a blanket of mud, standing water, and stems crushed by hail.
Darana’s jaw drops. I feel her back tense, and I know this sight is hurting her more than if she’d been shot. The geraniums were her life.
Seeing the garden and part of the canopy roof like this turns my stomach, because the last time I came here before leaving is still etched in my mind—when the seeds were just beginning to sprout for the first time and we would hang out here talking for hours, completely oblivious to the outside world.
It was right here, surrounded by that sweet scent, that Darana swore to me she’d do something great with her life.
But then I left, and with that came many other consequences.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and without thinking, I place a hand on her forearm. It’s a foolish impulse, but as soon as she stiffens, I pull it away immediately. “I know how much work it took you to get all this off the ground.”
To think that, given the climate here, she managed to build such a large plantation is almost a miracle.
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
“It’s not your fault,” she replies, and her voice sounds strangely sad, stripped of its usual aggressiveness.
Bert chimes in from behind the wheel, shifting into a higher gear:
“Boss, Ricky just radioed me. The hail has turned the roof of the grain warehouse into a sieve. And the horses are going crazy in shed number two. Maddie’s trying to control them, but she says they’re unmanageable.”
“Got it. As soon as we reach the porch, we’ll get this mess under control,” Darana replies, regaining command of the situation with astonishing speed.
The drive to the main house feels long to me, even though it isn’t that far. The tractor skids, bounces, and weaves through the mud, and all I can think about is that I have to get to work right away if I don’t want to go crazy.
As soon as the vehicle comes to a stop in front of the main entrance, Darana jumps out.
The living room fills up in the blink of an eye. The workers file in, leaving a trail of muddy footprints that no one seems to mind. There are long faces, dirty clothes, and a strong desire to know where to start cleaning up. Darana stands in the center, crosses her arms, and speaks up.
“All right, everyone, listen up,” her voice booms. “The situation is a mess—I’m not going to lie to you.
The roads are cut off because of the rain, so forget about receiving supplies or trucks for the next three days.
We have no power anywhere on the property, and the emergency generators are only enough for basic refrigeration. ”
A murmur of concern ripples through the crowd.
“We have less than seven days to get this place in order before the next tour groups arrive. Otherwise, our season is going to go to hell before it even starts. And Birdsong Hills isn’t going to fall apart because of one rainy night—is that clear?
” she continues, fixing her gaze on each of them in turn. “So get to work.”
The staff gets ready and quickly springs into action. This woman has a magnetism that, much to my chagrin, is annoyingly attractive.
Wait. Did I just say that?
“Maddie,” Darana orders, turning to her. “I want you to keep a close eye on the sheds. The last thing I need is for an animal to break a leg on one of the feeders. Work with Joanie as soon as she gets here, and notify anyone who had reservations for the next few days.”
Maddie nods solemnly, setting aside her usual jokes.
“Got it. But stop by later—I’m sure they’ll really appreciate seeing you.”
“I’ll be right over as soon as I’m done here,” Darana assures her. “Ricky, grab the ATV with the best traction and go find Angus. We left him locked up there before the storm, and if he decides to ram the posts, I don’t even want to imagine what’ll happen. Watch out for the ditches.”
“Bert,” I interject, stepping forward and earning a withering glare from Darana, but I don’t care one bit because I’m the risk expert here, “organize a group of three men and check the fences. If the posts have come loose, the cattle could scatter.”