4. Boone
BOONE
Heavy rainfall pelts the windshield of my truck as I navigate the sloppy dirt road. Mel was supposed to pick Sawyer up an hour ago, but she turned around when she encountered a section of road to my property that washed out. She wasn’t about to risk getting stuck in her front-wheel drive minivan.
Thankfully, I have a heavy-duty, four-wheel drive truck.
I’m fucking haunted enough by the brief time Sawyer Rose has spent in my house—in my bed . I need her gone, before the weather turns any worse and strands us together.
The cab of my truck smells of jasmine, and she’s wearing those damn skinny jeans she had on last night. It doesn’t seem to matter that she shattered my fucking heart when she left me five years ago. My dick still wants to me to bend her over and pull those jeans down her perfect ass until?—
“Maybe we should wait this out,” Sawyer says, eyes locked straight ahead. Not that either one of us can see for shit due to the excessive rainfall attacking the windshield.
“No,” I say firmly.
“Look, Boone. I don’t like this anymore than you do— hey !” Sawyer’s palms flatten against the dashboard as I slam on the brakes. My truck skids to a stop, the muddy road making it impossible to find grip. “What the fuck , Boone?”
The front bumper sits parallel to a raging river of water flooding across the only road out off my property.
When Mel said the road was washed out, I expected a deep puddle I could easily power through.
But this? Only an insane man out to cheat death would risk crossing water moving at these unfathomable speeds.
“I’m sorry. Did you want to go swimming, Sunshine?”
“That’s not the road,” she says, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Not anymore,” I mutter, cursing myself for putting off the project I had planned for this spring. One that would have prevented exactly this from happening. But I’d been shorthanded on the ranch ever since two of my hands ran off and eloped with one another last month.
Guess everyone’s getting fucking married these days.
Everyone but me.
“What now?” She’s still staring straight ahead, determined as hell not to make eye contact with me.
We played this game all through breakfast. Pretending to hate each other when we both know it’s so far from the truth.
But it’s easier to keep up the charade than admit that no amount of love will ever be enough to revive what we had.
Sawyer made her choice all those years ago, and it wasn’t me.
“We turn around,” I finally answer, shifting my truck into reverse.
“And then what?”
Exasperated, I look over at her. “What do you want me to fucking say, Sawyer? You think we’re going to backpack you out of here? Fat fucking chance. Until this storm blows over, you’re stuck. Better get used to it.”
“Can’t you call someone?” she fires back.
“Call someone to what? Reroute the new god damn river?”
“They have rescue plans for situations like this, right?”
“Christ,” I grumble, gripping the steering wheel within an inch of its life as I hit the gas. My tires spin. Fuck .
“Why isn’t your truck moving?”
“You really have turned full fucking city, haven’t you?”
“I’m not?—”
“Get over here.”
Her mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes narrowing into daggers. “I’m not?—”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Sunshine. I need you to hit the gas when I tell you.”
“Where are you going?”
“To push us out before the water gets any closer.” I roll down the window so she’ll be able to hear me yell. “When I tell you, shift the truck into drive and hit the gas. Turn that wheel as hard to the right as you can before you do though. Understand?”
Sawyer’s gaze locks with mine, and for a beat, I see the girl I remember.
The girl I fell in love with when we were both just teenagers.
The one who was fearless and up for anything, before that free spirit was beaten and battered down by tragedy.
Before she became a shell of herself and ran away from me—from us .
“I got it, Boone.”
My gaze drops momentarily to her lips. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss her. It takes every ounce of control I have not to. Instead, I force myself out of the truck and into the raging rain that pelts against my body, thanks to the strong gusting wind.
I position myself at the back of the truck and hope to hell that this fucking works. If I have to abandon my truck now, I don’t feel confident that it’ll still be here when this storm is over.
“Now!” I shout.
I shove with all my might as mud slings around me. My boots sink into the soft, mushy earth. My arms ache, and I can’t fucking see shit. Just when I think it’s not going to work, the truck lurches forward.
Thank fucking god.
A few yards ahead, Sawyer puts the truck into park.
I run to catch up, but slip.
My palms flatten against the mud, breaking my fall before my face hits the ground. As I’m shoving up to my feet, I hear Sawyer.
“Are you okay?”
She’s at my side, yanking on my arm to help me up.
Sawyer Rose ran out into the pouring rain without hesitation because I fell on my ass.
She still loves me.
My gaze snags on her t-shirt, now completely soaked through. Revealing the black lace bra beneath it. My dick awakens, hardening by the second.
“Are you okay?” she asks again because I never answered her.
“Worried about me?” I say, my tone smug.
She lets go of my arm, as though it’s on fire and she just now realized it’s burning her. “Don’t read into this, Boone.”
“Why not?” I ask, stepping closer.
“Don’t go there, Boo—” My name turns into a squeal as Sawyer slips.