“Can’t leave them out so that they get in other people’s yards.”
“But…” Her voice trailed off as he selected a contact and put the phone to his ear. She didn’t want to interrupt.
“It happens,” he told her as he waited for the other person to pick up. “The storm might have spooked them. If they get it in their heads to bust out, it’s hard for a fence to stop them.”
Starla jumped as lightning skittered through the clouds above, branching out like white veins at the same time a boom of thunder rattled the windows. Wind lashed the rain in sheets across the windshield, where the wipers worked furiously to clear it. The cows ahead bolted away up the road and Jared inched his truck along behind them. When the other party to his call apparently didn’t answer, he cursed and selected another. The road was quickly turning to mud in front of them.
She hoped there was some point to keeping these animals, because it all seemed like too much trouble to her. Finally, he got ahold of someone—his brother, he explained—to come and help him. Once the cows cleared the road in front of them, he drove up the long driveway to his house. The trees scattered around his property were practically bowing to the wind’s fury, but she could only see that as every flash of lightning cast them in a nightmarish silhouette. “This is crazy,” she yelled at him as they raced for his front porch and the shelter it provided. Even so, they were soaked by the time they reached it. He unlocked the door, preceded her inside, and hurriedly flipped on lights.
“Stay in,” he told her, rushing through the living room toward the hallway and presumably his bedroom.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she muttered, rubbing the water beaded on her arms. Gooseflesh prickled her skin. When Jared emerged from the hallway a minute later, he had on dark green mud boots, camo rain gear, and a very pissed-off expression. She stayed silent and out of his way as he headed toward the back door, listening as it banged closed behind him.
And she was alone in his house.
The desire to snoop was strong, and the need to crash on his couch and be useless stronger, as her head still swam from all the tequila she’d imbibed. But the man was braving savage elements for the sake of big dumb animals and the good of his neighbors, and while she felt utterly useless, surely there was something she could do to make him glad she was here.
She flipped on the TV to make sure he hadn’t just dashed out into an approaching tornado. No, so far there was only a severe thunderstorm warning. Lighting, straight-line winds sixty miles per hour and over. Possible hail. Jesus, that was bad enough. She felt chilled to the bone, and she was inside. She couldn’t imagine how he felt out there with that wind and rain whipping into his face.
But if she were out there, the first thing she would want upon returning was towels. And then coffee. So she found the bathroom off the hallway—presumably the one his twins used since it was stocked with every little-girl product imaginable—and raided a cabinet for a couple of towels to be waiting inside the mud room when he returned. Then she set coffee brewing in the kitchen, pausing as the lights flickered ominously…oh, no. If the storm knocked out the power, then her attempts at helpfulness would wink out with it. She had no idea where she would find candles. But even though the wind still raged and the lightning struck and the thunder crashed, the lights managed to stay on.
It seemed forever before the back door opened and multiple, laughing male voices boomed through the house. Starla, who’d been curled up on the couch watching TV and nearly dozing, bolted upright. Shit! She wasn’t ready to meet his people yet, half-drunk and still more than half-drenched. Her hair must look like a rat’s nest. Smoothing it down, she leapt to her feet and considered bolting for the girls’ bathroom to hide out. Too late—she heard one of the men comment that he smelled coffee, heard her name mentioned affectionately in Jared’s warm, welcome voice, and almost immediately she relaxed.
A trio of damp dark heads appeared in the kitchen, and she inched cautiously forward. Jared spied her right away and held his hand out, his smile and his eyes lighting something up inside her. As if pulled by a magnet, she moved to his side, feeling his light touch at the small of her back. “Dad, Jackson, this is Starla.”
“An angel of mercy,” the older man said with a grin identical to his son’s. He had made a beeline to the coffeemaker. His eyes weren’t the piercing blue of Jared’s and his dark hair was shot through with gray, but she could definitely see where these two—she assumed Jackson was Jared’s brother—got their good looks from.
“Oh,” she stammered with a small laugh—fuck, could she be any further from that description? “Nah, just the maker of coffee.”