I look back down at the phone.
The only person I would have called would be my dad.
Dad.
I blink. God, what am I even thinking? Xavier shows me a picture of him with a paper every week, looking hale and hearty, but Xavier’s unspoken threat to him still stands. If I try to get away, then Xavier will… Xavier will what? Let Dad be killed?
God, would Xavier really do that? Is he capable of…?
No, I shake my head. He kept his promise. He’s been sending pictures of me to Dad, too. I never know when he’ll snap them. Sometimes I catch him with his camera phone out, other times I’m completely unaware until I ask to see what he sent Dad that day. In every picture I look happy, carefree even. Riding Sugar, a wide smile on my face. My brow knit in concentration as I stand over the stove, trying out a new recipe. Glancing up at Xavier.
In response, Dad looks less stressed out in the pictures I get in return. I know he must be confused and worried still but at least he knows I’m healthy and not being abused. That I’m even… happy?
I’ve just let myself get so caught up in all of— I press my hand to my forehead. How can I even start to justify any of this? Is it a betrayal of Dad to actually be happy? To forget what brought me here?
But then my stomach squeezes. Because the image of Xavier’s devastated face as he crouched over Holy Hellfire flashes in front of my eyes.
And damn it all to hell, I press the number for the vet.
Doing the rounds with all the horses takes about an hour on my own. My arms are killing me from hauling the feed around by myself.
I hurry back to the house and only have about five minutes to spare before I see the truck kicking up dust as it drives up the dirt road toward the ranch.
I jog outside. The sun is fully up now, but it’s still insanely early. I can’t believe how people out here—wherever here is, all keep such insane hours. When the vet answered my call earlier, he sounded bright eyed and bushy tailed and not as if I was waking him from a dead sleep. Even though it was only 5:45 in the morning.
As the truck pulls to a stop, a large blue 4x4 that’s maybe a decade or so old, I glance down at the license plates.
Well, look at that. Unless the doc is randomly sporting out-of-state plates, I’ve been holed up in the state of Wyoming for the past almost two months.
I think I expected him to be an old country doctor, maybe pushing sixty or something. Anything but the tall, blond, mid-to-late-thirties man who steps down from the cab of the truck with a large medical bag in tow, eyes interested as he looks me up and down.
“Howdy,” he says. “I’m Hunter. Hunter Dawkins. You the one who called about Hellfire?”
I nod, not knowing how to take in this outsider to the odd bubble that Xavier’s built around me. Seeing another person feels, I don’t know… forbidden.
He strides toward me and extends one of his large, tanned hands in my direction.
I shake it, trying to force my lips up in a semblance of a smile. God, act human, Mel. Have you really forgotten what civilized person etiquette is in such a short time?
Maybe I have. The thing is, I just can’t stop thinking every second—how would Xavier want me to behave around this guy?
Which is disturbing all on its own.
I drop his hand and turn to walk around the house to the pastures. “This way.”
He follows me but like Xavier, his long legs quickly have him at my side. He also seems to know his way around the ranch and doesn’t seem to need my guidance.
“Haven’t seen you around here before.”
I don’t look over at him even though I can feel his curious gaze on me.
“Nope,” I answer without elaboration.
We walk in silence for a few moments, then he’s pressing again. “So, you know Xavier long?”
“A little while. You?” I look over at him. His eyes are very blue. With those eyes, his blond hair, and the whole rugged cowboy thing he’s got going on, I imagine he does well with the ladies out here in the middle of nowhere. Clean him up and put him in a suit and tie and he’s the kind of handsome I would have gone for once upon a time.
But now? I give him the cursory once over like he did me when he first stepped out of the truck. Wide chest, slim hips, lean thighs that are snugly hugged by well-fitting Levis… but nada, I got nothing. Not even an ounce of attraction.
“I’ve known Xavier for maybe five years now. Ever since he retired from active duty.”