Page 61 of Stud Ranch

When he was on the ice, she always threw out positive energy to him. He had no idea if that mumbo-jumbo worked, but if it did, now would be the time.

Dylan ended the call and dropped the phone to his lap. “They’re heading out to look now.”

Out of the dense fog loomed a black object in the middle of the road. Shaw’s heart lurched with excitement that it could be a car.

“Shit! It’s one of the big branches off a tree.” Dylan was already reaching for the door handle. “Stop and I’ll move it.”

Shaw did, and Dylan jumped out. In the beams of the headlights, he watched his lover grab the branch and toss it to the side of the road. Then he climbed back in.

As soon as they began rolling forward again, another set of headlights coming the other direction made him brake again. He didn’t make out the park ranger logo on the door until the truck was directly beside him.

The ranger rolled down his window, and Shaw did too.

“It’s best to turn around and go back down the mountain. Fog’s worse up there.” He twitched his head toward the road he’d just traveled. The ranger leveled him in a stare. “There was a mudslide. The road up ahead is destroyed.”

“Can’t. I’m looking for a woman. She might have come this way.”

The man gave him a sharp look. “You don’t know for certain?”

“No. But she was trying to leave the area, probably to get to one of the bigger airports.”

The ranger narrowed his eyes. “Damn. If that’s the case, she could be on this road. And that means we need search and rescue.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sloane had never been a cheerleader. The closest she ever came to one was standing behind the glass, cheering on her man while he made a shot at the goal. But the mantra going through her mind on loop was as good as a cheer.

Get out of the car. Get up the hill. Get back to my daughter.

The mud rose high up the window of the driver’s door. It was heavy enough to wipe out towering pine trees—no way would she be able to simply open the door and get out. Besides, she’d sink into it like quicksand.

She was trapped in the car, but she was okay. Alive. She took stock of her body. Other than a few small pains from being thrown around when the car skidded over the mountain—and a full bladder—she was fine.

Great—now that she thought about needing to relieve herself, she really had to go. The curse of all women, needing to use the restroom at the worst possible times. One of her girlfriends had to go right before walking down the aisle on her wedding day, and Sloane and two other bridesmaids ended up holding a long bridal train in the air to allow her to use the bathroom.

Casting a glance around the vehicle, she hoped to find a discarded container she could use. No such luck. Getting out of the car was out of the question. She’d just have to distract herself.

When would anybody find her? Eventually, someone would check out the road and downed trees. They’d start clearing away the mud, which would reveal the tire tracks from where her car slid off the road.

She switched on the radio. It still worked fine, and the strains of some old country music filtered into the vehicle.

Dropping her head back, she peered up at the sky, but the thick fog obstructed everything, leaving her in a white prison.

Automatically, she reached for her phone. She still had no cell service up here, but she had plenty of photos to entertain herself with until somebody found her.

The past two years’ worth of photos were mostly of Marigold. The last one she’d snapped, Marigold had been eating ice cream, her deep green eyes wide with joy, her face covered in pink strawberry, her favorite flavor for every single food.

She flipped through more and more photos. Of her daughter passed out asleep in the oddest places, the way kids so often did. On the playground. At the beach on a brief vacation. Sitting on the mall Santa’s lap in a frilly red dress and little black patent leather shoes.

I’m coming back to you, Marigold. I promise, no matter what, I will be home.

Through a blur of tears, she swiped through several dozen more photos. When she landed on a selfie taken of herself and Shaw, she stopped dead.

A gulp of oxygen filled her lungs and made her head swim. Did he have to be so damn handsome? She knew what that devilish grin did to her far too well. Dylan’s too, come to think of it.

She wished she had some photos of Dylan. Several images were imprinted on her mind, including him standing tall and proud in the arena in his chaps, prepared to ride that bull.

If she hadn’t freaked out and run away, she’d be in the arms of both of her lovers right this second. Why did she leave?

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