Page 6 of Meet Me on Blueberry Hill

Gran raised her eyebrows and lifted her chin. “You may want to change first.”

Sadie glanced at the wet, gray tank and navy running shorts she wore as pajamas. She blew out a breath and headed for the guest room down the hall, calling over her shoulder, “If I’m not back soon, you’ll know that beast got the best of me.”

Sadie exchanged the wet clothes for tan shorts and a red T-shirt. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and threaded it through a navy hat to help shade her eyes from the rising sun. Sliding on her sunglasses, she headed to the backyard.

The morning air chilled her arms as the wet grass soaked her flip-flops. Maybe she should’ve borrowed Gran’s rain boots.

She rounded the side of the white cottage and stopped, a gasp whooshing from her lungs as her eyes widened.

A large tree sprawled across the patio. Splintered wood, shattered glass, broken pots, spilled dirt, and decapitated flowers littered the concrete. She followed the length of the tree and found the fractured base on the other side of the damaged split-rail fence that separated Gran’s property from the Quinn ranch.

The gaping hole explained how the horse had escaped.

Sadie eyed the large animal grazing under the apple tree. Without any kind of rope, she had no clue how to get Gus back to his owners. And she’d forgotten to grab an apple out of Gran’s fruit bowl. Sadie shielded her eyes and glanced at the large stone house next door.

Was it too early to knock and ask Asher to fetch the horse? It wasn’t safe for the animal to be roaming free.

The sound of a chain saw whined across the yard. Okay, so someonewasawake.

Sadie plodded through the wet grass, climbed over the fence, and headed for the neighbor’s property.

She passed the dark stone house and headed down the dirt path that led to the large, white-washed building with a forest green metal roof. Scents of hay and fresh wood wafted in the morning air.

Chips of wood flew around a man bent at the waist as he sliced through the thick trunk of a different downed tree. Sawdust blanketed his cargo shorts, bare legs, and grimy work boots.

Apparently more than one tree suffered in last night’s storm.

The man cut the power to the saw and straightened, pressing a hand to his lower back.

“Excuse me.”

He turned. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, and a black ball cap covered his dark hair, shadowing his face. Stray wood chips clung to his dark beard. Faded, puckered scars ran down the left side of his neck and disappeared into the collar of his T-shirt. “Yeah?”

“Are you Asher?”

“Who wants to know?”

Feeling a sense of déjà vu, she cleared her throat and removed her sunglasses. Squinting against the morning rays shining toward her, she jerked a thumb toward Gran’s house. “I’m Sadie, Henrietta’s granddaughter. I believe we met early this morning when you checked on us during the storm.”

“Right.” He lifted two large pieces of wood and chucked them toward the growing pile next to the building.

Okay, then.

She took another step toward him. “Your horse is in Gran’s backyard, and I need you to get it.”

Straightening again, Asher turned and dragged the back of his wrist across his forehead, dislodging his hat. Then hereached for a half-full water bottle sitting on the ground and chugged the rest. As his head tipped back, she caught the lines and angles of his profile—straight nose, high cheekbones, and squared jaw covered in scruff. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

Without a word, he headed into the large open door that led to the stable.

Sadie exhaled and followed him. “Well?”

“Well, what?” He pulled some sort of equipment off a hook near one of the empty stall doors.

“Are you going to get the horse?”

He held up his full hand. “Had to get his harness and lead rope.”

“You could’ve mentioned that.”

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