Page 3 of Barn Burner
As he steps closer, I get a better view of his face from beneath the brim. He’s fuckinghandsome. All hard lines and dark stubble.
But it’s the scowl on his face that makes me swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat and turn my head back up toward the clear blue sky.
Okay, so maybe this is how I’m going to die. Out in the sticks, somewhere in Alberta, with a bruised heart and the shittest luck a guy can get.
Yep, maybe this wasn’t a great idea after all.
2
Jesse
The sound of gravel crunching beneath my boots and blood rushing in my ears are the only things I can hear as I edge closer to the body lying motionless on the side of the road.
Is this guy… dead?
I really fucking hope not, but with how my day is going, nothing can surprise me at this point.
I’m supposed to be leading a trail ride right now, but just as I was about to get my horse, Prince, ready for our ride, my mom came barrelling into the barn like the place was on fire. It turns out rodents had gotten into the storage room attached to the petting barn,again,and urinated in various food bins. She refuses to let me put up traps, claiming that they have just as much right to be there as all the other animals on our land.
And that right includes pissing all over the donkey’s food.
But after muttering under my breath that I was going to set up traps while she’s asleep, I figured I’d be a good son and offered to go and get some more as our next delivery isn’t due for another three days, then sent my brother Rhett to lead the trail ride instead.
Except now, I’m regretting my choices. When I arrived at our usual store this morning, they were closed due to a leak that had spoiled all the food I needed to buy, meaning I had to go to their other store near Calgary, almost an hour away.
Now, here I am, with luck clearlynoton my side, as I edge closer to a potential dead body.
This is not what I signed up for when I woke up this morning, and I’m definitely going to need to make it up to Prince when I get back if his huffs of disapproval were anything to go by when I left.
As I take a slow, cautious step closer, my gaze drifts to the SUV parked up. The hood is open. A light trickle of steam is coming from somewhere underneath. It doesn’t look to have any visible signs of damage. No dents or scrapes, so he couldn’t have hit anything that might have been crossing the road. Elk, deer, and bears are common around here, so it’s not unheard of. There are no tire marks on the road either as a result of heavy braking.
But there he is. Flat on his back, arms spread out wide. Like he’s been crucified on the long, green grass under the high noon sun.
“Hey there, are you alright?” I call out, and my breath whooshes out of my chest when his head snaps toward me.
Okay, so he’s not dead. That’s something, but what the hell is he doing out this way? People don’t come down this road unless they’re heading to one of the nearby ranches or a detour to one of the hiking spots, but even then, that tends to only be the locals. Which, I’m assuming by the fact he’s willingly lying on the side of the road for a bear to come find him, tells me he isn’t a local.
“Are you going to kill me?” he asks, and his sudden question has my steps faltering.
I furrow my brows. “Uh, no?”
He lets out a heavy, relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God. With how my day is going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.” With asmall chuckle, he sits upright and flashes me a dazzling smile as he jumps to his feet. He brushes off his jeans, then places his hands on his hips. “Hey, do you know anything about cars?”
I watch him, curiously. His British accent is doing weird things to me, as is his appearance. The guy is fucking gorgeous, with his messy, dark brown hair that looks like it’s overdue for a cut, but it’s his simple… politeness to a complete stranger that’s throwing me off.
Wait. Ishegoing to killme?
I haven’t been in a fight for almost two decades, but I think I could take this guy. I’m bigger than him, both in height and stature. He looks strong, but more in an athletic sense, whereas my strength comes from working decades of ranch life.
“A little,” I answer slowly, steeling my shoulders just in case.
“So, I dunno what happened, but I was driving along, and then there was this bang, then another bang, then all this smoke came out, like—” He waves his hands around in the air. I’m assuming reenacting the amount of smoke. “Then I pulled over, and my phone had no signal, and now I don’t know what to do.”
I blink at him, giving myself a moment to mentally digest his barrage of words, then ask, “What colour was the smoke?”
“White.”
I nod once. “Sounds like your engine overheated.”
