Chapter 2

Chase

I wake up shivering. A strong gust of wind blows over my bare legs.

I sit up on the creaky cot, rub my eyes and squint through the darkness. Shit, the window has blown open – again – and my blanket is on the floor.

I pick it up, and the door to the barn opens. Isaac stands there in his blue robe, holding an electric lantern.

“Get up,” he says, lined face folding, wrinkled in an expression of concern. “There’s a tornado coming.”

And he’s gone.

I scramble to put on my sweater and shoes, then follow him, running toward the light gleaming in the darkness.

Another squall hits me and slaps a leaf against my cheek. I stop to brush it off, staring at the horizon. The skies, clear when I went to bed, are blanketed in thick clouds now, the moon and stars obscured. The bank rumbles restlessly. A bolt of lightning splits the sky.

A tornado is coming, all right. And fast.

I tug up the hood of my sweater and sprint to catch up to Isaac, listening to his barked instructions. He secures the sheep shed and the cattle barn. I secure the stables, hammering down every loose piece of wood and ensuring the door to each stall is locked so that the horses don’t bolt.

The animals whinny and stomp restlessly in their stalls. I pause to stroke the mane of Alexander, Isaac’s black stallion.

“Shh. Everything will be all right.”

The horse calms down but only for a moment. Animals are like that – they have a sixth sense for this type of thing. It’s the reason I never trust a man who can’t soothe a horse.

By the time I come out of the stables, the wind has picked up, and howls. Another gust blows my hood off.

I don’t bother putting it back. I run to check the locks on all the tool sheds, then I circle back to the house.

Lauren is outside it in her rose-colored pajamas, perched on a ladder while she puts the shutters on the upstairs windows. She’s clearly struggling, the wind sweeping her hair over her face. The ladder wobbles too.

“I’ll do it,” I shout.

She comes down the ladder and I take her place, securing the windows while she keeps the ladder steady, a task which Isaac helps her do on his return.

The wind is even more furious now. A branch snaps from a tree and sails toward me. I duck, grip the ladder.

With the upstairs windows secure, Lauren, Isaac and I make quick work of the ones downstairs. Then we all make a run for the storage barn.

I hold Lauren’s hand as the wind threatens to sweep us away along with everything else. She holds her father’s hand, the sash of his robe undone.

The wind roars, deafens us. I dig my heels in with every step.

“Smoke!” Isaac shouts, over his shoulder.

The Border collie darts ahead.

We reach the storage barn, rush inside, and then head into the storm cellar hidden there. Isaac closes the hatch above us and I set the lantern on a table in the middle of the room, and sigh.

Finally, we’re safe.

It’s a small room, maybe eight square feet. The cement walls and floors make it cold. I grab the pile of blankets on the table and hand one to Lauren who’s already huddled in a corner, shivering.

“Are you all right?” I ask her.

She nods even though her hands are shaking. “Thanks.”

She wraps the blanket tightly around her shoulders and I hand Isaac his, then wrap up myself.

“Do you get tornadoes often?” I ask my new boss.

“No,” he answers from another corner, Smoke curled up beside him. “But when they come, they come.”

“They don’t usually come at night,” Lauren adds. “The last one that came at night was when…” She cuts off, looks at the floor. “When Mom was still alive.”

The strain in her voice makes my chest a little tight. Isaac told me his wife died ten years ago but Lauren makes it sound like it was just yesterday.

She coughs and I go to the crate of supplies under the table and find a bottle of water there. I hand it to her, sit beside her. Isaac looks over at us and I shift a couple inches away.

Her dad’s already warned me off, but I’ve been unable to get her out of my mind since yesterday. The noise she made in that shed, fuck, it made me want to bend her over the workbench, claim her as mine.

But I can’t afford to do that. I can’t afford to lose this opportunity. Isaac’s farm is my hiding place. My spot to regroup, to work everything out before I make my move.

Lauren opens her bottle and takes a sip.

“Thanks,” she mutters again as she closes the bottle, then coughs again.

“You’re welcome,” I tell her. “And I, I – uh, I’m sorry about your mother. Your dad mentioned that he lost her a while ago.”

Lauren rests her head on the wall, focuses on the ceiling. “She was – special. Different. I guess you could say she kept the whole house running right. The whole farm even. Don’t let my dad hear me say that,” she whispers, then the corner of her mouth quirks upward. “She was always smiling, even during a tornado. And she was the best cook. That’s why I love it so much.”

“Cooking?”

“Heck yeah,” she whispers, leans in, her eyes twinkling. “In fact, I could go for a plate of pancakes right about now.”

“With extra syrup?”

“And bacon.”

“Eh,” I say, “not a big fan of bacon.”

“Sacrilege,” she replies. “Well, it’s clear that you have no clue when it comes to food. Tragic. Sad. How will you survive?”

I love the tease. The thickness of mirth in her tone. “Burger King?”

“Burger King,” she says and tuts her tongue. I picture sucking on that bottom lip and quieting her. “That’s not healthy.”

“And syrup soaked pancakes with bacon are?”

“I didn’t say that. I can make other things too, you know,” she says.

Outside, the tornado whips the sides of the barn, growls and shakes everything above our heads.

Down here, it’s cozy. “Guess you’ll have to teach me how to make ‘em,” I say.

Lauren shifts and the yellow light from the lantern strikes her amber eyes. They glow beneath long lashes.

It’s the first time I’ve seen the corners of her full lips turn up and dimples forming. It lends her an almost ethereal radiance and I can’t help but stare, captivated.

“I can do that,” she whispers, a blush creeping up her neck.

I take a peek at Isaac. His eyes are closed, and I shift closer to Lauren. Smoke, however, still has his eyes open, both watching me on behalf of his master.

“Your wife never taught you how to cook?” Lauren asks. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just – uh, I heard what happened.”

So, Isaac told her about that, did he?

“If it’s not too much to ask, how did she die?”

“Illness,” I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

Lauren nods. “And how long were you married before she passed away?”

“Just a few months but we knew each other for years,” I lie.

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Sometimes, the people you care about don’t stay around as long as you want them to.”

She opens her mouth as if to ask something but decides against it, falling silent.

The wind groans and something clatters above us. Lauren straightens, gaze darting toward the hatch. Smoke whines, snuggling against Isaac, who snores on, oblivious.

“It’s okay,” I tell Lauren. “We should be safe here.”

Isaac gives another snore.

Lauren chuckles. “Count on him to sleep through a tornado. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t sleep through.”

“Lucky him.”

She yawns and covers her mouth.

“You should sleep,” I tell her. “Who knows how long this tornado will last.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll wake you up if we’re not in Montana anymore.”

“Very funny.”

She falls silent and a few minutes later, her soft breathing whispers between us. Her eyes are closed, ebony hair forming a veil over the side of her face.

I take the chance to stare at her.

Asleep, she’s far from the feisty woman I met in the tool shed, but she’s beautiful, her skin smooth, her cheekbones high, her nose like a button, her upper lip shaped like a bow.

She’s a mess, hair in all directions, her pajamas wrinkled. Strangely, that only makes her more attractive to me and my cock twitches.

Her grip on her blanket loosens, and it slips off her shoulders. The front of her pajamas are loose, and those firm, supple breasts press against the fabric.

Unfortunately, she’s wearing a bra, the black lace plain through a gap between two of her pajama buttons, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining how perfectly round they are, how soft they feel.

It doesn’t stop me from wanting to touch them, to feel those curves in the palms of my hands.

I don’t, though.

Lauren shifts and snuggles closer to the wall. Her lips part and she murmurs wordlessly.

I draw a deep breath, seized with the urge to have her trembling beneath me, to hear her moans.

To make her moan. Christ, to make her come and clench tight.

The desire is so strong it knocks the breath from my lungs. My dick strains against my pants.

I must be crazy, getting an erection in the middle of a tornado, in a tiny storm cellar locked up with the father of the object of my desire and his dog, who’s already eaten me with his glare.

I wrap my blanket tight around my waist in an effort to conceal my situation.

It’s no use. I haven’t had a woman in an age and my senses are caught up in their own storm, my skin burning in spite of the cold.

I move away from Lauren, to the opposite corner. I squeeze my eyes shut.

It’s gonna be a long, hard night.