CHAPTER 2
Jinx released her hair from the towel she’d turbaned around it, wiped away the stray drips. By the light of her small battery-powered camp lantern and with her reflection in the hazy mirror above an antique dresser, she combed the tangles from her hair.
Wow. That shower had felt amazing, even though she’d hurried through it to save battery power. She didn’t have a stitch of makeup with her, and she had on old lounge pants and a sweatshirt that Dallas had pilfered from his mom’s closet. Mrs. Miller was a little bigger around the middle, and had much shorter legs. But, hey. It beat wearing the ratty leggings she’d slept in the past week. Anyway, her saddle packs were locked safe and sound in the barn for the night. Tomorrow she’d have to see about washing the clothes she had in there and the wet ones she’d been wearing today. If she couldn’t get home to grab more clothes, she was stuck with two outfits.
Maybe forever.
No way. Surely Dallas had it wrong, due in part to that whackjob guy he listened to on the radio. This had to be a short-term situation. Sure, people were acting weird. They were sick! But pretty soon they’d overcome this virus or whatever, and things would go back to normal. The guys running power grids and cellular boosters would be back on the job and things would work again. Unfamiliar dogs would bark at people they didn’t know, not try to eat them for dinner. People would have neighborhood BBQs instead of sitting on the lawn and eating whatever had died there that week.
Eww.
Enough combing, enough thinking. She smelled food, and her stomach had been growling for hours. She gently set her comb on the dresser, tucked her wet hair behind her ears, and sighed. No help for the way she looked—it was what it was.
Leaving the tiny guest bedroom with her lantern in hand, she ventured down the hallway of the little old farmhouse. As far as she could tell, the only remodeling the Millers had done was to add a bathroom off the back of the house, attached to the master bedroom, and fixtures in the main bathroom had been updated. Otherwise, it probably looked the same as it had in 1955.
Dim light glowed from the kitchen. Dallas had found another battery light, which he had on the counter beside the stove. Several flashlights stood on end in the center of the old round wooden table.
“Found some lights, huh?” she asked, more to announce herself than to get an answer.
“Hmm?” He briefly looked up from what he was doing, then turned his attention back to the stove. “Yeah.” With a spatula in hand over a griddle and a wooden spoon sticking out of a saucepan, he had more going on at the stove than her dad could usually handle at once.
Rather than ask if he wanted help, she eased in to take over stirring the soup.
He blew out a breath. “Thanks.” Man. He was so tall. She always forgot that until she got close to him.
She lowered the flame under the pan of vegetable soup. Her stomach rumbled again. “Smells great.”
“Mmm.” Using the spatula, he peeked under the edge of a grilled cheese. Golden brown. Perfect. He rushed to pull a plate from the cupboard and moved two sandwiches to it, then repeated with another plate. “Bowls,” he said, handing them to her. After opening a few different drawers, he shrugged. “Don’t know where the ladle is.”
That was okay. They could pour the soup. She did it over the sink, splitting it so he had more than half, even though she probably could have eaten the entire pan.
He carried the bowls and plates to the table, cracked open two cans of Pepsi from the fridge while she rinsed the soup pan. “C’mon. Let’s eat while it’s hot. Hmm. The pop is almost hot too. Not so cold anymore.”
“It’s okay.” She was hungry enough, and actually, yeah, thirsty enough, that temp didn’t matter too much. At this point, she just needed to fill the void, then crash someplace soft for the night. A week of sleeping on the tent floor had her missing mattresses in a big way. She sat, and dug in to her soup. Yum. Hot food from a stove, not a campfire. Not jerky or dried fruit. She’d had no way to keep any cold food up in the hills, only canned goods and dried stuff… “Hey. If the fridge is off, where’s the cheese from?” Now she eyed the grilled cheese, wondering if it’d be safe to eat.
Dallas turned a shade darker. “Er. Easy Cheese?”
Spray-can cheese sandwich. Not what she’d dreamed of for her first meal back in civilization while she’d been hoofing it down from the mountain today. But, hey. “Food’s food, right?” She shrugged off her concerns and bit into it. Not bad, really. Not good, either… “It’s good.” It was hot, and perfectly toasted. She set the sandwich down. “Thank you. For…saving us. And now feeding us.” Korbel would prefer to be at home, no doubt. But at least he was inside safe and had plenty of fresh water, some oats, and a nice stack of hay to munch.
Across from her, Dallas gulped down the bite he’d been chewing. “That is not good.” He laughed. “Liar.” He took a long swig of Pepsi. “Glad I saw you. Would be kinda lonesome right now if you weren’t here.” A sideways glance at the window and he added, “It’s too damn quiet. Ya know? Not even a train going by.”
The lack of trains would be a big deal for him—the tracks weren’t far from the house. But, yeah. The place was literally tomb-silent. Kind of got on her nerves. “No cars on the highway either. Have you heard or seen any?”
He shook his head, spooned soup into his mouth.
Well, they weren’t likely to see or hear many cars if nighttime was danger time. Any healthy survivors would know by now to stay inside once the sun set.
“The quiet was freaking me out too, when I was going through town.” Goosebumps rose along her arms at the memory. “It was like…a ghost town, or a—”
“Movie set?” he said, just as she did. Their eyes met, and he grinned despite the grim topic.
“Yeah. One where the guys in back forgot to turn on the power.” She tried another bite of the grilled cheese. Still not good. But not terrible either, and her empty belly welcomed it. “Not that I’ve ever been on a movie set.”
“Me either.” He pointed his spoon at her. “But we have been to a ghost town, remember? Fourth grade.”
Some of the kids had made a big deal about it being a ghost town, rather than just an abandoned mining town they got to visit as part of their unit on Colorado history. “I was a little scared before we went.” It had been October, after all. And the older kids had told them wild stories about their field trips there.
“Remember Kent pissing his pants when Matt jumped out from around that corner at him?”
She couldn’t hold back her evil laugh. “Yep.” Kent deserved to be laughed at. He’d been a colossal jerk all the way through school.
“Good times in ancient history.” Dallas paused between bites and stared at her without blinking.
True, they did go way back. In fact, she could remember going to rodeos her dad competed in, before she’d even started school, and hanging out with the other little kids. Dallas had competed in mutton-busting back then, and grown into roping and bull riding. “Why’d you quit rodeoing, Dallas?”
He tilted his head to the side, answered, “Couldn’t stand the thought of missing out on all this,” with a sweep of his hand and a wink.
“So you wanted to quit?” Somehow she doubted it.
His lips pressed together in something between a smirk and scowl. “You do what you’ve gotta.”
Well, he was the only son. His older sister had gotten married and moved to Denver, so she wasn’t around to help his parents with the ranch. And few ranchers netted enough income that they could afford to hire a full-time guy.
Dipping the edge of his sandwich in his soup, he eyed her again. “Why were you up there licking your wounds all alone?”
Here it was. Time to hash out her screw-ups. Ugh. “I think you know. Everybody in town does, seems like.”
“All I know is what I heard. Which is probably blown outta proportion and only partly true to start with. ‘Cause you know how boring the truth generally is.”
“Truth is pretty ugly this time.” She stared at her sandwich for a while, searching for strength to tell him to kiss off and mind his own business. But if they were the last two people in Rifle, she’d never have to tell the story again. She could do it this once. “Romeo got hurt—acute hock injury.” She acknowledged his sympathetic cringe with a half-shrug. “We were warming up the night of competition at Old West Fest, just made it around the second barrel and I felt him falter. He favored his right rear leg the rest of the course. I tried to walk it out after, but he was limping bad by then.” Some cowgirls had a backup horse for running barrels, but she only had Romeo. Truth was, she’d only wanted Romeo. They worked together. “So that was pretty much it for us. I stabled him, had a local vet check him out to make sure he was okay for the drive home the next day.” That day had sucked. She’d believed they had a shot at a first place that weekend. And instead of moving on to the event in Utah the next week, she’d be sitting at home, waiting for her horse to heal.
Dallas nodded. “Sucks to get blown out of competition by bad luck.”
But she hadn’t been ousted at that point. She’d only been down her horse. Sheer stupidity—and a loudmouth nemesis—no, it really was her own stupidity to blame—had ended her circuit for the year. Maybe longer, depending… “I was pissy and feeling sorry for myself. I admit it.” She should’ve gone to her trailer and drowned her sorrows alone.
Across the table, Dallas shoved the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, eyebrows raised, a clear signal to continue.
She sighed. “Yeah. Well, you’ve heard the rest, I can tell. Leanne waddled over to me—”
“Waddled?” He choked on a laugh and his food.
“Whatever you call what she does, swinging those hips like she’s a catwalk model everybody can’t take their eyes off.”
He grinned. Again. Despite her horrific tale and this weird night after the end of the world, he grinned. “Yeah? And?”
“Jackass. Of course you want to hear this. You’re just a dumb guy excited to hear about a chick fight.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d show him. Let him beg and plead—she wasn’t going to tell another detail.
“Oh, so she kicked your ass.”
“No! Oh!” What a cheap shot. “She taunted me, and laughed. She laughed about a horse being hurt! What kind of demon— Anyway. Then she called me…” She shouldn’t share this with him. It crossed over into their messy past. And he was amused.
“What?”
“No. I’m not telling you more because you think it’s all a big joke.”
“That’s not it.” He leaned forward, the grin gone, didn’t take his gaze from hers. “Don’t you think of all people, I would enjoy hearing what you did to her?”
They did share that common thread of dislike. Leanne had been a thorn in his side at times, too.
Jinx thought of that night, considered what to tell him.
From her spot at the fence where she watched the roping competition and tried to ignore Leanne, the glare of stadium lights mocked her. Leanne sniggered, clapped her on the back. “You’re right where you belong anyway, holding up the fence. Fucking wallflower. Just like Prom. Loser.”
Leanne started to walk away. Jinx knew she should let her go. Her face burned hot with the memory of Prom. Another time Leanne had humiliated her, a night she’d ruined, and gotten away with it.
Jinx’s vision went red. Her rodeo season was shot. She’d passed up college to rodeo the past three years and when she finally got close to a big win…
“Fuck you.” She’d said it to get Leanne’s attention, but grabbed the heavier girl’s shoulder and whipped her around so she had no choice but to face her.
“What did you say to me?” Eyes wide with surprise, Leanne shoved Jinx’s hand from her shoulder. “Excuse me. Did you just lay hands on me? Oh, I know just the official to report this to.”
“Make sure you tell her about this, too.” And the punching started. And continued. She’d never punched anyone before and the hot wallop of pain, the jolt up to her shoulder, surprised her. The hurt made her madder still so she went hard, harder. Swinging right then left, hitting jaw, nose, ear. Stomach.
Leanne put up a fight—when she wasn’t busy trying to block punches. By the time she fell to her knees and Jinx considered whether a knee to the nose would be too much, a couple of cowboys had her by the elbows, pulling her off.
“She called me a wallflower and mentioned Prom.” She met Dallas’s gaze with her head held high. No shame for her in what lousy Leanne had done to her that night. Plenty of other things to be embarrassed about with him, but not that.
“And you let her have it.”
“She left with two black eyes and a fat lip. Says I broke her nose, but…who knows, right?”
“The nose knows.” He grinned.
Stupid joke, but she returned his grin. “I suppose.”
“And you? Got any war wounds?” He looked her over.
“Skinned knuckles. She did a lot of hair pulling and I had some claw marks down my arm.” She looked down at the fading scars. “Should’ve got a rabies shot, just to be safe.”
“She’s had that coming for a long time.”
True. “Stupid of me, though. She got a restraining order against me so even if Romeo heals right away, I can’t compete anyplace she is.” And she’d been kicking her own ass for being so stupid, ever since. The past three months of working, behaving herself since Leanne had graduated and been traveling the circuit, had all been for nothing. “Dad is so pissed at me.”
“For standing up for yourself?” His voice got a little higher with surprise.
Not exactly. “The Association wants me to sign a statement… Leanne had been drinking, and she’s underage. The security guards who processed us wrote her up for it, but they’re from a private company so the officials want my statement too.”
“What’s the problem?”
She’d been asking herself that for the past week and wasn’t any closer to an answer. “See, I didn’t snap because she was drunk. I snapped because I lost my cool. I’m barred from contact with her because of what I did.” He blinked, but otherwise didn’t respond, so she carried on. “I guess I got the revenge out of my system, and now I just want it to be over.” She drew in a deep breath. “If I sign that statement there’s a good chance she’ll be suspended or worse. Then she can come after me civilly if she wants, for the assault. And you know she’ll want to.”
“That’s bullshit! She got away with that Prom shit, and now this…” His face darkened.
“She didn’t exactly get away with that. You made her pay me back.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper. She didn’t want to discuss any of this old crap. Or this new crap. “Anyway, I made this mess by letting her get to me. Should’ve been stronger than that.”
He shook his head slightly, his knuckles against his lips as he thought. Planned? What could he possibly think he could do to save her from Leanne this time? God, it was annoying, really, how he insisted on swooping in to save her. She obviously could handle Leanne on her own now. Sort of.
His face relaxed, brightened as he let out a little huff. “Guess you came out on top in the end, huh?”
“What do you even—”
“You’re here. Healthy. She was probably out on the circuit somewhere and got the virus. She’s probably all hrraaaah grrrrrr!” He made his eyes round and buggy and waved his limp hands around his face, mouth hanging open and tongue out.
“God. Just…oh, God.” She tried not to laugh, but he looked so goofy. “Too soon, Miller. Wayyyy too soon.” She’d always loved his sense of humor, though, his ability to lighten any situation. “Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands. Laughing. Laughing ‘til she shook, sucking in heaving breaths, and the tears were from his jokes, not from the idea that everyone she’d ever known might now be what he’d just imitated. Just because she might never see anyone else she knew again didn’t mean she wasn’t gulping air solely to laugh more.
Warm arms banded her, stilled her shudders. His breath heated her neck and ear. “Hey. Hey.”
She nodded, knowing if she tried to talk she’d sob or wail. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she used the small range of motion he allowed her captive hands to wipe her face dry. Except more tears kept spilling out.
His breath on her neck became his lips. Warm, tickly, moving up to her jaw, her fingers. Her heartbeat sped as she turned into him, met his lips with hers. Mmm. Dallas. Hot, strong, familiar. She leaned into it, opened for more of him.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling away.
Yes, he probably was. Didn’t seem to know what he wanted, from making a U-turn when he’d recognized her to reversing back to her, to driving away and leaving her there with the worst news in human history, to riding back and rescuing her in a sturdy old white truck.
“No problem,” she muttered, brushing past him to take her dishes to the sink. God, her heart thundered in this insane quiet, and she’d bet her face and neck were flushed. Her nipples were hard, dammit, and he was sorry. Ugh.
“You were right. It is too soon to joke about this. My filter’s got some holes, seems like.”
The joke hadn’t been wrong; it had been just right. So had their kiss. Which was part of the damn problem. “No problem,” she repeated like fool parrot. “It just got me thinking…about my horse.” Yeah. What any proper cowgirl should be worrying about in this situation.
“He’s fine. We’ve got a couple out back, and they haven’t been messed with this whole time we’ve all been gone from the ranch.”
“I mean Romeo—he’s up at our place. Hurt, and alone. The other horses are there too, but if Dad’s sick, nobody’s checking on them. Food, water…and he may need doctoring. I have to go there tomorrow.”
Dallas brushed her arm when he brought a load of stuff from the table. “Yeah, we can do that. And we’ve gotta get our hands on some survival gear. Whatever food we can get hold of, and whatever we need to harvest our own food. That is…if you’re gonna stay here. You don’t have to, but you can."
She kind of did have to. In spite of that kiss and the potential for dredging up their sticky past, or maybe because of it. Shaking off the thought, she turned on the warm water to rinse the dishes, drew in a breath for strength. “We’d probably have a better chance together, right?”
“That’s what I was thinking. Jinx?”
She looked up at him. And up… “Yeah?” Those dark eyes were round, boring into her soul.
“We should have a discussion. Lay down rules—mostly for me, looks like. Also, we’ve got a little talk to have, about graduation night.”
Oh, hell no. “No, we don’t—”
“Yeah. We do. Girls don’t use my body and then walk away.” He tossed a dish towel on the counter and then he walked away.
And she watched. Because Wranglers. And Dallas’s butt, which had filled out considerably since they’d graduated. Plus he’d kissed her, which meant he didn’t hate her a hundred percent. Didn’t it?