Page 4

Focus, Chyanne, focus! He’ll be back any minute, and if he finds you here…

She swallowed hard and the knots in the pit of her belly clenched at the thought. It was just what she needed to jolt herself back into action. Dread was the fuel that propelled her forward, and as much as she wanted to tear that whole wall of horror down, she forced herself to concentrate.

What had Betsy said about it? She searched her memory while standing in the front of what was clearly the section of wall dedicated to paddles. There were small ones, medium-sized ones, all made of different materials and varying widths. Then her eyes found the one right above the rest—a gargantuan plank of wood polished to a sinister shine.

Thathasto be it.

Decision made, Chyanne stood on her tiptoes. But even with that added height, she still couldn’t quite reach.

“This is so not my day,” she muttered to herself, looking around.

The cowboy she’d seen leaving the office wouldn’t have needed a step stool, but how was she going to get it?

She could practically feel the seconds ticking by and with each passing one, her anxiety inched higher. Finally, Chyanne realized she’d have to stand on the chair to get the boost she needed. She pulled it over, wincing at the necessity of putting her dirty boots on the soft brown leather.

With the added height her fingers easily closed around the paddle. She pulled it free of the peg it rested on and hopped down off the chair. She barely remembered to push it back under the desk before she broke into a run. Arms pumping, chest heaving, she sprinted, not looking around or stopping for anyone. There was a large barrel on its side in front of the door and she didn’t even pause—she simply jumped, flying over it and bracing as her boots hit the pavement.

By the time she was back with the girls, she was out of breath, but grinning so widely her mouth hurt.

“Ohmigosh!” Betsy clasped both hands over her mouth, but her eyes were wide and sparkling. “Yougotit!”

“I can’t believe it,” the blonde murmured in awe.

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” the tall, wiry brunette said, though her tone was far from complimentary.

Chyanne didn’t care. Victory always felt a little bit sweeter when you showed up a hater or two. She hefted the paddle above her head and Betsy began to squeal, jumping up and down.

“Thank you so much! You have no idea! Thank you, thank you!”

She allowed herself to be hugged by the grateful Betsy while she laughed. “Hey, this was just part one.”

The other woman stepped back, eyeing her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Did I or did I not promise he’d never hit you with it again?”

“Yeah, but…” Betsy trailed off, her cute button nose wrinkled adorably. “What are you going to do?”

“Just watch.” She winked, held the paddle high, stepped toward the tall shade tree, and took aim.

“Wait! No! You’ll get in trouble!”

There was a chorus of like-minded protests from all around her, but Chyanne ignored them all as she swung with all her might. When it connected with the trunk of the tree, it sounded like a gunshot, and her entire body reverberated painfully with the force. But the paddle was still intact.

She turned to Betsy, open-mouthed. “That monsterhitsyou with this thing?”

The other girl’s eyes were wide in a suddenly peaked face. “Notthathard!”

Shrugging, Chyanne lifted it again and repeated the swing. This time, she was more relaxed and it didn’t hurt as much as the first one. To make matters better, a long crack was now running down the paddle.

“Almost got it!” she announced cheerfully to her onlookers.

“Wait, please don’t—”

“You don’t understand—”

“If someone sees—”

Deaf to their protests, she whacked it one more time and she whacked it good. The crack splintering through the wood widened, and a bit of wood on the end fell completely off.