Page 10 of Roughing It with the Rancher (Love Along Route 14 #11)

He pushes me forward, and I fall to my knees, crawling along the back of the wall with him close behind. Sunlight pours through a hole at the bottom of the wall, and he shoves me towards it, commanding, “Run!”

Around us, splintering and popping thunder, like a house of poker cards crashing to the ground. I scramble through the hole, squeezing and clawing my way before jumping to my feet and sprinting. I only stop and turn once I know the angry swirl of debris can no longer reach me.

My mouth gapes as I take in the scene of the toppled structure, an angry mass of twisted wood.

Where is Reese?

My eyes scan the structure as tense minutes pass without a sign of movement. “Reese!” I scream into the eerie silence that follows the demolition, frantically searching for signs of life. “Reese!” My voice breaks.

I run towards the structure, tears combining with the dust plastered to my face as my heart sinks. I’m a widow within the first twenty-four hours of marriage, my husband’s last thought and action solely for my safety. There’s nothing fake about that.

“Reese!” I wail, desperation and panic coloring my voice as I sink into the tall, yellow grass of the pasture to my knees, too weak to stand.

If only I could kiss him one more time. Tell the burly cowboy how much I’ve wanted him since first laying eyes on him. Confess how his selfless desire to save me fills my heart with what can only be described as love …

I pull out my phone, hands trembling. No signal. Still, I should be able to call emergency services. I read a while back you can do that even without service.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” A nasally voice answers.

“Oh, thank God. My husband. My husband has been buried beneath an abandoned barn, and he’s not answering me.”

“Wait, let me get this straight. Did you say abandoned barn?”

“Yes. Please hurry. I don’t know where he is, and he isn’t?—”

A big hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I jump out of my skin. Reese stands next to me, covered from head to toe in fine, powdery dust, breathing hard. He rests his other hand on his knee, leaning forward to catch his breath. I see blood oozing through tears in the back of his T-shirt.

“Oh, my God, Reese, are you okay?”

His other hand drops to his other knee, and he looks like he’s about to double over onto the ground.

“Hello, Miss? Are you there?” the voice blares through the phone.

“Yes, but I have to go.”

“Do you still need us to send somebody out to your location?”

“I don’t know. But I found my husband, and he’s alive. I’ll call back if we need your help. Thank you.”

Ending the call, I shove my phone in the back pocket of my long denim skirt, leaning over to search Reese’s face.

A big, angry cut on his forehead bleeds as he continues catching his breath, gazing up at me with his gorgeous green eyes.

I won’t rest easy until he starts talking again, ready to grab my phone at a moment’s notice.

“Talk about a close one,” he finally says, chuckling and straightening slightly. I grab his big arm, wrapping it around my shoulder to support him.

“How badly are you hurt?”

He shrugs, wincing at the movement. “Dunno. But it ain’t bad enough for an ambulance or anything. I may need help assessing whatever the fuck happened to my back, though.”

“Yeah, it’s bleeding,” I observe, a shiver running through me as I eye the debris pile, wondering how he survived.

“You may be digging splinters out of places I don’t want to even think about,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I thought for a moment I was a goner. Damn, Esmeralda. I should’ve known better, though. You’re my good luck charm and my guardian angel.”

“But where? How?” I can’t piece my words together, mind-boggled by his escape.

“After I sent you through the hole. I only had a moment to think, sprinting back along the wall and sliding through a space torn open as the structure finished its descent. I came out somewhere over there,” he says, pointing toward the far end of the barn. “In a blinding cloud of debris and dust.”

“You saved my life, Reese, without even thinking about your own,” I observe, my bottom lip quivering.

“You’re my wife, Esmeralda. Fake or real, I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

His words rush through me like a spring breeze. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” I whimper, leaning into him and planting my lips firmly on his, determined not to squelch this second chance with him.

He seizes me without hesitation, pulling me against him with a low, satisfied moan.

His arms circle my waist, lips dancing over mine, ardent and tinged with the metallic taste of blood.

He must have a cut lip on top of everything.

I try to pull away, fearful of hurting him further, but his embrace transforms into steel bands, holding me in place as his warm, velvety tongue slips and slides me into mindless bliss.

My knees feel as weak as the moment they gave out in front of the barn, melting into his robust, safe presence. All I can think about is how I almost lost him and how desperately I need him. Though we still have so much to learn about each other.

I whimper at the rhythm his tongue initiates, my blood igniting from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes as the juncture at the top of my legs sizzles. He claims me ravenously again and again as my mind races with other naughty ways he could use his tongue.

Heart pounding against my ribs like a timpani, I’m certain he can feel it. He pulls back, his eyes pooling with tenderness and warmth. “Come on, Angel. Let’s go back into the house so you can assess whether I’ll need a second call to nine-one-one.”

“Do you think you might?”

He side-eyes me, red-cheeked and smiling warmly.

“If it were just me, no. I assure you I’ve been through worse without medical attention.

But if you need to see paramedics and hear what they say to feel better, we’ll call.

” He swipes a dusty finger over my jawline.

“Part of being a decent husband is caring about your wife’s concerns and needs.

I’ve done a shitty job of that so far today, but I promise to do better moving forward. ”

“No, you haven’t. You saved my life. And then, you saved me from being a widow.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “But wouldn’t being a widow leave you sitting pretty? This ranch all to yourself and no grumpy rancher to contend with?”

I strain upwards, kissing him again. “Don’t talk that way. You mean more to me than I can say … though I barely know you.”

Dimples flash in his cheeks as he smiles, returning the warm embrace. “I’m glad to hear we share the same feelings.”

We start up the porch stairs into the house, heated affection growing between us, until he grimaces.

“Are you okay?”

“My knee’s a little sore.” He scowls.