Page 9 of Roughing It with the Rancher (Love Along Route 14 #11)

Chapter Nine

ESMERALDA

S ounds like we need each other more than we realize. Did I really just say that to Reese Gunner?

I shake my head, pulling myself out of my reverie. “I mean, we need each other’s wealth.”

“I know what you meant.” Reese winks, the corners of his mouth turning down.

We drive in near silence, accompanied by Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” and the incessant roar of gravel beneath the Cadillac’s tires, traveling one-third of the speed we did on Route 14.

Reese slows at another turn, the road more torn up in this direction as he pumps the brakes, taking it easy.

It feels like we’re riding on the Cadillac’s original shocks.

At the ranch house, Reese parks, grinning at me as he rounds the Caddy. “I have something I absolutely have to show you before we unload the car or head inside.”

Opening my door, he offers his hand, pulling me impatiently to my feet.

“Come on,” he orders, striding towards a massive, dilapidated structure.

“This is the biggest, oldest barn on the property. It’s hell of sketchy at this point, thanks to year upon year of weather damage and decay.

Expect wild animals and keep an eye out for impending structural failures.

All it’ll take is a right-leaning wind to bring the whole thing down. ”

“Not sure I want to go in there,” I declare, crossing my arms as we stand in front of the weathered, gray wooden barn that towers over us despite a distinctive, ominous lean.

“Oh, and watch your step. Last thing you need is a rusty nail through one of your pretty feet. Are you up to date on your tetanus shots?”

I pause, trying to remember but deciding I must be. “Of course.”

Reese approaches the sagging front doors, forcing one back enough for me to shimmy through. Musty, motionless air greets me, illuminated by thick slivers of afternoon sunlight.

“You okay?” he asks. I can hear him struggling to squeeze through the same thin passage.

“As long as this place isn’t filled with hantavirus or something.” I sneeze. I’m going to need an allergy pill after this.

He bursts into the barn behind me, stumbling over me due to his momentum. The wind is knocked out of me as I step forward, about to fall to my knees, except he wraps his big, strong arms around me, squeezing me tightly against his hard frame.

“You still okay?”

“Yeah,” I squeak, feeling far more okay than I care to admit, locked in his safe, secure embrace.

“What in the hell were you doing so close to the door? I nearly ran you over, Angel.” His voice sounds scolding, but he chuckles at the end, holding me even closer.

I should pull away, wiggle out of his grip.

But the feel of his bare inner arms on my naked outer arms is too delectable to resist. He nuzzles my neck, kissing my cheek tenderly and crooning, “Glad I didn’t smoosh you.

Now, why don’t you let me lead? Watch your step. ”

Why I feel disappointed by his suggestion and the loosening of his hold, I don’t know.

But curiosity overtakes everything as I press back against a fallen overhead beam, letting him pass.

He ducks beneath a mound of precariously balanced, wooden debris, and I follow closely, scared to let him out of my sight.

Before each step, I scan the ground nervously for rusty nails and other nasty sharp objects.

“Better keep an eye out for rattlers, too,” Reese adds, moving slowly and strategically through the tumult of wood, straw, and old junk.

“Great,” I frown. “You have rattlesnakes out here, too?”

“Nevada has six species of rattlesnakes, to be exact. The most likely around here would be the Great Basin Rattlesnake. Deadly as fuck, so don’t get bit.”

“Well? Is that it?” I ask into the ensuing silence. “Aren’t you going to tell me how not to get bit?”

“Typically, I’d carry something like a walking stick to hit the brush in front of me when I hike.

That way, the little guy can rattle his warning.

But there’s a high likelihood too much movement could bring this whole barn down on us.

Then, rattlesnakes would be the least of our troubles.

Fortunately, we’re both wearing good boots, which snakes shouldn’t be able to bite through.

But I’d watch it because you’re traveling second. ”

“Traveling second. What does that have to do with anything?”

“As the leader of this little excursion.” He groans, passing under another haphazard tepee-like structure of wood. “I’ll be the one who scares the rattlesnake. As second in the party, you’ll get the bite.”

“This adventure is getting more exciting by the minute,” I grumble.

“What, you didn’t expect treasure hunting to be easy or comfortable, did you?” He arches a quizzical eyebrow.

“So, explain to me why I’m traveling second again …”

“Because I’m the one who knows where we’re going and what we’re looking for. At least in theory. And I’m also the one who’ll suck the poison out of your leg and get you to a hospital.”

Both are sound points, although the latter is something I refuse to entertain. Catching myself in a negative thought pattern, I remember what Grandpa taught me. Stay positive, ask for what you want, and have faith in the outcome.

Under my breath, I mutter, “I am a lucky girl. The Universe loves me, and it showers me in good fortune. All the time. Even when I don’t know what to ask for, the Universe delivers.”

Reese pauses, holding up a broken slab of wood for me to pass under as we continue working our way to the back of the dark, dank, dusty barn. “Are you casting spells back there or something?”

“Nope, just reminding myself that I’m a lucky girl who has lucky things coming her way. All the time because the Universe never rests.”

Reese looks befuddled. “Huh,” he says, his eyes scanning the back wall of the structure held together by straw and a prayer.

“Let’s see now. It’s been a while since I saw this.

After all, the barn’s been in the midst of collapsing since at least my elementary school days.

Didn’t help that I had a hand in blowing up part of it with my childhood buddy, Everett. ”

“Blowing up the barn?”

Reese chuckles. “A chemistry experiment gone wrong. Be glad you’re not my f’real wife, or you’d be in for a tough time with our sons.” He winks as he says it, his lopsided grin and dimples warming me all the way to the tips of my toes.

“Your grandpa must’ve been livid,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yep, he turned the darkest shade of purple I’ve ever seen a man go, and then, he didn’t speak to me or anybody else in the family for the next month. Just stewed in the anger, simmering like an overheated kettle.”

“Sounds like you got off easy. My grandpa was a huge proponent of finding your own switch. I learned young to behave flawlessly.”

“I better never meet that man, knowing he’d take a switch to your lovely skin,” Reese growls unexpectedly.

“It’s not like he left a mark,” I excuse quickly.

“Still, anybody laying a violent hand on you, Angel? Hell, no. It makes me sick thinking about it.”

We walk in silence. Waves of anger pour off Reese as I try to sort out my tangled ball of emotions. On the one hand, I love my grandpa dearly and very rarely had to deal with his punishments. On the other hand, my chest feels warm and melty at Reese’s passionate, protective proclamations.

“And just so you know. No person will ever lay a hand on one of our kids, Esmeralda,” he exclaims, anger still coursing through his voice. “Fake kids, I mean.”

I can’t help but chuckle at his simmering words, fully aware he’s taking the marriage thing seriously. I’d be lying, however, if I didn’t admit there’s something incredibly sexy and heartwarming about the statement. “I agree, Reese. No one better lay a hand on our fictional babies.”

“Glad we see eye to eye on that, Treasure,” he drawls lazily, stopping to help me through another nearly impassable portion of the barn, lifting me over huge, splintered beams with a mouthwatering grunt.

“This reminds me of my parents’ barn after a tornado. Cataclysmic damage.”

“Fortunately, the only thing we get around here are big-ass dust devils. Sure, they can wreak a little havoc, but they’re more nuisances than anything. The vast vertical mountain ranges running along the full length of the Great Basin break up more powerful winds.”

We continue in silence. But I want to hear him speak some more, enjoying his childhood memories. “And what about your partner in crime, Everett? Does he still live around here?”

“Nope, he’s on the rodeo circuit these days, team roping. But he and I got into plenty of trouble together as kids.”

“Alright,” he says, coming to a stop near the back wall. “If my recollection is right, we’re looking for something halfway along this wall at about chest height.”

“Manmade or natural?”

“Manmade.” He moves slowly, clearing a space for me to follow, grumbling the occasional order to avoid a nail or other sharp object.

Suddenly, he stops, a low, dark chuckle rumbling through his chest. “There it is.” He points to rustic initials carved into the barn’s wood, probably with a pocket knife based on their crude outline: TE Hayes.

I squeal, pulling out my cell phone and snapping a photo. “TE Hayes. This has to be our ranch hand and resident mapmaker.”

Reese shrugs. “All I know is it’s been here for as long as I can recall. Grandpa pointed it out to me a couple of times, a bitter look on his face, always spitting and saying, ‘Former ranch hand and inveterate thief.’”

“This has to be the structure on the map in the lefthand corner,” I say, voice trembling with excitement. “Grandpa and I brainstormed back and forth what it could be. This is?—”

A great, roaring chaos fills the barn, and Reese and I look up wide-eyed. “Oh, shit!” he manages, wrapping his big body around mine as wood from the rafters slams down on top of us. Dust fills the air, thick and impenetrable, as the rancher exhales on a pained grunt.

“Reese—”