Page 37 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)
ELIA
The week had gone quiet. Almost too quiet.
No sign of the Voss brothers, no sightings, and no leads.
Just silence. I’d been driving to neighboring towns and scanning places where they might’ve sought refuge, hiding out like the rats they were.
Yet no matter where I looked, no matter who I questioned, it was the same damn answer. Nothing.
This morning started like any other. I drove to the mailbox.
Out here, even the simplest tasks had a way of feeling endless, especially when the nearest neighbor lived miles away.
And mailboxes? They might as well be closer to the city than your own front door.
I could’ve saddled up one of the horses, but mine was enjoying a well-earned holiday—if there was such a thing for ranch animals.
Hank and the boys had gone out on patrol, leaving the place feeling emptier than usual.
Inside the mailbox, wedged between the usual bills and junk, was a plain envelope. No postage stamp, no address. Just a stark, anonymous delivery. Someone had dropped it off by hand.
I tore it open, bracing for what I’d find, half expecting a taunt, half expecting a threat.
Just between you and me.
I knew exactly who it was from. The Vosses’s message was clear—they didn’t want me involving the authorities. I slipped the note into my pocket, but the words lingered in my mind. No doubt, they were calling for a meeting of some sort.
By the time I got back to the house, Claire was already out of the room, ready for work, her energy as fresh as her face.
“Hey,” I said, leaning in to kiss her. The softness of her lips felt like a temporary relief to the knot tightening inside me.
“Checking the mail?” she asked. “Anything for me?” She knew as well as I did that no one outside Buffaloberry even knew she was here.
“Next time, I’ll make sure to slip in a love letter,” I replied, trying to match her lightness.
She laughed, kissing me again. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“What’s with that?” I nodded at her Rosie The Riveter T-shirt, which she wore over a snug long-sleeve.
“Oh, this? Annette gave it to me. I’ve never worn it before, but I figured today was the day. No deeper meaning.”
“I thought you were gearing up to stage a rebellion. You know, claim your rights over your man,” I said, rubbing her ass.
“I gave up any rights when I agreed to sleep in that lumpy bed of yours,” she countered.
“Been that long, huh?”
“I knew you were a gentleman—no need for a rebellion.” She winked. “See you later, hotshot.” Then she kissed my cheek.
She grabbed her jacket and slipped her hand inside to check for the Ruger.
It hurt, knowing how close she had been keeping it since the attack at The Willow.
Every night, it stayed within arm’s reach on the nightstand.
The truth was, as long as she was beside me, I’d never let a moment arise where she needed it.
But I understood why she felt safer having it nearby, and I wasn’t so arrogant to argue.
If it gave her peace of mind, that was all that mattered.
Just as she turned to leave, I reached for her hand. “Hey, how about I drive you today?”
“Really? You playing chaperone now?”
This woman was tougher than Rosie the Riveter herself, but I wasn’t about to take any chances with the Vosses lurking around. I pulled her into my arms and held her a little tighter than usual. “I love being your chaperone. In a good way. Promise, no creep factor.”
“How about possessiveness?” Her look was filled with mischief.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe a little.”
“Damn, that’s sexy!” She switched mischief with seduction.
I hadn’t let her out of my sight for long, always making sure she was with someone we trusted. But after that ominous note, nerves took control. Every instinct told me to keep her close.
“And I suppose you want to have lunch with me too?” she added.
I grinned. “Would that be too much?”
“No. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given you the idea. See you then.”
I kissed her again, this time slower, promising myself that nothing—nothing—would happen to her.