Page 5 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)

ELIA

What the hell is her problem?

I’d never been treated like a threat before—not unless someone had a real reason to. But a complete stranger? A woman, no less? Never. And somehow, I let myself get sucked into this ridiculous hostage situation on my own damn property.

She was lucky she wasn’t pulling this stunt up north. Up there, she’d run into men who’d make her wish she’d never seen daylight again.

I pulled open the creaky garage door and flicked on the light. The gas can sat where I left it, full and ready. At least I could fill her tank and get her the hell out of here. Koda stood beside me, tail wagging, his head cocked like he couldn’t figure out what was going on either.

“You’re really killing it on guard duty, buddy,” I told the collie. He looked up at me, clueless as ever. I guess it had been a while since we’d seen a woman around here. Not since…Tessa.

“Dammit!”

This wasn’t the time to go down that road. I grabbed the gas can, hoping this would be the last time I ever saw Miss Attitude again.

When I got back, she looked more ready to take me down than any sheriff I’d ever seen—like she’d been waiting for a moment like this her whole life.

“Listen, Miss Chili Pepper,” I said, pulling the nickname out of thin air and nodding toward her gun.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was like a shot fired. “You think I’m some kind of spice? Think again. I’ll serve up a bullet with that heat if I have to.”

This woman…holy smokes, she was something else. I almost laughed. Almost. But the look on her face told me this wasn’t the time to push her buttons any more than I already had.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “So, how about you holster that thing, and we move on?”

To my surprise, she actually did, tucking her gun away like she was doing me a favor. She took the gas can from me without another word and started filling up the tank.

“No need to siphon,” I said, trying for a joke. She didn’t laugh. Fine. Tough crowd.

I spotted my jacket, no longer strewn on the ground but draped over the hood of her car. Clearly, she’d been poking around.

“Find what you’re looking for?” My tone edged with sarcasm as I slipped it back on.

She didn’t bother answering. She was more interested in filling up her tank.

The rifle was missing, though. I kept quiet, waiting.

When the tank was full, she handed the gas can back and clipped a brusque, “Thanks.”

“Rifle,” I demanded just as sharply.

Lips drawn in a tight line, she bent down by the front tire and passed it over in silence. Her gaze flicked to me, barely registering, before landing on Koda. She gave the mutt a quick pat. Koda soaked it up, wagging his tail. It was the first time my dog seemed to forget where his loyalties lay.

Heading back toward the house, I whistled for him to follow. But I barely made it two feet when I heard it—the silence. She’d tried the ignition, but the car didn’t even cough. Not a sound. Just dead air.

“Shit!” Her frustrated yell was swallowed by the rising wind, but I didn’t need to see her to know she probably slapped the steering wheel in frustration.

I turned back and watched her as the storm began to build.

The wind lashed harder now, howling through the fields and sending the long grass into wild waves. Still, she climbed out, undeterred, and popped the hood. Stubborn. I admired that.

“You’re not fixing it tonight,” I called out, raising my voice as the wind fought to drown me out. “I’ll help you tomorrow. But right now, you need shelter.”

She glanced around, finally noticing how fast the gusts were growing, the weather shifting in seconds.

“I’ll just stay here, then,” she insisted, preparing to slip into the backseat. “And I trust you won’t use that rifle on me while I’m asleep?”

I shook my head, a chuckle escaping despite the tension. “And I thought I was the most paranoid person around here.”

Her brows furrowed. “You’re in danger?”

I held her gaze, dead serious. “I am. You’re my danger.”

She snapped back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

I pivoted, nodding toward the house, the outline just barely visible through the swirling wind. “Come on, are you coming or not?”

Raindrops began to tap against the car roof, a steady rhythm quickly turning into a relentless downpour.

“I’m staying here,” she declared, crossing her arms like she had just made an unshakable decision.

I blinked, unable to hide the disbelief from my face. “You’re seriously going to sleep in the car?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” She punctuated her words by slamming the door shut, leaving me standing there, soaked, jaw hanging open.

“Fine! Suit yourself!” I shouted, making sure my voice carried above the roar of the storm. “Just don’t blast that weird music of yours. Wouldn’t want the coyotes thinking there’s a new mating call in town.”

Her expression was priceless—completely thrown off—but I couldn’t even enjoy it. I didn’t feel any victory in walking away, but dragging her along wasn’t exactly the move either. There were limits, and I wasn’t about to push her past them. Someone could end up hurt.

I turned on my heel, Koda padding beside me, though he kept glancing back at her like even he couldn’t quite believe how things had played out.

“Come on, pal,” I urged him along.

Being back in the house made the cold from outside feel even more biting. I shrugged off my damp jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. My rifle was next. It was empty.

“Un-fucking-believable,” I muttered under my breath. Who on earth raised her? That woman had serious trust issues.

Figuring she could keep the bullets as a parting gift, I made my way to the kitchen table, where my accounting still lay scattered, just as I’d left it when she showed up.

I sat down, trying to focus, but the numbers blurred.

Feed costs were sky high, and with prices like these, I’d have to pull off a killer cattle sale in the fall, or the ranch would be in trouble.

Still, no matter how long I stared at the figures, her stubborn face kept creeping in, crowding out any shred of concentration I had left.

Another storm alert blared from my phone—upping the wind gusts and rainfall. Looked like we were in for a gale-force smackdown.

Buffaloberry’s volunteer weather watchers were always on top of things. The town itself was a double-edged sword. I mostly kept to myself—not out of anger, just preference. Life was simpler that way.

People talked. They always did. I’d never bothered to confirm or correct their opinions.

It wasn’t their fault. That’s just how small towns worked.

And while I wasn’t one for community gatherings, I knew its importance.

Some folks, like the weather watchers, were dependable. So was my best friend, Logan Pierce.

His text came through.

Not saying you’d get blown away, but if you wake up in Oz, let me know.

We grew up together—three years apart, him the big brother type. I shot back a quick still here . If only he knew I wasn’t riding out the storm alone.

With a sigh, I tossed the accounting papers aside. No winning tonight—against the numbers or the storm in my head.

Koda was already curled up on his bed, his little heater switched on. The old guy felt the cold more these days.

“Lucky you.” I pat him lightly on the head. At least he didn’t have a mind full of problems to keep him awake.

I switched off the lights and trudged down the hallway toward my bedroom. The bed creaked as I slid beneath the covers, the familiar side of the bed somehow feeling smaller each night. I turned to face the inner side, where the other half stretched out in a dismal emptiness.

Shifting like a squirrel trying to get comfortable, I pulled the blankets over me while the storm raged outside. Sleep and I had never been close companions, but with thoughts of her out in the cold, the night felt like slow torture.