“I’m going to be sick.” She was shaking, and perspiration was beading her forehead as the nausea rolled in her stomach. The room started spinning as she slapped her hand over her mouth and bolted upright, and Neil scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. He had her at the toilet in a second, and what made it worse was that he was lifting her hair back so she wouldn’t get puke splattered in it. It was such an intimate, caring gesture. As his arm secured her so she wouldn’t fall on legs that were ready to give out, she retched and retched. The throbbing in the other leg was just beginning to subside from something ugly to just an annoying ache that would keep her awake.
She spit and wiped her shaking hand over her mouth.
“Do you have fresh water?” Neil asked as he helped her sit on the floor.
Candy pointed with her shaky hand toward the small kitchen, where a plastic jug of water sat on the counter. He must have understood, as he let her sit on the floor in just her underwear and camisole top, her pants having been lost along the way.
He was back moments later with a cup of water and kneeling down in front of her. “Here, drink this.”
Her hand was shaking, and he held the cup to her lips as she swallowed the warm water. She wiped the water dribbling from the side of her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, sorry, I—I...”
He cut her off with a sharp nod and scooped her back in his arms, carrying her to the sofa. It was over far too soon: His arms were gone from around her, and she mourned the loss. There was something about the security of his arms that she wanted so badly but also feared more than anything. He laid her back on the old battered green sofa. “I need to get this covered. Do you have any bandages, gauze?”
“No.” It was one of those essentials that was on the “not necessary” list, but she definitely wasn’t telling Neil that.
Neil didn’t wait; he ripped one of the towels into strips, wrapped them around her leg, and knotted the ends. “This is going to have to do.” He glanced around, and she could see he was worried. Bloody hell, so was she, but she needed to get to the horses before they completely freaked out. He grabbed her wet pants from the floor. “Do you have a dry pair...?”
Ambrose interrupted by braying and banging her door.
“I’ve got to get him! He’s going to hurt himself.” Candy started to get up. “Help me up, please, Neil.”
“Candy, you need to listen to me. We have to go now. There’s a hurricane coming in. We can’t stay here, it’s not safe. It’s going to be hard to get out of here now.” He held her cheeks between both his hands and conveyed to her how serious he was with the power of his amber eyes. All the light teasing that she had always chalked up to nothing serious, just him looking for a good time, was gone, replaced with an expression that let her know he meant what he was saying. It was something so solid she could lean on it, and any other time, she would maybe have liked it. No, she would have loved it. But not now.
Candy winced as she swung her leg over the side of the sofa. “I have dry pants in my drawer. But I have to take care of my horses.”
Neil left her sitting there and hurried down the hall, toward the kicking and braying. He burst into her room and shouted at Ambrose, then kicked the door closed behind him.
“Bottom drawer, Neil,” Candy shouted as she listened to him open and close drawers, not that she had many in her rickety four-drawer dresser.
He returned seconds later clutching a skirt, one of her longer paisley ones. He was shaking his head. “You’ll never get those skinny jeans on with that towel around your leg.” He held her skirt out and helped her dress as if she were two years old. He picked up her soaking wet boot and dropped it. “You have rubber boots?”
Candy pointed. “Back door.”
Neil was gone, returning a second later with a pair of old gumboots. “Put these on. We’re leaving now. I’ll get the donkey.”
“Unless you’re planning on taking my horses, too, I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms and tried to stand, but her trembling, shaking leg gave out.
He jammed his hands in his short wet hair and seemed to pull as if she were driving him crazy. “Candy, we’re not staying.”
The wind rattled the door, and branches whacked the side of the house. She couldn’t see through the tears that glossed over her eyes as she stared up at the one man who had kept her awake night after night for so long. She hated him, but her body and heart told her a different story. He was standing here before her, and he wasn’t leaving.
His face softened. “Where’re the nails?”
“There’s a box at the back door.” This time, she managed to stand and follow him, pressing her hand over the towel, which eased the ache as she moved, dragging her leg behind her.
Neil grabbed a handful of nails and shoved them into his coat pocket. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He yanked up his hood and pushed open the door, shutting it behind him.
Candy hurried to the window, afraid it would shatter, and watched Neil struggle against the wind to the shed. He reappeared seconds later, running down the trail toward the barn. That was when Ambrose let out a screech and brayed, kicking at something, and she heard a splinter and a crash. She sighed.
“Coming, Ambrose. I’m coming.” She hobbled to her bedroom, for the first time worrying about Neil and willing him to hurry back.
Chapter 8
“They were gone.” Neil was soaking wet and out of breath by the time he yanked open the door and had to use both hands to pull it closed as the wind whipped around. “Candy, we’re leaving now, if we can still get out of here.”
“What do you mean, ‘They were gone’? They can’t be gone!” she yelled, and Neil watched as her face took on that pasty gray white that happened to people when they heard the most awful news. She was holding that ridiculous floppy-eared donkey in her lap, with its gangly legs, as she sat awkwardly on a stool by the door.
Of course she wasn’t going to make this easy. She was going to be difficult as all hell. He’d love to get to know this woman, and at any other time he would have enjoyed sparring a few rounds, except now was about the worst time possible. Neil took two steps toward her until he was right in her face and the donkey’s legs knocked his knees. He grabbed her shoulders and put his face inches from hers. “You listen to me: Those horses were probably damn scared, and it looks like they kicked out those flimsy stall doors. There wasn’t much there to hold them in. We have to go.”
“No. I’ll go find them....”
“No, you won’t. They’ll be miles from here by now. Candy, honey, I know you love them, but animals have a sixth sense about this kind of thing. They’ll get the hell out of here, they’ll run. You know they’re prey animals, built with a fight or flight instinct that appears to have completely missed you. We have to go. Come on. Don’t fight me on this, because I’ll make you go, and you know I can. I’m not leaving you here. Candy, I promise you we’ll find them after. I’ll help you find them!” he yelled at her.
The wind was ripping at the roof. The metal was screeching and banging, and water was dribbling through the roof as new holes seemed to pop up everywhere. Her entire ceiling now resembled a sieve. The floor was wet, and Neil could feel the way the house wanted to buckle around them. It wouldn’t be standing much longer.
A tear slipped out, and she couldn’t wipe it away. He could tell she was embarrassed, but her hands were full with that stupid, ridiculous donkey, who was looking up at Neil absolutely petrified. He could see the thing quivering.
“I have goats’ milk in the fridge for Ambrose. We’ll have to take it.”
Neil didn’t wait, yanking open the fridge door. There were five bottles of milk in the fridge, and he grabbed all of them. Spotting paper bags stuffed in a cubby, he stuffed all the bottles in. “Let’s go now. Give me the donkey.” He lifted the donkey from Candy, and it started braying and kicking. He held on tightly to it and to th
e paper bag he scrunched in his hand. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, I can....”
“Hang on to me.”
She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and Neil walked to the door. The donkey had calmed down, thankfully. He adjusted the bag in his hand so he could open the door, but he could feel the wind pounding and pushing against it.
“Don’t let go.” He glanced back for a second as she tightened her grip, pressing right up against him.
As soon as he turned that knob, the door blew out of his hands and smacked into the wall, nearly knocking him off his feet. He yelled back to Candy, “Hang on,” as he moved toward his SUV, leaning into the wind, which had such force that it was a battle for him to stay upright. He pulled Candy along to his SUV, which was rattling and shaking as if the wind were going to pick it up any second. Candy stumbled and went down. Neil didn’t know how, but he scooped her under his arm and dragged her with the bag and the donkey. He pressed her against the SUV and opened the passenger door, and she jumped in. Neil dumped the donkey on her lap, the bag at her feet, and had to lean against the door to shove it closed.
A huge gust blew into him, knocking him down. He stumbled to his feet and had to crouch against the wind to get around to the driver’s side. They weren’t getting a break, and he wondered whether they’d missed the small window to get out. He could feel a fury whipping all around him as if it were trapping them there, and for the first time ever, he worried about whether they’d find a way to get to shelter, to get to safety.
He struggled to open his door, sliding under the wheel, and used both hands to pull the door closed. His key dangled from the ignition, and he cranked it, starting the engine the first time. He floored it, spinning the wheels and his Tahoe around, driving back the way he had come.
“Jesus, Neil, are we going to make it?” She cried out when he skidded in the mud, the wind pushing his back end around. The road was flooding, and the water was already up to the wheel wells, making it difficult as all hell to drive anywhere near as fast as he wanted to. Time was not on their side. Every second he had been at Candy’s had lost them precious minutes, because once this storm had them in its clutches, there was little they could do to pull away.
“Get your seatbelt on, and hang on!” he yelled.
This was a hell of a ride, and he flinched as Candy screamed when a flying branch that resembled half a tree slammed into the windshield, cracking the glass just above her head. Then one of the gates to his estate ripped off its steel hinges and flew past the windshield.
“Neil, look out!” Candy screamed and grabbed his shoulder, her hand sliding out to protect him just as a tree toppled and fell in front of him. Neil swerved and slammed the brakes, skidding in the water and mud just as the tree hit the ground and the side of his SUV crashed into it.
“Shit!” he yelled, then swiped his hand over his face right before he shoved the car in reverse and backed up, scraping his side of the vehicle again.
“Neil, what are we going to do? How are we going to get around that tree?”
“We can’t get around it.” He shoved the gear in drive and cranked the wheel, turning them around.
“Neil, where are you going?” She sounded worried, Neil could hear it in her voice, but he also knew she wouldn’t cry. She’d hold it together.
He squinted through the windshield, the wipers on the highest setting, whirring and doing little to keep off the rain that poured down in sheets. He had a hell of a time seeing as he drove into the wind, the back end of the car spinning side to side as the wind tried to push them off what was left of the road. Then he saw it, the twin oaks that grew at the side of the driveway. The remaining gate swung back and forth as water and mud sloshed around it, and he cranked the wheel, turning down the driveway, hoping it would take them far enough away from the ugly claws of the surging storm. “We’re going the only place we can, Candy: to my place.”
Chapter 9
“What do you mean, your place?” she asked, and the donkey decided then to show them that he wasn’t housebroken, as he emptied his bladder and a heap of dung on Candy’s lap. “Oh, Ambrose, my skirt!”
The donkey leaned in toward Candy and appeared almost embarrassed, but Candy couldn’t be mad at him, not Ambrose, not ever. He was cute, adorable, and he depended on her, even though he’d just dumped an awful, smelly mess all over her skirt.
Neil didn’t appear to notice or care as tight lines creased across his forehead. He glanced back but seemed far too worried to be irritated by the ripe smell. Candy went to press the button to unroll the window and get some air.
“Don’t you dare open that window. Leave it alone,” he shouted as both his hands gripped the wheel.
“Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She slid her hand away from the door and back around Ambrose. When he tried to stand up and jabbed his hoof right beside the nail puncture, she swore she could see stars. “Ow!” she yelled at him and swatted his backside, making him sit back down.
“You okay?” Neil asked.
“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Neil,” she said, because she was. This was her fault. If he hadn’t come for her, he’d be long gone, somewhere safe, and he wouldn’t be stuck with a vehicle that smelled like a barn.
He nodded. “Look, I got it, but I wasn’t leaving you.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, we’re going to have to ride it out here. We’re stuck, Candy. We’ve got a better chance here at my place, well, because at least it’s structurally sound enough to withstand a hurricane.”
He didn’t glance her way, and she wasn’t sure if he had said it for her benefit or his, because there had been a hesitation—she thought there had been, anyway. She couldn’t help worrying that this was all her fault. He had come for her, and if he hadn’t stayed to help her, if he hadn’t gone to the barn for her horses, if he hadn’t come for her at all, he’d be safe, yet here he was, doing everything he could for her. She understood that; she just didn’t know why. There were easier ways to get a hold of her property other than putting himself in danger or getting himself killed. Candy had to pause for a moment as she tried to come to terms with that thought. She watched him gripping the wheel so hard that it appeared to bend, and she knew he was doing this for her, for her donkey. None of it made any sense.
“Neil, I’m so sorry. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here in this...awful mess. Why did you come for me? Why did you stay?”
The glance he gave her was filled with an expression that confused her and her tired, frazzled mind, but her body picked up something, and her stomach and heart zinged, scaring the crap out of her, but in a way she craved.
“You don’t know? Seriously?” was all he said as he slammed his brakes in front of a large building. “Stay here.” He was out the door, hunched over in the rain as the wind tried to blow him over, knock him down. She could tell it was taking all his effort, everything he had, to get to that door. The wipers were still working madly, and then he reappeared.
Ambrose was drooling over her arm, and she glanced down into his worried gray eyes. “It’s okay, baby.” She tried to soothe him by petting his side, holding him tighter. The door jerked open, and the wind gusted in with such force that Candy almost lost her grip on Ambrose. She couldn’t see anything. As she gasped, Neil climbed back in and then struggled to pull the door closed.
“Bad idea, that was.”
“What was a bad idea?” she asked, taking in the fact that he was dripping everywhere, his dark hair soaked and windblown, water all over his face.
“Parking in the garage. Listen, I’m pulling up to the back of the house. It won’t be pretty, but there’s no way I’ll be able to get across the yard with you, let alone the donkey.” Neil cranked the wheel and drove awfully fast, shoving hedges and bushes aside and steering the SUV as if it were a toy car. She didn’t know how Neil managed to keep it going; it was swerving back and forth as he raced over what had once been green grass by the hedges and slammed on the brakes as he pu
lled up to the house, her side closest to the door.
“Neil, climb over me. Go out my side.”
He shook his head as he shut off the engine. “No, I’ll hurt you, and once your door opens, I need to have a hold of you. That wind is going to toss you as if you’re nothing but a ragdoll. Stay put until I get you, until I get the door open, understand?” He meant every word he barked out to her. Although she loved to go head to head with him, she had no intention now of doing anything but listening. He started to open his side.
“Neil, please, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Ambrose took that moment to panic and squirm, and his back hoof jammed Candy right where the puncture was at the juncture of her outer thigh, again. “Ow, dammit, dammit, Ambrose! Shit, that hurts.”
Neil grabbed the donkey and shoved its head in his jacket as he pushed open his door. The wind whipped in, and Neil pressed his back to the door, leaning in with his entire body to shut it as he stumbled around the vehicle. How in the hell was he going to get to the door? Candy gripped the dashboard, watching in horror, awe, and amazement as he skidded, went down on his knees, and finally made it to the door, not once letting go of her donkey. She could see nothing as the rain poured down the windows in sheets and buckets, so much fiercer than in a car wash. All she could see now was a blur.
“Dammit, Neil, please be okay.” She lifted her skirt to dump some of the mess left by Ambrose onto the floor. She reached down to her feet and picked up the paper bag of milk, all she had for Ambrose. How was she going to get more? He was too young for anything else, and it was Francisco she’d gotten the goats’ milk from. If he had left, how would she get more? Her heart ached as she thought of her horses, terrified and running wild in a warzone with no shelter, debris and trees and mud and water coming at them. She hoped Neil was right and they were far away from here, because her thoughts were taking her to some pretty dark places. She thought of her horses trapped, not knowing if they were dead or alive. Please be okay.
The Unexpected Storm Page 4