by Vivi Holt
Finally, the macaroni was cooked and she drained out the water with a spoon, losing some of the pasta down the drain. She dumped the flavor packet, butter and milk into the pot, stirred it for a minute or so and grimaced. It didn’t look very appetizing – not like Dalton’s meal. But she’d be burned alive before she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing she’d caved and eaten the food he prepared. She had to prove to him she was capable of feeding herself, at the very least.
She dished a hearty serving of mac and cheese into a bowl, sat at the table, took a deep breath and put a spoonful into her mouth. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t very good either. Her eyes flitted back over to where the chicken parmagiana sat, tantalizing her.
Oh, the heck with it. She leaped to her feet, hurried to the drawer to fetch a fresh bowl and piled pasta and chicken parm into it. It was still warm, and gooey cheese and rich tomato sauce spilled over the noodles. She smiled and closed her eyes to inhale the delicious aroma.
Hazel returned to the table and dug into the dish with gusto, the first mouthful making her groan with delight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had pasta, and this was as delicious as any restaurant she’d been to. Her eyes drifted closed and she savored each flavor as it danced across her tongue.
When her eyes opened, she gasped to see Dalton leaning against the door jamb, his arms folded over his chest and a smirk lighting up his handsome features. Her cheeks blazed and she dropped the fork on the table. “It just … looked so good …,” she mumbled helplessly.
He laughed and turned to leave. “You’re welcome, Slick,” he called over his shoulder.
Chapter 4
Hazel pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes, then opened them again and sniffed. Slick? He’d called her Slick. Was that short for “city slicker” or something? She’d seen the way he looked at her, as though he pitied her. And so far she’d done little to prove him wrong. So she guessed the nickname was not a compliment.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She sat up, flicked on a lamp and picked it up, her blood still boiling over Dalton’s insult. “Hello?”
Jen’s voice on the line brought a smile to her face. “Hi, Hazel. How’s it going?”
“Fine, thanks,” she lied. “And you?”
“Fine, fine. Enough chitchat – tell me everything. Did it all go according to plan?”
Hazel laughed at the worry in her friend’s voice. She’d never seen Jen so serious about any job before. She must really want to keep this one. “Everything went fine. I pulled up in front of the stables and avoided the office, just like you told me to. Gus was there already and he loaded Charity into the trailer. I didn’t really have to do anything. Gus is the strong-and-silent type, emphasis on ‘silent’ – he barely talked the entire trip. I chattered away, of course – you know how I get when it’s too quiet.”
“I hope you didn’t say too much.”
Hazel, leaned back against the pillows she’d stacked just so. “What do you mean?”
“You know – he was expecting me, Jennifer Barsby. So even though he’s never met me before, it’s important to keep up the ruse.”
Hazel slapped her forehead and took a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t?” queried Jen, panic in her voice. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing about you. I just introduced myself.”
There was silence for a moment. “As Jen, right?”
“No, as Hazel Hildebrand.”
Jen screamed, and Hazel held the phone away from her ear with a grimace. “Oh no! I’m dead. He’s totally going to tell my boss and I’ll be fired!”
“Maybe he won’t. Maybe he won’t say anything and it’ll all be fine. I’m sorry, Jen. I didn’t know.”
Jen sighed. “It’s not your fault. I should never have asked you to fill in for me. It must have been the medication they had me on – it made me crazy. I’m sorry for making you do it – you’re the best friend in the world for following your ridiculous roommate’s stupid plan.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “So what’s he like?”
“What’s who like?”
“The owner of the ranch. Dalton Williams?”
Hazel growled. “Rude, obnoxious, totally full of himself and not even slightly chivalrous. I thought cowboys were supposed to be chivalrous. All I can say is, I’ll be glad when the job’s done and I can leave this death trap.”
“That bad?”
“Worse. And now he’s nicknamed me ‘Slick‘.”
Jen laughed, then stopped herself as if she’d clapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s terrible,” she sympathized. “I heard he’s hot, though.”
“What?” exclaimed Hazel, her eyes wide.
“Is he?”
Hazel grunted in annoyance.
Jen chuckled. “I knew it.”
Hazel pictured Dalton’s grinning face, white teeth, dimpled cheek and twinkling blue eyes. She was certain he got plenty of female attention wherever he went, but she wasn’t going to succumb to the charms of an arrogant jerk like him. She had standards when it came to men, expectations of how they should behave and how they should treat her. And Dalton Williams did not live up to any of them.
* * *
Dalton slung a bag of seed over his shoulder and walked over to the tractor. He’d managed to get it running with a bit of oil and some TLC just after he’d arrived at the ranch. It was old, but it ran like a charm. He emptied the bag into the seeder, then wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. Dang, it was hot.
A glance at the horizon told him a storm was on the way, and he wanted to get the alfalfa planted before it came. He’d decided to sow a few of the fields with crops, to bring in some extra money come harvest time and provide feed for the horses through the winter months.
He climbed into the cab and started the engine, then set off for the already-plowed field on the south end of his property. Another peek at the sky revealed dark, angry clouds churning toward the ranch. He shook his head. He’d have to be quick if he wanted to get this done before the storm arrived.
* * *
Hazel pushed the porch swing with one foot, the other tucked beneath her, and laid back. She could see Rocket Peak, the stallion they’d travelled so many miles for, on the other side of the nearest fence, grazing happily. The mare, Contessa’s Charity, wandered along the far fence line, her tail swishing at flies as she chewed a mouthful of grass.
With a sigh, Hazel shook her head. She’d been watching them all morning long and they seemed to want nothing to do with one another. It was all so frustrating. She’d hoped they’d be headed home the following day, but it certainly wasn’t looking hopeful.
She put in her earbuds and opened the Spotify app on her phone. With a quick search, she located a recording of the London Symphony Orchestra live at the Barbican and pressed “play.” She smiled and let her eyelids drift closed, as the music swelled to envelop her, shutting out everything around her.
But it wasn’t working. She’d expected the rapture, the joy, she should feel listening to one of the premier orchestras in the world play the Symphonie Fantastique, but it just didn’t come. In fact, it hadn’t happened a lot lately – as if her passion for the music had dimmed. Instead, her stomach churned with anxiety whenever she thought about work. And listening to this piece made her mind turn to her work.
She wrinkled her nose as the phone buzzed, muting the sound of the orchestral piece. A quick look revealed a text from Jen: Have you been following the news?!!!
Hazel frowned and opened a browser on her phone to skip to the local news site. The headline read: Tornado warning for Tift County – take cover, secure outdoor furniture and pets.
She yanked her earbuds out, stood and went to the porch rail to look up at the sky – nothing but a few gray clouds. She hurried to the other end of the porch and peered around the edge of the house. Angry black thunderheads filled the horizon, twisting as they headed toward the
ranch house.
Her eyes widened and her hands dropped to her sides. What should she do? She was supposed to take cover, but where? What about Dalton and the horses? Come to think of it, where was Dalton? She’d seen him head off on the tractor earlier, but she hadn’t paid much attention to where he’d gone. She’d simply been glad to be on her own for a while without his snide grin reminding her of how she didn’t measure up to his expectations. But now she was worried.
She shoved her phone in her pocket and ran down the steps into the yard. With her hand above her brow, she stood on tiptoe and scanned the surrounding fields, finally spotting him in the distance. The tractor was moving slowly, pulling some kind of equipment in its wake. He wore his trademark hat, and looked to be facing away from the approaching storm, his attention on the ground behind him.
She shouted and waved, but he didn’t see her and was too far away to hear her. The noise of the storm, the rush of wind and swish of leaves drowned out everything else, as if the storm was sucking any sound up into a vacuum. Every glance over her shoulder revealed the clouds were closing in fast. She couldn’t tell if they would bring a tornado, but figured it wasn’t worth the risk to wait and find out.
She frowned, took off her patent-leather flats and set off. “Dalton!” she yelled as loud as she could, waving her arms over her head as she ran toward him.
The tractor slowed to a stop as she approached, its engine idling. Dalton leaned forward. “What’s up?” he shouted.
She pointed a finger toward the clouds. “Tornado warning!” she yelled back
He turned to follow her finger and pushed his hat back, surveying the sky with obvious concern. “Climb on,” he replied, patting the seat beside him.
She hurried over to the tractor and pulled herself up into the cab. He grabbed her hands and yanked her up the last step, moving aside for her to sit next to him. The seat was just wide enough for both of them. He shifted the tractor into drive and set off toward the barn as fast as it would go.
They bounced and jolted over the uneven ground and Hazel held tight to the seat with both hands, knuckles white. She glanced at Dalton. His face was serious, and with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shifter, he looked strong and confident. Her heart skipped a beat.
* * *
Dalton stood in the doorway to the stable, hands on his hips. He’d pulled an old boom box from his bedroom closet and plugged it into an outlet to listen to the news on the radio. Gusts of wind buffeted the ranch, and the bushes and trees planted around the house and barn leaned low to the ground, branches waving as the wind whistled through them, almost drowning out the voice of the newsreader, He’d already confirmed a tornado had been sighted near Tifton.
Behind him, Hazel was pressed up against the stable wall, her eyes wide. He turned to face her. “We have to get the horses out of here.”
She nodded. Thankfully, there were only a few in the stables – most were already out in the pasture. He could see them trotting together in a herd up and down the long fence line, tails and heads raised high. They’d be safer where they were if a tornado touched down. There weren’t many trees or much potential debris in the pasture, and it would give the animals a chance to get out of the storm’s way if it came to that.
He strode to the nearest stall, unclipped the rope and stood aside as the mare trotted out into the yard. She was soon cantering off to join the rest of the herd with a shrill whinny in their direction. Hazel did the same for a colt in the next stall, who followed the mare.
Before long the stable was empty, and the two of them stood side by side watching the herd pace the length of the pasture. “Will they be okay?” shouted Hazel, squinting into the wind.
“I hope so.”
“Now what?”
“If you can get all the windows in the house open, I’ll put away anything that’s been left out in the yard.”
She nodded again and ran for the house. He watched her go, with the long easy strides of a dedicated runner. Her chestnut curls hung loose around her head, still damp from her morning shower. He’d been right about her – she was gorgeous without the makeup and fancy clothes. Her bright green eyes sparkled, and a smattering of freckles across her nose made him want to kiss each one.
He shook his head and hurried outside to put away the tools he’d left beside the air conditioner that morning. He dreaded the idea of it dying in the middle of summer, but it wasn’t looking good. He’d done what he could to fix it, but it needed an HVAC technician and he wasn’t one. He could just imagine what Hazel would say about it if the air went out while she was staying at the ranch. Though likely she’d be gone in a day or two, so it wouldn’t be an issue …
The thought made his heart sink, and he frowned. He’d be glad when she was gone, so he could get back to work with no distractions. She was nothing but trouble, and trouble was one thing he didn’t need more of. But for some reason, the idea of being on his own again at the ranch without Hazel there to frustrate and annoy him had begun to feel mighty lonely.
It only took a couple of minutes for them to finish their tasks, and Hazel emerged from the house with a wave. He beckoned her toward the barn and leaned into the howling wind to pull the door of the tornado shelter open. It was old, built decades ago – maybe by his forbears, Della and Clem. The thought made him smile and he pointed down into the shelter – the noise of the storm forced him to communicate with gestures alone.
She nodded and skipped down the stairs into the shelter. He took one last glance around the ranch, now shrouded in a dark grayish-green light, then followed her inside, pulling the door shut behind him.
The howl of the wind outside sounded eerie as it whistled through cracks around the shelter door. Hazel was seated at the far end of the concrete structure, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. With wide eyes, she stared at the wall in front of her, unmoving. No doubt she wasn’t as accustomed to tornadoes as him, being from Atlanta. He’d spent time all over the South and Midwest, including Oklahoma and Kansas. He was used to taking cover like this, though it shook him up more this time knowing it was his property and his horses under threat.
He pressed his back against the cold hard wall of the structure and slid down to sit beside her. “Thanks for your help,” he said, taking off his hat and setting it on the ground beside him.
“No problem.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and pushed his legs out in front of him with a grimace. He laced his hands beneath his injured leg and shifted it into a more comfortable position. It ached at times, especially if he overdid it – and he probably had, with all the running he’d done to put everything away and prepare for the tornado.
“What happened to your leg?” Hazel asked.
He sighed, rubbing it where the break had been. “A really nasty horse.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I know it might be hard to believe, seeing as how this place is in such stellar shape, but I’ve only been here a few months. I inherited it from my grandfather, and before that it was run into the ground. I’m trying to build it up into something he would’ve been proud of – something I can be proud of.”
“So you fell off a horse when you first got here?”
He shook his head. “No, I was a professional bronco rider. The last rodeo I did, I was thrown pretty bad after being rammed into a fence. The fence broke my leg in two places; the fall knocked me out.” He ran a hand over his mouth and exhaled.
Hazel rested her chin on her knees and met his gaze. “I’m sorry. That must have hurt.” Her green eyes were full of compassion.
Dalton’s breath caught in his throat. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wail of the storm overhead. Dalton’s mind wandered to thoughts of the herd, the house, the barn. His pulse raced and he shut his eyes tight. He had to distract himself. “So what about you? Gus said you’re a vet working for the breeder, but you don’t act li
ke any vet I’ve ever known.”
Hazel didn’t answer, but stood and began pacing the length of the shelter. He frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Do you hear that?” she finally asked, stopping to stare upward.
“Hear what?”
“It’s quieter, I think. Maybe the storm’s passed.”
He pushed himself slowly to his feet, making sure to keep the weight off his sore leg. “Yeah, sounds like it.” Carefully he pushed the shelter door open and it fell back against the ground with a dull thud. He looked out and moaned. The house, barn and stables were intact, but otherwise it looked like a war zone. Branches, roof shingles, even a paddle pool littered the yard. Debris was scattered across most of the pasture. Big drops of rain landed on his face and ran down his neck, soaking his shirt.
Worst of all, he couldn’t see the herd anywhere. Adrenaline pumped through his veins making his heart race. He climbed the steps and stood with his hands linked behind his head.
Hazel climbed out to stand beside him, her hands over her open mouth. “Lord have mercy!”
“You got that right,” Dalton muttered.
Chapter 5
Hazel tucked two carrots into her shorts pocket and wandered out the front door. She could see Dalton in the distance, fixing a fence torn down by the tornado the previous day. Already he’d managed to haul a lot of the debris into a big pile beside the end of the driveway near the house. She’d helped as well, carrying what she could and dragging the rest.
She walked past the pile and headed for the field where Charity and Rocket grazed. She’d been grateful to see they were unhurt when she emerged from the tornado shelter. Though Dalton said it was unlikely Rocket would be interested in playing his part for a while, given the scare he’d likely received.
Thankfully, the neighbors had corralled Dalton’s herd after the storm had passed, and a few quick phone calls had located them. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon and evening returning them to the Cotton Tree Ranch and erecting a makeshift fence to keep them overnight. He’d been up before dawn as well – she’d heard him go outside just as the first rays of sunshine peeked into her room. He’d been out there ever since.