Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
What the hell.
I approach, and as I do, I can see that this fence hasn’t come apart on its own; it has been cut and destroyed. I kneel in the dust, scanning for something, anything. My mind flashes with twenty possibilities, but the one that sticks is Cupp. Ralston Cupp. The creep with the used-car-salesman smile, the one who’d asked if I was alone out here. Maybe he didn’t like being told no.
Shit. My stomach knots.
Before panic can fully settle in, my phone pings.
Knox - You make it through another night?
Me - I’m not one for losing. I’ll make it through, and you’ll hear about it. Right now, I need assistance...
Knox - What now? Rogue snake? Feral rats? A runaway cow?
I huff, unable to stop the smile.
Me - Worse. Someone cut my fences.
It takes him a minute to reply.
Knox - On my way.
I tuck my phone away and look again at the fence, the way the wire is splayed open. I take a photo, send it to Knox. And then, because I refuse to sit around until he arrives, I walk the rest of the fence line, Daisy watching my every step, ready to make her move.
By the time I get back to the gate, there’s dust curling up the lane—Knox’s truck, unmistakable. When the engine cuts, the passenger door swings wide, and out steps a girl who could be a human Instagram filter: platinum-blonde, lips pumped up to the hills, breasts bigger than both of mine put together, and an outfit that makes me question whether I should have dressed a little better today.
Knox comes around the hood and says nothing, just stares at the fence, his eyes narrowed. The girl comes over to me, big smile on her face, bite marks on her neck that I just know he made. Gross.
“Hey,” she says. “I’m Reese.”
Reese says it like she expects a compliment or applause.
“Callie,” I nod, my voice monotone.
Knox stares at me and narrows his eyes at my clipped tone but doesn’t say anything about it. “Somebody cut this on purpose,” he points to the fence. “You see anyone around?”
I shake my head. “No one since Cupp. But the cows could have walked right onto the highway last night.”
Reese steps in, flipping her hair with practiced grace. “Do, like, animals just wander off here? I mean, isn’t that how, you know, we get lost pets and stuff?”
I stare. Is she for real? “Daisy,” I say, motioning to the cow who is looking at Reese now, like she might just hate her more than me, “wouldn’t survive ten minutes in town. She’d be a six-o’clock news headline.”
Reese makes a face, like I’ve told her her eyelash extensions are uneven.
Knox pulls pliers from his pocket, bends the wire together, and gestures for me to hold the ends. “Put your hands here and keep this tight so I can pull it together.”
I do, and he works fast, but his arms are close, his body heat horribly noticeable, and for an impossible second, I wonder what it would be like if this was normal: a man helping me fix a fence, not because someone wanted to scare us but because the two of us actually gave a shit about the land or each other. But then Reese giggles, and the fantasy shatters.
The fence is almost fixed when Reese gets bored, whips out her phone, and angles for a selfie with Daisy.
“Could you,” she asks, angling my way, “move so you’re not in the shot?”
I stare at her, not believing she is actually asking that. Instead, I let her go closer to Daisy, who is not snorting in protest. This should be fun. I grin as Daisy drops her head and slams it through the fence and into Reese’s hip, sending her and her phone flying onto the ground.
“Oh my god!” she cries when she lands with a thump. “That cow is horrible.”
“Oh, whoops, I should have told you,” I grin. “She doesn’t like stupid people.”
She glares at me, and Knox helps her up, his eyes fixed on me. Once she’s on her feet, she turns and stomps off for the truck, clutching her phone. Knox watches her go, then glances at me, deadpan. “You’re a bitch.”
I shrug. “I didn’t see you warning her, either. Besides, I picked you as someone who had a little more taste than that.”
He glares at me. “Jealous?”
“Of her? Please.”
He grins, and I want to punch him in the face. “She’s a decent lay.”
“Ew, I don’t care.”
“Been a while then, has it?”
Oh, he is rubbing me the wrong way.
“None of your business, buddy.”
He grunts, but I swear I can see the hint of amusement in his features.
He goes back to wrapping the last bit of wire. “You worried Cupp’s going to try something? Almost guarantee this was him. Probably tryin’ to steal these cows.”