Spurs and Heels(Divine Creek Ranch 5)(78)
caught up in worrying about Juliana he hadn’t noticed the warning
signs of a failing generator. And of course, by the time he figured out
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what was going on, he was in the middle of nowhere and his phone
had zero signal. Perfection made even better because he’d checked his
map and decided to try a shortcut on a country road.
He had no option but to walk to the nearest town at two o’clock in
the morning. His choices were to walk fifteen miles back to the tiny
town of Ashburn or walk twenty miles ahead to the even tinier town
of Wilton on roads that zigged back and forth around cotton and
maize fields. No way was he stopping at some lone farmhouse,
probably scaring the daylights out of the rural occupants or getting
chased by their dogs. He opted to head back to the larger town after
setting out his mobile flasher units so that anyone coming along
wouldn’t accidentally slam into his big truck.
Three miles down the road, he wished he’d taken the time to go
home and change into more comfortable boots, but then he hadn’t
known he’d be hoofing it in the middle of the night.
Six miles down the road, he groaned as he was pelted by rain
drops. His slicker was in the truck.
Ten miles down the road, rain drops pummeled him from the side
as the frigid wind blew them straight at him. They gathered and
funneled down his chest and back, warming only slightly as they ran
into the crack of his ass.
It was indeed possible to be a damn sight sorrier about everything that had happened in the last twelve hours as he realized he’d left his
phone in the truck. He couldn’t even check it as he progressed, to see
if he could get a signal.
“You’re a damned son of a bitch, Ash Peterson, and you deserve
every single bit of what is happening to you right now, and you know
it,” he muttered as he drew his icy-cold jacket collar to his throat,
trying to keep the rain from running down his neck into his shirt.
He cursed again when he remembered he was wearing the new
black felt cowboy hat sweet little Dana had given him for Christmas.
It was probably ruined, but at least it was keeping the rain off his
head.
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207
Twelve miles down the road, a stray dog came up snarling from a
drainage ditch, startling the shit out of him before biting him in the
ankle. Lucky for him, he’d been wearing boots. It took a few minutes
to scare the dog off so he wouldn’t follow him, and by then, he could
see the lights of Ashburn in the distance, far off.
Five minutes later, he came to the first of three half-full, low
water crossings. Thirty minutes later after crossing the third one, he
stopped in disgust and hopped around one footed on the asphalt to
dump the water out of his three hundred dollar cowboy boots,
believing that God must have a really wicked sense of humor.
By the time he walked into Ashburn, it was seven o’clock. He’d
been saved the last half mile of the walk because an old farmer had
come along and offered him a ride. Due to his drenched, muddy state,
he declined the invitation to ride inside, opting instead to ride on the
tailgate, getting thoroughly chilled by the early morning wind in the
process.
The farmer pulled the truck to the side of the road, outside the
local garage. He told Ash he could probably expect the local
mechanic to show up at the coffee shop across the street about seven-
thirty or eight…or maybe nine.
Ash was numb as he nodded to the waitress when he slid into the
seat of the corner booth of the coffee shop. Smiling in sympathy at his
disheveled state, she brought him a menu and a steaming hot cup of
coffee.
Ash explained his situation, and she told him she would keep an
eye out for his guy and took his order. Ash vowed silently that he
would make sure his appreciation was reflected in the tip he was
leaving her as he took his first sip of the strong, steaming hot coffee.
She deserved at least that much for allowing him to come in, looking
the way he did.
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Chapter Twenty-one
Juliana cranked open the fresh can of coffee before going hunting
for a filter in the pantry. When the coffeemaker was gurgling and
hissing, she unlocked and opened the sliding door that looked out
onto the canal and pulled closed the screen door so the clean, cool
gulf breeze could blow through the stuffy house.
She found the skillet in the cabinet and made herself breakfast,
opting for breakfast tacos since that’s what she’d been in the mood for
when she’d stopped at the grocery store on the way out of Divine. She
fried hash browns with onions and once they were browned, poured
the beaten eggs into the skillet with them.