Braving The Storm: An Age Gap, Cowboy Romance (Crimson Ridge Book 2)
Braving The Storm: Chapter 31

Seeing the taillights of my sister’s car disappear down the mountain brought a wave of relief that I could never have imagined.

I damn near had to clutch the edge of the counter to hold myself upright, staring at the contents of my coffee that, up until the moment she disappeared from view, I hadn’t been able to stomach a single sip of. Throughout the entire agony of time she took to pack her bag, the awkward silence left me hovering with bated breath. Eventually, thankfully Cris slammed her door to the driver’s side and left.

It took a good ten minutes of pacing around the cabin before I could calm down enough to feel assured she wasn’t going to reappear like a ghoul from beyond the grave.

I know I have to sort things out with Storm. He vanished while it was still dark out, with the truck engine rumbling to life at some ungodly hour of the morning.

No doubt he didn’t sleep a single second either.

There are a million things I need to say to him, yet there are also no words willing to be forthcoming when I wrack my brain trying to come up with a suitable explanation for all of this.

Sorry feels like a paltry, anemic excuse for my lies by omission.

He knew I had a shitty ex, and that I had run from something back at home in LA. What he didn’t know—because no matter how many times he attempted to leave the door open for me to explain things, I still avoided the truth—was the full extent, the turmoil of events leading me to land here in this cabin with a heavy thud.

Fleeing and leaving behind three years of a miserable, near-sexless marriage. Where I left my wedding ring, sitting on top of a pristine white kitchen counter, next to five printed A4 pages detailing a litany of screenshots, all the texts between my asshole husband and his steady rotation of secretary whores throughout the duration of our time supposedly wedded and upholding the sanctity of that contract.

The foul, cheating bastard can keep his side bitches, I left without so much as a word of warning, and I have no intention of ever seeing the scummy piece of shit again.

At least with Cris offloaded to some little bed and breakfast accommodation somewhere in Crimson Ridge, it gives me time to think, a scrap of breathing space to plan how exactly I’ll manage to figure this all out.

My phone lies on the counter, and I chew the inside of my cheek, picking it up, unlocking the screen, before slamming it back down on the surface again. God, I’m a dumpster fire of a human.

All I want is to run into my cowboy’s massive arms. To inhale that hint of leather and citrus and light smoky tinge that clings to him after a day with the horses. What I would give for him to fill this cabin with his warmth and grounding presence as he tugs on the hem of my sweater and draws me between his knees.

Except Storm isn’t here, and a sharp slice of panic reminds me that he might never look at me the same way again.

He’s got far more important things to be doing than dealing with my bullshit baggage I’ve traipsed all the way up this mountain like a breadcrumb trail of disastrous life choices.

Even if they largely weren’t of my own choosing, I still stayed under Antoine’s roof. I still wore his ring. That’s the real kicker. I allowed myself to be manipulated into doing every single thing they wanted me to as a good little Lane family empire pawn to shove around the chessboard as they saw fit.

Whatever way it lands, I need to try and explain myself. I’m twisted up like there’s a damn pretzel occupying my stomach at the mere notion he might want nothing further to do with me.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I figure that I’d rather know… I’d rather have the truth spelled out for me in letters on a screen if he wants me to be gone and to never set eyes on me again.

It’s the unknown that I couldn’t bear to live with.

Snatching up my phone, I can’t text from up here on the mountain but tap out the message to his Instagram instead, before I can successfully overthink things. My fingers fly and I press send immediately without re-reading what I’ve just written.

All I can hope is that he’ll be somewhere in service to pick up the message. Otherwise, I’m going to spend today stuck in this cabin like a starving tiger, ready to gnaw off my own leg.

Dots bounce on the screen immediately, and my heart leaps into my throat. There’s a risk I might shatter this phone, considering how tightly it’s clutched between my fingers.

I stare at the four words, and my brain stalls like a spinning wheel on a laptop screen.

The radio?

From the corner of the room, there’s a loud crackling noise followed by static and I jump about five feet at the unexpectedness of the intrusion.

Then I hear my name.

“Briar.” Another long crackling sound. “Pick up the handset. Hold the button on the side when you want to talk.”

Storm’s voice drifts from the small speaker unit, which is covered in all sorts of antique knobs and buttons. Truth be told, I’d never even paid much attention to this thing sitting on the shelf, it simply blended into the background of the place.

Why have I got giddy butterflies going on in my stomach?

I scoop up the funny-looking handset connected by a spiraling cord, entirely unsure of what to do.

“Darlin’, you gotta actually talk.” His voice might be altered by the radio, but he sounds rich and deep over the line, and it sets my pulse racing.

It feels awkward, but I hold the button down and speak into the handset.

“Hi.” I definitely sound breathless.

Letting the button go, I stare at the unfamiliar object in my hands and chew my lip.

“Hey.”

Just that one syllable settles my nerves more than this man could ever know. He doesn’t sound pissed or short with me, just a little more tired than usual.

“Are we allowed to talk… like this?” My damn sister has got me second-guessing everything.

A chuckling noise comes down the receiver in response. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Pinching my brow with one hand, I huff at him. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Aren’t uncles and nieces allowed to call each other?”

Even through the radio, I can hear his smirk.

“Oh my god. Don’t even start.”

“I’m just playing, little thorn.” Yup, there goes my heart, flying out the window to flutter off and land wherever it is this man happens to be right at this moment. “Besides, I would have thought talking over the radio would be preferable to sending messages, hmm?”

“Yes. Ok. You win.”

“I like to win.”

Well, shit. My thighs squeeze together, hearing that unmistakable tone in his voice.

“We need to talk. Is that ok with you?”

There’s a pause; only static greets me, and just as I’m worried he’s decided to abruptly end this call, I hear him speak again.

“You got rid of Crispin?”

“I did. She’s staying in town.”

He pauses again, and I can imagine him rubbing his jaw, can picture his tattooed hand flexing as he scrubs over his mouth in the way he tends to do while thinking.

“The roads are good enough, you can bring that shitty little car of yours. I’m gonna read the address out for you. We can stay out here on the job I’ve gotta work on for the night.”

“Is it somewhere nearby?”

“A ranch just out of town, I’m not risking staying at the cabin while your sister is poking her nose around, and you’re not gonna stay there where she can get to you either.”

He says it so resolutely. So calmly. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world that he would protect me from the family I’ve been burdened with.

“There’s a pen on top of the radio, darlin’.” My eyes flick up to where, sure enough, a ballpoint and a faded notepad sit, and I note down the instructions he gives me on how to make my way to the ranch.

From what he’s described, the location is remote, but isn’t perched on top of a mountain at least. With his steady, secure voice, he reassures me that I’ll be fine driving there alone. The notion of getting behind the wheel and driving back down that winding road doesn’t exactly settle my scurrying anxiety, but I’m motivated enough to get to him that I can’t stop and think too long. I just have to do this.

“Pack an overnight bag.” His deep tone cuts through my thoughts, and if I had any doubts about whether things were going to be alright between us, in spite of last night’s revelations about my secrets, he sweeps all that to one side with his next words.

“Oh, and make sure to bring your favorite toy, little thorn.”