Page 16 of Slow Burn

“Pack your things,” he says, the muscle in his jaw flicking, as if he’s annoyed that he’s even here.

“What?”

Is he trying to run me out of town? The fucking nerve.

I didn’t think his disdain for me went this far.

“If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to do better than that.” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his defensive stance, but to my surprise, he drops his hands to his side and sighs.

Beck shakes his head and scrubs a hand over his beard like I exhaust him. “I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

My mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out, so I squint at him in question.

“You can’t stay here,” he says, as if that explains everything.

“I’m perfectly fine where I am,” I say, tipping my chin up in defiance. So much for trying to build a bridge.

“Ok, then tell me what that unknown stain is on the bed,” he says, eyes flicking up over my shoulder toward the bed. The stain isn’t even visible from here.

“What– how did you–,” I stammer.

The corner of his mouth tips upward like he knows he’s won whatever game he was playing. “Lucky guess. Get yourself changed–” his eyes trail over my body, sending goosebumps scattering across my skin. “–and pack your things.”

I work my bottom lip between my teeth, weighing my options. Whatever this is appears to be some kind of peace offering, and if I’m going to build trust with Beck and make a decent impression then it would be in my best interest to take it.

“Fine,” I say. “Wait here.”

I close the door on him, and without seeing him out there I know he hasn’t left. I can feel his presence even through the door.

I quickly shove my belongings back into my suitcase, throw on a pair of sweats over my pajamas, and gather up Critter’s toys that he’s strewn about the floor.

When I open the door again, Beck is still standing outside, hands shoved in his pockets as he waits for me. At the sight of him, Critter growls and bares his snaggle tooth. It’s the only tooth he has left.

“What is that?” Beck says, looking down at a snarling Critter.

“That’s Critter,” I say. It’s the only explanation needed. He’s one of a kind.

“I know it’s a critter, but what is it? Some kind of gremlin?” He looks almost horrified by the sight of him.

I pick Critter up and hug him to my chest, covering one of his ears with my hand and whispering into the other. “Don’t listen to him.” And then to Beck, I say, “You know, dogs are a very keen judge of character? It speaks volumes that he growled as soon as he saw you.”

“Oh it’s a dog,” Beck rolls his eyes and starts toward the truck, taking one of my suitcases with him. “I never would have guessed.”

The drive back to the ranch is uncomfortable and tense. Critter growls at Beck from my lap the whole way, and Beck grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. His mouth forms a tight line, eyes fixed on the dark country road ahead of him.

By the time we reach Wild Sage Ranch, you could cut the tension between us with a knife. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, and look out my window at the passing fields, lit up under the silver moon.

Deep down, my gut is roiling with nerves, my mind spinning with questions. Why is Beck bringing me back to the ranch? Does this mean he’s accepted my help? And what is this going to look like moving forward if the man won’t even speak two respectful words to me?

I don’t have time to ponder these thoughts any further, let alone come to any kind of conclusions, because Beck pulls the truck up in front of the house, and gets out. He reaches into the bed and pulls out my suitcase.

“I can’t stay here, in your house,” I say, following him as he walks wordlessly around the side of the house, where the driveway wraps around, my suitcase still in hand.

“Good thing you’re not, then.”

I stop dead in my tracks, trying to make sense of what’s going on. But instead of turning and going into the main house, Beck keeps walking toward a cabin-like building at the other end of the yard. There are a few others just like it, but he takes me to the biggest one that already has the porch light on, and starts up the few steps that lead to the front door.

“Coming?” he asks, one foot on the bottom step. I nod, and stride over to him to catch up.