Page 45 of His Last Nerve

The one who was standing behind the man Denver Langston murdered last night.

He was dressed in jeans and a blue flannel, his cream cowboy hat on his over a friendly, tentative smile. I pressed my back against the door of my rental.

“Please,” I said, holding up my hand. It was shaking. Shit.

Beau’s eyes darkened as his brow furrowed. “Valerie, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Please, just leave me alone. I’m leaving now. You won’t ever have to see me again,” I stammered. I just wanted to find my phone and call my mom. Then I wanted to call Mr. Moonie and quit my job.

I wanted to go home and forget Hallow Ranch and its owner’s smoke gray eyes.

“Leave her be, Beau.”

That voice. That deep, rough, intoxicating voice washed over me. I turned my head to see my dark cowboy, standing on the porch, leaning against the railing, a cup of coffee in his hand.

His smoke was coming for me once more.

This time, I looked away.

Beau was staring at me, his blue eyes pleading for something I didn’t have the strength to give.

“Never judge a cowboy for his sins, sweetheart. Ask who wronged him first.”

He left me with that, turning away and heading back to the barn. I blinked.

“This is crazy,” I whispered. Then, I spun to get into the car but something—someone—caught my eye. Mr. Langston was now at the bottom of the steps, coffee forgotten, staring at me.

“Drive safe, will ya, City Girl?”

I didn’t answer him.

When I pulled out into the drive, though, I looked back.

I shouldn’t have looked back.

Because his smoke followed.

“Mom?Momma?”Icalled,my voice trembling as my hand gripped my cell phone tighter.

“Valerie? My god, honey—”

“Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay. I am so sorry, Mom. Momma, I am so sorry,” I cried into the phone, my head falling.

“What in the world are you apologizing for? Val, what’s going on?”

“Where are you?” I asked, wiping my tears away. “Are you okay? Did Jackie get you to your treatment?”

“Valerie Cross. Breathe. Now.” My mom’s voice was stern.

I nodded and took a deep breath.

“Tell me what in the world is going on?”

“There was a storm,” I croaked, pulling my feet up on the hotel bed. They were still wrapped, but they weren’t hurting. Whatever ointment Mr. Langston gave me last night worked its magic.

Denver. We’re calling him Denver, remember?

I shoved all thoughts of him to the back of my mind.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com