Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
I hold my breath and creep across the fence-line. My heart pounds.
Doing crime is exciting. And mildly terrifying. I feel a little like I'm in one of my books, waiting for someone to accuse me of trying to steal cattle. Cord Decker is a hot, giant jerk. If I go to jail, I'm blaming him. If he hadn't emailed me, I wouldn't be here now.
"Moo."
"Eek!" I spin around, my heart sinking when I see the giant bull standing near another break in the fence. It might be my imagination, but I'm pretty sure it's the same bull from Saturday…the one who tried to kill me and Clover on the road on the way to the resort. I peer around him, hoping to see the giant mountain man who wrangled him out of the road, but there's no one out there. It's just me and the bull.
"Good bull," I whisper, frantically trying to remember his name. Surely Cord told me his name in one of his emails. If he did, I don't remember it. I specifically remember him saying the bull is an asshole though. "Um, you have nice horns. Very pointy."
He chuffs and takes a step toward me.
Crap.
I back deeper into the pasture. Which is clearly the wrong thing to do because it seems to make the bull even angrier. He picks up speed, moving toward the downed fence far faster than an animal his size should be able to move.
I limp backwards, trying to keep one eye on him and look for safety at the same time. The only problem is he's on the other side of the only thing that passes for safety around here—the fence. And it's broken. As far as bad ideas go, this is quickly shaping up to be the worst one I've ever had.
"Good bull," I whisper. "Good, good bull."
He bellows at me.
I give up trying to be reasonable and run for my life. My ankle throbs in protest as I turn and flee toward the ranch in the distance, screaming for help. If they hear me, they probably think I sound like Pumba in that one scene in the Lion King where he's running from Nala and gets stuck in the tree root, eyes wide with fear, screaming, "She's going to eat me."
Only she is a he. And he is a very pissed off bull. Which, in this moment, seems somehow more terrifying than a starving lion. Possibly because I'm not currently running from one of those.
This is all Cord Decker's fault.
I spy a copse of pines and zag toward them, waving my arms in the air in the hopes that someone at the ranch ahead hears the commotion and is looking for the source. Please, let them be looking for the source. I'll take myself to jail after this.
There's no way I'm going to make it to the trees. The last time I ran, it was under duress. I was in high school, and my GPA depended on it. I'm still yards away from safety and already out of breath. Not to mention, sharp pains shoot up my ankle with every step. I scream and sob and run as the bull clears the gap in the fences and charges toward me, gaining ground with every step.
My ankle buckles under me. I plummet to the ground like a falling star, landing hard on my hands and knees. The abrupt stop knocks the wind out of me. Pure terror fires through my system, demanding I get up and run.
Somehow, I manage to drag myself back to my feet. But I already know there's no way I'm going to outrun the bull now. He's going to skewer me with those horns. I decide right then and there that if I'm going to die, I'd rather do it on my feet than running for my life. It's going to hurt either way, but at least I won't spend my last moments doing something I hate—running.
I prepare to turn and meet my fate.
"Hamburger, stop!" a half-naked man roars, stepping out of the trees. At least I think he's half naked. It's hard to tell because he's moving so fast, he's like a blur of dark golden skin and rippling muscle. His boots hit the ground hard enough to kick up dust as his long legs cover the distance almost as quickly as the bull's.
Two gray eyes—filled with equal parts fear and fury—tangle with mine across the distance. A shock of recognition rips through me, shaking me all the way to my core. This isn't just any half-naked man coming to my rescue. It's Cord.
Before I can even process that fact, he slams into me like a brick wall, flinging me off my feet. He hits me so hard I expect to go flying across the pasture…except I don't. Two strong arms surround me, pulling me up against his broad, sweaty chest. I smell leather and hay and him. He's bright sunshine and rich earth, leather and brandy.