Heart of the storm, p.1
Heart of the Storm, page 1
HEART OF THE STORM
ALLY MCGUIRE
CONTENTS
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
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Heart of the Storm by Ally McGuire
Sometimes a storm is just what you need to clear the skies ahead.
When Amber Archer inherits a mysterious house from relatives she thought were long-dead, she sees it as her ticket out of the current chaos consuming her New York life. A little time out in the sticks can’t hurt, can it?
Nestled in the middle of nowhere is The Willows, the premier racing stables in Kentucky owned by Rowan Payton. Loss devastated her, and she doesn’t want to feel that way ever again. Her controlled and ordered life isn’t ready for the tornado of a city girl.
Their worlds collide when Rowan comes to Amber’s rescue, igniting a fierce attraction despite their stark differences and outlooks. But when Amber’s past crashes into her present and she has to make a choice between her heart and her head, will what they’ve built be strong enough to weather the storm?
CHAPTER ONE
“This fucking place.” Amber Archer scraped the bottom of her high heel on the curb, trying to get whatever godawful sludge she’d stepped in off the Louboutins that had cost her more than her monthly rent in New York. Her rental car was covered in a fine layer of the dust that seemed to drift in the air like a never-ending call toward climate catastrophe. If there was going to be an end to the world, she had no doubt it would start in a place like this, with its vast fields full of cows, quaint white houses big enough to hold a family of forty, and barns that looked like they were about to crumble to pieces beside tractors left to rust.
“Need some help?”
She looked up to see an honest-to-God cowboy looking at her, a wry smile on his lips, and his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Do I look like I need help?”
His eyebrows quirked slightly. “Well, ma’am, you’re about to wear that coffee, based on the way it’s tilting, and your car keys appear to be stuck in something you don’t want to get on your fingers. Add to that the bag of Ms. Nellie’s food in your other hand, and well…” He shrugged slightly. “Yeah. Looks like you could use a hand.”
She’d rather eat raw kale than admit to needing help. “Nope. I’m good. Thank you. Off you go, back to your horse.”
His expression turned a little less friendly. “Okay then. Have a good one.”
He sauntered off, whistling some tune she didn’t recognize, and got into a battered old truck. She waited until he’d pulled away and then focused. She set the bag of food on the roof of the car, followed by the coffee cup, which teetered slightly before settling. Hands free, she stared down at the car keys which were, in fact, mired in what was very clearly shit of some kind. She rifled through her bag, but there wasn’t a tissue to be found. Okay, so she’d have to go inside to get one. She looked up as she stepped toward the door, only to find several people at booths watching what was unfolding outside. “God fucking damn people who can’t mind their own business.” No way would she go inside and listen to them titter at her behind their yokel hands.
So be it.
She reached down and plucked the keys from the shit pile and shoved the key into the lock. What cars didn’t have automatic locks now? Ones you rent in the middle of fucking nowhere. She got in, threw her bag on the seat, and slammed the car into reverse, sending gravel flying. Coffee splattered over the windshield as the cup was launched off the roof, along with the bag of food she’d been looking forward to, even though it was deep fried and greasy. Gritting her teeth, she turned out of the parking lot and let the ruined breakfast land in the gravel.
Ten minutes down the road, she finally pulled over to start the GPS. She hadn’t wanted to stop where people could still see her. As it was, her face probably matched the bottom of her shoes. “This fucking place,” she muttered as she punched in the address from the attorney’s paperwork.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled up at a gate just about fifty miles outside Louisville, Kentucky. A hinge was broken, and the gate sat almost forlorn, like it couldn’t stay up under the weight of its abandonment issues any longer. “I know how you feel.” She dug the key from the envelope and grimaced as the first hint of rain touched her skin. Her hair would become a frizzy nightmare if she didn’t get inside soon. The sign reading Honeysuckle Bank turned over under her shoe, and it was missing a couple of letters. She managed to get the lock undone, though she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to get in who wouldn’t just go over the gate, and wrestled it open enough for her to get the car through.
“Okay. It’s fine. You can do this. You are worthy of success. You have what it takes to be powerful. You are a good person who deserves to have good people around you.” She repeated the mantra from her self-awareness group therapy program and tried to believe it. She never had before, but maybe today would be the day.
The dense thicket of trees lining the driveway kept her from being able to see the house ahead, and when she finally did, she stopped to take it in.
It was pretty. Really pretty. And not in the shabby chic way either. A huge single pane of glass went from the ground floor to the second floor, highlighting the wide staircase in the middle. Large windows beside it on both floors would let in a wonderful amount of light. A covered, wraparound porch had some chairs on it that had clearly seen better days, and a vague feeling of being exactly where she was meant to be flittered through her mind, but she quickly shook it away. No time for that kind of sentimental nonsense.
She drove forward and parked in front of the two-car garage. The key for that was in the envelope too, but she wanted to get inside before the rain came and ruined her silk jacket, which hadn’t been up to the cold wind at all, but it’d looked nice. She grabbed her small suitcase from the backseat and hurried up the stairs. The wind whipped at her hair, obscuring her vision so she tripped on the top step and stumbled forward, hitting her shoulder on the door just as the heel on her shoe snapped. “Fucking fuck this fucking place.”
She got the door open and then slammed it behind her. It was like someone had thrown a blanket over the world, the silence was so complete. Sighing, she yanked off her shoes and threw them down next to her bag. First things first, she thought, and hunted out the thermostat. She hit the power button on the little white box on the wall, but nothing happened. She pressed another button, and then another, but nothing continued to happen. She rested her head against the wall. “I’m going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere, and no one will care or even know until my body stinks up the place. If they can smell it over the cow shit.”
She felt marginally better when her voice echoed back to her. She’d never really been one to talk to herself out loud, but it was better than the utter, intense feeling of isolation that assaulted her. She took out her phone and groaned. No reception. They could take pictures of galaxies a gazillion miles away in space, but they couldn’t cover rural areas with phone signal.
Okay, so she’d look around, get a sense of the place, and then head back to the hotel in town. It hadn’t been five-star, granted, but it had been clean, and she’d felt safe. It would do until she could get the heat on. Just as she was about to start up the stairs, there was a loud pounding on the door.
“Jesus H.” She put her hand to her chest, her heart threatening to escape. She opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
“Hi, there. Amber, right? I’m Cornelius Atticus.” At her blank stare, he said, “The lawyer who sent you all the paperwork and keys and such.”
“Oh, yes.” She opened the door wider. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming.”
His smile made his eyes crinkle deeply at the edges. “Hope you don’t mind. I heard there was a visitor in town from the city, and I kinda figured it might be you, so I thought I’d pop in and see if everything was okay.”
She motioned toward the thermostat. “There’s no heat.” The fact that he’d heard there was someone new in town made her stomach turn. How rare was it to see a new face here? Anonymity was a friend, and she didn’t want to give that up.
He nodded and looked over her shoulder. “I can fix that right now.”
She stepped aside to let him in and followed him into the kitchen, where he opened a cupboard and flipped a red switch. She glanced over her shoulder to see the LED light flicker to life on the control panel. “That’s great. Thanks.” She bit her lip, unaccustomed to having to ask for information. But she never would have assumed that switch turned on the heat. “Anything else I should know? Is there hot water?”
He motioned. “Come on down. That can be a little trickier in this house. I warned Grant and Virginia that they’d need to replace that old boiler soon, but I don’t think they ever got around to it
As she followed him through a door and down some basement steps lit only by a single bulb hanging from a naked rafter, horror movie music played the theme tune to her inevitable and rather stupid death. She hung back by the stairs, watching warily as he went to a huge cannister looking thing and knelt on one knee beside it.
He opened a tiny door, grunted, and plunged his hand into his pocket. “Pilot is out. No surprise after all this time. It’ll take a while for the water to heat up. Couple hours, maybe.”
She huffed and glanced around, noticing the old-looking trunks and boxes stacked on tables and shelves against the walls. She’d have to deal with those at some point. She returned her attention to the lawyer. “A couple of hours for hot water? What is that thing?”
He laughed, and then sobered when he realized she wasn’t kidding. “You’ve never seen a water heater?”
She shrugged, her jaw aching slightly as she clenched it around her words. “I live in a New York apartment. I use a light switch, and my lights come on. I turn on the hot water, and the water is hot. I’ve never needed to see where it comes from.”
He nodded as though he understood, but there was a gleam in his eyes that also suggested he was trying not to laugh. “I can see how this would be a little befuddlin’ then.” He handed her the box of matches he’d used to ignite the pilot light. “Keep these. If it goes out, just turn that yellow knob, light the match, touch it to the metal bit inside, and close the door again.”
She held the box of matches to her chest. “How will I know if it goes out?”
“Well, you won’t have hot water, I suppose.” He motioned toward the stairs. “You mind if I look around the house with you real quick? Just to make sure there isn’t any damage or anything that needs fixin’ before I leave.”
There was no way on earth she’d tell him she’d be grateful for the company in the big, empty house. “If you must.” She led the way up the cellar stairs, conscious of the fact that she was in her stockinged feet because she’d thrown off her heels. She probably looked ridiculous.
“Back here is the living room.” He cut through the large, modern kitchen, past a dining table that looked like it had been made from an entire redwood tree, and into a huge open space. Another large window faced a forest beyond. The empty fireplace whistled until he reached in and pulled a lever.
She shivered at the trees now blowing wildly in the wind. “This looks like something out of a clichéd fairytale.”
He laughed, and it echoed through the room. “It does at that. But in the spring and summer, it’s the prettiest thing you’ll see around here. Blossoms all over the grass right up to the tree line.” He pressed a button and electronic shutters moved across the window, effectively blocking out the scene. “Grant and Virginia had this put in when they found it was too hard to draw the curtains across these big windows anymore. You’ll find it that way in all the rooms.”
Well, that was an unexpected touch. The house was far more modern than she’d thought it would be. Maybe it could be a good refuge after all. “Nice.” She looked toward a white door pressed into a grass mound not far from the house. “What’s that?”
He followed her line of sight. “That’s your storm shelter. If you hear the tornado sirens go off, it’s a good idea to hustle on in there. I spent more than one afternoon in there with your grandparents and my own family. We don’t have a shelter at our place, so we hightail it over here.”
There seemed to be an unasked question in there, like he wondered if she’d allow them that option. But he didn’t ask, so she didn’t answer. She didn’t want to be locked underground with a group of people she didn’t know. She followed him to a formal dining room, a cozy games room that had a massive TV and deep couches, and then upstairs to each of the four bedrooms. Every room was furnished and had shelves of things stacked every which way. A thick coat of dust covered the floor and showed tiny pawprints.
“Oh my God. Are there rats?” she asked, backing away.
He tilted his head and looked closer. “Nah. Those look like opossum. I’ll get someone out to check the attic. Unless you want to do it now?” The look she gave him was enough to make him hold up his hands. “Right. Plenty of time for that later.” He moved toward a corner of the master bedroom and stared at the ceiling. “You’ve got a leak. We’ll need to get someone out.”
The stain on the ceiling wasn’t very big. Maybe two feet, if she had to guess. She was far more concerned about opossums playing roommate than a watermark on the ceiling. She followed him back downstairs.
“Did you want me to grab some wood for the fireplace until the house gets warm? I’d be happy to help.”
She frowned at him and opened the front door. “I’m fairly certain that’s not within an attorney’s job description. But thank you for showing me around the house and getting the heat and water on.”
He tipped his head and stepped onto the porch. “No problem at all. If you’ll come by the office when you’re ready, we’ll finalize the paperwork and get it on the market if that’s still what you want to do.”
She looked beyond him at the desolate, gray sky and empty land that matched the feeling in her chest. “I think so. I’ll be in soon.”
He loped down the stairs to his truck. “Good luck!” he called and laughed as he jumped in and headed off down the driveway.
She closed the door behind her and looked at the house given to her by people she didn’t know in a place she’d never been. Slowly, she slid to the floor beside her suitcase and broken heels, and with no one to judge her, no one to see, she let the tears fall. How had it come to this?
CHAPTER TWO
“Pull!” Rowan Payton’s muscles strained, and sweat dripped into her eyes, making them sting. “Nearly there! Pull!”
Slowly, the horse’s front legs scrambled from the mud, the sucking of the muck around his belly barely audible over the swearing and heavy breathing of its rescuers. Ropes were drawn taut, and everyone stayed out of the way of the horse’s tossing head and gnashing teeth. Once the belly was out, the hindquarters quickly followed.
“Fucking finally.” Rowan dropped the rope and bent over, her hands on her knees as she gulped in air. The horse, exhausted from the struggle, also fell to his knees, head lowered.
“Can’t thank you enough, Rowan.”
She looked up at Fred Best, who’d called for help when his prize horse had gotten loose and then trapped himself in the lethal mudbanks of the swollen river. “You can thank me with some of that apple pie we had last week.”
He slapped her on the back, and they watched as the vet coaxed the horse into the trailer. “I’ll bring you twelve. You and your guys saved my hide.”
“We saved the horse’s hide.” She finally straightened and stretched the spasm in her lower back. “Your hide is too tough to need saving.”
He waved and jumped into the vet’s truck.
She turned to her crew. “Nice job, everyone. Burgers at the barn tonight.”
The team of eight made their way back to the various vehicles they’d come over in, and Rowan headed for her truck.
Kelly Marks, the local fire captain and her occasional fling, sauntered over. “Looks like you need a hot shower, cowboy.” She leaned against Rowan’s truck. “Want company?”
Rowan grinned and wiped mud from her face. “If you think you can get me clean before I get you dirty, you’re on.”
Kelly grinned and headed for her own truck. “See you there.”
Ted, her ranch manager, waited by the passenger door. “Why do you look like you just came off some lesbian photoshoot, and I probably look like I’ve been dragged through a cornfield backwards? No woman around askin’ me to shower with them.” He ran his hand through his thick mop of gray-gold hair that was more than a little covered in mud.
“Because lesbians are supposed to be sweaty and muddy, I guess.” She whistled softly. “It could have been a real tragedy if that horse had got sucked in. River will be rising any time now.” She wasn’t about to go into details about the fact that Kelly was a kind of pressure valve for Rowan and nothing more. A quick release without expectations was all she wanted or had time for.
