Page 22 of The Cowboy Who Stayed

I go unacknowledged as I pass her by.

I grit my teeth and let it go, deciding she’ll have to crack sooner or later.

Sooner comes even quicker than I anticipate, though it’s not by her choice.

Come late in the afternoon, the rain picks up from a drizzle to a downpour. I’m near the main building as Vivica briskly walks toward the small parking area.

She climbs into her Honda Civic hatchback and turns onto the road leading toward town. I shake my head watching her go.

Her little toy car has no business on ranch roads in weather like this.

I know that road. It floods every time it rains this hard, turning the pavement into a mud pit that’s swallowed bigger vehicles than a Civic.

I fish my keys out of my pocket and stride toward my truck.

Five minutes is all it takes for me to find her.

The Civic’s right where I expected it to be, about a quarter mile past the ranch exit where the road dips low and the drainage runs off into the shoulder.

Her rear tires are buried axle-deep in mud, and through the blur of raindrops on my windshield I can make out the car rocking as she tries to reverse out. The tires spin and whine against the wet earth, going nowhere fast.

I pull my truck up in front of her and switch off the engine. She climbs out of the driver’s seat as I do the same with my truck.

The expression on her face is best described as murderous. She glares through wet lashes as I approach at a pace slower than necessary.

…especially considering the downpour and how it drenches us within seconds.

My shirt’s still damp from work on the ranch, and I couldn’t give less of a shit about the rest of me getting wet.

But it seems to genuinely piss Vivica off. Her jacket’s been weighed down by the moisture soaking the fabric, and her honey-blonde hair is plastered against her forehead.

“Need some help?” I ask.

Her eyes narrow. “Haven’t I told you about following me?”

“Should be glad I did. Looks like you’ve gotten yourself a little stuck.”

“I didn’t realize the roads would be so…”

“Wet?” I supply, the corner of my mouth lifting. Her glare deepens, and I let out a low chuckle. “Alright, Miss Vivica, I won’t bust your chops too bad. It’s a lesson everybody in Ironhaven learns eventually about this road in bad weather.

“It’s not unfixable though. You sit your pretty self behind the wheel, and when I tell you, shift gears into reverse and give it some gas. I’m going to give the front a push and get some momentum going.” I step around the hatchback and brace my hands against the front bumper. She hesitates only a second, then does as I say, sliding behind the wheel. “Alright, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

I’ve planted my boots in the mud, praying my back holds out long enough to muscle this car free.

The instant she reverses, I give the car a hard push, harnessing every ounce of strength I’ve got. My back immediately twinges with hot pain, its way of telling me to knock it off.

But the warning goes ignored. My teeth clench together, and I shove at the front of the car even harder.

The tires catch, slipping and spinning against the thick mud and sending flecks of it splattering everywhere.

We don’t give up. Vivica keeps pressing the gas while in reverse, and I shove at the car with sheer force and aggression.

The Civic lurches backward, finally sliding free of the muddy pit with a slick sucking sound. It happens so suddenly it almost takes me with it.

I stumble forward and catch myself before the fall comes, breathing hard and shaking wet hair from my brow. Pain pulses up and down my spine in angry waves, but at least her car is free.

That’s what matters.