Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Abbie Carter stepped off the plane, dragging her carry-on bag behind her as the rural airport hummed quietly around her. The contrast to JFK or LaGuardia was almost laughable—no stampede of rushing commuters, no cacophony of announcements or impatient businessmen barking into phones. Here, everything moved at a languid pace. People greeted one another with knowing nods, their voices low and unhurried.

It was disarming, almost unsettling. Had it always been this quiet? she wondered as she made her way through the tiny terminal. Or was it just that her world, the high-octane bustle of Manhattan, had reshaped her into someone who thrived in chaos? Either way, the stillness of her surroundings left her feeling exposed as though the cracks in her carefully constructed armor were laid bare for everyone to see.

After a brief stop at the rental counter, Abbie found herself behind the wheel of an SUV that had seen better days. The faint aroma of stale coffee and artificial pine wafted from the air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. She adjusted her seat, shifted into drive, and pulled out of the lot, her stomach tightening as the landscape transformed into one of rolling fields and towering oaks.

The road ahead was both familiar and foreign, dotted with landmarks from her childhood—places she’d once loved and then fled. She wondered what her life would be like now if her mother hadn’t left. If her father hadn’t died.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. She could almost see his handsome face. His eyes sad at times and the lines of worry etched deeper than they had any right to be toward the end. She had wanted to fix it. She had wanted to fix him. But she couldn’t.

As she crested the final hill leading to the ranch, Abbie’s chest tightened. There it was: the sprawling fields, the weathered fences, and the barn she’d always thought of as the heart of the place. But something was wrong. A plume of black smoke billowed against the pale blue sky, curling ominously above the barn.

No, no, no.

Her foot slammed on the accelerator, the SUV roaring down the asphalt road. When she pulled up to the ranch, her worst fears were realized. Flames devoured the barn, licking hungrily at the old wooden beams and spitting embers into the air. The smoke was suffocating, the acrid stench of burning hay and wood filled her lungs. She could feel the heat from inside her vehicle.

She stumbled out of the car, her legs unsteady beneath her. “Grandpa!” she shouted, scanning the chaos.

“Abbie!” His voice rasped through the haze, and she turned to see him shuffle running toward her, his face streaked with soot, his posture stooped. He looked smaller somehow, more fragile than she remembered.

She rushed to him, her arms wide, pulling him into her embrace for a quick moment of reunion. Quickly, she pushed away and studied his lined face. “What happened? Are you okay? Where are the horses?”

His eyes, watery with both smoke and tears, darted to the barn. “Most of ’em are out, but two... I couldn’t get to ’em. Smoke’s too thick.”

Abbie’s gut clenched. She glanced toward the barn, hearing the panicked cries of the trapped animals. Her instincts screamed at her to act, but before she could move, the wail of sirens pierced the air.

A fleet of fire trucks rumbled up the driveway, their lights flashing as firefighters spilled out, shouting orders and hauling hoses. Following was a sheriff’s pickup. She watched as the men got out. The driver, tall and dressed in a cowboy hat and uniform while the passenger caught her attention. He was a little shorter than the first, broad-shouldered, with dark, unruly hair and a jawline sharp enough to cut steel. He moved with a confidence that some might call arrogant. Or cocky.

“Who’s that?” she asked, nodding toward him as he barked instructions to the firefighters.

Her grandfather squinted. “That’s the new detective in town. Beau... something. Don’t know much about him yet.”

Beau. Of course, his name would have to match his rugged, almost-too-handsome-to-be-real appearance. Abbie’s jaw tightened as she watched him stride toward the barn, loose and self-assured like he didn’t have a care in the world. Men like him drove her insane—cocky, rule-breaking mavericks who thought they could charm their way out—or in—to anything. And, judging by the way her heart gave that unwelcome flutter, she was going to have to watch this one.

The scene erupted in chaos as she watched the newcomer argue with a firefighter, gesturing toward the barn. The firefighter shook his head vehemently, but the man wasn’t backing down. Suddenly, the firefighter turned his hose on him, drenching him head to toe.

“What the hell?” Abbie muttered, her mouth falling open.

Her grandfather grimaced. “I think the damn fool’s going in after the horses.”

“Is he insane?” she snapped, her voice rising with equal parts disbelief and admiration as he disappeared into the inferno.

The seconds ticked by like hours. The barn groaned, its timbers succumbing to the flames. Then, with a crash, part of the roof caved in, sending a shower of embers skyward. Abbie’s stomach lurched. He wasn’t coming out.

Then, like a miracle, a horse burst through the smoke, followed closely by another. Abbie’s breath caught in her throat. “He found them,” she whispered. “He got them out!”

The firefighter turned his hose toward the fleeing animals, creating a barrier between them and the flames. But the man named Beau was nowhere to be seen.

“Why isn’t he out yet?” Abbie demanded, her voice breaking.

As if in answer to her plea, a figure emerged from the far side of the barn, stumbling through the smoke with singed clothing and a face streaked with soot. He was alive!

Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived as she watched him casually slap a firefighter on the back, laughing like he’d just bought the man a beer.

“Are you kidding me?” she snapped, storming toward him.

Beau turned, his grin widening as his eyes met hers. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly good-looking, with a dangerous spark in his dark blue eyes. He seemed completely unfazed by her fury—or the fire he’d just walked out of.

“You must be the cavalry, but I’d say you’re a little late if you’re coming to rescue me,” he said, his voice deep and smooth with just a hint of amusement.

“And you’re an idiot,” Abbie shot back, crossing her arms. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

His grin didn’t waver. “The horses are out, aren’t they?”

“That’s not the point!” she snapped. “You scared the hell out of everyone! My grandfather thought you were dead! I thought you were dead!”

His smirk softened, replaced by something unreadable. “So, what you’re sayin’ is you were worried about me?”

Abbie felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I was worried about my grandfather. He doesn’t need any more stress right now and someone dying in his barn would be stressful.” Why she felt the need to explain, she had no idea.

His gaze flicked to her grandfather, then back to her. “Fair enough. And you are?”

“Abigail Carter. Most people call me Abbie.”

“Hello, Abbie. I’m Beau. Nice to meet you.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, charged with an undercurrent of tension she couldn’t quite name. He stepped closer, close enough that she caught the faint scent of smoke and something else—something warm and masculine.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, his voice low, “for saving your horses.”

Abbie opened her mouth to retort, but the words stuck in her throat. She hated the way he looked at her like he was already winning some unspoken battle. But damn it, she also hated how her heart raced under his gaze.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her tone clipped. “But next time, try not to give everyone a heart attack.”

Beau’s grin returned, slow and infuriatingly confident. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he turned to help the firefighters with the smoldering remains of the barn, Abbie exhaled sharply, trying to steady her frayed nerves. One thing was clear – this man was trouble. The kind of trouble that burned hotter than any fire. And whether she liked it or not, it looked like he wasn’t going anywhere.