Chapter Eighteen
Jill watched the scene from behind the safety of the glass in the West Wing. Only Hannah was at her side, as everyone else had moved out, and Michelle hadn’t come to the ranch this weekend.
When Nate and Ginger arrived, things broke up quickly, and the stranger got in his truck and left the ranch.
She’d texted Slate, but he hadn’t read the message nor responded.
“Looks like it’s over,” Hannah said. “Should we go back to bed?”
“Yeah,” Jill said, though she didn’t think she’d be able to go back to sleep after such a fright. Still, she followed Hannah through the kitchen to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, and she went inside hers. She sat on the bed and looked at her phone, willing Slate to call or text.
When he didn’t, she slipped a pair of sandals on her feet and quickly left the West Wing. They never locked the door that led to the garage, and she thought they better start. The back door to the Annex was also open, and all the lights on inside. Spencer and Nick stood in the kitchen, coffee mugs in their hands.
“Hey,” she said, suddenly nervous. “Is Slate here?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. “In his room.” He sipped his coffee as Jill strode through the kitchen.
“…you have to talk to her,” she heard Luke say as she approached Slate’s room. The door stood open, and she filled the doorway, taking in the scene as quickly as she could.
Slate, with bare feet and a bare torso, had an open suitcase on the bed.
He was putting clothes into it as quickly as he could.
Luke, also shirtless, sat in the armchair in the corner, and he jumped to his feet when he saw Jill. “Jill,” he said.
Slate spun around, his eyes wide. She rarely saw him without his cowboy hat, and she hadn’t realized how long his hair had gotten again. Her eyes slipped down his body to those well-defined muscles in his chest and abdomen, and she quickly yanked her gaze back to his.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m leaving,” he said, his voice as cold as ice and as hard as flint.
“Leaving?” she repeated, not understanding the word in this context.
“I can’t stay here,” he said. “He knows where I am.”
“Who was that?”
“My drug supplier from Austin,” Slate said. “I’m not putting you or anyone else on this ranch in danger.”
Axle licked Jill’s hand, and she yanked it back, her adrenaline spiking. The dog backed up a step at her reaction, but Jill was having a hard time thinking at the moment.
“You can’t leave.”
“I can,” he said. “And I am.”
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Luke said, striding in front of her. “Come on, Axle. Come with me.” He took the dog into the bathroom and closed the door.
Slate sighed, but Jill’s heartbeat kept getting faster and faster. Tears were imminent, and she hated the way the back of her nose was already burning.
“Luke got on with a construction crew,” he said. “He was leaving in the morning anyway, and I’m going with him. Me and Axle are going with him.”
Jill shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re coming back, right?”
Slate ducked his head, but he didn’t have his hat to hide behind this time. “No, sweetheart.”
Fury roared through her. “Don’t you dare call me that.” Her fingers clenched into fists. She sucked at the air then, finding it an inadequate source of oxygen.
“I’m sorry, Jill,” he said, his face still turned down. “I really can’t explain more than I have already. I don’t want to put you in danger, or the two pregnant ladies who marched out onto the lawn in the middle of the night.”