Page 1 of Reaper

Chapter One

Mabel

I sit in the hayloft and stare out at the farm. Green spans for acres with dots of yellow dandelions sporadically grown everywhere. In the distance is the ranch-style house I grew up in. Mama sits on a wide covered porch with a glass of sweet tea in her hand. The wind blows through her hair and the afternoon sun illuminates her skin with pinks and yellows. I bet she has a pie in the oven.

This is my favorite place to be. Up here, the world is so far away that I can write whatever story I want, even ones where your favorite person in the world isn’t gone and she has a raspberry treat waiting for you.

I pluck a piece of straw from a bale of hay and chew the tip as I stare out at the horizon and drag in the scent of fireweed and dust from the barn. I guess I have to get better at imagining richer scents.

My eyes close and I try again. Bluebells and a strawberry field. Much better.

The rumble of a bike in the distance catches my attention and I snap out of the fantasy world I’ve been in. It’s my father’s friend, Reaper. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a crush on him. He’s the big, tall, burly, bad boy type. The kind that carries the red flags with him wherever he goes, but for some reason, the flags only make him hotter.

That’s my first problem. I shouldn’t think red flags are hot.

He leans off the bike to the side and swings his long leg over the seat, planting his boot in the gravel.

My clit twitches. It shouldn’t. He hasn’t done anything yet, but the mere sight of this man has always taken me over the edge. Maybe it’s the tattoos, or the big hands, or the fact that he’s off limits, or maybe I like that he represents adventure and I’m desperate for that.

I watch his giant frame walk across the field, but he stops before he gets to my father and changes direction, striding toward the barn. He’s been helping out lately, but usually, he hops on the tractor. He doesn’t come to the barn. The barn is my space. I take care of the horses, the chickens, and the goats. Dad takes care of everything else.

“You up there, little cat?” Reaper’s tone is low and graveled.

I consider not answering. He’d have to climb up into the loft to see if I’m here, and I think he knows the beams aren’t strong enough to support his weight. I’m a little surprised they support mine, but I’m used to being up here and I know where to stand to avoid the weak spots.

Learned that the hard way.

“You’re going to have to think of a name better than little cat.” I climb down from the loft and jump onto the barn floor with a thud. “I’m not little anymore.”

He grins and stares me up and down. “You’re little to me. Always will be.”

My insides tingle. They need to stop doing that. It makes talking to Reaper difficult, and after knowing him nearly my entire life, I shouldn’t find it hard to talk to him.

“What’s up?” I finally manage, picking at the pieces of straw that poke from the edges of the horse stalls.

He glances left, then right, as though I’ve forgotten something. “Your dad asked me to take you to the feed store to pick up the new chicks and a salt lick for the horses.”

I huff under my breath. “I can take myself to the feed store, thank you. I’m twenty-five years old.”

Reaper holds up his hands. “Not my rules. I’m just doing my buddy a favor.”

“Well, his favor is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman. I can drive myself to the freaking feed store! Besides, we can’t get a salt lick back on your bike.”

“He gave me the keys to the truck. Do you have a license?” He knows I don’t have a license, so I don’t know why he’s asking.

I swallow hard and stare up at the rafters as a ruffle of hay crunches beneath the horse’s hooves. “Shut up.”

“What?” He swallows back a grin. “You either have it or you don’t.”

I glare toward him and pull an apple from the bin, feeding it to Red, a bright white quarter round that I’ve raised since birth. He crunches the granny smith in a few short bites, spraying juice everywhere.

“You know my dad. If I could’ve gotten it, I would’ve.”

“You said yourself… you’re an adult. Why don’t you get it?”

I roll my neck back toward him. “Yeah, I think you know Dad better than that.”

He lifts his face to a half smile. “I do, and I think he’d be fine.”