“I begged her to come for my birthday, but she said she can’t.” Admitting that brings a tinge of melancholy to my tone, despite my current predicament.

Jonah studies me for a few beats, the wicked intent in his eyes softening a touch. “I’m taking you away that weekend.”

“Really?” My heart stutters, my pending doom pushed aside for a moment. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“But what if you get called into work?” Talk of drought is all that seems to be on the state news lately.

“You’re more important to me than work, Calla,” he says evenly.

My body feels lighter, more relaxed. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear Jonah say those words until just now.

He hooks his index finger through the center of my panties and draws them the rest of the way off. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” he asks in that overly calm voice. His steely gaze drags over my body.

I struggle to adopt a relaxed pose. “Hmm … I can’t think of anything— Ah!”

Seizing my hips, he flips me onto my stomach with little effort.

I bite my lip to smother my smile—not that he can see it, anyway—and wait with nervous anticipation. What does he have planned this time around? “Oscar came by.”

“To thank you?”

I shudder as a single, light fingertip trails down my spine, from the base of my neck all the way down … down … down. “I don’t know, but Zeke fainted.”

His finger stalls a moment. “Fainted?”

“Yes. We have a fainting goat. It was funny, actually, once I knew Oscar wasn’t going to kill him.”

Jonah sighs. “See … I would have loved seeing a video of Zeke fainting. You know, when I checked my girlfriend’s Instagram account during my break today.” His fingertip continues past my tailbone. I grit my teeth against the urge to react, which is what he wants. “But instead of seeing a video of that—” The mattress shifts as Jonah moves in to hover over me, his thighs straddling my hips, his hands settling on either side of my pillow, his mouth grazing my shoulder. The slightest nip of teeth catches my skin. “I found out she posted another naked picture of me.”

“You weren’t naked!” Well, technically he was. “You can’t see anything!”

“And tagged our company’s profile in it.”

I can’t keep my laughter at bay anymore as I turn my head to meet his eyes. “It’s great marketing.”

“Is it really? Because I’ve got an in-box full of private messages from both women and men who are not interested in booking a flight with me.”

“But they’re definitely looking for a ride.” I’ve seen some of those messages. They’re equal parts appalling and hilarious.

Jonah’s lip twitches. He’s struggling to hide his smile. “You know, for someone who was three seconds away from dumping chili on a woman last month for touching my thigh, I’m surprised you find this so funny.”

“I trust you.” I also block every one of those accounts.

“Good to know.” The roguish look that flashes across his face makes my stomach flip. He shifts, and I feel hot breath kissing my spine, followed by the lightest stroke of his tongue.

I swallow my nerves. “What are you about to do?”

His deep chuckle carries through our bedroom as his looming body begins to shift downward, his hands seizing my hips.

“Jonah!”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Whose dog is that?” I holler into our empty bedroom. The incessant barking woke me ten minutes ago—at first an irritating sound that didn’t quite register in the fog of sleep. But it hasn’t relented, interspersed with howls that have me kicking my covers off my legs in frustration.

“Jonah?” I call out, a moment before I remember his lips grazing mine an hour ago, and then whispering that Sam had called him in to work.

With that memory comes a hollow feeling. I reach for the pillow next to mine, my fingers crawling over the soft, white cotton. It’s dented from where Jonah’s head rested but it’s cool to the touch. When was the last time I woke to find him asleep in our bed? I can’t recall. These days, he’s either already in the air by the time I get out of bed or getting ready to fly off.

I find myself yearning for the long winter days again, when we lay tangled in the sheets for hours, planning our future, with no rush to be anywhere.

A woeful howl sounds from outside.

With a huff of annoyance, I throw on clothes and head downstairs.

Oscar is standing at our side door. His tail wags as if we’re old friends.

“What are you doing out here?”

He lets out a bark—more high-pitched than anything I’ve heard from him before. He then takes several limping steps, stopping to turn back and bark at me again, as if beckoning me toward the back of the house where our animal pen and the garden are situated.

An odd sense of foreboding fills me, that something happened to Zeke. Did Jonah forget to secure the clasp? Did Zeke get out?

Am I about to find a bloody goat carcass in my backyard?

I peer down the driveway, hoping in vain that perhaps Jonah hasn’t left yet, but Veronica is long gone.

Oscar barks.

“Okay, okay. Hold on!” I say, though the dog can’t possibly understand me.

The window in our laundry room overlooks the animal pen. I go to check it and sag against the wall with relief when I spot Zeke pacing the orchard hay Jonah left him this morning, too agitated by Oscar to eat. Bandit’s curious triangular face pokes out from the chicken coop window.

It’s not our animals that has Oscar riled up, so what is it? Could it be the other dog in trouble? Are there more bear traps on our property, waiting to snag an unsuspecting leg? If so, why wouldn’t Oscar go home to get Roy?

Unless he figures Roy will shoot him on the spot.

I shake my head at myself. This is a dog. He doesn’t figure anything.

What if this is about Roy?

Did he have another heart attack? Is he lying somewhere dead, or close to it?

“Shit.” Miserable SOB or not, I can’t ignore Oscar and go about my day with that thought in my head. My gut is telling me Oscar is behaving like this for good reason.

And he has come to me.

I try calling Jonah to see what he thinks, but there’s no answer on either his cell phone or the satellite phone. Toby doesn’t answer his phone, either. I even try Muriel, desperate for advice. But her phone is rarely on her person, and she doesn’t answer now.

Oscar’s frantic barks are not relenting.

I waffle on indecision for another long moment, and then, swallowing my unease, I pull on my rubber boots and a jacket, grab my bug spray, and head out the door to the ATV, where Oscar awaits.

He takes off ahead, running awkwardly on three legs.

I crank the engine and follow, past Zeke, who doesn’t trot to the gate as per usual, his creepy horizontal pupils locked on Oscar. Oscar pays no attention, though, slinking past the garden and off to the left, through a narrow clearing in the bramble.

I slow for a moment.

Just long enough to second-guess the intelligence of this. I could use the roads to get to Roy’s house, rather than cut through the trees. It’s probably safer, given I’m alone.