Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 8
     
    P ortia woke with a start. Her mother and father had left the bedroom, but she heard their voices downstairs. She smelled the comforting aroma of coffee and listened to the sound of clinking dishes in the kitchen.
    Sun streamed in the windows and both dogs pressed against her, Boomer behind her knees and Cupcake on the pillow by her head. She reached up to stroke Cupcake’s soft curly fur, thinking randomly she should get her groomed.
    What a strange, yet decidedly normal thought to have .
    An everyday, regular-person thought.
    No worries of survival, escape. No thoughts of murder or revenge.
    Murder.
    She shuddered, trying to push the horrible memories away…far away. It didn’t work. Unbidden images of him lying on the cabin porch flashed across her mind’s eye.
    Had she done it? Did she actually kill him? Or was he only knocked unconscious long enough for her to grab the keys, get the dog, and steal his lousy truck?
    Would he come after her?
    He knows where I live.
    She started shaking, but Boomer woke, stepped over her, and began to lap her hands and cheeks industriously, as if the sweet ministrations of his soft tongue could make her whole again.
    Maybe it could.
    She buried her face in his furry neck, quietly sobbing. “Thanks, Boomer.”
    As if to help with the nurturing, Cupcake started to nuzzle Portia’s hands, pushing her cold, wet nose into them. She snuggled closer, her body nestled into the curve under the girl’s arm.
    With dogs like this, she thought, maybe there is hope.
    Maybe I can survive. Recover. Heal.
    Maybe .
    The scent of bacon sizzled up the stairway.
    Her stomach wrenched in hunger.
    Bacon. Real bacon .
    She sat up tentatively, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. Slowly, she slid her feet into the slippers her father had lined up next to her bed last night.
    One, two, three. Up.
    She steadied herself on the headboard, feeling stronger than the day before. Both dogs jumped off the bed and shook themselves, trotting around her in excited circles.
    “You guys want to go out, huh?”
    She leaned down to pat them both again, and their tails wagged in unison.
    Still feeling relatively steady, she reached for the robe she’d torn off during the night when she got too hot under the covers. She’d flung it to the floor, but someone—probably her mother—had folded it over the edge of the chair. She slid into it and tied the terry cloth sash into a snug bow.
    Somehow, this innocent, everyday action felt supremely good.
    To have a bathrobe to wrap up in….
    To be able to choose her own clothing, rather than be forced into wearing something bizarre that he made her wear.
    She might just stay in pajamas for the rest of her natural life.
    She let out a half-smile, and headed for the hallway.
    ***
    Boone finished tossing hay to the mares in the east pasture, then dragged the hose out to the big water tub extending through the fence for both the stallion and the mares. He watched the water fill, letting it overflow for a few minutes so all the dust and dirt and stray pieces of hay were flushed out of the container.
    Leaning back against the fence, he surveyed the property, loving the feel of the early morning sun on his face. Dozens of horses grazed in the distance and several lowered their heads to the flakes of hay he’d strewn on the ground near the barn. A bay filly, almost a year old, approached the water tank, ears perked straight up. After drinking her fill of cool water, she ambled closer to Boone, nudging him with her wet muzzle.
    “You want a treat, Laurel?”
    She pushed him again, this time gently nipping at his jeans.
    “Okay, okay. I’ll get you a piece.” He fished out a few chunks of carrots and let her take them from his palm. “There you go.”
    Patting her neck, he admired her conformation. Broad chest, strong neck, flat topline. A perfect Morgan, maybe even top show quality. She arched her pretty neck, tossing her head and