Homewrecker (Into the Flames #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the line around the tree, I fasten the hook on the end and tug to make sure it’s secure.
    “OK,” I shout, giving Gunnar a thumbs up. “Hit it!”
    Sitting on a nearby tree stump, I watch Gunnar fumble with the winch before hitting the button on the remote to start the motor. Slowly, the wheels move, as inch-by-inch of the wire is pulled back into the drum, freeing the truck from the thick mud. Gunnar focuses on the line and the position of the tires, then finally stops the truck.
    “All right,” he calls out. “Unhook it and let’s go grab some food.”
    Standing to my feet, I walk over and begin unhooking the line from the tree. Hopping off the bank, I slip, landing on my hands and knees.
    “Kennedy!” Gunnar shouts.
    Rolling to my back, I stare up at the sky and laugh. I laugh so hard my entire body is shaking and I can’t stop even if I wanted to. “Shit, babe, are you all right?” Gunnar asks, dropping to his knees beside me. “Let me help you up,” he offers. Sitting up, I nod, letting him get his arms around my waist.
    “I’m fine,” I manage to say through my giggles as he helps me to my feet. Wrapping my mud-covered arms around his neck, I leap into his embrace. My legs wind around him, making him stumble and sending him falling back on his ass.
    “Well now we match,” Gunnar says looking down at our mud covered bodies, a smile spreading across his face.
    Cupping his cheeks with my hands, I giggle when it does nothing but spread mud all over his face. “There’s nothing wrong with getting dirty, Gunnar,” I say before pressing my lips to his.
    Gunnar’s mouth moves against mine, his hands sliding beneath my t-shirt. Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the thought of exactly how dirty we can get in the mud hole right now. My fingers slip into his hair, and just as I start to open my mouth for him, his lips are gone. Burying his face in my neck, he sighs. “Come on, we should head back.”
    Pulling back, I nod. Moment passed. Pushing to my feet, I start swiping at some of the clumps of mud that are starting to dry. I head back to the truck and climb into the passenger side. Grabbing towels from the back seat, I spread one out for me to sit on then drape the other over the driver’s seat for Gunnar, while he tends to the last of the winch line that I dropped when I fell.
    “All right,” Gunnar says when he climbs into the truck. “Let’s get outta here.”
    The drive back into town is quiet. Occasionally, Gunnar reaches over to squeeze my knee or hold my hand, but a lot of the trails back down the mountain need him to have both hands on the wheel. Tired of the usual silence between us, I turn up the radio and start fumbling with the preset stations, trying to find something better than talk radio or the usual Sunday preaching that dominates the top forty station every week.
    Gunnar pulls into the grocery store parking lot and the light flickers on the radio when I change the station for the hundredth time, so I just turn it off. “Let’s grab some shit for sandwiches or somethin’ and then get back to the house to clean up,” he says finding a spot to park.
    Since we are both covered in mud, we tackle the store together. While I get Gunnar’s favorite thin sliced deli ham, some thick Applewood smoked bacon, and everything else we need to make sandwiches, Gunnar grabs the chips and more beer since I drank the last two the other night while watching a movie. We don’t pay any attention to the dirty looks we get because of how much of a mess we’re making with mud falling off of us by simply walking. I’ve seen worse messes made with less of a fuss.
    Once we’ve loaded the bags into the back, Gunnar slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key but nothing happens.
    “What the hell,” he groans after turning the key again and getting nothing but a clicking sound. “Shit.”
    “What’s wrong?” I ask, as if I don’t already know.
    “Battery, alternator, hell it could just