Before the Rain Read Free Page A

messing with you.” He patted the roof. “Ask Betty for a road map when you catch up with her. I can’t be wasting time dancing on the roads with you again.”
    He climbed back in his truck. She admired his tight, fitted jeans, faded where the material hugged his rounded ass and thick thighs, and she couldn’t help but crane her neck to get a better view.
    Welcome to Wales, Zoe.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Stones crunched beneath the wheels as Zoe eased the Mini over the gravel toward a cluster of red brick buildings sitting isolated amid rolling hills. A few metal-roofed barns stood to the side. Rose Farm, she hoped. Well, she dared not to think about the other possibilities since she was now miles from civilization. She’d seen the horror movies—house in the middle of nowhere, lost tourist, and crazy people out to…she shuddered.
    “Best not let the imagination runaway with you, Zoe,” she murmured, thinking up ways to defend herself just in case.
    Normally, she kept a pistol in her purse, but customs didn’t allow such a thing. She didn’t even have pepper spray.
    Maybe spritzing travel-sized perfume in a villain’s eyes would sting enough to allow for a speedy escape? Perfume was her only available defense, that and her ability to kick darn high. She’d make do.
    She parked at the gate of the large house, got out, stretched, and sucked in a long breath. The dewy air fragrant with cut grass and floral hints refreshed her after the long journey and eased her tensed muscles a little. She took another breath, and something else in the air caught her senses and made her choke. Something sweet but not so pleasant—cow poop.
    She waved a hand across her face to rid the smell from her nostrils.
    That reminded her. Perfume.
    She dragged the tiny spray bottle of eau de toilette out of her purse and doused herself in the floral hues to refresh from the eau-de-day-of-travel stink. She then tucked the bottle into the pocket of her light hoodie so she’d be able to grab her secret weapon if the Welshman had led her down the path to a lunatic.
    A sign hung above the main entrance to the building, but the glare from the sun reflected across the black plaque and obscured the words. She hoped it said Rose Farm.
    The hinges of the metal gates creaked as she pushed her way into the garden of the farmhouse, which boasted a red door. Pink roses climbed the corners and twisted around sash windows where cream net curtains hung. And a black Jeep was parked in front of the detached two-car garage.
    She made her way up the drive.
    A-ha. The sign above the door confirmed the address. Ffermydd Cododd . Rose Farm.
    The grounds were immaculate down to the perfectly paved pathway lined with a bright purple and yellow border of pansies and lavender.
    A dog whizzed by her feet, tail wagging, and splattered mud over her coffee-stained designer yoga pants before racing behind the house.
    She rubbed at the mess but her efforts made it worse and ground the mud deeper into the material. Yes, she’d littered. Yes, she’d spilled stuff. And, yes, she wore casual clothes. But they were expensive and the “not trying to look good” style wasn’t cheap to keep up with. Jobless, she might not be able to afford to splurge on outfits for a long while. Oops.
    “Okay, breathe, Zoe. Coffee and mud washes out. It isn’t the end of the world.”
    Several sheep gathered at the property fence separating the farm’s garden from the neighboring field. They bleated and shuffled toward her, and mashed up against the chicken-wire fence. Lucy had told her about these sheep. How they appeared at the oddest moments, as if following her at all times. “Stalked” was the word her sister had used. At the time Zoe had thought the tale an exaggeration. Now she believed it.
    They watched her every step, their beady eyes glued on her as she inched toward the property. Gave her the creeps. But then so did the prospect of knocking on a stranger’s door in the middle of