Page 23 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

TAMMY

Boy, this dream feels incredibly real. Why does the barn smell like bananas?

The absurdity of last night’s dream bubbled to the surface of my mind as I spooned instant coffee into my favorite mug then added water from the tap. A quick minute in the microwave and I was stirring warm sludge. Instead of a dash of cream, my hand shook and I dumped in enough to turn the black mud into pale tan. I frowned. I liked a little cream with my coffee, and not the other way around.

“Whatever, good enough,” I grumbled to the empty kitchen, turning toward the front door and striding forward, leaving the faint aroma of cheap, bitter coffee in my wake. I closed the door after stepping onto the porch, blinking against the sunlight spilling across Sunflower Hills Ranch. It was a gorgeous morning—bright blue sky unblemished by clouds, the air sweet with notes of cocoa, farm musk, and a fruity undercurrent that made my nose twitch. That didn’t belong, but maybe the breeze was carrying the smell of the neighbor’s pig trough my way again.

I turned my gaze to the stable and the empty pasture beyond. Had I stabled the horses before bed? The weather was supposed to be gorgeous all night, so I really thought I’d left them to roam. I must have gated them up though, because none of the three horses were prancing around the paddock. They were even strangely quiet, no soft neighing to serenade me while I drank my morning cup.

Not a big deal. The horses were safe. That was all that mattered.

I took another gulp of coffee, gaze shifting over to the barn which seemed, thank goodness, upright.

A fresh spark of relief lit in my chest, like I’d won a mini lottery just because the barn—which probably should be condemned—wasn’t toppled over. I sighed, closing my eyes for a second and breathing in the scent of coffee and sunflowers. When I parted my lashes, I stared at the barn again, studying how the bright sunlight highlighted every crack and hole in the weathered wood.

As I stood there, trying to decide if the barn was leaning a little more severely today, my vision fuzzed and then sharpened, leaving me with an unsettled feeling. Had the barn shimmered? Had I, for a millisecond, seen through the damn thing to the flat land beyond? No. It was solid. It was real. I glared at it, waiting for my vision to trick me a second time. And… it did. One moment my eyes were locked on the tilted building, the next it was a collapsed heap of splintered wood and smashed equipment. Panic prickled under my skin, and I rubbed my eyes roughly with one hand, as if that would force reality back into its proper place.

“Jesus, brain, knock it off. That dream wasn’t even that scary,” I murmured to myself, blaming my hangover for tricking me. Maybe my eyes were just too tired.

But when I blinked again, it happened a third time. One second the barn stood tall and determined, the next it was a crumbled ruin. Panic inched its way through my gut, a heavy band of dread tightening around my insides. The reality of my ranch felt shaky under my feet, an unnerving reminder that nothing here was guaranteed, not even my sanity.

“Freaking weird,” I muttered under my breath, and I nearly laughed as I imagined telling someone about this—like they’d believe my bonkers story. So, like, I had this dream. There was this UFO that crashed into the barn. It was batshit. But of course it was just a dream… pretty sure I’m losing my mind though.

I’m sane.

I’m not losing it.

This was my life. I’d built it from the ground up. Just… shaky ground.

The barn is fine. It’s fine.

I kept telling myself everything was a-okay. After about twenty repetitions in my head, I felt a little better.

I lifted the mug to my lips, seeking further comfort from the cooling, too-creamy drink. What I’d give for a break. A real, no tricks, break. Just a little sliver of victory to keep me going. The coffee’s warmth soothed my throat, but the aftertaste seemed laced with dread which worsened as I leaned forward to get a better look at the barn. This time, I narrowed my eyes and studied the cracked window.

“Are you really there?” I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. “Of course I’m here, are you blind?” I responded to myself in a high-pitched, cartoonish voice.

But then… then… then the window was gone. Not cracked. Just… gone.

In a sudden flash, last night’s dream was at the front of my thoughts, reminding me of the ship that had plunged into the center of my barn… the pitchfork…the scared horses… the loads of whiskey I’d consumed prior to sleeping.

“You were drunk. Let it go.” I gripped the mug tightly, as if it could anchor me to reality. “Stop being ridiculous.”

I was a normal, human woman. I got dirt under my nails these days. My hair was chock full of split ends. My Omega scent was generally overpowered by a perfume of sweat, hay, and sunscreen. So much sunscreen. A redhead doesn’t survive farm work for long without generously slathering it on daily.

Tammy ‘the Normal’ Tucker. That was me. My biggest worry was getting two horses to like one another. Definitely not aliens.

Still, there was a deep, persistent feeling that I couldn’t shake. The nudge that told me I hadn’t been that drunk.

I placed the mug down on the railing too quickly. Thanks to my recklessness, the cup tipped over, plummeting and smashing into the porch floorboards. The handle snapped off. Dammit, that was my favorite novelty coffee mug. Great. Just peachy. But the broken drinkware would stay where it was, ruined against splintered wood while I investigated whether I was losing my freaking mind or not.

Forcing my gaze away from the floor, I locked eyes on the barn as I began moving quickly.

Jesus! It was shimmering again, bending and shifting in ways my brain couldn’t comprehend.

I practically jumped off the porch and darted toward the supply building which seemed, currently, to exist in a state of being and not being.

My pulse throbbed in my throat; each beat a reminder that something strange awaited me just across the yard. Did I need a weapon? In my dream, I’d had one. The pitchfork. I’d… dropped it inside the barn. Despite fear and anxiety roiling in my belly, instinct drove me forward.