He looked at her sideways. “I promise I’m fine. My muscles get stiff in the cold sometimes, but the movement helps.”
She chewed her bottom lip, an idea forming with this new information. “I wonder if a massage would help too? I had one yesterday at the spa and it worked wonders for my tight muscles.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never tried one before. I felt funny enough going to a yoga class. I don’t think I could live down going to the spa.”
She laughed at the look of consternation on his face. “Comfort zones, remember?” She nudged his side. “I was thinking of making another appointment for tonight after class—want me to schedule one for you too?”
He raised both eyebrows. “Like a couples massage?”
She blinked several times, her face growing warm. “I think you’d be more comfortable in your own room.” More like she’d be more comfortable. The thought of getting a massage next to him and all those well-defined muscles was too much. There was no way she would be able to relax in that situation.
He tipped his head, considering. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
She released the breath she’d been holding and smiled. “Great! I’ll call and see about booking.” She was certain it would be good for him. After the neck massage she’d given him in class and feeling the tightness in his muscles, she knew he needed it. His masseuse would have a heyday working through all those knots.
He shook his head, his blue eyes taking on a teasing gleam. “If I’d known you were going to take me so seriously about the comfort zone thing, I never would have mentioned it.”
“We’re both doing things we haven’t done before,” she reminded, loving the way his face softened when he teased her.
“That’s right. We’re in this together.” His eyes flicked to hers, and her heart did a flip.
There was something else behind his teasing—something deeper. Or was she only imagining it because she wanted it there? She swallowed. “Definitely.” She pointed a finger at him. “And I’m willing to bet you a cup of hot cocoa you’re going to enjoy the massage.”
He chuckled. “You’re on.”
They walked hand in hand back to the resort, Owen’s limp still slightly noticeable. Hope bit the inside of her cheek. She was glad he was willing to give the massage a try. Now if she could only get him to open up about his leg injury and the story behind it, she would really be getting somewhere.
Chapter 19
“You should know it’s not easy for me to admit defeat,” Owen said, balancing his cup of cinnamon hot chocolate as he handed Hope’s drink to her. Her cocoa looked like Christmas in a cup with crushed candy canes scattered on top.
She accepted the drink with a smug smile. “That’s what makes the victory all the sweeter.” She licked a bit of whipped cream off her hand and Owen had to resist the urge to stare. He wanted to kiss the sweetness on her lips. “Want to sit by the fireplace in the lobby?” she asked.
He blinked to regain focus. “Sure.”
They walked into the deserted lobby. After class, their massages, and dinner, it was well past nine thirty. Aside from the lone staff member at the concierge desk, no one else was around.
Owen sank down into the overstuffed leather chair opposite Hope.
“So, you really liked your massage?” she asked. “You didn’t just pretend to like it so you could buy my cocoa?”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’ve never tried it before, but that definitely won’t be the last time.” His masseuse had really gone to town on the kinks and knots in his muscles, leaving him slightly sore but genuinely relaxed. He could only imagine how good it would feel to get a massage after a long cattle drive when he’d spent days in the saddle. Maybe his mom could recommend a place in Corpus Christi.
“I’m glad.” She leaned forward, her eyes mischievous. “But I warn you, it’s addictive. I get a massage on a semi-regular basis now.”
“You deserve it, after what you put your muscles through.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you did some of those moves in your class tonight.”
She shrugged. “I told you it was a more advanced class. But you and your mom did great.”
He snorted, knowing she was being generous. “My mom did well, but I was totally out of my comfort zone.” He raised his eyebrows. “And not in a good way. My body doesn’t move like that.”
“It takes time to work into the flexibility. You just have to be patient with yourself.” She regarded him before looking at her cocoa. “But with that being said ... it’s really okay if you don’t want to keep coming to class. No one will fault you for it.”
He straightened, caught off guard. “I know that, but I want to.”
Her brown eyes tightened. “Do you?” She paused and looked away. “I mean, I don’t want to sound rude, but I’ve been teaching yoga for a while …” She pressed her lips together and glanced back at him. “And sometimes I can tell whether a person is enjoying the class or not.”
Owen leaned back in his seat. He was busted. But if there was one thing he’d learned in life, it was that the truth was always the best course of action. He stared into the fire. “You’re right. I don’t really enjoy it—that much.” He blew out a breath. “It’s hard for me to be still.” He shifted in his chair, realizing too late that the motion only emphasized his point. He tossed Hope an apologetic look.
She gave an understanding nod in return.
He sighed, knowing in his gut it was time to tell her. “There’s a reason for that.” He looked around, noting the lobby was still empty, before he stared back at the flames. “I told you yesterday that the story behind my scar was for another time.” He shrugged. “And now seems like just as good a time as any, I guess.”
She smiled, waiting patiently for him to continue.
He squared his shoulders, feeling the tension pool in his chest the way it always did when he thought back to that day. “It happened last December. On the nineteenth.” He would never forget the date. “Our platoon was traveling in a three-vehicle convoy. It was a resupply mission to Camp Leatherneck in Helmand, and our truck was in the lead.” He swallowed. “I was driving. My buddy Eli sat in the passenger’s side. We went through boot camp together and became good friends. He was from Austin, and us Southern boys like to stick together.” He attempted a smile, but it fell flat. He gripped his hot chocolate with both hands.
“Eli was making fun of my music choice—I always picked country music and he liked to spout off jokes about rednecks.” He shook his head and huffed a laugh. “As if he could talk. He was an even bigger redneck than I am.” He swallowed again, the golf ball in his throat too big to go on. He didn’t dare look at Hope. He knew he would lose control of his emotions if he saw pity in her eyes. He cleared his throat a few times and stared at his hands.
“We hit an IED in the road. One minute we were laughing and joking, and the next—” His hands shook, so he set his cup on the table beside the chair and ran his palms down his thighs. After his emotions were in check, he continued. “The next minute, everything was in slow motion. The explosion was deafening. The truck was on fire.” He put his fist to his mouth and took a steadying breath.
Hope reached across, placing her hand on his knee. She gave him a reassuring squeeze, and he appreciated her silent support. He reached down and laced his fingers through hers. Her hands were warm and smooth and calmed him enough to keep talking.
“Our truck was on fire, so I yelled at Eli, but he didn’t respond. He was hunched over, so I unbuckled him from the seat and dragged him from the vehicle. When we got to the side of the road, I took one look at his face and knew he was gone.” His voice choked off and he dropped his head.
He hated talking about this. Hated that it happened. Hated himself for being the one behind the wheel. He should have somehow seen it coming. Should have stopped before his best friend was killed. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.
Hope was silent for several heartbeats—maybe even
longer—before gently squeezing his hand. “Want to go for a walk?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, expecting to find judgment in her gaze, but all he saw was sympathy and something else he couldn’t quite define. His shoulders relaxed and he bobbed his head once. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
She seemed to sense what he needed, even before he did. And in that moment, he needed to move.
Chapter 20
Hope loved the feel of Owen’s hand in hers. His hand was rough and strong; the kind of hand that promised security. They’d forgotten to get their gloves when they went back to their rooms for their coats, but she was secretly glad because now she had an excuse to hold Owen’s hand to keep hers warm.
They walked outside the lodge among the twinkling pine trees. Owen hadn’t spoken much since he’d opened up about his experience in Afghanistan, and Hope was letting him take the lead in conversation. She knew it could be therapeutic for an individual to talk about a traumatic event—when the individual was ready.
Her mom had always told her she was a gifted listener, and she’d even dabbled with the idea of going into psychiatry before finding her love for yoga and meditation. But she ached for Owen and what he’d been through. She was grateful for the freedoms she enjoyed and knew they came at a high cost. Her grandpa had been a WWII vet and she’d been raised with a deep appreciation for those who served to protect her rights and liberties.
“I’m sorry if I came off too heavy before,” Owen said, giving her a sideways glance. “I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you.”
“It wasn’t too heavy,” she assured him. “When I asked about the scar, I was prepared for a battle story. I’m just sorry you had to go through that.”
His face darkened. “It was my own fault. There’s no one to blame but myself.”
She froze in her tracks, her mouth gaping. “Your fault? How do you figure?”
He looked away, his breath sending a puff of vapor in the cold night air. “I told you—I was the one driving. I should have seen the IED.”
Hope took his shoulders and turned him to face her. “Owen, this is not your fault. You didn’t place the IED in the road. They’re deadly for a reason—completely hidden. There was nothing you could have done.”
He stared off in the distance, his jaw tense. “I’ve tried to tell myself that, but I can’t shake the blame. It should have been me lying alongside the road, not Eli.”
Hope’s heart throbbed at the depth of pain in his eyes. He blamed himself for the attack and carried his friend’s death on his shoulders. No wonder he suffered so much. She put her hand on the side of his face. He leaned into her palm, closing his eyes.
“I know I don’t have the right words to make any of this better,” she said softly. “And I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through. But I can tell you that I’m here anytime you need someone to talk to.”
“Thank you.” He opened his eyes. “I don’t usually talk about what happened. It’s too painful.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “But with you, it’s different.” He searched her face. “Has anyone ever told you you’re easy to talk to?”
She smiled faintly. “My mom used to say that. I’ve even had complete strangers open up and tell me their life stories.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
She nodded. “People need a listening ear—someone who cares. We’re all so busy these days that it’s easy to feel overlooked and unloved.”
He tipped his head to the side, studying her. “My mom said you were wise beyond your years ... and she was right.”
Hope’s pulse quickened as his blue eyes penetrated hers. Her face grew warm and she pressed a hand to her cheek. “I don’t know about that.”
He shook his head and stepped closer, closing the small gap between them. “There’s just something about you, Hope. You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met.”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “Is that a good thing?”
He put his arms around her, and the breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. It was a mix of admiration and wonder. “It’s a very good thing.”
Tingles ran down her spine. She tilted her face up to him, and he bent down to kiss her, instantly flooding her body with warmth. She sighed and pulled him closer, playing with the back of his neck as he kissed her firmly at first, and then more softly as he worked his way from her mouth down to her jawline, trailing kisses just below her chin before finding her lips again.
Hope felt breathless, basking in the electric shivers igniting throughout her body at Owen’s touch. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. The chemistry between them was unreal. Something so good should be illegal.
The worry from before whispered she shouldn’t get involved like this, knowing how painful it would be when the week was over. But then Owen deepened the kiss and she drew him closer, telling the worry to hush up and enjoy the moment while it lasted.
Chapter 21
The week at Pine Ridge Resort was quickly coming to a close. Owen had attended every one of Hope’s classes, trying hard to enjoy them. But the harder he tried, the more frustrated he became, more convinced than ever that yoga wasn’t for him. Against his better judgment, he’d spent as much free time as possible with Hope, pretending it wasn’t about to abruptly come to an end. As much as he wanted to make time stand still, the days passed until it was their final day. He hoped she would agree to go on one last date with him, not allowing himself to think what would happen when it came time to say goodbye.
“What kind of fudge should we get for your dad and Cody?” Beverly asked, pulling him from his thoughts. They were browsing the hotel gift shop, looking for something to bring to the rest of the family when they returned home.
Owen leaned over the glass case that contained at least a dozen different kinds of fudge. “I don’t know ... Dad seems to like stuff with nuts in it, doesn’t he?”
She tapped her chin. “Yes. Maybe the cashew for him. And the marshmallow for Cody?”
Owen nodded absently, distracted when his cell started ringing. He fished it from his pocket and looked at the screen, surprised to see Hope’s number. She was supposed to be filming. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Owen, I have a huge favor to ask.”
He straightened at the uncharacteristically strained tone in her voice. “Of course. What do you need?”
“Emily is sick. Like, really sick. She can hardly get out of bed, and we only have this short window to film. Max offered to help, but I want him to stay with Em in case she needs anything. I hate to ask on such short notice …” She paused. “… but how are you with a camera?”
* * *
“Am I doing this right?” Owen asked, feeling like he was all thumbs with the camera on the tripod. Hope stood beside him, her ponytail brushing against him as she leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen. She smelled delicious—like vanilla mixed with sugar—making it nearly impossible for him to focus.
“That looks great.” She pointed at the screen. “As long as you keep the camera aimed here, we should be fine. If you want to be fancy, you can zoom in and out every ten minutes or so, but it’s not necessary.” She touched his shoulder and smiled. “Thanks so much for doing this. We really wanted to film another episode so we can run one each week in December.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help—though I can’t promise it will be as good as your sister’s work.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Is she going to be okay?”
Hope’s forehead creased. “I think so. She’s been pretty sick with this pregnancy, which her doctor says is normal, but hopefully it will pass after the first trimester.” She bit her lip.
Owen stood, kicking himself for bringing it up right before she was getting ready to film. He pulled her into a hug, and she buried her face into his shoulder. He loved the feel of her in his arms. It ignited every nerve cell in his body each time they touched. He stroked her back and re
sted his chin on top of her head. “She’ll be fine. I heard somewhere that sickness during pregnancy is a sign that the baby is thriving and healthy.”
She pulled away, her eyes tight. “Really?”
He nodded. “I think so. And at any rate, it sounds like her doctor is aware and she’s getting the rest she needs.” His face softened. “You can’t control the situation, so worrying about it won’t help. Emily wants you to keep filming, so let’s get this done and then you can go check on her.”
She tipped her head to the side, studying him. “That sounds suspiciously like good advice. Have you ever heard of the Serenity Prayer?”
He shook his head.
“I quote it from time to time on my show. It was written by a man named Reinhold Niebuhr. He said, ‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.’”
Owen folded his arms, letting the words sink in. He loved that she had quotes like that memorized. She was smart, and talented, and beautiful—the whole package. Ugh! He bit the inside of his cheek and groaned inwardly. How was he supposed to let her go? She gave him a half smile, unaware of the torturous hold she had on his heart.
“Just something to think about,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and gesturing toward the camera. “Okay, let’s get started.”
Chapter 22
Hope took her place in front of the camera and nodded at Owen. He pressed a button, and as soon as she saw the red light, she smiled. “Hello, friends, and welcome to another episode of Mindful Mornings. Today will be our last episode at the lovely Pine Ridge Resort in Pine Ridge, Colorado. It’s been an amazing week. If you’re ever looking for a place to escape, find your focus, and connect with nature, then this resort is the place for you.” She smiled wider, happy she meant every word of her endorsement. Owen watched the screen and gave her a thumbs-up. She continued to address the camera.
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