by Susan Stoker, Cristin Harber, Cora Seton, Lynn Raye Harris, Kaylea Cross, Katie Reus, Tessa Layne
“The horses or the photo-op?”
Travis shot Weston a warning glare and turned back to Hope. “When?”
“Anytime. I’ve been studying more cases where trauma victims are positively impacted by working with horses. I think it could help him.”
“It helped me when I was in a bad spot a few years ago,” Weston volunteered.
“When was this?” Travis asked, intrigued. Weston hadn’t spoken much about the time before he’d moved to Prairie. In face, Travis had been surprised he’d taken the job offer. Weston hadn’t grown up out west, but he’d taken to the western life like a fish to water.
“Before you called me to come work for you. There’s a program in Montana at the Triple Bar H Ranch called Horses Helping Heroes. You work with horses, training them, and caring for them. But it’s really about giving you coping skills again. A lot of their guys have gone on to be farriers, or guides, or work on ranches.”
“Exactly.” Hope agreed emphatically, her signature strawberry blonde braids swinging behind her. “Horses communicate with you in ways we don’t yet understand. Which is why I think it’s really important we get Dax out to the ranch. I think we can help him.”
Weston stood.
“Where you going?”
A glint of challenge entered his eye. “I thought I’d go talk to Elaine. Seeing’s how you’re tongue-tied around her.”
Asshole. “I’ll do it.” Travis swung a leg over the bench and stood, ignoring Weston’s soft chuckle behind him. He could talk to Elaine. He could talk to anyone. She was just like anyone else in town. And it wasn’t like he was asking her on a date. This was to help Dax.
CHAPTER TWO
Elaine walked away from the table where Travis and Weston were sitting, clutching the coffee pot to keep it from shaking. Why was she so jumpy this morning? She’d nearly dumped a plate of food on Anders from the Feed ’n Seed. And when she’d tried to apologize, she realized she didn’t even know his last name.
Prairie was funny that way. Everyone was on a first name basis. Anders’ Feed ’n Seed. Emmaline’s Dress Shop. Dottie’s Diner. A sign of true friendship, of intimacy, was when you knew someone well enough they told you their last name. And she was a nobody. Hardly memorable except to a select few women Dottie had introduced her to since she’d started at the diner.
The shining exception to that unspoken rule was Travis Kincaid. Everyone worshipped Travis Kincaid. The man practically walked on water. And who could blame people for thinking that? He was the perfect police chief. Big. Strong. Imposing.
But he had kind eyes behind the aviators he always wore. She’d seen them. And she’d learned enough in her short time on earth that she knew people’s eyes never lied. You could sum up a man in less time than it took to snap your fingers – just by looking him in the eyes. And the first time she’d looked Travis in the eyes, she couldn’t look away. There was pain in his eyes, for sure. And way too much brooding. How could there not be after what Prairie had experienced? And rumor had it he was a former Navy SEAL. So he must have experienced the horrors of war, too. In spite of that, when he wasn’t brooding and preoccupied, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, his eyes radiated confidence. Kindness.
The man had a devastating smile, too. It had only been directed her way a few times in the last two years, but oh, my. She’d turned to a puddle on the spot. In fact, she’d been surprised her clothes hadn’t started smoking.
She let out a small sigh as she replaced the coffee pot on the portable warmer Dottie had set up to the side of the food truck. Travis Kincaid was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny. She had a better chance of winning the lottery than getting someone like Travis to notice her, let alone want to be with her. “Stop it, girl,” she muttered to herself. “You have too many problems as it is.” Romance would only make it worse. Especially with a cop. A relationship with a lawman would invite scrutiny where she didn’t want it.
A table piled with the remains of several eaters’ meals caught her attention. The trash cans were only steps from the tables, but she insisted on bussing the dishes herself. It made her feel useful. Dottie should’ve let her go along with the line cook in the days following the tornado. But she had to have a job, and Dottie insisted she stay on. She stacked the disposable plates, taking care that nothing spilled on her shirt. Turning, she nearly slammed into the object of her late-night fantasies.
“Let me.” His voice had entirely too much sex appeal, and it fuzzed her brain as she stood rooted to the spot. Large, strong hands took the trash from her, but he didn’t move, and neither did she. Elaine dragged her eyes up over his massive chest, made more so by the bulletproof vest that was part of his daily attire. She’d rarely seen him out of uniform. But those few occasions had fueled her imagination to fill in the blanks. The man was a wall of muscle.
She continued her upward perusal over his strong jaw, to his full mouth, which at the moment held a shadow of a smile, landing on his hazel eyes alight with an intensity that snagged her breath in the back of her throat. She couldn’t look away.
He turned, breaking whatever hung delicately suspended between them, and walked the dishes through the cluster of tables to the trash. But instead of moving on like she expected, he swiveled and caught her eye again, holding her gaze like a tractor beam as he crossed back to her. A tingle started across her shoulders and skittered in waves down through her body to settle in an ache at her core. She clenched her thighs, trying to contain the sensation. When she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.
Again.
Sure, she’d had a crush on him since he walked into Dottie’s on her first day nearly two years ago. But since the tornado, she’d been giddy and jittery around him like she’d drunk too much coffee. She’d made such a fool of herself that afternoon, collapsing into him, hysterical with relief that Dax was safe. His arms had come around her, sure and strong. Comforting. As if he truly cared about her.
But today, something was different. She’d felt it as soon as she’d brushed against him while pouring his coffee. She couldn’t put her finger on it, at least not yet. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d sensed Travis’s eyes on her everywhere she moved this morning. Tracking her like a cat watches its prey before it pounces. It made her heart pound in ways it never had before. Not from fear, but from… anticipation.
“Thanks,” she stuttered when her voice decided to function.
“Happy to help.”
He wasn’t moving. She heated under his intense scrutiny, nipples pulling tight. “Is something wrong?” Dread momentarily refocused her thoughts, tightening her throat as her hopes sank like a rock. That must be it. Travis didn’t make small talk. He must know. Maybe Dottie had let it slip. Well, if he did, he did. She couldn’t change her past, and while she might be ashamed of who she was when she was younger, she wasn’t ashamed of who she was now. At least not much.
His staring unnerved her. Was this some kind of ninja mind trick to get her to start singing like a canary? Her skin itched as a riot of feelings warred for supremacy inside her. Worry might be there, just below the surface, but it was eclipsed by an equally primal and physical response. The light in his eyes made her want things that were not for her. “Travis?”
She swore she saw him shake himself.
“Hope stopped me this morning and mentioned that you and Dax haven’t been out to their stables yet.”
The Hansens had been so kind to her since the tornado, paying special attention to Dax even though it was their uncle who died keeping her son safe. She was indebted to them for life. She had no intention of taking further advantage.
She shook her head and shrugged, moving to clear another table. Travis followed. She glanced his direction but avoided his eyes. “I’m already the town charity case. I just can’t.”
He made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m incredibly grateful for everyone’s
kindness.” Especially Dottie’s. She’d be lost without the woman. Or worse. Even though the diner job on its own wasn’t enough to make ends meet. With the library and her second job gone in the tornado too, she’d have to muddle through while the town rebuilt. “I have to stand on my own two feet.”
Travis took another pile of plates from her hands and waited patiently while she collected the rest of the trash from the table, then followed her to the barrel. “You’ve been standing on your own two feet plenty. You ever think people might worry about you?”
“Ha.” She hadn’t meant for the bitter laugh to escape, but it had.
Travis’s hand came down on her shoulder, and he spun her to face him, his other hand coming down opposite. That wasn’t a thrill rocketing down her spine. Nope. She made the mistake of looking up, only to be pinned by his eyes doing their ninja mind trick thing again.
“What gives, Elaine? Why won’t you go?”
Bitterness rose through her, lodging in the back of her throat. “You don’t get it, do you? You think it’s pride, or-or guilt, or-or… I don’t know, something else. How about I don’t own a car? I don’t even know how to drive. And even if I had a bike, or Dax had one, I’d never bring a bike within fifty feet of Highway 30. Not with no shoulder and too many construction trucks on it these days.”
There. Let him chew on that.
He wanted to know what it was? Poverty. Plain and simple. And the humiliation that accompanied it. She shut her eyes, willing away the hot pricks that poked at her eyelids. She scrimped and scratched, and she couldn’t even get her son a bike, let alone the latest Transformer he always seemed to be begging for. And phones, tablets, or laptops? Forget it. She’d been studying for her GED at the library, and now that dream was destroyed, too. Just once, she wanted to be the one to get her son something nice, take him someplace nice.
“I’ll take you.”
“You?” Her stomach pitched.
Travis made an exaggerated effort of looking first left, then right. Turning around, before throwing her one of those devastating smiles. “I don’t see anyone else.”
The word Yes sprang up, ready to burst from the back of her throat, but she reined it in, shaking her head. “That’s very kind of you, but you don’t need to do that.”
Her libido protested mightily.
God, she’d give anything to spend an hour with him when neither of them was on the clock. But, no. Saying yes was a bad, bad, bad idea. Besides, women like her didn’t get to have men like Travis. Kind. Fair. Trustworthy.
“It’s no problem at all. More importantly, I think it will be good for Dax.”
Of course. For a split second she’d allowed herself to think he might be asking because he was interested in her. She ignored the little ache that lodged at the bottom of her chest. Of course, he was asking for Dax. Just like a good, upstanding cop. And that was sweet, really. Dax worshipped Travis. He was the only other adult besides herself and Dottie that Dax would talk to right now. So it went without saying that Travis would naturally take an interest in Dax.
But that still didn’t mean she could take advantage of the Hansens’ offer. “You probably don’t have a car seat. Dax is still in a booster seat.”
Travis seemed unfazed. “Not a problem.”
“He’s never ridden a horse before.”
“Also not a problem. Hope thinks it will help him.”
Temptation won out. And curiosity. If Hope thought horses could help her son get back to being the rambunctious, curious, funny kid he’d been before the tornado, she’d give it a try. “I do worry about him.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
“I’m so sorry, but I work tomorrow.”
“I’ll work it out with Dottie.”
“But–”
Travis held up a finger. “No buts. I’ll see you at nine.”
CHAPTER THREE
Travis paced back and forth in front of the large stone fireplace that anchored the great room of the Kincaid family home. Three paces across, turn, three paces back, glance at his watch, then at the booster seat on the floor by the door, then another turn and the pattern began again.
Where in the hell was Weston? Weston was going to make him late. And he hated being late. Almost as much as he hated oversleeping. As soon as he heard Weston’s truck roar into the yard, he was out the door, booster seat in hand. By the time Weston’s boots hit the porch step, Travis had locked the deadbolt and was making a show of checking his watch.
“You’re gonna make me late.”
Weston snorted. “It’s just now eight-thirty. How long is it going to take you to drive through town? A whole ten minutes?”
“To the FEMA park?” Most of the FEMA trailers had been placed in the KOA at the edge of town. “Thirteen minutes and twenty-six seconds.”
“But who’s counting?”
“You know we’ve had to take a few late-night calls out there,” he grumbled. Just one of many reasons why Travis had ordered extra patrols through the FEMA park. It had nothing to do that he might be worried about the safety of a certain single mom and her son.
Weston eyed the booster seat. “I see someone’s been busy. Where’d you get that?”
Travis shrugged. “Drove into Manhattan. I picked up several for the station. Probably something we should have on hand for emergencies.”
Weston quirked a smile. “Probably. But I was talking about that.” He tilted his chin at the Transformer tucked under his thumb.
Why was Weston staring at him like he had grown an extra head? “What? Kid needs a toy and I sure as hell wasn’t going to get him a teddy bear.” He was off his game this morning. Unsettled. Distracted. He wasn’t even like this before a mission. Sure, he might feel the adrenaline thrumming in his fingers and toes, but it only heightened his awareness. Made him more focused. This morning, the thrumming came from an entirely different place and he needed to shut it down fast.
Travis tossed the keys to the beat-up ’76 Chevy truck that he still thought of as his dad’s over to Weston. “Trade me.”
Weston easily caught the keys and jammed them in his pocket, chuckling and shaking his head. “No way, man. I’m coming along for the ride.”
What? He couldn’t say why that irritated the shit out of him. He’d fallen asleep last night mulling over all the potential topics of conversation with Elaine. But if Weston was along, judging every word he uttered, he was screwed. He’d fuck it up like he had the day before. “I don’t need a chaperone.”
“I didn’t think this was a date.”
The fucker was already laughing at him. “It’s not.”
“Then what’s the big problem?”
Three’s a crowd. But he couldn’t say that, even though every cell in his body shouted it. Because he wasn’t interested in Elaine. Couldn’t be interested in a lady like her. He opened his mouth to explain, but then snapped it shut. It wasn’t worth the ribbing he’d have to endure.
Weston placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head back, laughing. “You got it bad, man. Just admit it.”
“Fuck you.”
“I love you too, champ.”
“I know why you’re doing this.”
“Yeah?”
“Once a swim buddy always a swim buddy.”
Weston huffed out a laugh. “Maybe something like that.”
There was a reason Weston was the first person Travis had called when he’d become police chief. Weston had been there for him in some of his lowest moments during BUD/S training. And a bond forged in the cold, sleep-deprived waters off Coronado was never broken. “Come on, then.”
As they pulled into the FEMA park, the knot in Travis’s stomach tightened. There were too many people in town post-tornado to keep track of. Between builders, inspectors, and demolition crews, he no longer recognized every face. It was hard to know who was a part of the recovery effort and who was just passing through town. It set him on edge. He pointed Weston to Elaine’s trailer.
>
Weston slid him a knowing glance.
Travis squirmed in his seat, drumming his fingers on the console. Why wouldn’t he know where Elaine lived? He also knew that the Waldrons lived three houses down with their son, Davie, who was the same age as Dax. So what?
Weston pulled the truck to a stop and set the brake, turning to him. “I’ll wait here. And be cool, man. Remember to tell her she looks nice.”
“It’s not a date,” Travis grumbled as he hopped out of the truck. As he approached the door, he pulled up short, stomach lurching. The door stood ajar six inches. Shit. Had someone broken in? Were they safe? What if the intruder was armed? His brain flew through half a dozen ugly scenarios and he turned back to Weston, giving him the silent signal to circle around.
Weston’s eyes grew wide with concern. Travis signaled again, going into full-on stealth mode. Weston slipped out of the truck, and ducked around the far side of the trailer, shaking his head as he went. Silently, he approached the door, scanning left and right, cocking his ear for any sounds of trouble. His fingers itched to pull his weapon, but in a small space it was too dangerous. He’d have to rely on his hand-to-hand skills if Elaine was in trouble. He could use the Transformer he clutched as a projectile if necessary. Blood pounding in his ears, he gave the door a little push, breathing a silent prayer of thanks that the door didn’t squeak as it fell open wider. Slowly, he stepped in, quickly scanning the empty room for signs of danger. Nothing. A tiny space with a short hall to the left past the tiny kitchen. In front of him a small table and chairs. To his right, a couch and a folding door. Where were they?
He pivoted toward the noise he heard on his left, the tight knot between his shoulders unspooling when he saw Dax standing at the edge of the short hall. “Why was the door open?” he growled.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Elaine asked, her normally soft voice sharp with surprise.
The sight of her freshly showered, with still damp hair, turned something liquid inside him. So fresh. So sweet. So kissable.
