by Nicole Helm
Which was oddly warming.
“Well, this will be an opportunity to get some closure with them. For all of you. Not talking about it…not speaking at all?” She focused back on the horse as if that might keep the emotion out of her voice. “I can’t speak for them, but typically when something bad happens, the best way to deal with it is head-on.”
“Oh, Monica, you do not know my family at all.”
She chuckled at that, but she sobered quickly. “Jack, you had an incredibly traumatic experience in Afghanistan, compounded by a complex relationship betrayal. While you’ve made incredible strides the past few sessions, if you don’t address this piece of it, you’ll never fully be able to accept the events of that day.”
“She’s married to my brother and they have a kid. What more is there to address?”
“Just because some events are irreversible doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with the emotional fallout.”
“Yeah, well, they’re not getting the satisfaction of seeing my emotional fallout.”
“Okay. I can understand that desire. We all want to keep our personal pride intact, and I don’t think that’s a necessarily wrong tack to take. Ignoring it isn’t going to help you though.”
“I’m not going to ignore it. I’m going to flaunt my new happy life, girlfriend and all.”
“Wait. You have a girlfriend?”
“Well, someone who’s agreed to pretend anyway.” Rose hadn’t said a word to him since Saturday night, but he figured if she had decided not to honor their deal, she would have come out and told him that. So he’d spent all week giving her space. He’d thrown himself into ranch work during the day, had his therapy in the afternoon, and pored over vet candidates with Becca, Alex, and Gabe at night.
And yes, he’d spent a lot of that time thinking about Rose, but there was something comforting about that. Thinking about something that wasn’t his limp and pain, his mental state, or the impending arrival of his family made him feel more normal than he had in a long time.
“As your therapist, I can’t condone that plan of action,” Monica said very carefully, frowning as she hung up the mane comb on its peg.
Jack shrugged, dropping the sponge in the bucket. “I didn’t ask for your approval.”
“No, you didn’t.” She stepped out of the stall, and he followed. He could tell she wanted to say something—she kept opening her mouth, then closing it and shaking her head. Finally, she threw her hands up in the air. “You know what, it’s unprofessional, and I should keep my mouth shut, but for what it’s worth, as a friend? I don’t just condone it—I want to see your brother’s face when you show up with a girlfriend.”
Jack barked out a surprised laugh. That was the absolute last thing he’d expected. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t consider Monica a friend—aside from the whole therapy thing, she was part of his business, and her kid was a riot. Friendship had oddly made it easier to trust her with the therapy stuff. She was actually a part of all this. This weird question mark of his life.
“Can I ask you a question not about me or my stuff?”
“Sure.”
“What kind of things would make a person think…” Rose’s words about not being “good guy material” and not the princess who ends up with a decent guy had rattled around in his head, not making any sense. “Well, that they’re not good enough for someone.”
“You’re sure this isn’t about you?”
He blinked at that. He knew he was a little broken. Okay, a lot broken. He knew he wasn’t good or perfect, but he’d never considered that a reason to stay away from people. Or to think all he could ever have with Rose was something fun and temporary.
“No, it’s not about me.”
“Self-worth is a complicated thing. The loss of it can stem from a tragedy, a trauma, or something as simple as consistent undermining from an important relationship or maybe from childhood.”
“Abuse?”
“Definitely.” Monica frowned. “What’s this all about?”
Jack shook his head. “Just thinking about a friend, I guess. How do you help someone find that, then? Self-worth.”
Monica ran a hand over her braid. “Well, that’s complicated too. It has to come from them first—encouraging them to find confidence in things they’re good at, learn new skills, really engage with life. It’s a lot about giving them the space to feel good about themselves, but it’s far more than that. And usually they have to accept some things about the cause of the problem as well, which you can’t do for them.”
Jack considered all of that. Complicated seemed to be the theme for this whole post–Navy SEAL, post-planned-out life he was living.
“Which goes a little bit back to what we’re talking about with the whole family visit thing. It’s an opportunity, Jack, for you to accept some things—or at least address them.”
“Oh, look, time’s up.”
Monica rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. “Okay, but if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Monica.” He offered a wave and headed for the barn. Hick had the day off, and Jack had haying to do. Haying that would be spent wondering if Rose had anyone to talk to. About her problems. About him. About anything at all.
Because he’d been there, with no one to talk to. He’d never talked to Madison about his fears about being deployed and definitely never shared that with his family. He hadn’t wanted to worry them. He’d never discussed anything too difficult with anyone, because that wasn’t what you did. You worked, you dealt, and you lived. Everything else was between you and your nightly prayers.
Here at Revival, he had nothing but people to confide in. Whether he was feeling like crap or had no idea where his life was going or whatever. He had this entire group of people who not only would listen to him, but actually wanted to hear what he had to say.
He didn’t know much about Rose’s life, but she seemed like such an isolated figure. Tough and strong, yeah. She had that old, run-down house in the middle of nowhere to escape to, but she didn’t seem to have anyone. She seemed to make sure not to.
Maybe that meant she didn’t want anyone, at least for the long haul. Maybe that was something he should respect and accept.
Maybe.
* * *
Rose was so not in the mood for a Friday night at the bar, which was unusual. Usually the crowd—and the money coming in—revived her spirits no matter how low they were.
But Jack being in her bar made her edgy. Of course, somehow Jack not being in her bar had made her edgy too, and she’d been waiting around all week for him to show up. He and Gabe usually came in at least one night a week, but he’d been completely absent since Saturday.
She’d known he would come in tonight, since that had been their deal. She’d told herself all week she would not pay him any mind tonight, but her gaze kept finding him…always staring at her from his seat at a table.
The absolute worst part of this was that she didn’t know what to do. Talking to Delia had only confused her more, and a week with no Jack sightings hadn’t clarified anything either.
Because, much as she didn’t really know the guy, she knew parts of the guy, and the way that all worked together to make her feel…soft. Damn it. She couldn’t allow herself to be soft.
She focused on her customers instead, amping up the charm as much as she could. It wasn’t to keep her mind off Jack. It was to get better tips to help Tonya out.
There were people with real problems in this world, and that didn’t include Rose. She could take care of herself and deserved anything that came her way.
The crowd dwindled, and Rose did everything in her power to ignore the moment that Jack got up from his table and started ambling toward the bar. How could a man make her heart beat faster and her stomach flutter like she was nervous?
When he got close enough, she decided to nip this in the bud. “Crowd’s small enough now. You can go.”
He slid onto a bar stool instead. She scowled. He smiled.
“Are you busy tomorrow morning?”
She raised an eyebrow, a perfectly practiced look of disdain. Most men withered. Stupid men winked. Jack simply sat there and waited.
Oh, damn him.
“I thought we should prepare,” he continued. “It looks like my family will be here Thursday. I’ve got quite a bit of work to do all this week, but you can tag along some morning and we can talk about things boyfriends and girlfriends usually know about each other.”
“The only thing my boyfriends have ever known about me is that I have a mean right hook.”
He didn’t even blink. “And whether or not you have a tattoo on your ass, I’m presuming.”
She wouldn’t laugh. She wouldn’t smile. But he was grinning, and if she thought he was hot when he was broody or drunk, it had nothing on happy Jack. “I don’t think your parents will ask about that. Though your ex might want to know.”
His smile dimmed at that, and maybe that was why she had been feeling soft around him. Pity. She felt bad for the guy. It wasn’t about answers or all that crap Delia had been yapping about before she’d hung up puking the other night. It wasn’t about her. It was about the sob story in front of her.
If she could only convince herself of that, then she didn’t have to feel nervous. She could help Jack out without getting all weird about it.
“You ever ridden a horse?”
She blinked at the non sequitur, but when she noticed where his gaze had dropped—her shoulder—she swallowed and adjusted the sleeve of her shirt to cover it.
She tried to step away, and she wasn’t sure why panic beat in her chest. She didn’t have to explain her tattoo. She didn’t have to answer his question. She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want.
Luckily, Jack reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, which centered everything right there. Panic and nerves not gone but settled a little under the bloom of outrage. “Let go of me, sailor, or I’m going to have to cut you.”
He didn’t let go—her own fault, since she wasn’t about to cut him, and they both knew it.
“You have a horse tattoo.”
“Do not,” she retorted stupidly.
He leaned forward, his upper body leaning against the sticky surface of her bar. He pulled her wrist closer, so she had to lean forward. She should fight him off. She should throw a fit and kick his ass. The problem was—and this seemed to always be the problem with Jack—she didn’t want to do any of that.
He used his index finger, just that one finger, to nudge the collar of her shirt back down over her shoulder, where it naturally fell. Even though she didn’t want him to see her tattoo, the gentle way he touched her was hypnotizing. There was no manhandling, no jerking or heavy-handed pawing. It was all very soft. Intoxicating.
Pity. You pity this guy. She tried repeating it over and over to herself until she believed it.
Jack’s blunt fingertip traced the small, black horse inked on her shoulder as a reminder that nothing good ever came from promises. Rose had to swallow against all the unwanted emotion swamping her.
Jack smiled up at her again, and this time, it was a soft, amused thing, not that flash of charm. Somehow it was worse to see him soft, feel his gentleness. Yes, that was most definitely worse.
“So, why do you have the tattoo of a horse?”
“I like horses.”
“You said every one of your tattoos meant something.”
“It means I like horses,” she said through gritted teeth. Gritted because he kept tracing it, and the touch waved across her skin with goose bumps and heat, and she didn’t like that her heart felt all mushy, and she wanted another try at that angry kiss from last week—all at the same time.
“Tell me,” he urged.
If he’d been anyone else, she’d have told him to fuck off. She didn’t like people poking at her or trying to poke into her, but…
Well, her heart was mush, and her brain was apparently dead. Besides, maybe telling Jack the straight-out truth was the best way to handle this whole thing. Maybe he’d finally get the picture she was nothing but trouble.
“My dad used to take me with him to his poker games. He taught me to play, coached me how to cheat so he could win. One time, when I was ten and obsessed with horses, like most ten-year-old girls, Dad promised if I was really good, and he won, he would buy me a horse. Just for me. I even had a name picked out.”
“Why do I get the feeling this doesn’t have a happy ending?”
“How astute,” she returned, embarrassed at the way her tone had turned bitter instead of matter-of-fact. “He lost the game. I never got a pony, which I suppose was good, since he said if I did have a horse, he’d have shot it after the way I’d blown it for him.”
Rose met Jack’s gaze, because she wanted to see his pity. She wanted to make sure they both understood what this was—two screwed-up people who were interested in each other because of that and that alone.
He didn’t look like he pitied her. He had that thing that so few people had. Not detached sympathy or the kind of pity where you handed off a five-dollar bill and hoped the skinny girl with bruises got a meal that night. Jack had empathy. He didn’t tut-tut poor Rose, but simply listened like he could have some understanding of what that situation might have been for a little girl.
She looked away, but Jack’s hand was still curled around her arm, though his finger had stopped tracing her tattoo.
“What did you want to name the horse?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper. She looked around the bar, but it was nearly empty except for Tonya, who was laughing with two of the regulars.
Rose blew out a breath, knowing she would regret telling him. She already regretted all of this, but Jack’s thumb was brushing back and forth across her inner wrist and she wanted to live in that sensation. “Libby.”
“Why Libby?”
“Short for Liberty. Don’t have to explain that one to you, do I?”
Which shut him up for a second. He didn’t let go of her wrist though, and she didn’t try to pull away.
“Come riding with me.”
Which gave her enough impetus to tug her hand away. “I don’t know how to ride a horse. It was a pipe dream when I was a kid, and the tattoo is a reminder that promises don’t mean anything.”
“I’ll teach you how to ride,” he said, as if she hadn’t just laid a private piece of her heart she didn’t want him to see right there on the bar.
“I’m not going riding with you. I’m not…” She was tired, mostly of the way his presence seemed to keep her in a state of panic and indecision. She needed to harden up again. “Look, I agreed to be your fake girlfriend. I agreed to come to a dinner or two and lay on the screw-you-Madison, but I don’t need to know anything about you to pretend we’re dating.”
“My parents will expect you to know some things. They’ll expect—”
“Madison Number Two?” She expected that to dim some of his determination, but it didn’t.
He shrugged. “Maybe. That’s not what I mean though. I don’t confuse you with Madison. I consider that a very good thing. But I’m not a superficial guy, in case you haven’t noticed. They’re going to expect us to have a certain level of understanding. They’re going to expect me to have talked about my family to you. They’re going to expect you to know some things. What’s the harm in you knowing them?”
Which was a trick question, and she knew it. Because the more she knew about Jack, the more she wanted to know—and the more this confused, don’t-know-what-to-do feeling consumed her. But explaining that meant exposing her weakness, and she’d learned to never, ever do that.
“I guess I could spare a few hour
s,” she said, slapping a rag to the surface of the bar and pretending to be very engrossed in cleaning. “I’m not getting up early for it though.”
One way or another, she’d prove to him, and herself, that she could handle this. She was Rose Rogers. She could handle a charming former Navy SEAL. No matter how he looked. No matter how he kissed. No matter how he talked.
She could absolutely handle him.
“Great,” he said, sounding easy and light, which she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him sound like in all the months he’d been coming here.
He slid off the barstool, and she thought that was that, but in a too-easy move, he leaned over the bar and brushed his mouth across her cheek.
“See you then, Rose.”
Then he ambled out of her bar as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She’d thought she’d had the upper hand for most of that conversation, but watching him leave, she quickly realized she had lost.
Damn it.
Chapter 11
Jack got up early the next morning. If he could get the majority of his chores accomplished before Rose arrived, he’d have time to give her a real riding lesson, check the fences, and still have a conversation.
He probably wasn’t the best candidate for teaching, considering he had trouble getting on the horse due to his leg, but he didn’t want to bring Becca or anyone else in to help. Wrong as it might be, he very much wanted Rose to himself.
For all those very important learn some things about each other reasons. Imperative to learn, so they could show a very functional-looking front to his family, of course.
Maybe he could admit to wanting her to know some things about him too, but this was mostly what two people in a fake relationship did to prepare. He was pretty sure.
It was only eight, and Rose hadn’t texted that she was ready to come over yet, but he still headed to the stables anyway. He could get everything lined up, and if Rose still hadn’t texted him by then, he’d maybe ride out and check half the fence or so.
“Why are you getting two saddles ready?”
Jack turned to find Gabe at the entrance of the stables. He hadn’t exactly expected company this morning. So he hesitated. He didn’t want to tell Gabe what was going on, because Gabe would definitely read into things beyond the fake relationship.
