He placed the palm of his over her upturned one. His finger slowly traced the lines on her palm.
A light but electric touch. “Don’t what?” She kept the tone of her voice calm and gentle. For the first time since she’d met him, she saw his protective wall start to break.
“I’m not worth your worry.” He lowered his arm and took one step backward. “You shouldn’t be around someone like me. You’re so beautiful.” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “And I’m…tainted.”
She wrapped her fingers around his hand and searched his face in the light of the crescent moon. “Nobody is beyond repair. Your life is valuable, Heath. Don’t ever tell yourself otherwise.” Still holding his hand, she led him across the bridge toward her car.
The digital clock in her car read three a.m. when they pulled onto the long, gravel driveway of the ranch. She parked in front of the garage. Next to her, Heath was asleep, quietly snoring. “We’re home.” She tapped him on the shoulder.
He looked around with half opened lids and opened the door. “Thank you.”
She watched him weave his way across the lawn to the bunkhouse and disappear inside. He was safe, for now, and she was exhausted. With heavy steps, she climbed upstairs to her own bedroom and flopped on the bed.
As tired as she was, one word kept tumbling around in her mind and kept her from getting to sleep—tainted. Is that how he saw himself? What had happened in his past that made him feel that way?
The answers she sought might be as close as her laptop. In mere minutes, her fingers were tapping across the keyboard, typing the name Heath Carter, US Army into the web search bar. Clicking a promising link, she was shocked by the picture now on the screen. Looking back was a man she hardly recognized. In his official Army photograph, Heath looked the classic American soldier. His short brown hair was mostly hidden under a green beret. Without his beard, Heath looked years younger, and she noticed a deep dimple on the left cheek of his serious face. His handsome appearance stole her breath.
Heath Carter was listed as a Sergeant First Class and member of the Army Special Forces.
Grace scanned through a few more links before she found an article from a Florida newspaper, telling of their hometown hero. The story said that after joining the Army, Heath quickly climbed the ranks. He served as an Army Ranger, and then earned the rank of Sergeant and finally joined the elite Special Forces. He was awarded the Bronze Star for his heroic actions during a firefight in Afghanistan. While taking enemy fire, Heath broke cover to help four wounded soldiers who were lying exposed. After moving them to a secure location, he rendered medical aid, consequently saving all four lives.
The article went on to quote his aunt, Linda Carter, along with a former high school teacher. At the bottom of the screen was his high school yearbook picture. His cocky, crooked grin was charming and really showed off his cute dimple. He looked like a very mischievous youth.
If she’d met him in high school, would she have fallen for bad boy Heath instead of clean-cut Tyler? That question was better left unanswered.
She clicked out of the website and closed her laptop. From what she’d read, Heath had been a model soldier and hero. He’d spent years moving through the ranks to be sent to the front line on the war on terror. That was his goal, right? To be the first one called for the toughest missions and put his life on the line to save others in need. He’d jumped into a river to save her, a stranger, and she’d be forever in his debt for that heroic action. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to repay him.
Nothing she uncovered explained what had turned him into the lost soul he was today. The only person who could tell her that was Heath. She thought of him as a computer program guarded by a firewall. All she needed was the time and patience to find a way through. If she was to help him, she’d have to gain his trust and get him to talk. And that task would not be easy.
****
Heath’s natural alarm clock buzzed inside his head, demanding he get out of bed. Fine. Time he opened his eyes and faced the reality of what happened last night. Or at least, what he could remember.
He propped himself up on his elbows in an attempt to sit. The room spun in one direction then the other. Immediately, he returned his head to the pillow and closed his eyes. A groan sounded from somewhere deep within his aching chest. The bedroom curtains acted as gatekeepers, keeping the bright sunlight confined to a narrow slice that shone along the edges.
Lucky for him, he had the day off of work. The memory of last night remained foggy, but his body happily filled him in on the details. His nose throbbed, most likely broken. When he flexed his fingers, the scrapes on his knuckles stung. And his right eye, well, he was pretty sure it sported a tender bruise. Instead of crying in pain, he laughed, which made his ribs shoot off a stabbing pain.
Why did he find so much happiness in feeling so miserable? Maybe he was crazy. Or maybe pain was the only way he could be sure he was still alive. Probably a combination of both.
The red rage that had receded over the past week reappeared last night, raising its ugly head. A reminder that he couldn’t become too comfortable. His calm life at True Horizon Ranch could implode without warning.
Very slowly, he inched his body toward the edge of the bed and, after a minute, rose to a sitting position. He touched his feet to the cool wood floor and crept toward the bathroom. The thought of the food tray most likely left on his front porch almost sent him to his knees with nausea.
After a long shower, he felt almost human again. He pulled back the curtains covering the large picture window in the front room and squinted into the brightness. Sunlight streamed inside and chased away the gloom.
His new home was small, with a combined sitting room and kitchen in front. A bedroom and bathroom were set in the rear. The interior was decorated in the western style—what he’d expect on a Texas ranch. Practical, and for the most part, comfortable.
He brewed a pot of coffee and poured a cup. Once seated on the small sofa, he took sips of the lifesaving brew while reading yesterday’s paper. The stories were mostly about high school football and the weather. A drought threatened to increase feed prices and subsequently shrink herd sizes. Heath wondered how Bruce made a living, year after year, off the unpredictable land.
His grandparents had lived in a small town like Liberty Ridge. They weren’t ranchers, though, but one of the few wealthy families in their town and had cut ties with Heath after disinheriting their only child, his mother. Now, the only thing he had to remember them by was the contents of the envelope sitting on top the dresser. And for the time being, he would ignore the letter from his grandparents’ lawyer.
The caffeine from his coffee started activating his brain. He washed out his empty cup and slipped on his boots. Heath walked outside. A nice breeze blew from the west, taking some of the sting out of the hot air. When he was halfway to the barn, he heard his name called. His gut wrenched with memory. Grace had been with him last night. She’d brought him home. He prayed a sinkhole would open underneath him and swallow him whole—anything to avoid facing her.
With a cheery expression on her pretty face, she ran to catch him. Her dark braid swung behind her back, and he was having a hard time not staring at her long legs. His attention became fixated on a small oval mark on her thigh.
She caught his gaze and smiled, pointing to the birthmark. “I hated that mark until my mother started calling it an angel kiss.”
Good lord, could he make any bigger fool of himself? Probably, but best not make an attempt. He gulped and pulled his awareness to her dark brown eyes, which were safer to look at than her legs. “Good morning. Sorry, I didn’t eat my breakfast. Didn’t have much of an appetite.”
She laughed. “More like good afternoon, and don’t worry about the food. The pigs appreciated the extra treat.”
He stood, shifting his weight between his wide-spread legs. He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Much to his chagrin, he remained tongue-tied, unable to think
of anything to say.
The shaggy, black dog that followed Heath around the ranch came running toward them and pushed his nose against Grace’s leg.
Heath was grateful for the distraction. “Thanks for getting me home last night,” he finally blurted out. “You could have just left me in jail. I deserved it.”
She shrugged. “No big deal. What are friends for?” Bending over, she gave the dog a scratch behind his floppy ear.
Is that what she thought of him—a friend? He stepped away, ready to continue his walk to the barn, when she reached out and touched his arm. A spark shot straight to his heart, and he involuntarily flinched. Did Grace notice the effect she had on him? Hope not. She’d tell her dad. If Bruce knew Heath’s intense attraction to his only daughter, he’d toss him out on his rear.
The dog moved from Grace to Heath and licked at his hand, and then sat at his feet with his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
“Shadow’s been with us since he was a pup.” Grace tilted her head toward the dog. “My dad brought him home from the shelter ten years ago. You give him a little love, and he’ll be your best friend.”
Heath rubbed the dog’s shaggy head. “Pretty soon, I’ll have more friends than I’ll know what to do with.”
Shadow looked at him with amber eyes and barked.
“Seriously, though, thanks again for last night. The events are somewhat hazy, but I do know I’d still be wandering the countryside if not for your persistence.” He grinned, causing a burst of pain inside his busted nose. “Would you mind giving me a ride into town so I can get my bike? The poor girl will develop a complex if I keep abandoning her.”
Grace laughed. “Sure, but you’ll have to make it up to me.”
Her smile was pure innocence, but the spark in her eyes told a different story. “Is that so?” A slow smile emerged as he crossed his arms. “Name it.”
“Do you know how to ride? Horses, that is.”
“That’s a negative, ma’am.”
“Well, I guess it’s time you learn.” She rubbed her hands together. “The ranch is fun to explore on horseback.”
“As grateful as I am that you sprung me from jail, I’m not interested in death by horse. Is there anything else I can do? Wash your car? Paint your nails? I’m building your wedding gazebo, don’t forget.” His internal temperature rose along with his panic. The thought of riding one of those huge beasts made his nausea revisit with full force.
“You were in the Army, right?” she asked.
Afraid of where this line of questioning was headed, he nodded.
“You jumped out of planes? Fast roped out of helicopters? Was shot at?”
“Affirmative.”
“But you’re afraid of riding a sweet, tame horse?” A smirk formed on her face.
“I didn’t say I was afraid.” Too late, he realized his assertion of fearlessness was tantamount to surrender. How would he get out of this situation with his male pride still intact? News flash, soldier—you’re not. Grace was on the offensive and showed no signs of surrender.
“Great! I’ll go change and meet you in the stables.” She smiled and took off toward the house, her spry legs moving quickly across the lawn.
He forced his gaze away and slowly walked to the stables. “I survived multiple tours in a war zone only to be ensnared by a bewitching siren and lured to my death on horseback,” he muttered to himself.
Bruce exited the stable and gave Heath a hearty pat on the back. “Ain’t that the way it goes, son? But if you’re lucky, she won’t let you escape her net.”
Chapter Nine
Inside the stable, Grace went about preparing the horses, while Heath stood silently watching her like a cornered cat. She led out a chestnut mare and handed him the reins.
“This is Daisy.” Grace rubbed the fury patch between the horse’s nostrils. “She’s a sweet girl and will take good care of you. I’ll get her saddled.”
Heath folded his arms across his chest. His widened gaze darted from Grace to the horse.
Grace found Heath’s reluctance to ride a horse very surprising. He seemed fearless, to the point of recklessness. The twist and turns of his personality continued to intrigue her. She went to the tack room to grab a saddle and when she returned, he was gently rubbing the horse’s nose and whispering something she couldn’t hear.
Daisy obviously could, because she snorted and shook her head.
Her curiosity got the better of her. “What are you telling Daisy?”
“We made a deal.” He scratched the horse behind one velvety ear. “If she’s kind to me, then I’ll treat her to a juicy apple.”
She laughed and tossed a red blanket across the horse’s back. “And what about me? What’s my treat if I’m kind to you?”
“You can have an apple, too.”
His smile lit the dusty stable. A fat, orange barn cat strolled past them and rubbed its body along his leg.
She lifted the saddle onto the horse’s back and tightened the cinch, tugging the end to make sure it was secure but not too tight. She could just picture Heath sprawled on the ground because the saddle slipped. With one black eye already and a swollen nose, he didn’t need any more injuries.
Finishing with Daisy, she patted the horse on the rump. “I’ll be right back.” She handed the reins to Heath.
Grace entered Silver’s stall. A long time had passed since she had ridden her favorite mare. Golden strands of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the barn siding, highlighting the horse’s gray hair. She slipped the bridle over the mare’s head, fastened the buckles, and took hold of the reins. When she brought Silver into the wide aisle where Heath waited, she saw Daisy nudging him with her velvet muzzle and blowing warm breath onto his face.
With Daisy’s stamp of approval, Grace knew without a doubt Heath was a good man. “I think she likes you.” She saddled Silver with an efficiency that came with years of riding. Then, she turned her attention to Heath. “Okay, let’s get you in the saddle.”
“You’re really making me do this? I just remembered…Bruce wanted to talk to me about a few of the heifers.”
The raveled edge of nervousness sounded in his voice. Setting her hand on a flaming skull tattoo that decorated Heath’s arm, she softened her expression. “Do you trust me?”
He looked at her for several seconds before swallowing hard. Sweat beaded from the deep creases of his forehead. “Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, I do.”
“You’ll be all right.” She guided both horses out of the barn with Heath following and keeping a good ten feet of distance. Stopping by a section of fence surrounding the horse paddock, she tied up Silver and Daisy. Then, she reached down to grab the stirrup hanging from Daisy’s saddle. “Slide your left foot in here and grab hold of the horn up on top.”
Heath followed her directions, looking awkward as he stood on one foot and leaned against the horse.
“As you pull yourself up, swing your right leg over the horse’s rear,” she instructed.
He completed the motion in one easy stroke and grinned. “I did it!”
“See, you’re a natural.” Grace placed the small, soft-sided cooler filled with their lunch into the saddle bag on Daisy.
He squeezed the saddle horn so hard, his hands had turned an unnatural shade of white.
When Daisy took a few steps forward, Heath’s head whipped around and his widened eyes stared in her direction. “She’s taking off,” he yelled.
Laughing, she swung herself onto Silver and directed the horse toward the open field. Daisy and Heath fell in line behind her.
Heath gave a startled shout.
She turned to make sure he was still on his horse. “Loosen your grip on the reins,” she called back. “Daisy knows what to do.” She made a few clicking sounds, and Daisy trotted to catch up. She watched as Heath bumped and swayed in the saddle. Thankfully, he remained upright.
“How am I doing so far?” He managed a small smile through clenched teeth.
“You’re doing great.” She ran her hand through the silky mane of her horse. “We’re going through the main gates and into the cattle pasture. Once we cross the creek, there’s a small gate that leads to a trail. I know a nice spot by the lake for a late lunch.” She guided them at a slow pace across the field, with their horses side by side. Grace pointed out several cows with their young, grazing nearby on tall grass.
“You seem happy here on the ranch. What made you decide to leave and live in Dallas?” Heath asked.
“I needed to move away and mature into a lady, or at least that’s what my mother said.” Grace visually took in the rolling landscape around them. For her, nothing could ever be as beautiful as the Texas prairie. If she’d had more backbone, she would have never left. “Being away at college, and then living the big city lifestyle helped me grow out of my awkward phase. I do miss the country life, though. And I sometimes miss the person I used to be.”
Heath slackened his hold on the reins and leaned forward to pat Daisy’s neck. “We all change over time. If we’re lucky, it’s for the better, but sometimes change is for the worse.”
The lowing of cattle and the occasional bird song echoed across the hills. A yellow butterfly fluttered in front of her face before darting away. The sweet scents of grass and flowers filled her nostrils. “As you already know from Alex’s stories, I had the biggest crush on Tyler when I was younger.” She swayed in the saddle in time with Silver’s gait. “But he barely paid any attention to me, though, until a year ago. When our paths crossed again, I wasn’t that same gangly girl who used to follow him around. See…I had to move away to become the person I am today. After all those years, my dreams are coming true.”
But after her wedding, she’d move away again. Since she’d quit her job in Dallas and become her own boss, she didn’t have the demands that had kept her away in the past. She now had the freedom to spend more time at the ranch.
Heath adjusted his weight in the saddle. “Just don’t lose that fire I see burning behind those brown eyes. I’d hate to see you become ordinary.”
True Horizon Page 8
