“Ugh.” She pushed herself up and out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before tying her hair back into a ponytail.
Koda sat up in her basket, tail poised to wag.
It never ceased to amuse her how ready Koda was to greet each new day. Her mind and body relaxed. In that moment it was just the two of them. No John. No Dad. No one to fear or pretend she was ok to.
“Ready to go?” Slipping her sunglasses into her jeans pocket, she headed to the kitchen. No way am I dealing with him without a strong cup of coffee.
Now to find where her dad hid the supersized mug she’d bought herself at college. Thank god the coffee was already brewed. She grabbed the mug from the cabinet over the stove and poured the hot liquid, breathing in the rich fragrance. She lifted the mug to her lips, savoring each sip. That’s more like it.
She wanted to enjoy her coffee, but the sound of the cattle in the distance had her gulping the remaining liquid, and she winced as it flowed down her throat. She put on her sunglasses and grabbed her coat, wanting to be there before he arrived. She headed over to the barn just as the sun crested over the mountains, the autumn breeze pinking her cheeks. The warmth that had been in the wind just a few weeks ago had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth.
As she turned the corner, Koda close at her side, she nearly smacked right into him. Dammit. Her heart kicked into gear. Warmth swept over her skin. The smell of bacon, dirty motor oil, and chassis grease flooded her nose. He was already there. Waiting for her.
“Good morning—” he began, but Koda quickly ran to him, jumping up to put her paws on his chest. “Well, good morning to you, too.” He laughed, roughhousing with the dog.
“Koda! Come!” she ordered. The dog returned, her tail drooping behind her. “You’re here early, Mr. Rathborne.”
He shrugged and offered a polite smile. His habitually tired eyes were dark and kind. “I’ve been up all night looking forward to getting started. I’m grateful to get a job like this. Not everybody would hire someone who’s been—who’s been injured.”
She dipped her chin. “Why not?”
“Because they’re afraid I won’t be able to keep up. That I can’t do the work. Don’t want to take a chance. But I assure you—”
“You don’t have to assure me of anything.” She cut off any further niceties. When she was released from the hospital, people had held the same expectation—or preconceived notion—about her. But it was the farthest thing from the truth. And if she did it, so could he. “My father has a soft spot for hard-luck cases. Like Koda, here. I just hope you can do half as much for us as she has.”
His smile vanished. “Don’t worry.” A trace of bitterness colored his voice. “I wasn’t at all sure your father would offer me anything. I learned a long time ago not to expect much from the world.”
She felt a twinge in her chest, wishing she could retract her previous remark. But if he was anything like her, pity would only make matters worse. No one wanted to be pitied. “Good. Now, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you what I need done first.”
She started him moving last night’s shipment of one hundred hay bales into the separate hay barn.
“No haylofts for us,” she informed him. “Fire hazard. And it blocks the ventilation to have the stalls covered up by a loft. My father won’t permit hay to be stored in a barn, so somebody’s got to move it a bale at a time into the hay shed and reload it as needed into the wagon twice a day for feeding. And that somebody is you.”
“All right.” He looked up at the truck parked outside of the hay barn. “How long do you think you’ll want me to take care of moving the hay deliveries? I mean, I can’t supervise anyone else if I’m—”
“As long as we need you to,” she cut him off. “When you’re done with this load, we’ve got some broken fence rails on a couple of calf pens that need fixing. There’s a stack of boards at the far end and you’ll find a hammer and nails in the equipment barn. After, the stalls in the main barn need cleaning. I’ll turn the horses out so they won’t be in your way.”
He just stared at her. “Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know. Come on, Koda.” She turned her back on him and walked away, the dog trotting at her heels. Anything else? Ha! He would be lucky to even last out the day.
All morning, she went about her usual tasks around the pens and barns. Periodically, she glanced over to the truck where he unloaded bale after bale. And on a couple of occasions, she lingered more than she needed to, admiring his strength. The way his muscles flexed. The line of sweat soaking the back of his shirt was stimulating. Even that he wore Merrill boots instead of regular ones.
Stop looking at him.
There was no need to waste time, he’d never stick around. Never look at her like a normal person. Not to mention she still couldn’t shake the fact he was hiding something. Or that she’d seen him before, heard his voice before. And that made him a threat.
He moved all one hundred of the ninety-pound hay bales himself, stacking them first in one direction and then the other so they wouldn’t fall. After, she saw him moving the heavy boards into place in the calf pens. The regular sound of hammer and nail that followed indicated he was busy nailing them down tight. She had to admit, he was a hard and uncomplaining worker.
As her stomach rumbled and she stood up from her desk, she realized it had been a while since she’d heard the hammer. Glancing through the main barn, she bit her lip. It didn’t look like he’d taken so much as a bathroom break all morning. I should make sure he gets a proper lunch break.
She walked to the house and grabbed a small cooler, stopping to pick up a well-chewed green tennis ball from the porch before making her way back to the barn. Setting down the cooler in the doorway of the barn, she took the tennis ball and began bouncing it on the hard-packed dirt. Koda immediately jumped to her feet and leaped for the ball. The dog grabbed it on the third bounce and ran outside with her prize—just as John shot out into the aisle.
He breathed heavily, still holding the rake in his hand, his eyes wildly scanning all areas of the barn. Almost the way she’d done the first time she stepped back into the hospital after the attack.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth on her toes, attempting to keep those painful memories at bay. “How’s your first day going?”
“What?”
“First day,” she repeated. “How is it?”
“What was that noise?”
She paused. Was he serious?
He stared right back at her. For the first time, she noticed his face was pale beneath his tan.
“It was a tennis ball. I was bouncing it on the barn floor. Koda grabbed it and ran off.”
He exhaled and gave her a slight nod.
“Good,” he finally said. “It’s going good. Getting back into the swing of things is always tough.”
“Are you trying to say we made a mistake hiring you?” Just great. With winter coming, that’s all she needed. There was no time, or money, to waste on another bad hire. The business wouldn’t survive.
He held up his hands. “Look, that’s not what I was trying to say, okay? I’m just saying to go easy on me. It’s only my first day.” He eyed the cooler. “You don’t happen to have some water in there, do you?”
Without a word, she handed him a bottle of spring water.
He grabbed it and drank it all without stopping.
“Look,” he said, finally catching his breath, “I could use a break. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. It might be. I’m here because I brought you lunch.”
“Oh. Lunch?”
“Yes. Lunch. Food you eat in the middle of the day.” She rubbed her forehead. It wasn’t the man’s fault he irritated her so much. “I know you’ve been working hard and I thought you might be hungry.”
“I guess I am.” He glanced at the cooler next to her. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She picked up
the cooler and took it over to the plastic chairs sitting in the aisle near the door, outside of the tack room. She pulled one chair a few feet away from the other and sat.
He leaned the rake against the stall door and walked over to the other chair. He sat down gingerly, as though it was agony just to move. His back and knees seemed stiff, like the joints had locked in place and refused to move any longer, but he didn’t so much as whimper. When he reached out for the ham sandwich she gave him, she saw his hands were cracked in multiple places and new blisters were forming on his fingers and palms.
She winced. “I guess I forget to tell you there are gloves in the equipment room. Any time you need them, help yourself.”
“Good to know.”
She held out a can of soda. “Guess you aren’t as tough as you thought if half a day of chores can do you in.”
Already wolfing down most of the sandwich, he wiped his hands on his jeans before reaching for the soda. “I’m just getting warmed up. Hope you’ve got something that’ll give me a little exercise next. This was like a walk in the park.”
Liar.
“You bet. I’ll see what I can do. By the way, are those boots really functional for the ranch?” she asked.
“Love my Moabs. Super functional, even in stirrups,” he said, food crammed into the side of his mouth, causing his cheek to puff out.
“Really?”
“What? You don’t think the military teaches us to ride horses?”
“I never thought about it,” she said.
“Some units need to know a lot of things, and that includes how to ride.” He finished a second sandwich, along with the bag of corn chips and a fresh peach. And two more cans of soda. “That hit the spot. Thanks.”
“You might want to try some ice on your knee tonight.”
His eyes softened. “Thanks.”
A warmth filled her chest—and immediately she dropped her chin, focusing on the ground. Damn him! “You’ve got nothing to thank me for.” She stood, packing everything back into the cooler, getting ready to leave.
Koda trotted back into the barn, tennis ball in mouth, and dropped it at his feet. John took it and bounced it on the barn floor. Koda’s head bobbed left and right as she followed her favorite toy.
“Hoping I’ll throw this for you?”
Katie watched, the puzzled feeling returning. “Never seen her take to anybody so fast.”
“One dog recognizes another.” He reached down and scratched Koda behind her ears. He launched the tennis ball out through the barn door, sending it near the house. Koda tore after it.
“Now you’ve done it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s gonna pester everyone to keep playing. She doesn’t stop.”
He laughed. “She’s a working dog, not to mention a Malinois. She needs the exercise.” Koda came bounding back into the barn, dropping the ball at his feet. He chucked it farther this time. Koda ran off, barking happily.
“At least you can throw far and get a break before she comes back. Some days I swear my arms are going to fall off.”
“She’s a good dog. I’ll be glad to play with her anytime. Always good to have a partner to get you through the work day.”
Partner. A surge of anger built like deep water currents. The idea Koda would be his partner gnawed at her insides. Where the hell does he get off! She stood up and turned toward the door.
“Koda! Come!” When the dog ran over to her, still carrying the tennis ball, she took the ball away and threw it straight at him.
“Mr. Rathborne,” she said, her voice shaking, “Koda belongs to me. She’s not your partner. She’s mine. I need her. She stays with me.” Katie hooked her fingers under Koda’s leather collar and took her to the house.
Chapter 4
John cut through the Veterans Administration’s gym. On either side of the building, he could see other vets working with physical therapists. Many of the men looked up as he entered. A few nodded as he passed. He should make more of an effort to get to know some of them.
He winced, remembering the events of his failed bar visit. Since arriving back home, he’d kept his distance from others. Especially civilians. They were always talking about how proud they were of his service. How much they appreciated what he did for the country.
It was all bullshit. Service—ha! If only they knew how little he’d done. They wouldn’t congratulate me. They’d hate me—they should hate me.
Reaching the reception desk, he grunted his name at the cheery redhead sitting behind the computer. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings or what had happened. He was sick of discussing the thoughts in his head and the emotions rattling around in his heart. And now he had another of his mandatory Friday appointments with his psychologist. For his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
The receptionist waved him toward the waiting area, and he sank into one of the blue plastic chairs. His body ached, muscles stiff. Dammit, Katie! He couldn’t think of the last time he’d worked so hard. He’d be sleeping soundly tonight, that was for sure.
He cracked his knuckles, turning over the possible topics of conversation today. They fell into two categories: things he was willing to talk about, and things he was not willing to talk about. Most things fell into the latter category, but he found himself edging toward the former on certain topics. If we can stick to the new job, I just might be able to get out of this unscathed.
“What happened to you?”
Startled, he looked at a little girl of about seven or eight, her long hair divided into pigtails, a cast on her arm. Her eyes showed blatant curiosity.
The girl’s mother sat in another one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lining the waiting room. She was on the thicker side, beautiful, with full lips and dark curly hair that stretched down to her elbows.
“Bethany!” Her mouth curled up into an apologetic smile. “She’s curious about anyone who’s here. She knows—”
“No problem,” he said. “I got hurt while I was in the army.”
Bethany nodded. “My dad was in the army, too. He’s in the office right now. I hope you feel better!”
What to say to that? “Thanks.” He scratched his chin. “You, too.”
The girl skipped away back to her mother.
“Staff Sgt. Rathborne. Right this way.” The receptionist stood at the open door, ready to lead him to the therapist’s office.
First time I’ve been relieved to hear them call my name. He waved goodbye to the curious girl still watching him.
“John, come in! How have you been this week?” Dr. Evans started each of his sessions with the exact same question. Everything about the man was predictable. He always wore the same grey cardigan with the same pleated khakis. He couldn’t imagine the doc was spending his money on tailored suits or Italian leather shoes. Judging from Dr. Evans’s horn-rimmed glasses and white tufted hair, John didn’t think his cash was being blown on luxury cars or wild trips to Vegas either.
“Not bad.” He plopped down in his usual place across the room from the doctor. “I got a job.”
“A job! Excellent. What will you be doing?”
“Ranch work.” He kept his answers short. Therapy sessions worked better when he revealed as little as possible.
“Ranch work.” Dr. Evans beamed. “How do you feel about that?”
He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. “Glad to be getting paid, having something to do instead of wasting away in my room. And I like working outside. Maybe I can even fix up my truck instead of having to borrow my mom’s car.”
Dr. Evans smiled. “The blueberry, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Can you imagine what I must’ve looked like driving up to the ranch in that thing?” John smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Talk about first impressions. Hell, not sure I would’ve taken me seriously.”
“And how are things going with your mother?”
John shifted. She was the reason he was here. Partially, anyway. After a very nasty, very vivid dre
am, he’d smashed up the bedroom. Supposedly, he’d threatened his mother, too, which was why she called the cops. He didn’t remember any of it. But the fear in her eyes twisted his gut. So he agreed to “get help.” After all she’d given up for him, meeting with Dr. Evans was the least he could do.
“All right,” he answered.
“Last time we talked about how she sold her house and downgraded to a small townhouse, saying it was to help you. You were very uncomfortable with that. How are you feeling now?”
“I didn’t need her help. I told her—I told her I’d rather rot in the hospital before forcing her to sell her own house. It’s the house I grew up in. But I guess stubbornness runs in this family and she did it anyway.”
Dr. Evans tapped his pen against his notepad, his eyes peering over his horn rims. “John, accepting help isn’t a bad thing. It’s a healthy sign of strength to know when we need it.”
John ran his thumb over the knuckles of his hand, his chin dipped.
“You also mentioned last time that your mother has been upset with you for drinking. How are you feeling about that?”
John ground his teeth. “I can take care of that. Nobody needs to worry.” There was a fine line between sympathy and pity. It was a crappy place to be, but he was getting used to it.
“Are you still feeling those spikes of anger we talked about?” Dr. Evans crossed his legs, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Nope.”
Silence. His eyes rose to meet the older man’s gaze. A frown covered his therapist’s face, his pen poised in the air. John felt like a kid who’d been sent to the principal’s office.
“John, we’ve talked about this. It’s important we work through the issues you’ve been having. Anger likes to build up. Letting it out in a healthy way can help us keep it from getting the best of us.” Dr. Evans took off his glasses and set them on the desk. “John, what would you like to discuss?”
Hearts Unleashed Page 3
