Cowboy Payback

by Donna Michaels

  Snickering, she stumbled to the kitchen, then out and out laughed. On the table sat a tall glass of orange juice, a banana, and a chocolate chip muffin—her favorite—covered in what was left of the chocolate syrup and whipped cream.

  Which wasn’t much.

  They’d pretty much kicked the can and bottle around midnight last night, during round three.

  After devouring the sustenance needed to recoup from their marathon, especially round three, she showered, decided cleaning the rose petals could wait, and rushed to the main ranch, eager to spend what little time she had left with Brett before the new guests arrived on Tuesday.

  “Morning, Trisha,” Mrs. Laramie greeted warmly from behind the reception desk in the lobby. “I think Brett is waiting for you in his office.”

  “Hi, thanks,” she replied as she continued down the hall, that eagerness still ruling her steps.

  Today was the first full day of her official relationship with Brett, and she wanted to make the most of the day.

  With a smile on her face, she knocked on his door and entered to find him standing in front of his desk…talking to an attractive woman about ten years her senior.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company,” she said, halting just inside the door.

  “It’s okay, we were waiting for you,” he said, rushing forward to close the door and draw her farther into the room, not quite meeting her gaze.

  Trisha’s senses immediately went on alert, and heart lodged in her throat, she studied the guest closer.

  Dressed in a casual chic, slate-gray pantsuit and white blouse, the woman had her light hair twisted into a knot at the back of her head, minimal makeup, rimless glasses on her face, and black, comfortable-looking flats on her feet.

  “Trisha, this is Natalie Stevens,” he introduced. “Doctor Natalie Stevens.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The heart lodged in Trisha’s throat dropped back into her chest and rocked. Hard.

  Doctor?

  Oh, for the love of stars. She did not need a darn doctor.

  “There’s been a mistake, Dr. Stevens,” she said, her voice sounding deceptively calm, even to her ears. “I’m sorry Brett caused you to waste your time.”

  The woman smiled a friendly, open smile. “I don’t think he has, Trisha. May I call you Trisha?”

  Oh God…the weight on her chest was increasing, as was her anger.

  How could he? She ignored the question, pulled away from him and inhaled, but no air seemed to fill her lungs. She’d never felt so betrayed in her life. He knew she hated to be bullied. Controlled. Ordered what to do. How the hell was this any different? She’d endured enough growing up with her father. It was the damn reason she’d proposed their fake engagement in the first place. To give her a chance to find her feet and stand her ground.

  Now, he’d knocked her feet out from under her, and she’d just managed to get a damn foothold.

  God. Why was he backing her into a corner like this?

  “Before you get upset, please hear me out,” he pleaded, stepping close, gaze dark with worry. “I know you said you were fine, but after what happened yesterday—”

  “The reception again?” She threw her hands up. “It was no big deal.”

  Okay, probably not true. She hadn’t realized she’d zoned out until she’d refocused and found herself in his arms on the dance floor. The last thing she’d remembered before that was talking to Cammie and Stacy, then Brett’s aunt had come over with her grandchildren. “Little Jonathan just…startled me…that’s all.”

  “No, he didn’t,” he replied, tone as solemn as his gaze. “Children are your trigger, Trisha, and you need to recognize this before you or someone gets hurt.”

  “Gets hurt?” What hurt was her chest. Real bad, like she was crushed by a Humvee, then run over by a tank. And if she breathed in too hard, she’d shatter. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to hurt someone.”

  God, she would never, especially a child.

  Uncaring that the doctor stood quietly watching them, Trisha rounded on him, beyond furious he’d suggest such a thing. She thought he knew her better than that. Dammit, he should know better than that.

  “Why are you saying this crap, Brett? You know I wouldn’t hurt anyone. God, I can’t believe you’d say that or even think it. I’ve never felt so betrayed, so hurt.” She practically sobbed, but when pain twisted his face and he reached for her, she backed away. “No. Don’t. I want answers. I need answers. Why are you doing this? Saying these horrible things? I’d never hurt anyone.”

  “Not willingly,” he replied, resignation setting his shoulders and jaw as anguish tightened his features. “But you’ve even done it to me.”

  “What?” she squeaked, sweating and panting now, as if she’d just finished climbing the gorgeous, serene mountain visible through his window in under an hour. “I’d never hurt you. Why are you telling the doctor such…?”

  His betrayal cut so deep she couldn’t finish the question, and if she could feel her legs, she’d turn and march out of the room. How could he think such a horrible thing about her?

  “I have proof.”

  Proof?

  “What proof?” She’d never laid a finger on him, other than during sex.

  He lifted his shirt to reveal ugly bruising along his ribcage. “You did this last night.”

  She gasped. “What happened? That wasn’t there last night.” She stared at his ribs, even when he dropped his shirt back into place. It didn’t make sense. He’d been with her until this morning.

  Had he fallen or done something in the stable, and was now blaming her?

  Even as the thought formed, she shot it down. No. Captain Brett Brennan would never do such a thing. And he’d never lie to her either. She knew this. Knew everything he was saying couldn’t be a lie. Knew it deep down to her soul.

  And yet…What did it all mean?

  Tears blurred her eyes and heated her swollen throat as the mystery of her sore body started to make sense. God…oh God… She sucked in a ragged breath. “Did I do that to you?” she whispered, the act of talking too painful.

  He nodded and the anguish in his eyes deepened, revealing how much it hurt him just to admit, because he didn’t want to hurt her.

  “When?”

  “During your nightmares.”

  She was shaking now, could barely breathe. Her whole body ached, even her hair hurt. “I-I didn’t know…”

  She remembered the nightmares, at least most of them, but never hitting him. Just the rubble, and screams, burning, cries, body parts, the dead, lifeless eyes of the little girl she’d taught reading to an hour earlier.

  “It’s not the first time,” he admitted, voice snapping her back to the present and her new nightmare.

  “Oh, God…I’m so sorry,” she said as the strength disappeared from her body, and she collapsed.

  But instead of hitting the floor, she found herself wrapped in warmth and crushed against a hard chest.

  “No…I don’t want to hurt you,” she choked out, holding herself erect, refusing to give into the comfort he offered. “You deserve better. I’m sorry, Brett. I’m so, so sorry.”

  She couldn’t get past the fact she’d been hurting him. Possibly every night. How could she not know? She contemplated the answer, vaguely aware of him moving them to his couch by the window, and the doctor saying she was going to give them some time alone.

  “It’s going to be okay, Trisha.”

  His voice was warm and soothing like the hands gliding up and down her arms and back; she gave into her distress and buckled into him. Listening to the reassuring, steady beat of his heart. Soaking in every bit of his strength.

  “We’re going to get through this. You and me. I’m right here. I’ll always be here,” he promised, in that calm, steady, warm voice, and it all felt so familiar. Like a warm, safe blanket.

  Just like the one that always cocooned her after her nightmares…

&n
bsp; She stiffened and drew back. “It was you,” she choked out, staring into his concerned face. “Is this what you do when I have a nightmare?”

  “Yes.” He nodded, hands still rubbing her arms up and down in a reassuring caress. “I’m not always welcomed, but I hold you anyway. That’s how I get bruised.”

  She dropped his gaze and stared down at his shirt, recalling several bruises she’d noticed on his glorious body the past few weeks, but had always attributed them to the job; after all, it was physical, and even she got bruised.

  God, how wrong she’d been. So terribly wrong.

  “My elbow is sore today…is that how…” She let her voice trailed off, unable to even say it.

  Two strong, firm hands cupped her face. “Look at me, Trisha.”

  Finding the strength despite the self-loathing eating her soul, she met his gaze.

  “No one comes home from the war unscathed. Not you. Not Cammie. Not Finn. And certainly not me. How do you think I know Doc Stevens?”

  She shrugged, recalling how he’d admitted he’d needed healing to her that very first day by the window in his cabin.

  “She’s my therapist.”

  “Yours? But when…?” She’d been living with the guy for over five weeks now and didn’t recall him leaving to see a therapist or the doc coming here.

  “Every Wednesday aftern—”

  “…noon,” she finished. No wonder she hadn’t known. On Wednesday afternoons, she led a rappelling adventure and had never been at the ranch to notice his absence. “I thought you were doing stuff around the ranch.”

  A slight grin tugged his lips. “Nope. Just taking care of me.” He brushed the wetness from her face with his thumbs. “Don’t ever think of seeking help as a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of responsibility. Strength. A good marine. And you’re one hell of a marine.”

  She nodded, swallowing past her hot throat again as more tears replaced the wetness he’d just wiped away. “I feel like I’ve let you down. Just like those children. You’re hurt because of me. They died because I didn’t speak up about my gut—”

  “No, Trisha. I know what you’re saying, but no. You did not intentionally hurt me. I just got too close to your thrashing. And as for the children and the village, I’ve already explained this. Even if you’d shared your gut feeling with me, we would still have had our orders and would’ve had to march to that other village.”

  “But—”

  He placed a thumb over her mouth to silence her lips. “No buts. The only person you’re letting down is you if you don’t get yourself some help,” he said, gaze warm and determined.

  Her heart cracked open even more. The man was always there for her, no matter what, sometimes before she even realized she’d needed someone or something. He was in tuned to her needs. To her heart.

  Sure, he was commanding and demanding, obstinate, a consummate jokester, way too sure of himself at times, struggled to put feelings into words…but he was reliable, honorable, and always, always had her back and best interest at heart, like no one else.

  Like today.

  Like asking his therapist to see her.

  She was such an idiot. “You deserve…”

  “You.” He cut her off, gaze darkening with a flash of anger. “Remember, we’ve already had this conversation, too? I deserve you. I want you. I love you. You hear me? I love you, Trisha. I know I should’ve said that a lot sooner, but well, I’m saying it now. I love you, and there’s nothing I won’t do for you, so you’re just going to have to live with that.”

  She choked out a laugh, heart swelling with joy and thrilled to hear the words spoken that she’d felt from him for so long. “I love you, too, Brett, but…I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

  “Too bad. I’m not giving you up, nor am I not not sleeping with you, so don’t even think of suggesting it, got it?”

  “Got it.” She nodded, closing her eyes as his hold on her face tightened before he brushed her lips with his, feather light, but with so much meaning her chest ached.

  He kissed her again, then pulled her onto his lap and tucked her head against his neck. “I’m sorry if I hurt you today. It wasn’t my intention. But you need help, much more than I can give. I can’t keep being your tourniquet. A bandage that patches you up until the next nightmare or zone out. God, what if it happens at school? Or when you’re driving?” His hold on her tightened as his whole body shook. “I’m scared, Trisha. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Unable to stand the pain and anguish she heard in his tone, she drew back, and this time she held his face in both hands. “You’re not going to lose me, Brett. You’re stuck with me. I can’t even imagine my life without you. You’ve been such a big part of it the past six years, and well, yeah, that’s changed drastically since I came to Royal Pines a few weeks ago, changed in the best way imaginable.” Smiling, she set her forehead to his. “And I don’t want to ever do anything to jeopardize what we have. I refuse to let you down. Let me down. Let us down.”

  None of them were an option.

  “You won’t.” He smiled back. “I have faith in you. I also have your back.”

  “And I have yours,” she told him, snuggling against his neck again and closing her eyes, listening to his steady breathing, letting him breathe for the both of them for a little while longer.

  This weekend had certainly been an eye-opener. She’d witnessed her good friend get married. The man she loved admitted he loved her, too, and wanted a relationship. The same man who’d always been married to his ranch, never dated the same woman twice. This man wanted her, needed her, loved and supported her…even at his own peril.

  Her heart squeezed at the thought of what she’d been putting him through without realizing. God, she wished she’d known sooner. He was right. It had to stop. And that started with her admitting she needed help. Her issues were too deep and not going to go away by staring at a beautiful mountain or spending time alone in the woods. No matter how much she tried.

  If she was zoning out—she was.

  If she was physically abusing the man she loved—even if it was unintentional—it was still abuse. And she was.

  It had to stop. Was going to stop. Not just for him, but for her, too. Living with the guilt of the massacre was eating her alive. She did not need to add to that guilt.

  She wasn’t stupid. She knew there was no cure-all for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Nightmares. Zoning out. Mood swings. Non-recollection of events. Abuse. Yeah. She definitely suffered from PTSD.

  It scared her to admit it, God, it scared her, but what scared her more, was losing Brett because she didn’t want to try to help herself.

  She shuddered, and his hold tightened. Not going to happen.

  “You still mad at me?” he asked, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

  “No. I’m sorry. Really sorry that I accused you of lying and making things up.”

  “No need to apologize. You had a right to be angry, and I know you had no idea what was happening during your nightmares. And after what happened at the reception yesterday, I had to step in. Take drastic measures.”

  She nodded. “You going behind my back, calling the doctor, it brought back memories from my childhood, and they clouded my judgment. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, I get it. It’s okay. Between your father and the Corps, you’ve been told what to do your whole life, and now, you have the chance to strike out on your own. To answer to no one but you. Doing what you want. I want that for you, too. And I wanted to make sure you got that chance. You know I’m behind you one hundred percent, whatever you decide to do with your life, right? As long as I’m in it, of course.”

  “Yes.” She sniffed, feeling more and more unworthy of the man as he talked, and more and more blessed at the same time. “Brett, would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything,” he replied, still holding her tight as if maybe he was too afraid to let her go.

  “Could you ask Dr. Stevens to come back in?”

&nb
sp; Chapter Seventeen

  Five weeks later, Brett was up at the ass-crack of dawn to tackle paperwork before rounding up that week’s guests for their Saturday morning good-bye.

  Today was a big day.

  Liam was arriving with his crew to settle in and start renovations on Monday—he was curious to see how Stacy was going to handle seeing Trisha’s brother day in and day out. It was going to be an interesting fall.

  But none of that mattered to him today. No, what mattered was Trisha. The real reason today was a big day. She was coming back to visit for the first time since she’d left for college.

  Brett had hardly slept at all last night. Hell, he hadn’t been sleeping well since a certain curvy, warm someone wasn’t next to him in bed.

  Or wearing his ring.

  He set his pen down, sat back in his chair, and rubbed at the ache in his chest. The borrowed solitaire had been shoved in a drawer the morning she’d left for Texas before classes had started. When she’d handed him the diamond, Brett’s heart had felt like it’d ripped up the middle. Which was dumb. The engagement had been fake. Unlike his feelings for the woman. They were real and damn unexpected. Still, he’d understood her desire to remove the ring and come clean with her parents.

  “No,” she’d said when he told her he wanted to go, too. That defiant lift of her chin had been sexy as hell, and completely distracting. “It was my lie from the beginning, therefore my responsibility.”

  He knew she’d wanted to do things on her own, but this was one situation he held firm. “It’s my lie to clear up, too. I went along with it from the start, willingly fooled them while they were under my roof. So, no, Trisha, sorry, but I’m going, too. We’ll tell them together.”

  Mrs. Jennings had taken the news surprisingly well. Brett got the impression the woman had suspected the truth all along. The former D.A., on the other hand, had not appreciated the deceit, but apparently the man’s guilt over pushing his daughter to go to such an extreme outweighed his anger.

  Their obvious true feeling for one another had helped soothe the disappointment, too, and the rest of their stay had been cordial. The following morning, he packed up her car, then drove them to her new apartment near the college and helped her settle in. Determined not to interfere with her goal, he had Terry pick him up before orientation the next morning. She had his full support, but he knew when to back off and let her spread her wings and fly.