His Cowboy Heart

by Jennifer Ryan

  Jamie tugged back on his hands to stop him from pulling her along after him, afraid to move too fast.

  All of a sudden, it became all too real. Making all those erotic images in her mind a reality . . . Well, she didn’t know if she had it in her to be that bold and brave.

  Yes, this was Ford, but she wanted to do this right this time. She wanted to be better, more herself, less . . . fractured. “Ford, I can’t just . . .”

  “What? Come up to the house for lunch,” he suggested.

  She stared at him blankly.

  He tugged her to get her to follow him and gave her one of those irritating grins. “What kind of guy do you think I am that after a few kisses I’d just sleep with you? Seriously, Firefly, you’re gonna have to get to know me much better before we hop into bed together. I mean, we’ve got history, but you don’t leap into my bed without a little more friend time.”

  She laughed because everything he said was what she would have said if she was any kind of normal. Instead, she used the things that happened to her in the past to keep from living in the here and now. Time hadn’t changed who he was, even if it had changed her.

  “You’re right. I mean, you’re a good and decent man who lives his cowboy creed: manners, principles, honor, all kinds of good stuff. You’d never take a relationship to the next level unless it was on solid ground.”

  “Damn right. Especially when you’re anything but solid right now. But I’m hoping now that you’ve felt something good again, you’ll want to keep feeling it, and we’ll work our way back . . . Actually, to something better than we had before, because I’ve got all kinds of good stuff to show you.”

  That made her smile. “I’ve seen your good stuff, tough guy.” And she wanted to see it again, but she couldn’t help reaching out and touching his wounded arm. “Ford, no matter what happens, the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

  He took her hand and brought it up to his lips and kissed her palm. “I know, Firefly. You smiled like three times today. That’s progress. You’ll get there.”

  Where? She sometimes wondered what she was trying to get back to, because it seemed so hard to remember a time when she was happy. It always seemed to be Ford’s image in her mind that settled her and gave her a sense of belonging and contentment.

  He was her happy place. Being with him was everything she wanted.

  If she wanted to keep him and not break this tenuous hold she had on him, she needed to work harder to be the kind of friend he deserved—and maybe she’d find the strength and courage to love him again with all the passion and need filling her up that she wanted to lavish on him.

  Fear held her back. She needed to find the strength to trust him again. To trust herself. Maybe then they’d have a shot at forever.

  Chapter 11

  Tobin walked into Dr. Porter’s office unannounced, slammed the door behind him, and took the seat in front of the wide-eyed man. Tobin crossed his arms over his chest, letting the doctor know he’d come for a reason and wouldn’t leave without getting what he wanted.

  “What are you doing here?” Dr. Porter leaned back in his chair and studied him across the desk. Anger filled his eyes that Tobin would dare intrude like this.

  Desperate times. Desperate measures.

  “I’m here about Keller. She won’t answer any of my calls or texts and I want to know why.”

  “I can’t discuss her with you. She’s my patient.”

  “Don’t give me that doctor-patient confidentiality crap. I don’t need details, but I do want answers.” He raked his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “I’m worried about her.”

  “All I can say is that she’s been in a very bad place since the attack. She needs time and space and distance to process what happened to her.”

  And that told him exactly what he already knew, but not what he wanted to hear. “Is she coming back?”

  Dr. Porter shook his head. “I can’t tell you what we discuss in our sessions.”

  “It’s a simple yes or no.” Tobin missed her more than he thought possible.

  The damn woman had kept him at arm’s length the last five years, but the weeks leading up to the end of their tour, they’d grown closer than ever. Catalina had talked nonstop about getting married to her fiancé and having a baby right away. He’d seen the jealousy and want in Jamie’s eyes to have the same for herself. A time or two he’d caught her looking at him and had hoped she’d reach out and take what he’d made so plain he wanted to give her.

  Then that damn attack happened and she’d completely cut him off.

  “Tobin, are you okay?”

  He didn’t need Dr. Porter’s concern or him getting into his head. He’d done his required sessions and bullshit his way right out of more. Stupid shrinks thought they knew everything. Well, Porter might know a little more since he’d served in the first Gulf War. Porter might see more than Tobin wanted him to know.

  “It’s not like Keller to disappear and not return my calls,” he covered. “All I want to know is if she’s okay.”

  “She’s getting by. A little better these days, now that she’s got someone to look after her.”

  Tobin nodded. “Her brother. She talked about Zac a lot. She missed him.”

  “She’s seen her brother, but he’s busy with his baby. Home turned out to be another battlefield for Jamie with her mother, so Zac moved her to her grandparents’ old house.”

  “Alone.”

  “She was until an old friend came back into her life.”

  Tobin wracked his brain for girls Jamie used to be friends with before she left home for the military. The only people she talked about were her family, the cousin she stayed with in Georgia before leaving for her tours of duty, and the old boyfriend she couldn’t seem to forget. Tobin didn’t come up with anyone who stood out back home. “Who’s taking care of her?”

  “A guy she used to know.”

  “Not Ford.” He bit out the name of the bastard who’d broken her heart and made her reluctant to give any other guy a shot. Including him.

  Dr. Porter neither confirmed nor denied.

  It had to be him. Tobin’s hands ached, so he released his fists and gripped his thighs instead of wrapping his fingers around the doctor’s throat and shaking the answers he wanted out of him.

  “He’ll use and hurt her again. Call her. Let me talk to her. I’ll straighten her out. He’s no good for her.”

  Dr. Porter shook his head before Tobin finished his sentence. “I’m not calling her on your behalf. She isn’t ready to talk to you. Give her the space she needs to heal. When she’s ready, she’ll pick up the phone.”

  “Bullshit. If she’s back with that asshole, she’s making shit decisions. I won’t let him make things worse for her.”

  “It’s her life. If he makes her happy, you should be happy for her.”

  “She thinks she’s still in love with the guy.” Why couldn’t she get over him? He’d made it clear he didn’t want her and sent her away. Tobin did everything he could to be her friend, someone she could trust and rely on, but still, she went back to Ford.

  “Love is a powerful motivator. It’s what brought you here today, isn’t it?”

  Tobin wished Jamie saw how he felt about her as easily as Dr. Porter did.

  “We have a history. Everyone wants her to remember what happened. I’m with her, nothing good will come of her remembering what happened. It’s best locked away and forgotten. It’s time for her and me to move on.”

  Dr. Porter’s gaze remained steady. “She needs to remember to move past it.”

  Jamie needed to forget the past forever. Including Ford. That asshole had to go.

  Chapter 12

  Jamie rolled her shoulders and stretched her back. After two days working at Ford’s place, her muscles were sore, but in a good way. She felt looser, even if the persistent ache made her uncomfortable. At least she’d earned it.

  “Why do you keep fidgeting?” Dr. Porter leaned fo
rward in his chair and eyed her, his face large and a bit distorted on her laptop screen.

  “I’m sore.”

  “The meds aren’t working?”

  She twisted this way and that until the pain eased. “They do, but I’ve cut back.”

  “Too much if you’re in too much pain to sit still.”

  “The job doesn’t help, and helps, all at the same time.”

  Dr. Porter fell back in his chair. “We’ve been on this call for fifteen minutes and you’re just now bringing up the fact you got a job?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Dr. Porter blew out a breath. “Why would I ask that?” He narrowed his eyes. “The last time we spoke, you hadn’t left the house in more than a week.”

  “Well, I’ve spent the last few days at Ford’s place. But he still cooks me dinner here every night. We have lunch together, too.”

  The surprise and confusion on Dr. Porter’s face made her smile, which only made him frown harder. “You’re smiling again.”

  Her smile notched up a few more degrees. “It seems to happen more and more these last few days.”

  “Why?”

  This time she eyed the doc. “Why?”

  Dr. Porter’s dark brows drew together again. “I ask the questions. You answer them.”

  She rolled her eyes at his teasing and impatience. “Ford’s fixing up his place. He took me to see it and his horses. I needed something to do, so I offered to help him out.”

  “You offered.”

  “His idea and mine about what I could actually do were vastly different, but then he got me working, stretching my arm and shoulder, doing a little more each day. He might have been right about pushing myself and how it would help me both physically and mentally. I feel stronger, but don’t tell him I said so.”

  “You work for Ford?”

  She nodded. “On his ranch in the stables. I take care of the horses. It’s working, too. Since I came home, I haven’t had any physical therapy or done the exercises they suggested. Brushing down the horses, lifting their feed and water buckets, putting on their halters and lead ropes means a range of motion in both arms that I can do with the specific moves the therapist taught me, but it’s so much more effective when it’s for a purpose. My legs are sore, my back, my shoulders, and arms, but it feels like progress rather than a punishment for what happened.”

  “This is the most positive I’ve heard you. You said since you came ‘home.’ When you left base, you said you didn’t think you’d stay there.”

  “I knew staying with my mother probably wouldn’t pan out. It lasted just short of a month and me going ballistic.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, longest month of my life. I hoped things would be different, but I guess I knew they wouldn’t be. She’s not capable of nurturing and compassion.”

  “Two things you desperately needed when you left here.”

  Jamie tilted her head and pulled one side of her mouth back in a half frown. “Probably. I guess I still do. But I came to the wrong place for that.”

  “Until Ford showed up. In just a few short days, you’re different. He gives you the nurturing you need.”

  “I think you’d classify it as tough love. I take a step forward and he pushes me to take more.”

  “You’re trained to follow orders. He knows you well enough to know that’s the only way to get you to do anything.”

  “You give me orders all the time and I don’t follow them.”

  “True, but I’m asking you to relive something painful. He’s asking you to play with his horses. Much easier to deal with than your past.”

  “Actually, it helps with that, too.”

  “How so?”

  “When I’m working with the horses, brushing them down, in the monotony of it, I relax. My mind wanders. My time in the military comes back to me in daydreams. When I’m doing the menial tasks, it’s not so overwhelming.”

  “What comes back to you the most?”

  “Ordinary things. Inventory with Catalina before a convoy run. Scheduling, routing, and change request with Tobin. Letting off steam with the gang while we listen to a visiting band. Toby Keith put on one hell of a concert for the troops. Catalina and I danced with some of the guys. I remember thinking it felt so . . . normal and odd at the same time considering where we were and what we were doing.”

  “Was Tobin there, too?”

  “Sure. Catalina, Amy, Jo, Pedro, and I danced the whole time and drank beer. We let everything go and had some fun.”

  “How long was that before you were hurt and they were lost?”

  “Lost.” That word didn’t feel right. She wanted to use “gone,” but it felt so final, and she still felt like she needed to do something for them. “They were killed a month after that concert. It seems strange to have a concert in the middle of a war, but I kind of get it now. We needed the distraction. A moment to breathe and not think about what might happen. I needed that then.”

  “You’ve found it now working with Ford and the horses. A space to breathe and let your guard down. You think about your friends and the way things used to be.”

  “I guess.”

  “But you still can’t bring yourself to think about what happened.”

  “I don’t want to dwell on the bad anymore. Isn’t that a better way to recover?”

  “No. It’s putting off the inevitable. You have to reconcile your past to have any chance of moving forward unburdened.”

  She didn’t say anything. You can’t fight right. But she finally felt lighter. Better. She woke up the last two days with a sense of anticipation rather than dread. When Ford touched her shoulder or took her hand, she leaned into him instead of pulling away. When he kissed her, she felt like a woman again. She felt desirable and loved though she hadn’t convinced herself he actually loved her. He cared. She needed that. She needed him.

  Her cease-fire with herself helped. She didn’t dwell on bad thoughts or stare at herself in the mirror cataloguing all the flaws. She’d painted her toes pink with white polka dots last night to add a little whimsy into her life. Just looking at them now made her feel happy and pretty.

  “Why don’t you want to talk about Tobin?”

  Just the mention of his name took her back to that day. She tried to fight the memory of them in the supply truck driving down the road. His incessant drone about how bad things were getting and how someone needed to fuck those bastards up. She rolled her eyes then and now. So much fierce indignation and frustration about the war dragging out, gaining and losing ground, always fighting to get the upper hand and hold on to it.

  “Mind clueing me in to the thoughts rolling around your head with your eyes?”

  “Huh? Oh. Nothing. Just remembering the last time Tobin and I were in the truck together.”

  “You look like you ate roadkill.”

  She let loose her narrowed eyebrows and tight lips. “Just thinking about my last conversation with Tobin.”

  Dr. Porter leaned forward. “What did he say?”

  She found his intense interest odd. “A lot of stuff he’d said before that I ignored.” She thought about his words.

  Someone should take the bull by the horns and bomb the fuck out of this whole fucking place.

  If I had the chance, I’d cut them all down.

  Why the hell are we here?

  She tilted her head thinking of the days and weeks leading up to that moment. “We were all on edge, counting down the days to the end of our tour, dreaming about being back home. I wanted a pizza so bad I could taste it.”

  “Is that what he talked about, wanting to come home?”

  “We all wanted to come home.”

  But that wasn’t entirely true for Tobin. While she loved the routine of what they did, Tobin wanted some action. He’d joined the wrong division for that. Supply wasn’t glamorous or exciting most of the time. Danger dogged the convoy, but she and Tobin and others of their rank were in charge of planning and organizing. The tedious stuff. If
he wanted to really get in the action, he should have moved over to the infantry.

  It didn’t matter. Not anymore. What relevance did it have now?

  “He needed to blow off steam. Everyone at one time or another boasted in some way about how they’d take down the enemy, end the war, go home to the people they love, and have a normal life again.”

  Lost in thoughts of working with Tobin, his increasing need to go out with the convoys, she shook off the one thought that always hung in her mind. They weren’t supposed to be there. Circumstances, fate, had put them in those vehicles that day. Nothing could change that now. She couldn’t fix what happened.

  “Why won’t you take his calls?”

  That got her attention. “How do you know that?”

  “He came to see me and asked me to talk to you on his behalf. He’s worried about you. You were friends, yet you won’t speak to him.”

  “Just thinking about him brings the nightmares too close to the surface. It feels like a tidal wave that will suck me under.”

  “Maybe if you face it head-on, you’ll finally be able to let it go.”

  “Or I’ll suffocate from the fear and terror that claws at me even when I just remember small glimpses of that day. It’s all I can do to deal with those small pieces.”

  “You think talking to Tobin will bring it all back and you’re not ready.”

  “No. I’m not ready.” Some of the strength she’d gained these last two days seeped away with the knowledge that she wasn’t mentally ready to look at the past rationally and dispassionately. Until she could, this sense of failure would stick with her.

  “Why are we talking about him? I thought you were supposed to be asking about me.”

  “Okay, talk me through what you remember about the blast.”

  She shook her head. “We’ve talked about it a dozen times. You know what happened from the reports.”

  “I want to hear your version of what happened and how Tobin helped you. You’re not loopy on pain meds or drunk or filled with anger. You’re calmer and clearer today than I’ve ever seen you.”