by Jillian Hart
“I am, too,” Lexie spoke up, fully intending to help with any preparations. The thing was, she knew Pierce well enough to recognize the tiny crinkles around his eyes, a sign of strain. I didn’t write because I was afraid to, he’d said. You’ve gotten too close to me, Lexie.
He didn’t want to be too close to her. Maybe to anyone. She had that much figured out. She didn’t want anyone too close to her, either, and look what had happened. Love blazed in her hurting heart with colors and shades she had never known before and so brightly, he was all she could see. The world faded, the birdsong and breeze silenced until there was only Pierce and dreams of him she refused to let bloom. Dreams of wedding vows, of children and happily ever after that she could not allow.
“You’re going to expect me to ride a horse to the swimming hole, aren’t you?” Pierce was saying. “This is going to be interesting.”
“Don’t you ride?” Bill asked.
The breeze gusted lazily in a hot, grass-scented puff, and a deer with twin fawns ambled out of the field and onto the lawn, watching them with wary eyes before getting back to the business of grazing.
“No,” Pierce answered. “Now, in case Lexie is pulling my leg, I want you two to verify that the big horse named Red is in fact tame.”
“As gentle as a kitten,” Julie assured him. “Do you know how to ride?”
“My experience is mostly in falling.”
That made everyone laugh, as he figured it might. His glass was empty, the sun was fully down, leaving a last haze of daylight that was bound to quickly drain away. He climbed to his feet. “I hate to say it, but it’s time to go.”
“I do wish you would stay with us.” Julie seemed genuinely troubled. “It would save you the cost of a hotel, and those rooms are never as comfortable as a home.”
“I’m comfortable enough.” That was one thing about deployment. You learned to appreciate the basics of life, and he had learned he didn’t need much. “Besides, I don’t want to put you folks to any trouble. Thanks again for supper. It was mighty tasty.”
“Anytime, Pierce. Don’t you forget that.”
“See you in the morning, son.” Bill stood to shake his hand. A good, firm grip, callused from a life of hard honest work. “If you want a more challenging mount, you let me know and I’ll saddle up Tasmanian for you.”
“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. Good night.” He didn’t want to break away; at the same time his gut was telling him to go. Lexie may have faded into the background for a moment, but he couldn’t forget her. Her nearness affected him. The back of his neck tingled. The tangle of emotions bound up in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
Her bare feet whispered behind him in the grass as he circled around the house. He’d done his best not to look at her directly since the barn, but he couldn’t go back and change his revelation. He couldn’t undo his affection any more than he could reverse time. When he reached the edge of the lawn, where grass gave way to gravel and his rental truck was parked in the shade of the house, he gathered his reserves before facing her.
“Julie means well.” Apology made her eyes a deeper shade of blue, and the emotion on her pretty face was unveiled, plain for him to see. “She only wants you to have a good visit, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to come tomorrow or to spend the day swimming in the creek.”
“Obligated? That’s not the word I would use.” Try lucky. Glad. Worried. The last twinges of daylight fell between them like hope, like opportunity, and in the soft light, she had never looked more beautiful. His soul ached for her. He savored the look of her long, curled eyelashes framing her perfect blue eyes, her exquisitely cut cheekbones and darling slope of her nose, her rose petal–soft mouth and the smile that curved upward in the corners.
Love, powerful and pure, thumped like a cluster bomb through his chest, driving out fear and doubt and every drop of lonesomeness. He felt whole, when he hadn’t known anything was missing until now, until this moment. He wanted to draw her into his arms and never let go.
“It was my plan to spend the day with you.” His voice sounded rough and raw, as if too much of his emotions had made it past his armor. He straightened his shoulders, drawing up all his might. Whatever his love for her, he could not let it show. “I’ll even get on a horse. That’s saying a lot right there.”
“You’re just lucky I can fit you into my hectic, demanding schedule.” Her words were lighthearted, her grin sweet, but her eyes were veiled. As twilight crept over the land, soaking into the shadows, it hid the tiny hints of truth on her face.
But he could see deeper. He felt her vulnerability and fears as greatly as he felt his own.
“Yeah,” he joked, choosing to keep things lights, too, where they were both comfortable. “I saw those calves. Very demanding.”
“I’m glad it’s not haying season yet, or I wouldn’t be able to get away.”
“I wouldn’t mind helping out in the field.” As long as he could be with her. He would go anywhere and do anything for her. Commitment filled him, unbidden and unexpected, protective and strong. Love for her hurt with brutal force, and he took a step back, struggling to keep the safe wall of friendship firmly between them. He tugged his keys from his jeans pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”
“Any time you want. You’re the one on vacation. You shouldn’t have to be anywhere on time. Come when you can.” The breeze ruffled the dark curtain of her hair, and as twilight deepened and the first stars of the night shone in the gray sky behind her, he wanted to kiss her. More than life itself, he wanted to cradle her chin in his hands, gaze into her eyes until his soul sighed and kiss her with all the tenderness he owned.
Good thing he was smart enough to leave before he could. His boots crunched in the gravel as he circled around the truck, but as he climbed into the cab, distance gave him no relief. Tenderness left him dizzy as he started the engine.
When he drove away, he kept sight of her in the mirror. She stood at the edge of the driveway watching him go. Framed by stars and mountains, she looked like the ideal image of a wholesome country girl in her simple T-shirt and cutoffs, but she was much more.
She was his heart.
“Pierce is a nice boy.” Aunt Julie snapped the lid closed on thick pieces of gingerbread cake the next morning. “Of course, he is from Wyoming.”
“That makes all the difference.” Tongue in cheek, Lexie carefully wedged the plastic container into the bulging saddle pack. “He’s only a friend.”
“I wasn’t saying any different.” Julie covered the cake pan and carried it to the counter. “You ought to invite him to church with us tomorrow.”
“I was planning on it.” Oh, she knew where her aunt was going with this, bless her. “Remember I said he was a friend?”
“I heard it loud and clear.” Her twinkling eyes said otherwise. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, honey, but I can see the truth as plain as day.”
“Truth? There is no truth.” None that counted, anyway. All the love in the world wouldn’t make Pierce stay. He had four more years in the Army, and she had a degree to finish. Just one more reason she had to keep a tight rein on her heart. “Neither of us wants anything serious.”
“Fine. Use any excuse you want, but you love the boy.”
To deny it would be a lie. Lexie grabbed a tube of sunscreen and slipped it into the pack’s outside pocket.
“I thought so. He’s in love with you, too.”
“No, that’s impossible.” She methodically hooked her sunglasses into her T-shirt’s collar. She kept her feelings very still, but a small hope heard those words and stirred. She tugged her gray Stetson from the hooks. “He’s a loner of a guy and he likes it that way.”
“Okay, fine.” Julie leaned over the sink to get a good look at the driver. “Then Mr. Lone Wolf is driving up at nine forty-three on a Saturday morning. Could mean he’s eager to see you.”
That small hope buried inside her stirred again. Quelling it, she lifted the pa
ck and swung it onto her shoulder. “Or it could mean he’s an early riser, too, which he is. He knows I get up at four-thirty to feed the calves.”
“All right. You know best.” Julie’s wide grin said otherwise. “You kids have fun. Watch out for that cougar we’ve been having trouble with. You’ve got the two-way just in case?”
“I got it.” She grabbed it on the way out the door and hooked it into the pocket of her pack. “I’ll be back for the chores. See you then!”
“Bye, sweetie.”
Lexie shut the door, unaware of the weight of the bag or how quick she circled the house. It wasn’t as if she was anxious to see him again, really. That couldn’t be the reason her feet were carrying her through the gravel toward him. It had to be the wind at her back pushing her along, instead of her heart pulling her.
“Hey, sunshine.” Pierce strolled toward her, lowering his aviator sunglasses. He wore an olive-green T-shirt, cutoffs, and a camouflage cap, looking like he was ready for a summer outing.
Seeing him was like peace touching her soul, like hope dawning, all her dreams coming to life. Those sensible, logical reasons why she had to resist hoping silenced. Not smart, it wasn’t logical. It was emotional.
“You look ready to hit the trail. I’ve been talking myself into it all morning.” He stopped to yank a small duffel from the bed of the truck. “I’m mentally prepared for the mission ahead.”
“You have nothing to worry about. It will be fun. Maybe not as fun as racing down the mountain shouting ‘banzai’, but fun.”
“No racing.” He grinned, looking fairly adamant about that. He hefted the saddlebag from her shoulder before she could protest. “Usually I like speed, but when I’m on the back of a horse, not so much.”
“Got it. We’ll keep it to a safe trot.”
“Hey, I know about trotting. No trotting.”
“You don’t want to bounce around in the saddle?”
“Bounce, slap, fall off. No, miss, I do not.” Chuckling, he fell in beside her, their gait in sync. “Is this an all-day mission?”
“That’s the plan, except I have to be back at four-thirty to do my chores.”
“Suits me fine. I figure we’ll come back, get the barn work done together and then the two of us can hit town. I noticed there is a street fair going on.”
“Swinging Rope Founder Days. I’ve been meaning to go.” A lock of hair tumbled down from her hat, which framed her face adorably. “There’s a rodeo tonight.”
“Yep, thought we could catch it.” Casual, that’s how he had to keep it, although that didn’t explain why his palms had gone damp. It might be because of the heat, but more likely because being with her mattered. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
They’d reached the barn, where light filtered from the haymow where the white cat was sitting, staring regally at him. Two horses were cross-tied in the aisle, saddled and ready. Pogo lifted his head, nickering in greeting, glad to see his owner. The big animal turned to putty as he lowered his nose for Lexie’s affectionate touch.
Pretty lucky horse, to Pierce’s way of thinking, to mean so much to her. He took a step back, drawing the red giant’s attention. The gelding studied him with measuring eyes, as if he had already figured out who would be riding him and how to keep the upper hand.
Great. All he could do was to hope for the best and that he didn’t end up on his can in a sticker bush. He raised the saddlebag into place behind the saddle, tying it on.
“You aren’t as inexperienced as you think you are.” Lexie sidled up to him, her big blues transfixing him.
“Hey, I watch Westerns. I’ve seen how it’s done.”
“Westerns, huh? Another thing we have in common.” Her dimples bracketed her rosebud mouth as she grinned.
The effect was akin to a thrown grenade about to blow. Every instinct he had shouted at him to retreat, but he stayed where he was. “It looks like our lunch is secure.”
“At least you know what’s important.”
“Always.” And he did. It was her. If he let her be.
“Ready to mount up, partner?” She tipped her light gray Stetson, a perfect contrast to her ebony hair and porcelain complexion. “I’ll introduce you to Red.”
“He’s been eyeballing me like I’m going to be toast.” His attention might be firmly on Lexie, but he hadn’t missed the horse on the other side of Pogo, keeping careful watch. “He looks bigger up close.”
“He’s a sweetie, so don’t worry. I’ve told him all about you.” She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand, ducking under her horse’s lead rope. “Hey, good boy. This is Pierce.”
“Hi, Red.” He held out his hand for the horse to scent. “Here’s hoping we’re going to be friends.”
“If you want to mount up, I’ll untie him.” She was all business, patting the horse’s neck, knotting the reins and dropping them over the saddle horn. “Ready?”
“I’ll go anywhere with you, pretty lady.” He hoped the Western movie drawl would cover what he didn’t want her to hear, what he couldn’t give in to feeling. He tied the small duffel behind the saddle. With one foot in the stirrup, he swung up and over. The creak of leather, the shift of the horse adjusting to his weight, and the distance to the ground kept his attention off Lexie, but it didn’t keep her out of his heart.
No, she walked away with it as she unhooked the tie. “I’m assuming you remember the basics.”
“Tuck and roll,” he quipped. He wasn’t afraid of falling off the horse. He wasn’t afraid of crashing and burning. He’d done it before. He faced greater problems in his workday. He had his armor up, his vulnerabilities protected, and his faith on. Surely God hadn’t brought him here for heartache. This was a stolen moment out of his life, one of quality and substance, one he had to leave behind come Sunday morning. It wasn’t as if he had a chance of winning Lexie’s heart or, even more importantly, a chance of keeping it.
He did win her laughter as she shook her head, striding away from him. She untied Pogo and mounted up, efficient and practiced. She sat a saddle straight and relaxed, as if she had been born to it.
“Follow me, soldier,” she winked, reined Pogo around and rode straight into the golden shafts of the morning light.
“Are you still back there?” she called over her shoulder, leaning forward in her saddle as Pogo climbed the rocky trail. A pleasant hour had passed, and Pierce hadn’t fallen once. But she wanted to keep her eye on him anyway.
“Yep.” His voice came from farther down the trail, around the wooded bend, out of sight.
That was it. Just “yep,” and no elaboration. She eased Pogo to a stop and waited, twisting around for a better view. Red’s hooves chinked on the rocky trail, growing closer. The leaves overhead whispered as the breeze lazed through them, sifting the light. The moment Pierce cornered the grove of aspen, the joy lifting through her doubled.
“Sorry, I saw a red-tailed hawk back there. I slowed the horse to take a look.”
“There’s a pair that nests somewhere around here. I’ve seen them a lot this summer. Maybe we’ll see them hunting.”
“Maybe.” His smile could stop the earth from spinning. It sure made her world come to a standstill.
She pressed her heels gently against Pogo’s sides and he moved forward, powering to the top of the hill. Above the music of birdsong and rustling wild grasses and leaves rose the melody of running water. The trees gave way to a meadow bright with flowers, their round faces open toward the sun. Light glinted and seared off the crystal clear creek ribboning along its edge.
“Wow.” He drew Red up alongside her. “This is the creek you waded in when you were young.”
“Yes. And around that big boulder, where the aspens are? That’s where it’s deep enough to swim.” She swept off her hat and fanned herself with it a few times. She was baking. The horses meandered through the field, trekking through sunflowers, purple coneflowers and crimson Indian paint. Deer tracks cut into the earth near the water
’s edge, and a few other tracks she knew all too well.
“Looks like we’ve had both cougar and bear here.” She dismounted, reins in hand, and knelt to get a closer look.
Pierce joined her at the bank, his capable presence sending a shiver through her.
“It’s fresh.” He took off his glasses, carefully scanning the undergrowth of the tree line across the water. “Will the horses be safe?”
“We’ll keep an eye on them to make sure. This is nothing unusual, although the bear might be interested in the saddlebag.”
“I’ll separate it from the horse, just in case.” He wasn’t the kind of guy who got ruffled easily, she thought, watching him as he untied his duffel. From the first moment she’d met him, she had liked the stalwart capability he radiated, but it wasn’t superficial—just the tip of the iceberg.
“I learned that the hard way once.” He’d pulled two towels from his bag, slung them over his wide shoulder, before he came for her pack. “We were out tromping through our acreage with our dog. He’s gone now. Spotty was kind of old, so he rolled up in our stuff to take a siesta. Hawk, Tim and I were up to our knees in the creek, watching the crawdads, and next thing we knew, there was a bear.”
“Something tells me he was more interested in the dog than the food you’d brought?”
“So much for the bologna sandwiches. I was about eight, I guess. I threw a rock at the bear, hit him in the knee. He left the dog alone all right, but he came after me. I ran. Hawk ran. Tim ran. The dog ran. You never saw any kids in the history of the world sprint as fast as we did that day.” Laughing, he hung the bags on a thick aspen branch. “That was the last time Spotty wanted to go to the creek with us. Tim had nightmares for months.”
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
“More than anything. We were tight.” He didn’t look at her. He concentrated on the scenery, the breathtaking peaks of the Rockies spearing up into the deep blue sky, the playful water beckoning him, and the memories he couldn’t let himself forget. “We spent most of our time together. Losing him is something I’m never going to get over.”
