by Kit Kyndall
At least until he started working and quickly realized the physical effort did nothing to occupy his mind. He didn’t need much thinking power devoted to shoveling up horse manure and straw, and he was quickly replaying last night over in his mind.
He couldn’t remember the dream, though he didn’t doubt it was the usual hellish cocktail of previous experience mixed with an extra dose of horrible that only his mind could conjure. Justin certainly didn’t remember her trying to wake him up, and he didn’t remember hitting her, but that didn’t excuse what he had done. She’d come to him for safety, and he had attacked her.
He cursed his friend Andre for a moment, wishing things could be different. He wasn’t certain if he was wishing Andre had never sent Julia to him, or perhaps he was wishing Andre hadn’t knocked him out of the main blast radius of the IED that had changed everything.
Either way, his friend had saved him, and he owed the other man a debt. He wanted to keep Julia safe, and not simply because Andre had trusted him to do so. He liked her, far more than he should, and he knew his emotions were in a precarious place. It wouldn’t take much to do more than like his houseguest, but that was the worst thing he could do to her. She deserved someone far better than him—someone who was whole and healthy, without his mental baggage.
Someone who wouldn’t punch her in the middle of the night when she tried to offer comfort.
He cursed softly, shaking his head at himself and his actions. His stomach churned with nausea, and sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart rate ramped up, and he fumbled for the bottle of propranolol he kept in his pocket. They were never far away from him. He popped the top and shook out a small yellow pill.
He tossed it back without water, used to the process by now. The beta blocker made the difference between coping and completely breaking down when the physical signs of post-traumatic stress disorder started to overtake him. It short-circuited the physical process, but it couldn’t completely stop the mental anguish that had led to a physical manifestation in the first place.
The horses were looking more awake, and he was feeling the need to get fresh air and put some extra space between himself, Julia, and the problems surrounding her. The white mare nuzzled him with affection when he went to her stall, bringing the saddle with him.
Most of the time, he went through all the steps, but there were moments when he felt the need to escape, and he’d hop on the back of one of his horses without a saddle and just ride, letting the horse have its head. Today, he took the time to gear up properly, partially because he was more in control now that the beta blocker was starting to kick in, and also because it gave him another chore to focus on, and another reason to stay away from the house for longer.
Once he had the horse ready to go, he was soon in the saddle and heading out of the stables. From habit, he glanced at the house and was somehow unsurprised to find Julia standing on the front porch, her expression impossible to read from the distance, though he could imagine it was full of sympathy and concern. That spurred him to go faster, and he turned Vixen away from her in a deliberate way, spurring her gently with the stirrups to hit full speed as quickly as possible.
Julia wasn’t surprised that he was avoiding her, though technically he wasn’t doing anything different than he did every other morning, other than leaving the house so early. She had still been somewhere in a restless sleep, between waking and slipping further into it, when she heard him leave shortly after five. It had woken her up completely, though she had tried for another hour to sleep.
Finally surrendering, she had gotten out of bed, yawning the entire time. It had taken two cups of coffee to feel even slightly alert, but when she had stepped out onto the porch, the early morning breeze had perked her up almost as much as the sight of Justin riding out of the stable on the white horse.
Her lips had curved into a smile of amusement for a moment as she recalled Prince Charming often rode on a white horse. The smile fell from her face when there was a throb in her cheek, reminding her he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming material.
She wasn’t afraid of him because he’d hit her, because she understood what had happened. She wasn’t really afraid of him at all. She was more afraid for him, and what he might do to himself. She hated to see the burden of agony he carried around with him, and she longed to do something to soothe it. She couldn’t fix him, but she wanted to help.
From the way he turned away from her and rode on, it was clear he didn’t want her help. He just wanted to get away, and she had to respect that. She’d give him some space, but not too much. She was certain he would just internalize what had happened, and it would eventually add to his problems. She couldn’t allow him to do that to himself—and not because she was altruistic.
As she set about completing her morning chores—cleaning rooms that didn’t really need to be cleaned yet—before turning her attention to making a light breakfast, she admitted to herself that she felt more for Justin than was wise, at least if she wanted to protect her heart. That was important, but she was certain that protecting her heart would automatically preclude her from being able to reach out to Justin and touch him in any meaningful fashion.
They were stuck together, but she was hoping something good could come from it. She didn’t think he was her Prince Charming on a white horse, and it wasn’t even strictly about a romantic relationship, or acting on the attraction she felt for him. Something inside him called to her, provoking a visceral reaction that was both fiercely nurturing and protective, while somehow being neither one of those things at all. She wanted to help him as much for her sake as his own.
The sound of a vehicle caught her attention, and she turned off the biscuits after ensuring they were done, but left them in the oven to stay warm. She stepped out onto the porch cautiously before realizing perhaps she shouldn’t have. It was unlikely Marconi and his group could follow her here, and even more unlikely that they would brazenly approach and park in front of the house, but she probably should have stayed inside. It was too late either way, and she was relieved to realize it was Sheriff Finch.
She walked down the stairs to meet him, holding out a hand. “What brings you by, Sheriff?”
“I’m just checking up on you.” His gaze immediately shifted to her cheek, and his lips tightened. “It’s a good thing too. You’ll be wanting to file charges.” He stated it like a fact, not a question.
“No, I won’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was slightly flustered and afraid he would see right through her gossamer deception.
He scowled. “Where is Harbor?”
Before she could answer, the sound of horse hooves in the distance grew closer, and she briefly struggled with the urge to shout out to Justin that he should turn and ride the other way. That was unnecessary, and she just had to remind herself that he wouldn’t be in trouble as long as she told the truth.
He approached warily, sliding out of the saddle a few feet away from them before tapping the horse on the rump to send it cantering away. He walked closer, an air of resignation about him. He stepped up beside the sheriff, but his gaze remained on her for a moment. “I don’t blame you for calling him.”
“I didn’t.” Before she could say more, the sheriff spun Justin around and slammed him against the hood of the SUV with more force than necessary. She surged forward, nonplussed by the way Justin made no effort to fight back or escape. “Stop right there.”
The sheriff ignored her as he clicked on cuffs. “You have the right to remain silent—”
She physically inserted herself between them, putting her arm between the sheriff and Justin before he could click on the second handcuff. “I’m not pressing charges, because there’s nothing to press charges for. He didn’t hurt me.”
“I hit you,” said Justin, his cheek pressed against the hood of the SUV.
She let out a disgusted sigh. “Keep your mouth shut for five seconds.” Immediately, she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have spoken to you that way, but stop trying to help get yourself arrested.” She gentled her hand, placing it on his back but still providing a slight barrier between him and Sheriff Finch.
She focused her attention on the sheriff, ensuring she had his gaze locked with hers before she spoke. “Justin didn’t hurt me. He did hit me, but he was having a nightmare in the middle of the night, and he was still asleep when it happened. I’m sure you’re familiar with PTSD.”
It was just a guess on her part, but she was certain Justin already had that diagnosis. If not, she was certain he should have, though she was no psychiatrist. “As soon as he woke up, he was fine. I learned a valuable lesson, which is to wake him up from a distance outside where he can reach me. I’m not angry, and he didn’t do it to hurt me. I’m not pressing charges.”
For a moment, the sheriff looked like he wanted to argue, so it was a surprise when he unclicked the cuff he had originally fastened around Justin’s wrist. He stepped back, though he made no move to help Justin stand up. “I can’t force you to press charges, but I think you’re making a mistake.”
She glared at the sheriff as she put an arm around Justin’s waist, tugging him to an upright position, though he seemed reluctant. She offered support he clearly didn’t want as she stood beside him while speaking to the law enforcement officer.
“It’s not a mistake to have compassion. What is a mistake is to misjudge someone based on actions outside their control, and to assume you always know that person. I thank you for checking on me, but I’m just fine, and I won’t have use for your service unless I call you.” It was as close as she could get to forbidding the sheriff from coming back, mainly because she was wasn’t certain if she could even do that, and also because it wasn’t her land.
He nodded at her in a terse fashion before slipping behind the wheel. As he reversed, he paused in mid-turn to lean his head out the opened window. “When you need me again, and you will, I’ll come. You just call, if you’re able to do so.”
“He’s a real jackass,” she commented to Justin as the sheriff pulled away.
Justin withdrew from her embrace, stepping back. “Not really. He’s just trying to look out for you. You wouldn’t believe it now, but we grew up playing together in the same trailer park. We weren’t best friends or anything, but we had a lot in common. We both felt the need to prove ourselves, though we took different paths. For him, it was entering the Police Academy in Butte, and for me, it was joining the service.”
“I don’t care how good his intentions are. That doesn’t give him the right to treat you like a criminal.”
Justin scoffed. “All he has to do is to take one look at your face to realize I’m a criminal. That’s even without my past history of starting a fight with anyone who moved toward me. You’re the only one who’s confused about what kind of person I am, Julia.”
She shook her head. “I refuse to believe that.”
“Then you’re a fool.” Without another word, he turned and strode into the house. She was unsurprised to find his study door closed a few minutes later when she followed and walked down the hall. Once again, he was shutting her out. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still hurt.
7
For two days, he had done his best to avoid her, and she was sick of it. She didn’t have any right to push him, but she was no longer capable of giving him space. He wasn’t using it to organize his thoughts. Instead, he was trying to put up a barrier between them. Perhaps it was the wisest course, to keep herself separate from him and vice versa, but she was tired of being sensible too.
She was missing him, and the small connection that had started to form. During the moments when they had slipped into a comfortable state of companionship, she’d been certain there was a deeper connection forming between them. If she allowed him to keep his distance, it would kill that fledgling emotion. That seemed like the worst thing she could do—far worse than getting close to a man who might break her heart.
She set her alarm to rise ahead of him, taking a quick shower before donning jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt to ward off the chill of the early morning. She slipped quietly from the house and went to the stables, where she perched on a hay bale and waited for him to arrive. Deliberately, she chose one near the corner so he wouldn’t see her before he could step inside and immediately change his course.
It was almost forty-five minutes before he joined her, and she had shifted several times on the uncomfortable seat, but hadn’t left it. She was determined to wait him out, and then he was there.
He didn’t see her initially, going instead to the black stallion in the middle stall. The stable was large enough to accommodate ten horses, but he had grouped all three of them together, and she assumed that was for companionship for the horses.
“Good morning, Goliath.” His large hand stroked the even larger muzzle of the horse as it nickered at him in a friendly fashion. “Did you sleep well, old friend?”
“Not really,” said Julia as she stood up and strode toward him. He jumped in surprise, and his gaze was one of prey sensing predator. For a moment, she was convinced he was going to jump on the horse and ride away, but the stall being closed thwarted his plan. Maybe that wasn’t his intention anyway, but she didn’t give him the option. Instead, she put herself against the stall door and leaned on it, forcing him into a position where he had to look down at her.
Responding instinctively, as though she was the one gentling a horse, she put her hand on his cheek. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “You don’t need to keep avoiding me, Justin. I’m an intruder in your home, and it’s not right for me to make you uncomfortable and put you out.”
His expression softened slightly, and his cheek molded against her hand as a slight bit of persistence faded. “You’re not an intruder.”
“The way you’re avoiding me makes me feel like an interloper though. I feel like I should find somewhere else to go.”
His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. “No.”
His decisive tone pleased her, though she tried to hide the reaction from filtering through her expression. “If you don’t want me here, it’s better for everyone if I just leave.”
He moved forward, his body pressing against hers and pinning her to the door of the stall. He didn’t touch her in any way besides his body against hers, but she was certain he wanted to. His internal struggle was written on his face.
“You’re not going anywhere. It isn’t safe. You’re not safe with me, but you’re less safe without me.”
She stroked his cheek. “Despite what happened the other night, I feel perfectly safe with you, Justin. I don’t feel just safe. I feel more.”
He licked his lips. “What kind of more?”
Using her other hand, she reached for one of his at his side and brought it to her chest, placing it over her heart. “You feel how erratic my heart rate is? Whenever I’m near you, it goes into overdrive.”
His palm remained resting against her chest, though he barely touched her, as though he feared allowing himself to do so. “Because you’re afraid of me.”
She let out an exasperated sigh as she shook her head. “No, because I like being near you. Your presence excites me. Don’t you know I’m attracted to you? Can’t you feel how much I want you?”
His eyes darkened, and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t. I’m dangerous.”
She scoffed. “You’re tortured, and I don’t know why, but that doesn’t make you dangerous. You’ve never raised a hand to me while you’re awake or alert. You barely know me, but you took me in on a promise to a friend. You’re a good man, and I’m certain of that. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave.”
His eyes darkened, and his anguish was clear. “I should tell you to go. If I were decent, I’d do that for you.”
“You are decent, and you’re too good of a man to deny us both the possibility of something more, something that could mean everything to both of us.”
/> She wasn’t certain who reached for the other first, but suddenly they were pressed together, his hardness cradling her softer curves as her arms went around his neck, and his went around her back to settle above the curve of her butt. She strained her head to meet his lips as they descended, getting her first taste of the man she had longed for for days.
As their lips touched for the first time, she was certain it was meant to be this way. From the moment she had stepped foot on his land, it had initiated a chain reaction of fate that led them to this point. She wasn’t one for believing in karma or preordained events, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that the universe had instigated a series of events, including her friend’s murder, to bring her Justin, but she didn’t completely discount the idea either. Being in his arms just felt that right.
He kissed her with everything he had, clearly not holding back anything, and she reciprocated with all the pent-up emotion that had been building inside her since the first day. Julia threaded her fingers through his hair, holding his head against hers in a bid to keep him from changing his mind or pulling away.
He showed no sign of wanting to, and the kiss deepened in intensity until their mouths were open, their tongues caressing each other. It was a hungry, needful kiss, and it barely took the edge off her desire for him.
His hand slid lower to cup her buttocks, lifting her against him so she was nestled against the hardness of his cock. Julia clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he pulled her closer and carried her a few feet to a pile of straw. He paused there, breaking the kiss as he looked down at her. He seemed to be reading her expression for a moment, as though trying to convince himself that she really wanted him. She did her best to ensure her features showed him just that, along with the softness in her gaze and the way she kept her lips parted, eagerly awaiting his next kiss.
