Change of Heart

by T. J. Kline

“I appreciate that.” His shoulders relaxed slightly. “Guess the heat got to both of us today. I’m sorry for the things I said, too. You were under a lot of stress, and I didn’t give you much of a chance to adjust before I started shooting off my mouth.”

  She turned back toward the horses as one of them started walking toward them. If they were going to live in close proximity, maybe they could at least get to a point where they could tolerate one another.

  “We should start over.” Gage held out a hand. “I’m Gage Granger, your neighbor. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Leah bit the corner of her lip as the horse nudged her hand. “Don’t do that,” she said quietly. She rubbed her hand over the animal’s face the way Jessie had told her they liked. “We’re both old enough that we don’t need to pretend we get do-overs in life.”

  “Ah, another cynic.” He reached out and patted the horse’s neck. The second horse seemed to take notice and ambled slowly in their direction.

  “A realist,” she corrected. “Another?”

  “Like my brother, or at least, he used to be one.” Gage shrugged but looked back at her, curiosity clear in his dark eyes. “So, you don’t think you can forgive and forget? There’s no starting over?”

  “Not really. You can forgive, but it’s a conscious choice. Forgetting something ever happened? That’s impossible. It’s like saying there’s such a thing as love at first sight.”

  “Next you’re going to tell me you don’t believe in happily ever after either.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head with a grin tugging at the corners of his full lips. “What kind of therapist are you?”

  She didn’t return his smile. “A good one. One who knows what I’m talking about and uses hard facts to get through to people who’ve see far too much reality in their daily lives to believe in fairy tales.”

  She leaned one elbow on the railing and faced him. “The people I work with don’t need illusions. They need coping skills because life isn’t some kind of fantasy. Most people you meet aren’t good, and they don’t want to help you.”

  Gage narrowed his eyes, trying to see more than what she would allow anyone to see. Leah wondered for a moment if she should have just kept her mouth shut. There was something about this man that made her usual calm, reserved demeanor take a vacation and made her tongue run away without her brain. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up telling him her life story, and no one deserved to bear the weight of that nightmare.

  He shook his head and gave her a look filled with such empathy that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She steeled herself. Leah didn’t want his sympathy. She’d gotten enough of that when she was a kid, from teachers, therapists, and social workers as she bounced from one foster home to another. She was an adult now.

  “Don’t do that either. Don’t act like you understand where I’m coming from. You don’t know me.”

  Reaching a hand out to pet the horse at the fence, Gage sighed. “You’re right, I don’t, and I get the feeling there aren’t many people who really do. But you should probably drop the eat-shit-and-die attitude or you’ll never understand where other people are coming from. No one wants to open up to someone they’re sure is a hard-ass.”

  Gage walked away before she could even formulate a response. In truth, she wasn’t even sure how to respond.

  She wanted to rail at him, to throw the reality of her past into his face and embarrass him for his audacity in thinking he could make assumptions about her. In his worst nightmares, he couldn’t imagine even half of what she’d been through. Staring at his broad back, walking away from her toward the cabin he was staying in, she took in the confident swagger.

  “Arrogant ass,” she muttered. “If you think this is an attitude, you’re in for a treat.”

  Chapter Four

  THE KNOCK ON the back patio door jerked Leah upright in bed, struggling to remember where she was. She rubbed at her eyes as the pounding came again.

  I’m at Heart Fire Ranch. New job, new life.

  The mantra she’d been reciting to herself since she’d received the call offering her the position did nothing to shake the nightmares that had plagued her into the early morning hours, keeping her tangled in the sheets, crying out and waking herself, wanting to hide under her bed, the way she’d done when she was little. Leah brushed her curls back from her face and took a deep breath as she swung her feet over the side of the bed.

  “Coming,” she called as she shuffled to the door and swung it open. Seeing Gage standing in the doorway, she groaned. “You again?”

  “I see a good night’s sleep hasn’t done anything to improve your mood.”

  She glared at him but he only chuckled. It was too early in the morning to deal with his misguided attempt at humor. She glanced at the clock on her stove as she made her way back into the room.

  “You do realize it’s only . . . oh.”

  “Indeed, Sunshine. It’s almost ten a.m., and I’d think you’d be far more grateful for my presence when you see what gifts I bring.” He held up two cups of iced coffee. “I knew you liked iced after I saw it spilled in your car yesterday, but I wasn’t sure what kind you liked best so I guessed. I figured a guy can’t go wrong with caramel and vanilla. I’ll give you your choice.”

  She reached out, snagging the cup with caramel syrup drizzled along the inside. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes to enjoy the drink. “I might have to rethink killing you for waking me up.”

  “I appreciate the effort.”

  He set the other cup onto the kitchen counter and made his way back to her small porch, retrieving several paper bags and bringing them inside.

  “What are those?”

  Gage lifted his arms, his lips curving into a slight smile. “Groceries. I figured with your car in the shop and you arriving early, Jessie hadn’t stocked your cabinets, and since I was already heading into town this morning . . . ” He shrugged as if the resulting bags were self-explanatory.

  Leah felt guilt slam into her chest. She’d been rude to him yesterday—okay, maybe even worse than rude—yet he’d still been thoughtful enough to pick up groceries for her, to do one more thing she couldn’t do for herself. Leah’s ability to remain aloof slipped as regret for her actions needled her. She’d been on her own, answering to no one, for so long she didn’t know how to react to the foreign feeling and the remorse irritated her. She clenched her jaw against the smart-aleck comment that tried to slip past her lips. She took a deep breath and buried the irritation.

  “Why are you doing all of this?”

  Gage took a drink of the coffee before setting the cup aside and leaning a hip against the counter. “All of what, Leah?”

  “The car, unloading my things, the groceries?” She frowned, trying to figure him out the way she would one of her patients.

  “I’m just being nice. Is there something wrong with that?” Gage didn’t miss anything and his grin widened. “Instead of complaining, I think this is where you say ‘thank you,’ ” he said.

  “Thank you,” she muttered.

  “See?” he said with a laugh. “That didn’t hurt, did it?”

  Leah rolled her eyes and reached into one of the bags, finding two boxes of cereal, pancake mix, syrup, lunch meat, bread, a head of lettuce, and tomatoes. She held up the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “Do I look like a ten-year-old boy?”

  He plucked the box from her hands with a grin and slid it into an empty cupboard. “You don’t have to be ten to enjoy these. Plus,” he pointed out, “you’re probably going to have hungry boys showing up. You should have a few things they might like.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. Gage reached for the loaf of bread.

  “And I was thinking the two of us could get to know one another over lunch.”

  Leah crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the counter, keeping the width of the kitchen between them, fixing him with a pointed look. “Get to know one another?” She took another sip of the coff
ee, stalling. “That’s the best line you could think of?”

  She couldn’t deny that he had the boyish charm down to an art form, but she wasn’t buying it.

  Gage’s eyes flashed with mischief as he opened the mayonnaise he’d bought for her and spread it on the bread he’d laid out on two paper plates. “What makes you think it’s a line?”

  “Gee, I wonder. Maybe it’s the ease with which it falls off of your tongue. Or the confident way you take over my kitchen.”

  He glanced at her. “And that makes you think I’m trying to seduce you with sandwiches?”

  “Maybe.” Leah shrugged. “Although you didn’t hesitate to point out yesterday that I wasn’t your type,” she reminded him, tipping her cup in his direction.

  He set the butter knife aside and closed the distance between them, forcing her to move backward, pressing herself into the counter in an effort to create some breathing room between them. Gage already filled the small space, making it feel minuscule, but when he approached, he erased the rest of the room. Her vision was engulfed by him—his broad shoulders, the expanse of well-muscled chest, his chiseled jaw that was shaved smooth this morning, his deep, penetrating brown eyes. Gage raised a hand, and she could feel the electricity jump between them. He didn’t even touch her as he laid a hand against the cupboard behind her, but she felt the current between them all the same.

  “Trust me, Leah.” His voice was a husky sound that made her stomach do a flip and a spin. It reminded her of the only roller coaster she’d been on during a senior trip in high school. “If I was going to seduce you, it wouldn’t be over sandwiches. I can think of far better ways.”

  She found herself wanting to lean into him, to let his fingers brush over her skin, to see if his hands were as warm as she guessed they would be. Leah cursed her own fantasies. She’d just told him last night that she didn’t believe in that sort of nonsense, and here she was letting herself get swept away by a little sexual attraction. Her gaze fell on his mouth, lips that made her wonder what it might feel like to kiss him, to be kissed by him, to feel them over her skin. Okay, so maybe this was more than a little sexual attraction. It felt like a live thing, growing and spreading through her with each passing second.

  Snap out of it!

  Leah looked up and met his eyes, forcing her lips to spread in a disdainful smirk. “So, this is what usually works for you?”

  She saw the doubt flash in his eyes. It was brief, but she was sure that was what she saw before he quickly masked it with his impish humor.

  The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “Usually, but I should have known you wouldn’t be like other woman, Leah. You’ve been in a league all your own from the first moment I saw you.”

  She peered up at him, bristling slightly and arching a questioning brow while she waited for him to elaborate on his statement.

  “Not many women would drive a car like yours,” he explained. “And, even if they did, they wouldn’t know what a radiator was, let alone if it needed replacing. You’re definitely one of a kind.”

  “This is your version of a compliment?”

  She kept her voice dispassionate, but inside she celebrated the fact that he noticed the differences. After their short conversation at the corral last night, he hadn’t bothered to return to the barbecue, which must have been a cue to everyone else in attendance to act as if it was their family duty to extol the amazing attributes of Gage Granger, including his brilliance and the way people fawned over him like a celebrity. Just because other people treated him like a god didn’t make him one, and she wasn’t about to become one of his overly large harem of Granger-groupies.

  “And the cynicism returns.” Gage moved back to the bread and slapped some deli meat onto it before reaching into the bag again. “Cheese?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing for me. I’m not a breakfast person.”

  “This is brunch.”

  “Sorry, I’m not a brunch person. And since when do you have sandwiches for brunch? That, sir, is lunch.”

  His gaze slid over her, taking in every inch, from the top of her mussed waves, over the tank top and yoga pants she’d slept in, all the way down to her stocking feet. “Not at ten a.m. it’s not. Besides, you need to eat. You could use a little meat on your bones.”

  Leah fought back the urge to wrap her arms around her waist self-consciously. She was thin, had always been built that way, and it had earned her plenty of jabs from kids in school growing up. But when you didn’t have food in the house to eat, it was tough to gain weight.

  “I’m sure you’ll try to convince me that innuendo was about my car, too?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

  She snatched the paper plate with the sandwich he’d made and took it around the counter to sit on the other side of the island, leaving him to make another for himself.

  Gage watched her for a moment before he laughed, shaking his head, and turned back to the food, making himself another sandwich. “No, that one was about your ass.” She spun to look at him, her mouth falling open in surprise at his audacity. “You’re not as hard to figure out as you’d like to think you are.”

  She picked at the corner crust of the bread. “I thought I was the therapist.”

  He shrugged as he slapped the meat onto his sandwich. “You may think you’re a tough nut to crack, but you’re more like an M&M.”

  Leah nearly choked on the bite of food in her mouth. “What?” she asked through a cough. “I’m a what?”

  “M&Ms, the candy. You know, sweet center with a hard outer shell.”

  “I know what they are.” She hoped he heard every bit of the bitterness she was feeling toward him right now and made sure it was clear in her tone.

  Gage turned to look at her, calling her bluff. He slid his plate over the top of the bar and came around to sit next to her, making her wonder if he had a death wish or was just that oblivious to her irritation. “The funny thing about M&Ms is that the outer shell isn’t really all that hard or durable. It’s an illusion.”

  That was the last thing she wanted anyone to think. “Then I guess that’s where your metaphor falls apart.”

  “I doubt it.” He bit into the sandwich, ignoring her ire, which only served to annoy her more. She was fairly certain that was his intent.

  “You shouldn’t.” She tossed the sandwich back onto her plate and stood up. Whatever appetite she might have had was long gone. “Tougher men than you have tried to break through. Trust me, this ‘shell’ is impenetrable.”

  Gage sighed and set his food back onto his plate. “I’m not trying to piss you off, Leah.”

  “Yeah? Well, consider yourself successful without even trying. From what everyone said last night, that’s sort of how you manage to do everything.” His jaw clenched, and she knew she’d struck a nerve. “Trust me, there wasn’t one person there last night who didn’t want to tell me all about how wonderful you were. I get it. You’re an all-around nice guy with the Midas touch. Well, guess what? You don’t know a thing about me or my ‘shell,’ and if you had me even close to figured out, you’d know that a flirtatious playboy is the last person I’d open up to.”

  She stalked through the kitchen to the back door and jerked it open. “So, thank you for the groceries, but be assured, I’ll add them to what I pay you back for my car. If you don’t mind?”

  Gage cocked his head to one side and stared at her for a moment before grabbing the plate and heading for the door, pausing as he reached her. Mere inches separated them, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body as he looked down at her. She’d expected his anger, but the disappointment filling his dark eyes surprised her.

  “It must be pretty lonely being you, Leah. I’m just trying to be nice to you, but you sure make it difficult.”

  She’d wanted to sound strong, adamant in her refusal, but instead, her voice came out sounding breathy and desperate. “I didn’t ask you to.”

  Something deep in his eyes flickered to life, like a candle ligh
ting in the darkness, but she couldn’t quite put a name to it. A slow smile broke over his lips. “I’ll see you later.”

  Leah narrowed her eyes as he brushed past her and headed back toward his cabin. She didn’t trust him or his expressive eyes.

  Hope.

  That’s what she’d seen in them a moment ago. She’d felt it herself last night, remembered it from her youth. The only thing hope had ever managed to accomplish was to disappoint her. Gage and his hope needed to both stay far away from her.

  THAT WOMAN WAS the most confusing, infuriating, hot mess Gage had ever had the misfortune to meet. He’d dealt with plenty of difficult people in his career, but she definitely took the prize as the most difficult. She couldn’t seem to let anything go. Even last night at the barbecue she was on edge. Each time he saw her, she seemed more like she was giving a performance, playing a part for the world to believe, but then he would gain brief glimpses of genuineness, especially when she talked about her past, and he could see remorse break through.

  There were little comments that caused Leah’s eyes to shutter, her face to become shadowed and bleak, like a dark cloud passed overhead, but at least it was a real emotion. It wasn’t difficult to tell that something had happened to her, something that had shaped her as much as his own bleak past had shaped him and the choices he’d made, as well as the mistakes.

  Gage had seen far more in her expression than she’d want to believe she revealed, and maybe it was only because of his own past that he could see it. After growing up with a father who was in a drunken stupor more than he was sober, then watching his mother waste away as cancer ravaged her body, he recognized her ability to hide the trials and to try to minimize what had forced her to become the cynical person he’d met. He also didn’t miss the pain that flickered in her whiskey-colored eyes when she’d mentioned others trying to break through to her.

  She might deny the possibility, but he saw the brokenness inside. He’d seen it in his brother after he’d survived his last tour, the one that had returned him home from Afghanistan with physical and emotional wounds, some of which were still healing.