She went over and looked at it. Ranching in Colorado. Not what she expected. But then what had she expected? Murder? Action adventure? Why did she want to pigeonhole him? Because it would be easier to dismiss him as just a big macho guy?
She went to a wall of windows and looked out. The rain was still coming down. Hard. She should be home. She was stunned at herself. Not only for letting him carry her inside—not that she had had a choice—but for agreeing to stay.
For coffee only. Truth was, though, that she hadn’t wanted to leave, either. There had been something about him when he spoke of Gordon, a wistfulness that made her think he really cared about her brother. He’d wanted to show her the bench. There’d been pride in his praise of it. He seemed to understand her brother better than she did.
Jubal returned to the room wearing a dry shirt and jeans and carrying a large towel and blue shirt with him. He wrapped it around her. “Want to change? I can put your blouse in the dryer. It won’t take long.”
She mentally added efficient to the number of qualities she was admiring in him today.
She looked at the shirt. It was large and long, a soft cotton. But it meant staying at least thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. No.
She nodded.
He handed her the shirt. “There are more clean towels in the bathroom. Down the hall and to the left. I’ll start the coffee.”
Lisa thanked him and headed to the bathroom. It was as neat as the rest of the cabin. Everything in its proper place. There was a big towel neatly folded on the counter. She wiped the rain from her face, then tried to dry her hair. It was falling from the neat twist and she tried to repair it as best she could before giving up. She wanted to touch up her lipstick, but then remembered her purse was still in the car. Along with her shoes.
She took off her blouse and put on the big cotton shirt. It was clearly well-worn.
Soft. Clean, but it had a masculine scent to it. She looked at herself in the mirror. The shirt reached halfway down the skirt. She was barefoot. Not one of her best looks.
She went into the other room and Jubal met her with a steaming cup of coffee. He’d started a fire in the fireplace that was licking the edge of a log. “Thirty minutes and your blouse will be dry. Okay?”
His dark hair was damp and crinkly and his jaw already had the slightest hint of a beard. He looked rugged and competent, which was extremely appealing. Yet, their earlier conversation had revealed a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.
“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the coffee.
“You’re welcome,” he replied solemnly, but she thought she detected a smile in his eyes.
“Not just for the coffee. Not only.”
He gave her an inquisitive look. “Then what?”
“I’ve never been carried before.”
“Someone’s been missing out,” he said with a crooked smile that went beyond charming, maybe because she couldn’t remember seeing a real smile on his face before. Polite ones, yes. But a spontaneous one? No. Way.
It was the latter that made her senses go crazy. She could resist macho alone. She was discovering she couldn’t resist macho mixed with the other qualities she found in him.
He’d accomplished something she hadn’t. Gordon hadn’t slouched into the house this afternoon. He’d even agreed to stay home with Kerry. He was changing for the better.
But those things didn’t address her two main concerns with a friendship between Jubal and her brother. Jubal had made it clear he was just passing through, and she was even more worried that he might inspire Gordon to go into the service.
She had to address the latter.
“Gordon’s talked about joining the army,” she said slowly.
“That would be a bad thing?”
“I’ve seen the scars on you,” she said, then swallowed hard. “A college classmate of mine was killed in Afghanistan. I don’t want Gordon anywhere near war. I’ve lost too many members of my family already.”
“He’s asked a few questions. I haven’t encouraged him, nor will I.”
“He likes you. You’re a hero to him. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you two...”
There. She’d said it. Almost.
But he understood. She saw it in his face, the way it tightened. He nodded. “You want me to stay away from him.”
“Or maybe discourage him from—”
“Should I distance myself from you, too?” His voice was suddenly cool.
She couldn’t answer that. She should. He was going to be here a short time. She was returning to Chicago in less than a year, even if he stayed. They had nothing in common. There was no future, and she was a forever type of woman. But she couldn’t say the words.
He led her over to the sofa and she felt herself stiffening even as she sat next to him. Next to the sexiest man she’d ever met and he was looking at her with the most penetrating and striking blue eyes she’d ever seen. But suddenly there was a huge chasm between them.
“How does it feel living in a small town after Chicago?” His voice was controlled, with none of the teasing she’d heard earlier. It was almost as if a big stop sign had been constructed. To her dismay, she wanted to tear it down. She felt a deep loss and she knew it was her fault. Small talk was agonizing now.
“I like it more than I thought I would,” she said, trying to keep her voice impersonal even as she wanted to take her earlier words back.
She desperately wanted to leave but her blouse hadn’t had time to dry. She tried to keep her voice steady as she replied, “I like having more time with patients and getting to know them. I like not having to worry about Kerry and Gordon getting mixed up with bad kids.”
“There are bad kids in small towns, too,” he said.
“Yes, but at least everyone knows who they are.”
“Why medicine?” he asked, swiftly changing topics. He was obviously trying to relax her.
“I never wanted to do anything else,” she said. “I used to request nurse and doctor toys for Christmas. I didn’t want dolls except to use as patients. I always liked the hospital dramas growing up. I thought it was neat to make people well. And I love kids. I was planning to specialize in pediatric surgery.”
“Was?”
“I was just about to start a fellowship when Gordon...” She stopped. It wasn’t a story she wanted to share.
He sipped his coffee. She thought he’d press further, but then he may have already sensed the reason.
He reached over and took her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. His hand was warm and she responded by curling her fingers around his. It seemed so natural...so right.
“You’ve had a lot to shoulder these past few years, haven’t you?”
“So have Gordon and Kerry. I want them to be kids again and I’m so afraid they’ve lost some of their best years to grief.”
“And what about Lisa?” he asked. “Hasn’t she missed a lot, too? Hasn’t she lost parents, too? When is the last time you’ve had a day just for yourself? When you haven’t worried about your family or a patient? When you haven’t tried to meet everyone’s expectations of you?”
Lisa was stunned. He didn’t try to tell her it would be all right. Or that she’d made the right decision or was making one now. He seemed completely nonjudgmental and accepting. The sensitivity belied every conception she had about soldiers.
His hand let hers go and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The fire was glowing now, the flames just beginning to snap.
He felt so good next to her. “Tell me about you,” she said. “You haven’t said much about your family.”
There was a silence. “You know some of it. Not much more to tell,” he said. “The day after my grandfather lost the family ranch, he shot himself. My grandmother had died several years earlier from pneumonia
.
“My dad was eighteen when he lost his father. No money for college, but he didn’t want that. He was a cowboy through and through. He started on the rodeo circuit. He wouldn’t ride bulls. But he rode broncs. They were just as wild and ill-tempered as the bulls, but most didn’t try to kill you like the bulls would.”
Jubal’s arm tightened around her and she felt the tension in him. “He was twenty-one when he met my mother. She attended a rodeo visiting a cousin. It was love at first sight, at least for my father. I think it was more rebellion on my mother’s part. Anyway, they eloped and I came pretty fast after that.
“They traveled from rodeo to rodeo,” Jubal continued. “I grew up in a trailer, and my best friend was Dad’s horse, Dusty. Dad taught me to ride. I thought he was the best rider ever, although he never won a championship. He earned just enough money to take us to the next rodeo.”
Lisa was transfixed by the story. His voice had deepened and his eyes were indecipherable. “When I turned seven, my mother had had enough. The big money pot was always around the corner. She packed us up and headed to her family’s home in Maryland. My dad was killed by a bronc a year later.”
Lisa understood a lot then, although she knew there was still much left unsaid. She could tell from his voice that he’d idolized his father and yet she sympathized with the mother.
She knew now why he related to Gordon. They had both lost fathers at a young age and it left marks on both of them. Similar to how Gordon partly blamed her for their mother’s death, Jubal had obviously blamed his mother.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Then because she had to know, she asked an intrusive question. “Did you forgive your mother?”
“A kid doesn’t understand, so it’s hard to forgive,” he said. “Maybe I would have if she hadn’t married someone who disliked me on sight. We were at war until the day I graduated from high school and joined the navy. My mother died three years later.”
She touched his face. It was so strong. Too strong to be handsome. But there was a vulnerability there, too. She heard hurt and regret in his voice even if he hadn’t admitted to it.
“I should go,” she said, afraid to stay longer.
“Yeah, I guess you probably should.”
He stood and his hand pulled her up, too. He ran his fingers along her cheek, then he leaned down and kissed her lightly.
“You’re very pretty,” he said after.
She flushed. She’d never felt pretty. She’d never been wildly popular. Her only friends in high school and college were mostly nerds like her, and then in med school she was too busy with her studies and family to pay much attention to her appearance.
“I’ll get your blouse,” he said, apparently feeling her discomfort.
Jubal was back a minute later with her blouse. It was supposed to be wash and wear, but it was still damp and wrinkled. She took it to the bedroom and reluctantly exchanged his soft shirt for her blouse. Her hair was a disaster, and she tried to tuck in tendrils that had fallen from the twist.
She truly hoped no one would be awake when she reached home. She glanced at her watch. Eleven-forty. Almost pumpkin time.
And she’d had her kiss, albeit a light and friendly one. Exactly what she’d originally wanted—to not get too involved.
So why did she feel so disappointed?
He was waiting at the door, her shoes in his hand. “I got your shoes,” he said. “The rain stopped,” he said lightly. How could he be so casual when her heart was still pounding hard? “A typical late-summer storm.”
She stepped into her shoes and they walked out on the porch. A small piece of the moon was visible between clouds. The air was fresh, washed clean by the rain.
He took her hand and lifted her again to carry her over the mud. He did it so effortlessly she felt light as a feather. When she was in the seat, he leaned over. “Just to let you know, I was really tempted to turn that kiss into a world-class winner, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”
She was speechless when he stepped into the driver’s seat. “You’re not staying here long,” she reminded him.
“Nope,” he replied, and started driving, leaving her to ponder about that world-class winner kiss she’d missed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LISA HAD HOPED everyone would be asleep when she arrived home just before midnight, but the light was on in the living room and the door was unlocked. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She’d been told locking the door wasn’t necessary in Covenant Falls, but having always lived in a big city, the need to lock doors was an automatic reflex.
She looked back. Jubal was still there, waiting for her to go safely inside. Apparently he didn’t subscribe to the rather loose safety standards of Covenant Falls, either.
She closed the door quietly behind her. Automatically locked it.
Then she started for her bedroom when Susie started barking upstairs. She winced, saying a quiet prayer. She really didn’t want to answer questions from inquiring minds tonight. Apparently the dog had good hearing.
She arrived at the door of her bedroom when she heard Kerry’s voice at the top of the stairs. “Lisa?”
Lisa couldn’t ignore her. She went to the bottom of the steps. “Hi, kiddo. Everything’s fine. I just got caught in the rainstorm and was delayed. Go back to bed.”
Instead, Kerry came down the stairs and her eyes regarded her anxiously. “I was a bit worried.”
Thank God Gordon slept like a log. Unfortunately, Kerry didn’t and usually read until late.
“The rain,” Lisa said again. “It was a downpour.”
“What happened to your blouse?
Lisa looked down at her still-damp and wrinkly shirt. Once Kerry got a question in her head, she didn’t stop until she was satisfied with the answer.
“Mr. Pierce took me over to see the bench your brother built. While we were looking at it, the skies opened up and I got soaked. We waited until it stopped raining so hard.”
“At his cabin?” Kerry had a gleam in her eyes.
“Yes, and he was a perfect gentleman.” In her thoughts, she almost added a ‘dammit.’
“Do you like him?”
“I do, but not the way you probably mean.” Liar.
“He’s handsome in a rugged way,” Kerry observed.
“We’re just acquaintances. He’s only going to be here a short while, and we’re going back to Chicago.”
“Do we have to?”
The question shocked Lisa. Kerry had been as adamant as her brother about not leaving Chicago.
“I thought you liked Chicago, your friends, your school.”
“I really like the choir here, and Mrs. Ames, the choir teacher. I already made a few friends. I have a dog and a job, well, kinda. And Mrs. Manning is teaching me to ride. I love her horse, Beauty.” She paused before asking, “You didn’t forget I have a lesson tomorrow, right?”
“I wouldn’t forget that,” Lisa said, relieved that the subject had changed. What young girl didn’t want to ride horses? She had as a child, but Chicago hadn’t offered affordable equine opportunities. She was thrilled Kerry had one now.
The old bubbly Kerry was back after being on hiatus for the last eighteen months. What would happen when they returned to Chicago?
“Maybe you’re not ready to go back to bed, but I am,” she said. “Oh, how’s Gordon?”
“He was studying, but his light is out now.” Miracles. Did Jubal have anything to do with it?
“Okay, well, good night,” Lisa said.
“Good night.” Kerry scooped up Susie and ran back up the steps.
Lisa went into the kitchen. It was clean, no dishes in the sink. She looked in the fridge, and leftovers had been put in containers. She poured herself a glass of water, went into the main floor bat
hroom and looked in the mirror. As Kerry had noted, her shirt was a wrinkled mess and her skirt was still damp and clinging to her legs. Her lipstick was entirely gone. Tendrils had fallen from the twist in back and tumbled along her cheekbones.
She winced, took the pins out and let it fall past her shoulders so she could brush it. Then she examined herself critically. Her hair was too straight, her brown eyes too serious, her cheekbones too prominent and her mouth too wide.
She’d never had a fire and storm romance. She always thought she would know when someone was right, and if it didn’t happen she could live with that. She’d never expected all the bells in her to ring, especially with a man so completely different from anyone she’d known, with a background she couldn’t understand and a future even he didn’t see. It was crazy.
She crawled into bed, still trying to analyze her feelings the way she analyzed a medical problem. It didn’t work, because nothing made sense.
* * *
JUBAL WOKE DRENCHED in sweat.
The sheet that had been covering him was twisted into knots as if he’d been fighting it.
He had.
His body was rigid from trying to escape the chains binding him to a wall. He heard them coming. He knew what had happened from the wailing outside. The terrorist he was supposed to heal had died. The door opens and the blows fall...
The room swam into focus. Not a bare hut in Africa. A streak of sunlight made it through the shutters in the room. He hadn’t closed them last night.
His body was shaking, remembering the pain. Or was it all in his mind? He looked at the bed and knew he had thrashed around. Had he moaned, too? The nightmare, the visions, were all too real. He knew all about PTSD, how it would sneak up on him and hit when he least expected it.
It was the first full night he’d slept inside the cabin. Even then it had been more like a series of short naps than a real night of rest. He’d had those nightmares in San Diego, too, as he’d served out his last few months as a SEAL. He had been debriefed and studied, tested and retested. Every moment of his captivity and escape was explored and documented to be used in training. He’d relived those years over and over again. The mistakes. The failures. He’d hated it, but he knew it might be useful someday to another SEAL.
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