by Jillian Hart
“There is somewhere I’m dying to go.” She pointed to the right—away from the way home—after he turned the truck around. “I need to see my horse.”
“I thought doctor’s orders were to take it easy. You might not have been hurt the way Crystal was, but you’re bruised up pretty good. I know. Back at the hospital, I sweet-talked the nurses into telling me the truth.” Serious concern layered the deep notes of his voice and warmed the air between them. Not accusing, when he could be, and not controlling when he could simply drive her home. He probably had no idea how attractive that made him. His gaze fastened on hers, as if he were expecting nothing short of the whole truth. “Do you feel up to it?”
“Not exactly. I’m still fairly weak.” His gaze intensified, or maybe it was her perception. She resisted the urge to tear away and break the intimacy. “I’ve heard the reports, I’ve spoken to my boss and the vet, but I have to see with my own eyes that Comanche is okay. He’s been my best friend for the last ten years.”
“Friendship means a lot to you.”
“It’s everything.” Friendship was the kind of love she could depend on. She fingered her cast, fighting frustration. “I miss him. Whatever has gone wrong in my life, Comanche has always been there to make it easier. And now I can’t drive because of the medication I’m on, so I can’t see him.”
“What about your sister? Won’t she drive you?”
“Chessie tends to be a little overprotective.”
“A big sister’s prerogative.” He hit the turn signal—right, not left toward home. “Here’s the deal—no riding, no stress and strain, no exertion of any kind.”
“Thank you, Hawk.” Hard not to like him more than she already did. Joy sparkled through her, and it was because of him. “You never answered my question.”
“Neatly evaded it, did I? Learned how to walk softly in Ranger School. It’s saved me more than once.”
“You can’t tiptoe around this ambush. I have skills of my own. Being a riding instructor teaches you a lot of things. Perseverance. Focus. How to stick with a problem until you work out a solution.” She liked how tiny lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes when he grinned.
“So you’re saying I have met my match?”
“You have. No more glib phrases so you don’t have to face the real issue.”
“I’m in big trouble.” He slowed to a stop at the intersection and let his eyes meet hers. “Okay, here’s the scoop. I’m not looking for marriage right now for the same reason you haven’t started dating again.”
“Oh.” She didn’t want to look at the places iced over and wintry within her, but she understood. He didn’t need to say more. “Tim.”
“I don’t want to leave someone behind to grieve me.” He checked for traffic and concentrated overly hard on his driving, as if the simple task of making a right-hand turn took all of his mental capabilities.
Caring. That was the danger. She understood what he could not say. That when you took the initial small step in a relationship, you let that person through your first layer of defenses. When you cared, you opened your heart, leaving you vulnerable to the world, to life and to loss. Sometimes that was too much of a risk to take.
The swipe of the wiper against the windshield helped to fill the silence between them. Miles rolled by in many shades of green—the faded tones of the grass, the deeper hues of the evergreens, the sedate greens of bushes and shrubbery. Houses on acreage whisked by and within minutes she was pointing at the turnoff to the riding stables.
“Is this the same place where you learned to ride as a kid?” he asked as he parked in the gravel lot.
“Yes. When I was ten, I used to makes wishes on the first star of the night that I would grow up to be just like Colleen. She owns the stables. I couldn’t imagine spending my life working with horses and riding all day.” She reached to release her seat belt, but he beat her to it.
“Just proves some dreams are meant to come true.” He released the buckle, his hand catching hers. The calm of the contact shook her. It lasted only for a moment before he turned away. “This time you wait for me to come help you down. I know I don’t look like it, but I can be a gentleman.”
“I never doubted it.” The door shut, leaving her alone in the compartment. He dominated her thoughts. He was all she could see as he circled around and opened her door. His hand took hers again, and she leaned into his touch, wanting more of the unyielding peace he brought to her. She wasn’t sure the exact moment her feet touched the ground.
“Tell me what you do here besides private lessons.” He beeped his truck locked and followed her across the gravel toward the main barn. “Did you used to show?”
“Now I train others who show. But don’t get me wrong. I spend a lot of hours mucking stalls and hauling hay. Barn work is a part of owning a horse.” She strode through the main doors, open to the blustery winds, and hiked down the aisle. Gladness radiated her, and she raised her good hand to someone out of his sight and kept going. “I practically live here. I’m never home.”
“I know what that’s like.” He loved his job, too, the challenge and the duty. This was a different world, one that smelled like fresh alfalfa and horse. A pleasant combination, one that drew up memories of his boyhood in Wyoming, racing through the fields of wild grasses, while across the way farmers cut their fields, the scent carrying on the summer breeze. On either side of him, horses poked their heads over their gates, full of curiosity. Everything was clean and shining, from the polished wood to the animals themselves.
“There’s my boy.” A horse whinnied, more anxious than the others at the sight of the woman in the aisle, and she went to him. Her good hand curled around his fancy purple halter. “Hey, Comanche. I’ve been missing you, big fella.”
Hawk froze in the aisle, caught by the sight of the petite woman, diminutive compared to the giant gold horse. The animal strained against the gate, making it groan as he pressed his face into her hand. He nibbled the edge of her cast as if with great concern.
“It’s all right. I can still ride.” Her assurance was met with a doubting nicker.
He could watch the woman all day long. She was different with her horse, softer, more alive and less shadowed. Her hair hung in a straight curtain, framing her sweetheart’s face, and she moved like a Christmas carol—with grace and spirit. She leaned her forehead against the horse’s cheek, a moment of pure tenderness between two friends.
That was what it would be like to be close to her, he realized. Sugarcoated moments and quiet closeness. His heart warmed as feelings came to life, new and powerful and unlike anything he’d known before. Soft and tender emotions, ones he had no right to. He more than cared about her. He liked her. A lot. Guilt returned to pierce him like a blade.
“He’s a good-looking horse.” What he knew about the creatures could fit into a boot, but it didn’t take a horseman to see the quality of the animal. His face was finely shaped, his forehead high and intelligent, his eyes wise and kind. His coat gleamed like honey in sunshine, and his mane shimmered like white silk. Beneath the purple blanketlike garment he wore, the horse looked pleasingly built.
“Comanche has an impressive pedigree. A quality quarter horse isn’t cheap. I think my parents took out a second mortgage on their house for him and the mare they bought my sister when we were in junior high.”
“Good parents.”
“The best.” She readily agreed, and she had never looked lovelier or more wholesome, the kind of woman a man wanted to come home to. She could make a soldier like him wish for things that were out of his reach.
He winced, wanting to retreat. He had no right feeling this way. He was wrong to look at September and wish.
“My sister mostly grew out of her horse phase, but I never will.” Her laughter rippled, the sound of gentle chiming joy, as the horse lapped at her coat pocket, trying to work it open. Gently, she focused her attention on Comanche. “Let me see what I have in here. I might be out of peppermint.”<
br />
They were a pair, Hawk decided as he watched woman and horse. September bent to her task, her hair hiding her face as she searched in her pocket and came up with a single wrapped piece of candy. Best friends, she had said. He didn’t doubt that the horse adored her. Being close to her had to be as sweet as walking in heaven.
“This is the only one, sorry, buddy.” She unwrapped the candy, while the horse tried to grab it with his whiskery lips. When he succeeded, she laughed again, a sound that wrapped around Hawk’s heart, a memory he would never let go of.
His quiet, unspoken wish remained, right and wrong all at once. Torture. He cleared his throat, struggling to hide it. “I bet there isn’t anything Comanche doesn’t know about you.”
“True. He is my closest confidant.”
“So, if I want to learn your secrets, I would have to go to him. Get him to talk.” He ambled closer and rubbed the gelding’s nose. Comanche crunched happily on his candy.
“Why? Is there something you want to know about me?” She cast him a sideways glance, curiosity alight on her delicate features.
“Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe. I don’t speak horse.”
“Lucky for me.” She dipped her head, as if suddenly shy.
Maybe because he was studying her too boldly. He didn’t mean to. She had hints of little dimples, and he missed seeing her real smile, the full-fledged, all-out one he remembered back when she had been dating Tim. What would it take to see that full-out grin again? Everything within him longed for the sight.
Guilt wedged again into his soul. What would Tim think? Was his buddy looking down from heaven right now with anger? Or would he understand? Hawk shifted his weight, stepping away, and the horse nickered in protest. Apparently Comanche was used to a lot of adoration.
September had turned to him, about to speak, when someone called her name. She whipped around, her hair flying, calling out a howdy to the woman bouncing down the aisle.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away!” A redhead wrapped September in a careful hug. “Everyone has been asking about you and wanting to know when you’re coming back.”
“As soon as the doctor says I can.”
The two women fell into a lively conversation about people and horses. Hawk leaned against Comanche’s stall and folded his arms. September was all he could see—the graceful, tall way she stood like a ballet dancer. Her warm manner, her concern for the other people she discussed with the redhead, her gentle voice that had the nearby horses turning their heads to listen to her. Could he blame them? Not one bit.
Face it, you like her, man. And not just a little, either. If only he knew how to bury his affection for her or to somehow erase his feelings. He had no right to them. None at all.
Peace. It seeped into her in an innocent warm rush that went straight to her heart. September took one last look at the stables—a comforting place where she truly belonged—before Hawk turned the truck around and headed down the drive. “At least the rain has stopped.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“I was afraid of that.” She rolled her eyes at the amusement in his voice. Of course she hadn’t meant to stay so long. “You have gone numb with boredom, haven’t you? Chessie is always quick to tell me how monotonous it is to wait when I’m in my horse zone.”
“Trust me, I wasn’t bored.” A sheepish curve of his mouth did intriguing things to his dimples.
Not that she was noticing. “How could you not be? I shouldn’t have yakked on like that. Once I get going, I can’t seem to stop. It’s like time isn’t passing. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”
“I’ll think of something. After all, I did suffer.”
“So now you change your story? When there’s something to be gained?”
“Call it curiosity.” He hit the turn signal and checked for traffic. “You can’t fault me for being inquisitive.”
“How does a homemade dinner sound?”
“I wouldn’t turn that down. I’m not the typical bachelor. I can cook for myself. The trouble is that I don’t like to cook for one. Something tells me you are a good cook.”
“I’m fair to middling.” She leaned back against the seat, already looking forward to it. “I should be up to it tomorrow. I suppose a handsome bachelor like you has plans for a Saturday night.”
“Are you kidding? I’m as free as a bird.”
“You say that with a grin. You don’t have any solid plans at all?”
“I’m usually pretty scheduled. Since I’m on leave, I want to hang loose. Take it as it comes. See where the road takes me.” He accelerated across the lanes of traffic and merged into the flow of the other cars. “I’m a free spirit.”
“I’ve noticed.” She tried to recall what she knew about Hawk. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she remembered Tim saying he always went for action sports. “You like skiing, right? Plan on doing any while you’re a free spirit?”
“I’ve got a few trips planned. A buddy of mine and I are heading to Canada to do a climb.”
“You mean as in scaling a mountain?”
“No, the glacier. Ice climbing.”
“If I were you, I would head south. Find sunshine and a warm beach.”
“Tempting, but I’ve decided to stick around here. Who says life isn’t adventurous around you? I’m curious to see what happens next.”
“Me, too.” She laughed, deep and true, and it felt good. “I’m not sure I can compete with extreme skiing or inching up a glacier with an ice pick, but I make a great pot of spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Are you kidding? I got a good view of you back at the stables.”
“A good view of me?” She hardly noticed the yards and trees flashing by, or the fact that she was almost home. He intrigued her. His presence filled the truck’s cab, overwhelming her. A smart girl would keep him at a distance.
“It’s who you are, with your horse and your friends. It’s a dream you had as a little girl, spending your time with your horse, learning all you could about riding. Your friends are there. Your life is there. You want your future there, exactly the same way it’s been. You fit at that stable. You can be the woman you were meant to be.”
“Yes. How did you know?” She felt her jaw drop. She stared at him, astonished.
“It fits with your beliefs. You wear your causes on your T-shirts.”
“I am a fan of the ride and walkathons.” She looked down at her blue shirt; the white lettering read Race for Childhood Diabetes. “Comanche and I like to do our part. Next week there’s a ride for the local food bank. It’s not ice climbing, but it might be fun.”
“I’ll do it, but I don’t have a horse.”
“No worries. I can find you a mount.”
“I knew you were going to say that. I guess there’s no way out now.” He didn’t look too broken up by it.
His gentle friendliness was hard to resist. Through the permanent layers of ice she had been buried in, he reached her. She was helpless to stop his gentle breach of her defenses. His grin, his dimples, his friendliness, his understanding, his willingness to ride along touched her deeply. A true caring took root within her, and she could not stop it.
“Count me in.” He pulled into her driveway. The sun broke, piercing ragged gray clouds as if in victory. He cut the engine.
Like the sun, her feelings were too intense. She blinked against the brightness and unlatched her seat belt before he could do it. Overwhelmed, she struggled to keep him at a distance, but her emotions weren’t cooperating. She had to stop the caring from taking firmer root in her heart.
“There you are.” Her sister stormed down the walkway, mouth pursed, and anger flashing. “I’ve been worried about you. No note. Nothing. Your car in the garage. What was I supposed to think?”
“I didn’t know you were coming over.” She hopped down from the seat and spotted Chessie’s sedan in the nearby guest parking spot. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Too late.” Chessie se
nt an accusing glance Hawk’s way. “You. I should have known you had something to do with this. I suppose you let her talk you into going to the stables?”
“Guilty. She’s hard to say no to.” Hawk did look guilty as he unlatched the tailgate. “I didn’t keep her out long.”
“She has a concussion. She’s had surgery. She can’t be out running around with the likes of you.” Chessie stopped herself, just in time. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful to you for finding her. I always will be. But she’s fine now. She doesn’t need another soldier messing up her life.”
“Francesca.” September’s face burned. She took a step toward her sister, then realized how alone Hawk looked as he hauled the tree out of the truck bed. How miserable as he wrapped his arms around the planter and lifted. Tendons strained in his neck—it had to be heavy. “Hawk, let me get the door for you.”
“You might want to find something to put under this. You don’t want this on your pretty wood floor.” He sounded strained, and the branches hid him effectively. It was hard to read the emotion on his face.
She didn’t need to see him to know he’d been hurt. “Chessie, will you find something?”
Her sister gave her a long look, as if she were about to refuse, but decided better of it. She meant well, September thought as she followed her sister onto the porch, but Chessie’s strong opinions had a way of always hurting someone. She was too much like their dad—a good soul, but so sure her way was the only one.
“You’ve done me a world of good today.” September held the door for him and her perfectly imperfect Christmas tree. “Don’t forget that. I’m grateful, Hawk.”
“You did me a world of good, too.” He ambled in on a ray of sunshine. He didn’t meet her gaze. Something had changed. Maybe it was what Chessie said, or maybe he felt this, too—the growing closeness between them.
Perhaps he wasn’t comfortable with that, either. She searched for something to say in the beats of silence between them. Chessie saved her, marching into the room like a field general with an extralarge serving platter she’d found in the kitchen.
