Get the hell out now!
Claire said his name. Except he hadn’t remembered her doing that that day of the extraction. In the memory, she’d been playing her clarinet. No talking. She certainly hadn’t called out to him. Nor had she touched him. But she was doing that now.
“Riley?” she said. Claire was shaking his good arm. “You’re having another nightmare.”
His eyes flew open, and it took a moment to pull himself from the dream and figure out where he was. Hell. He was still in Claire’s bed, which would have been a good thing if he hadn’t had the nightmare. She’d already seen him have one on the porch swing and the flashback at the pub. Two experiences too many. Riley didn’t want her seeing any more of that.
Too late.
He saw the worry in her eyes. Easy to see it since the sunlight was already streaming through the window. Riley sat up, scrubbed his hand over his face.
“Sixty-forty?” she asked.
Mercy, he’d obviously talked in his sleep again. His breath was still gusting, and it took him a moment to gather himself. “What else did I say?”
“My name.” Claire paused. “Was sixty-forty your odds of getting out of there alive?”
“No.” That was all he was considering saying, so why he said more, Riley didn’t know. “Mine were better.”
“Those were the kid’s odds,” she said on a rise of breath.
“Yeah.” At least they had been before the last IED. Riley wasn’t sure what they were after that.
He could see the question in her eyes—she wanted to know if the kid made it—and Riley considered using a personal evasive measure. After all, Claire and he were practically naked in her bed, and if he just started kissing her, she wouldn’t be able to talk.
But that didn’t seem right.
It didn’t matter that Riley wanted to protect her from this, because he couldn’t. Claire had already heard too much. Had also seen too much with the scars on his body.
“Two of the crew and an airman didn’t make it,” Riley said. “But the kid did.”
The tears were in her eyes, and she didn’t even try to blink them back. “He’s alive because of you.”
It hadn’t all been because of him. Riley had just gotten him out, had given him a fighting chance. The medic and then the doctors had done the rest. But the bottom line here for him was something that’d gotten lost in all the pain and the flashbacks.
The kid had made it.
All those steps through the sand. All the blood he’d left behind. The pain. The loss of the other crew members. All of it had brought him to this one realization.
The kid had made it.
And so had he.
It was somehow that journal all over again. Tough to take and with an ending that wouldn’t necessarily make everything right. And Riley decided to do what Claire had done.
He mentally tore out the last page—the kid had made it—and pitched the rest of the nightmare into the fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SMILE, CLAIRE REMINDED HERSELF.
If she didn’t do that Livvy would think something was wrong. Too late. One step outside her car, and Livvy’s attention zoomed straight past the weak smile and to Claire’s eyes. Livvy didn’t exactly look crestfallen, but she didn’t look so eager to ask for juicy details of Claire’s night with Riley.
“I didn’t bring wine,” Livvy called out, “but I brought something better.” She scooped up a giggling Ethan like a football and ran with him to the porch.
Since Livvy was teetering on mile-high heels again and wobbling, to Ethan it must have felt a little like being on a carnival ride.
“How’d he do last night?” Claire asked.
“Good as beans.” Whatever that meant. “But I bought him some pull-ups.”
Despite the fact Ethan was still tucked under Livvy’s arms, he pulled down the waist of his jeans for her to see. “Ull-ups.”
He seemed very proud, though Claire couldn’t imagine what’d prompted Livvy to buy them. Or how the heck she’d found them in the store. Livvy wasn’t exactly a pro at buying baby supplies. Once Claire had asked her to buy wipes, and Livvy had come back with eye-makeup remover pads.
“He kept peeing on the fake rubber tree I have in the living room,” Livvy explained. “And each time he undid his diaper to do that, I couldn’t get the tape to stick so I took him to the store and asked one of the moms I saw shopping what I should get.”
Good choice. These had smiling toy cars on them. Ethan’s selection no doubt. Though Claire would need to scold him for peeing on the rubber plant. Later, she’d sit him down and talk to him about that.
Claire took him from Livvy the second they made it to the porch, and she managed to steal some kisses before Ethan wiggled out of her arms. That’s because he saw the kitten on the other side of the screen door, and he scrambled to get inside.
“Van Gogh,” he said with perfect clarity. Though Claire had no idea why until she realized the kitten did indeed look like one of the gold-star blobs in the painting that she’d been showing him for weeks.
“Is it a gift from Riley?” Livvy asked, following Claire inside.
“From Lucky. He brought it over before Riley got here last night.”
“No. I mean that.” Smiling and winking, Livvy touched the spot on Claire’s neck.
The very spot that was doused with every drop of concealer that Claire had been able to squeeze from the tube. Between the bruise from the pub brawl and the love bite, she’d gone through more concealer in a week than she had in the past six years.
“That was an accident,” Claire explained.
But she was sorry she’d even offered that small bit of an explanation. Because now Livvy would want more. And Claire had no intention of sharing. But the “accident” had involved her learning that the spot on her neck was very sensitive and whenever Riley kissed her there, she was within a heartbeat of having an orgasm.
So he’d kissed her there.
A lot.
And when coupled with “other things” he’d done to her, the orgasm did indeed happen.
“Van Gogh, van Gogh,” Ethan repeated. He sat on the floor, and the kitten crawled into his lap. It was instant love. She could see it all over her boy’s face.
Claire sighed. Because it meant they were keeping the kitten. Now, she was feeding the gray tabby and Whoa, and if she included the one Riley had reserved for her at the pound, she was well on her way to being a crazy cat lady.
With a hickey.
Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off van Gogh and Livvy wouldn’t take her eyes off Claire’s neck. “I’ll tell you about my date if you’ll tell me about yours,” Livvy said.
“You didn’t have a date. Ethan stayed at your place last night.”
“I meant the date the night before. The one with Lucky.”
“That wasn’t a date.” Claire leaned in to whisper the rest. “That was hot monkey sex. Wasn’t it?”
“Always is with Lucky. But, no, there’s nothing serious between us. Not like with Riley and you.”
Of course, Ethan latched on to that. “Riley?”
“He’s not here, baby,” Claire answered.
Ethan looked disappointed, and Claire knew exactly how he felt. It’d been hard for her to see Riley fully dressed and walking out her door. Hard because she might not get a night like that with him again. Yes, she’d offered him no-strings-attached sex, but after the mixed bag of stuff that’d gone on, he might decide sex with her could never be string-less.
“It is serious now between you two, right?” Livvy asked.
“No. Of course not. Last night wasn’t about getting serious. It was about, well...” She might as well just call it what it was. “Fudging.”
“Well, fudging can
become serious. With the right person,” Livvy added. “And I’m pretty sure R-i-l-e-y is the right person.”
Claire wasn’t sure of that at all. “It takes two people for it to be right.” And Riley wasn’t on board for anything that would take him away from the military. “He saved a kid when he was over there. That’s how he got hurt.”
“That’s what you talked about last night?” Judging from her tone and the face Livvy made, she guessed that had been a real mood killer.
And in a way, it had been when it came to the sex. But in other ways, it’d been incredible. She had watched Riley’s mind heal right in front of her eyes.
“His body’s healing, too,” Claire continued. “I was amazed at what he could do.”
Livvy grinned. “Do tell.”
“I didn’t mean s-e-x-u-a-l-l-y.” Not completely anyway, though he had been especially good at all that. “He lifted me up like I weighed nothing, and after all that apology ice cream I’ve been eating, you know that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
Livvy made a sound of agreement, patted her stomach. She’d been eating some bowls of Riley’s I’m-sorry offerings, too.
“I think he might have had some pain a time or two,” Claire went on, “but it was nothing like it was when he first got home.”
Livvy studied her a moment. “You don’t exactly sound happy about that.”
“No. I am.” Claire couldn’t say that quickly enough or mean it more. “I hated seeing him in pain.” Of course, there was a but coming.
One that Livvy had no trouble interpreting. “But it means he’ll pass that physical.”
Yes. Mercy, that was selfish of Claire to even think otherwise. She wanted Riley to pass the physical, wanted him to be happy and free from those horrible flashbacks, and she wanted that even if it meant she couldn’t have him.
“I think the old adage applies here,” Claire said. “I made my bed, and I can sleep in it.” Alone.
She didn’t say the alone part aloud, but Livvy had no trouble picking up on it. Her hug tightened around Claire. “But at least you had a great night with him,” Livvy reminded her. “And you have a kitten. The place is looking better every time I come over. Soon, it’ll be ready to go on the market.”
Yes, soon, and for some reason that caused her stomach to churn. “I still want to find the letter, though.”
“And what about that sugary journal from your sugary mother?” Livvy asked.
Claire tipped her head to the ashes in the fireplace. “Gone. Well, gone except for the one good part. I kept that.”
“Good. Because it’s time for your mind to heal, too.”
Yes, it was, and Claire was certain she was almost there. Almost. But she wasn’t exactly doing a victory dance. Because even if all the final pieces fell into place—selling the house, finding the letter and having some peace that her mother maybe hadn’t hated her with every fiber of her being—it all suddenly seemed a little hollow.
Because she’d have none of those things with Riley.
* * *
RILEY TOOK HIS TIME walking through the pasture. Why, he didn’t know. It was too hot. He was tired after helping the new cutter with the horses. Considering he’d gotten less than an hour of sleep, he should be hurrying to catch a nap before dinner. Still, he didn’t rush.
He’d seen his father do this a hundred times, stroll through the pasture as if soaking it all in. Riley supposed that’s what he was doing now. His mind had slowed down enough for him to be alone with his own thoughts and not be sickened by what was in his head.
The kid was alive.
That would replace “Jingle Bells” if the flashbacks threatened again. Everything he needed to remember about what had happened in that wall of sand was that he’d done his job. The kid was alive.
He tested the shoulder. Stiff and sore. But considering the workout he’d given it the night before with Claire, he was surprised it felt as good as it did. Ditto for him. Sex with Claire had been everything he’d thought it would be, but he hadn’t managed to keep the regrets at bay.
Yes, he was already having regrets.
Without the night of sex, leaving Ethan and her would have been hard, but now he’d taken hard to a whole new level. Which had pretty much described his dick most of the night.
Hard-dick thoughts aside, Riley wasn’t sure how this was all going to work out with Claire, but he didn’t see a white picket fence in their future. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy the short time they had together. That’s what Claire wanted.
Or rather what she’d said she wanted.
While that might have been wishful thinking on her part, Riley was feeling too at peace, too content, too happy to question it. By damn, he was putting on a pair of rose-colored glasses for a while, and he whistled on the walk back to the house. Only the horses and Crazy Dog were around to notice that he was acting like a giddy fool.
Lucky, too, he realized when Riley saw his brother coming out of the house.
Riley stopped whistling when he spotted him. For one thing he didn’t want Lucky picking up on his good mood and asking him about how his night had gone with Claire, and for another Lucky’s own mood seemed to be several steps past the riled stage. Lucky cursed, threw his hat on the porch and picked it up only to throw it again.
“Should I ask?” Riley offered as he approached him.
“No.”
With that, Lucky started to pace. It only lasted a couple of seconds. Lucky wasn’t known for doing long stretches of anything, and it was the same this time. He headed off the porch and in the direction of his truck.
Riley huffed, followed him. “Did something happen between Logan and you?”
It wasn’t exactly a guess. Lucky’s fits of temper were rare. For the most part, Lucky was a lover. However, his occasional clashes were usually with Logan.
“He’s three minutes older than me,” Lucky snarled.
Yeah, definitely Logan. “He’s decades older than you, than both of us,” Riley pointed out.
Lucky opened his truck door, but he didn’t get in. “Is that some kind of an old soul reference? Because an old asshole would be a better label for it. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. Well, you know what? I don’t want to do enough to make it enough. Understand?”
Maybe. Riley thought he had mentally worked his way through all those enoughs. “Does this have to do with the other horse trainer who’ll be coming in?”
“You bet it does. I called in a friend for that job, and Logan fired him on the spot. Well, if he didn’t trust my judgment, why ask me to do it in the first place?”
Riley didn’t have an answer for that, but it did bother him that Logan had fired the guy. They had nearly fifty horses thanks to the deal he’d made with the Army Ranger and only one trainer.
“You know what Logan wants?” Lucky continued, but he decided to answer his own question. “He wants me to train them. He wants me to drop everything I’m doing and work a program I was against from the beginning.”
Riley hadn’t been around for those discussions about the cutting-horse program between Lucky and Logan. Riley’s first reaction was that it was a good thing. That was his usual reaction anyway. Stay uninvolved. Hear about all the spats after the fact and not give a damn about any of it.
But the breakthrough he’d had about those flashbacks must have softened his brain because Riley had a new thought. If he had been around for those discussions, he could have soothed them over. A stupid thought because it wasn’t his place to do that.
He frowned.
Of course it was his place. These were his brothers, and while more times than not, he wanted to punch them in their faces, it was still his place to smooth things over.
Hell.
He wasn’t sure he liked all these revela
tions.
Lucky’s fit of temper seemed to leave him as quickly as it had come. “Dixie Mae’s sick,” Lucky threw out there, and judging from the way he dodged Riley’s gaze, that admission was at the heart of his anger. Not the run-in with Logan.
Riley knew Dixie Mae, of course. Lucky and she were rodeo promoters together. But Dixie Mae was old. Really old. Like maybe past ninety. Riley would have been more surprised if Lucky had said the woman was in stellar health.
“Is there anything I can do?” Riley asked.
Lucky looked at him then, the corner of his mouth lifting in what Riley had heard some women say was Lucky’s panty-dropping smile. “Not a thing, but thanks for offering.”
Lucky moved again as if to get into his truck, but he apparently had something else to discuss with Riley because he kept his boots on the ground. “You’re spending more time with Claire.”
Ah, that. “So are you. You gave her a cat.”
“One that was on death row. Maybe it wasn’t right at the moment, but if no one had adopted it within the next three months, it would have gone on death row.”
“There was a waiting list to adopt it and the other two in the litter,” Riley pointed out.
But Lucky just shrugged. “I thought her boy would like it.”
Riley was sure Ethan would. In fact, that was why he was so anxious to get back over to Claire’s—to see Ethan’s reaction. One of the reasons anyway.
“I know you stayed with Claire last night,” Lucky went on.
Riley felt a lecture coming on. Lucky was protective when it came to Claire, and he was looking at Riley as if he’d just defiled her. He hadn’t. Well, that depended on Lucky’s definition of defiled, but he hadn’t done anything that Claire hadn’t wanted him to do.
Multiple times.
Texas on My Mind Page 22