Tate

by Susan May Warren

  He had a pretty Appaloosa bridled. “What—no, Ford. I can’t ride.”

  “C’mon, Red. Trust me.” He stood next to a bench, jumped on it and threw his leg over the horse’s back. He held out his hand, and she took a breath.

  “You can’t be a spec ops soldier without knowing how to ride. Did you never hear of The Horse Soldiers or 12 Strong?”

  “You should be the team negotiator.” She held up her hand, and in a second he’d pulled her on behind him.

  “Arms around my waist.”

  “Where else am I going to hold on? The tail?”

  But sure, she’d put her arms around his lean waist, tuck herself against him, breathe in the strength radiating out of him as he urged the animal forward, into the darkness.

  “I’ve never been on a horse,” she said as she moved with him, with the horse. Its body was wider than she’d imagined, but the smell of horseflesh, earthy, honest, bled into the night as the sounds of the cicadas, the occasional low of a cow rose up to fill the silence.

  “Just hang on to me. You’ll be fine.”

  The mantra of her life, maybe. Oh, she was turning into a romance heroine. What happened to the wannabe rescuer?

  Maybe she could be both tough and sappy?

  Ford had a wide back, strong arms, and rode easy, like the horse might be one with him. He took them down the dirt driveway, then cut up around the far pasture, and back along a coulee behind the house on a trail that both he and the horse seemed to know well.

  She heard a rushing that sounded deeper than wind. “Is that a river?”

  “Yep. The bottom of a falls that winds into Geraldine. It’s got a few cool caves and a swimming hole.”

  “Just for the record, I’m not going skinny dipping.”

  He laughed, and his entire body rumbled. “It’s also the best place around to star gaze.”

  He pulled up the horse, then held his arm stiff as she swung down. He landed beside her and dropped the reins.

  “Will he stay?”

  “She, and yes.” The mare turned toward them and nudged her with her soft muzzle. Scarlett lifted her hand, a little unnerved by the teeth, but drawn in by the giant, doe eyes.

  Ford took her hand and pressed it on the horse’s nose.

  “It’s so soft.”

  “Mmmhmm. Their mouths are actually very tender, which is why you don’t need much to give them direction. A good horse will respond with just your legs and the slightest movement of the reins.” He ran his hand down the mare’s face. “You remember me, don’t you, Georgia?”

  Oh, why did this man have to be a teammate?

  He glanced at Scarlett, and she spied something in his eyes that might have been the same question. As if asking the question, he reached out for her hand.

  Despite her better sense, she took it.

  He walked her out to the edge of a glistening, silver river, maybe twenty feet wide, the moonlight cutting through it like a ribbon. Rocks jutted out from dark depths, and a ledge careened out over a section of froth and gentle rapids. He climbed up the ledge, pulling her up behind him, then let her hand go as he walked out to the edge.

  “Farther down the river there are a number of caves. I got lost in one, once.”

  She came to stand by him. “Scary.”

  He nodded, quiet. Took a breath. “I didn’t know how to get out. Eventually, I found a ledge above water and sort of climbed out and stayed there, terrified to get back in, pretty sure I was going to drown.”

  She tried to imagine him, a skinny kid, shivering in the darkness. With Ford standing next to her, bold and strong, she struggled to wrap her brain around the image. “The worst part was that my sister was with me. We were trapped together, and you’d think it might be easier, but it was actually worse because I kept thinking…if I left her behind to get help and couldn’t find her again, she’d die in that cave.”

  He turned to her then. “That’s a little how I felt at your mother’s place, Red. I feel like I brought you into this mess—it was my idea for you to go home, and I practically dragged you there, and now…I don’t want to leave you alone with it.”

  “No man left behind.”

  He didn’t smirk, nothing on his face. Just silence as his chest rose and fell.

  Finally, “The worst part is—I’m insanely angry. At Axel, at the idea of you leaving the team, and I know that makes me a total jerk, but…” He looked away, into the distance where the town glittered in the valley below. His voice emerged a little pained. “I like you in my ear, what can I say?”

  She drew in a breath. Swallowed. But his gaze turned back, and he must have read her face because he shook his head.

  “And I like you in mine,” she whispered. She met his eyes and drew in a breath.

  His breath shuddered out. “Aw, Red, I’m in a dangerous place here—”

  “Kiss me, Navy.”

  He blinked at her, as if, for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with her information.

  She’d surprised herself, actually, but it felt honest and right and…finally.

  “What—”

  “You heard me. Kiss me. Right now.”

  He drew in a breath. Made a chest-deep noise of surprise, or maybe satisfaction.

  And then he smiled and became the man she knew. All in. A hundred ten percent bringing it to the mission. He wrapped his hand around her neck, pulled her to himself, and dove in. Not needing her voice in his ear to tell him what she wanted.

  Him. Closer. Holding her. Because for some reason when he was with her, the world didn’t feel quite so out of control.

  Maybe for him, too, because he was practically inhaling her, as if he had also been telling himself a thousand different ways why this shouldn’t work and no longer cared.

  Fact was, she’d wanted Ford Marshall in her arms since the day she’d seen him walk onto the deck of the USS San Antonio for his rookie op. Kitted up, looking dangerous and powerful, his mouth a grim line of determination, so much fierceness in his expression—if anyone could get it done, it was Ford Marshall.

  He made her believe, all over again, in honor.

  So, as he kissed her, she cast aside all the noise in her head and wound one arm around his neck, the other under his arm, molding herself to his lean, work-honed body. Warm, powerful, and everything she’d imagined.

  He tasted of the champagne they’d toasted with and smelled of his aftershave, and she liked the way he had no whiskers to slow her down. Truly, there was probably no romantic finesse to the way she moved her mouth against his in a sort of desperate urgency.

  Wow, she needed him. Wanted him. And she didn’t care if she might be breaking rules and breaching walls and turning to shambles any hope of rebounding back to just friends.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted Ford’s arms around her like she wanted her next breath.

  Teammate.

  Coworker.

  She slid her arms around his back, pressing her hands against those wide shoulders.

  He ran his hands into her hair, drew his thumbs down the side of her face in a soft caress, then dropped his hands to her shoulders, leaning back from her. “Scarlett.” He swallowed, breathing hard. “Um, okay…”

  He backed away, holding up his hands as if suddenly afraid to touch her. “You gotta know that I’ve been thinking about that for a very, very long time. And I’m all in…as long as you are.”

  Her heart was thumping, the desire to pull him back to her nearly taking possession, but somehow his words thrummed through.

  All in.

  Wait. What was she doing? She had plans. A new career waiting for her.

  No, she couldn’t get involved in a tug-of-war between love and career.

  Career had to win, if she wanted to live a life different from her mother’s.

  Especially since this was Ford Marshall. Oh, this could be a very bad idea because she knew Ford. When he went all in, it became a get ’er done mission for him, no backing down, and the la
st thing she needed was him telling her how to live her life.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, backing away. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Wait—Red. Listen. I get it. It could get complicated, but I can do complicated—”

  She held up her hand. “No, Ford, it’s not that…or only that. I…uh…” She sighed. “I put in a package to transfer rates to Rescue Swimmer. It’s a five-week certification in Pensacola. If I want to, I can go on to be an Aviation SAR and deploy from a chopper.”

  He was such a warrior, he barely stiffened, barely drew in a breath at her words.

  Barely. But she felt it.

  Then, a hard swallow. “So that’s what that chatter about the SEAL training was about.”

  He shook his head and walked away from her.

  The air rushed in, chilled by his distance.

  “Why?” He turned and stared down at her, so much concern in his eyes, it rattled her.

  “Because I…I hate sitting on the sidelines—”

  “You’re hardly sitting on the sidelines! You’re my eyes out there. You saved my life, Scarlett. That’s hardly doing nothing.”

  “I…want to do more. Be more. I want to…”

  He blinked at her, and no, she couldn’t say it because it sounded crazy.

  So he said it for her. “Protect me?”

  She looked away.

  He wrapped a hand around his neck. Shook his head.

  “It’s not crazy—”

  “It is crazy. It’s…” He rounded on her. Held up his hand. “Listen, I know that plenty of female sailors are rescue swimmers. And yeah, you could do it but…” His mouth opened. Closed. And then he looked away.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you to!”

  He looked at her, his eyes fierce. “It’s a dangerous job—”

  “You have a dangerous job.”

  “I’m a SEAL!”

  She recoiled. “No, what you mean is that you’re a man. And I’m a woman. And women shouldn’t have dangerous jobs.”

  He tightened his lips. Shook his head ever so slightly.

  She didn’t believe him. And maybe he didn’t believe himself either, because he closed his eyes and walked away from her.

  Overhead, the stars spilled out, a brilliant cascade across the velvety night. He was right. This was a beautiful place to watch the stars. To hope in dreams and a future.

  To find herself in the arms of a man she…okay, yes, cared about.

  But not enough to lose herself.

  Not enough to become her mother.

  Although, maybe she didn’t have to give her heart away to find happiness.

  He stood there, his wide back to her, his arms folded, and she couldn’t stop herself from walking up to him. Putting her hand on his back.

  He didn’t look at her. Finally, he said into the darkness, “Never mind how I feel about this. What do you want, Red?”

  She looked up at him, and her breath caught with the answer. You. I want you.

  In fact, she wanted the whole darn package. She wanted to be the teammate, the warrior, the protector, and the pretty girl who just wanted a hero. And to be one back, perhaps.

  Maybe in the end, she was a romantic dreamer, just like her mother.

  I want the happy ending.

  She even wanted the sappy wedding.

  If she were to face the truth, people like her never got the happy ending.

  Prudence said she should probably disentangle herself from his arms, ask him to take her back to the ranch before she did something stupid like fall in love with Ford Marshall.

  What did she want? Right now, right here? “I want this. Just this, right now.”

  He glanced at her, closed his eyes. “I’m not that guy, Red.” Then he opened his eyes. “But, let’s go back before I turn into him.”

  Oh. Her throat tightened.

  She nodded, and as she got on the horse, as she settled her arms around his waist, her body against his, she couldn’t help but wish that she might be a different girl.

  “What do you mean, you’re not going to the CMGs?” Kelsey held a serving plate, wiping it with a towel, and looked at Glo like she’d just suggested she might move to Canada and take up dogsledding. “We have to go—we’re up for an award.”

  “Can’t we just…you know, videotape something?” Glo set the punch bowl she’d just cleaned on the granite counter. Overhead lights spilled across the great room of the lodge, now quiet as the guests had left. Knox was flying Reuben and Gilly off to Helena to catch a plane for their honeymoon to Hawaii.

  Tate folded up a chair and carried it and two others to a stack in the corner, in the process of arranging the living room back into its normal state.

  Ford had left earlier with Scarlett—Glo noticed them sneaking out of the house. She didn’t blame them—she’d wanted to sneak out of the house and clear her head of all the romance in the room. Knox and Kelsey had spent the evening dancing, the man leaning down to whisper into her ear something that turned Kelsey a little pink. And of course Gilly and Reuben—to look at a man like Gilly did and know he wouldn’t walk away with your heart…

  Yeah, way too much romance because Glo’s gaze had more than once fallen on Tate, the way he cleaned up in a suitcoat, jeans, his cowboy boots, and a fresh shave. The man could break hearts in a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, but this attire had him at his best—the aura of tough cowboy emanating off him like a country song.

  Too bad it also reminded her of his regular gig—standing in the shadows, watching her throw herself at Sloan. She’d lost her appetite after that image emerged and hung around too long in her brain.

  Until Tate had found her, pulled her into his arms on the dance floor, and made her believe all was forgiven.

  She never wanted to leave the Marshall Triple M. Not if it meant returning to the mess she’d left in Nashville.

  “My mother has a political event in Atlanta that day, and she can’t spare the security staff,” she said now to Kelsey, ruing the fact she’d opened her big mouth.

  “The CMGs have their own security. And we have Tate.”

  “How much danger is there?” Gerri handed Glo a rinsed china plate. She’d insisted on washing the heirloom china by hand and Glo had offered to help. Please, give her something to do before she did something dangerous and overwhelming and walked out into the starlight with Tate and lost herself forever.

  It was probably too late, anyway.

  In the back of her mind, she couldn’t get past the story of Tate walking into an ambush. Of him hiding under the bodies of his brothers and a twelve-year old boy. Sneaking out at night with a broken body and hiding in the wilderness. The way he’d told his story, too, so detached, his voice almost cold in the retelling…she’d been quietly weeping.

  He’d been betrayed by someone he trusted, a child, and it cost him in a way she might never understand. It had made her want to fix it, to soothe away the memory. But he hadn’t talked about it further when she’d finally come inside. Just taken her in his arms and kissed her like she might be nourishment.

  “I don’t know, really,” Glo said in answer to Gerri’s question. “Enough that Tate didn’t want to let anyone else protect me this weekend.”

  Gerri laughed as she washed another plate. “Oh, honey, that’s not why Tate brought you back here.”

  Kelsey was grinning too.

  “What?” Glo asked. She put the dried plate on a stack.

  “You’re good for him,” Gerri said, handing her another plate. “Even he knows that.” She turned back to the sink. “When he came home from Afghanistan broken, healing from his wounds, he was so dark. He didn’t speak for days sometimes, and then when he got better, he started going out to the shooting range on the edge of the property and he’d spend hours there. And when he wasn’t shooting, he was in therapy or working out. As if he could sweat away the demons inside.”

  Glo looked over at him, across the room. He was stacking folding chair
s, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up past his forearms. Yes, he was a powerful man, and she had seen him fierce and focused. He glanced over at her and smiled, his eyes shining.

  Maybe she was good for him. Huh.

  “Then he started going out to the Bulldog Saloon at night. Not very often, but sometimes I’d find him on the sofa in the den the next day. Once Knox had to pick him up at the local jail for a drunk and disorderly. I think he and Knox had it out, and when Orrin found out—oh, Orrin was angry. Dressed him down like he might be thirteen. Told him that he was a hero and should start acting like it.” She handed Kelsey another plate. “Tate left the ranch not long after that. He’d call me every few weeks and let me know where he was. Bozeman, then Cheyenne, then Vegas. I think he worked as a pool boy in Vegas…” She glanced over at him. “And I’m not sure I want to know what else.”

  Glo didn’t elaborate on the fight, the Bratva, and whatever past Tate had tucked into the dark, secret places. Even she didn’t know and wasn’t sure she wanted to, either.

  “It just about destroyed him when Orrin died. I’m not sure they ever made up, and it breaks my heart.”

  Tate was shoving one of the big couches in place under the massive stone fireplace.

  “And then he showed up with you, Glo. You and the Belles, and for the first time in years, I heard him laugh again. Tate was our rascal, the troublemaker, but he was also my smiler. Refused to let his pain show. He broke his arm when he was six—fell off a horse—and walked around for two days acting like it was fine.”

  She handed Glo another plate. “Never wants anyone to know he might be afraid or overwhelmed or hurt.”

  Well, who did? It was easier, safer to pretend. To be okay. Because what if you acknowledged your pain and no one cared?

  “But with you, Glo, it’s like I can see little glimpses of the boy I knew,” Gerri said. “The one who waved to me from the end zone after scoring a touchdown. He’s happy again.”

  Yeah, she understood that. Because loving Tate felt very much like diving into the cool waters of her pool—cool, brisk, enveloping. But it was the letting go to float in the middle, nothing to hold on to that had her struggling in the water.