by Tessa Layne
She gave her friend a final hug. “Love you, Chey. Thanks for being here.”
“Love you, too. And I mean it. Say the word.”
Kate exited the car and watched as her friend turned back down the drive, then looked around. Now what? Should she slink back home to Nashville? Should she stay? She returned Cash’s wave from where he and Travis were working on the foundation of the foreman’s house.
Pulling her coat tighter, she trudged back to her trailer, changed into her work clothes, and walked back to the barn. She took care of her chores in a state of numbness, working from muscle memory rather than a sense of connection to the tasks at hand. When the horses had been tended to, she cleaned the tack room, cleaning and polishing everything to the point it shined. When there was nothing left to do, she inhaled slowly, letting the sweet scent of hay move through her. She could still detect the faint aroma of saddle soap on her hands. Maybe if she stood here long enough, grounding herself in her surroundings, she could hold the crushing pain at bay.
She couldn’t move. The thought of sleeping in her trailer tonight was too much. The walls too confining for her grief. Grabbing a saddle blanket, she walked back down the aisle and climbed the ladder to the hayloft. She didn’t care if she froze to death tonight. It was better than being closed up in her tiny trailer.
Sliding open the second story door, she welcomed the blast of cold air hitting her face. Kicking the hay into a pile, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders and settled against a stack of bales where she could look out the door, the loose hay offering a tiny buffer between her body and the wood floor. A sliver of moon hung low in the sky, cradling the darkness above it.
As she sat, the music came, and with it, the anguish she’d valiantly held at bay for months. It came crashing over her in the darkness, ripping through her body, tearing her apart like she was dinner for a starving tiger. Tears built behind her eyes. And this time, she let them come.
CHAPTER 11
Cash crossed the length of his trailer in three steps. Three steps later he was back where he’d started. He peered through the window. Kate’s trailer was dark. Where was she? Cheyenne had dropped her off hours ago. Had they gone out again and he hadn’t noticed? Maybe they’d gone into town to go dancing at the Trading Post.
But it was a Monday night. Even he knew no one hit the Trading Post on a Monday.
He shouldn’t worry. Kate was a grown woman. Twenty-four to his thirty, but old on the inside. She’d lived a fairly quiet life, considering her super-star status. Hadn’t exploited the club scene the way some of her contemporaries had. Every instinct inside him screamed that something wasn’t right.
The clock on the stove read eleven p.m. Even if she’d gone to the Trading Post, she should have been home by now. Grabbing his coat, and jamming on his Stetson, he stepped outside. Thirty feet tops separated their trailers. He hopped up the steps and rapped on the door. “Kate?”
Twenty-seconds. Forty. Fear gnawed at him.
“Kate?” He rapped more insistently.
Foreboding slithered ice-cold, down his spine. He tried the door, and it fell open. Immediately alert, he slipped into the space, scanning for trouble. What he wouldn’t give for a pair of night-vision goggles right now. He could make out her guitar, lying on the table. She’d been here then, and must have left in a rush, because she always put away her guitar.
Sliding along the wall, he silently pushed open the screen to her bedroom. Empty. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more worried. Where in the hell was she? Just to make sure, he quietly moved to the other end of the trailer, checking the shower, although it had been clear to him her place was empty. Buildings occupied by the enemy felt… ominous. His thoughts briefly drifted back to a deserted building on the other side of the world that ended up not so deserted. Grim determination filled him. Never again.
Cash made a quick list.
Kate could be with Cheyenne. If that was the case, he’d just have to wait until she returned.
She could be on a walk. Sometimes he heard her slip out for a late-night wander, but she always returned after about thirty minutes, and tonight he’d been waiting for her far longer.
She wasn’t in the main house, Travis and Elaine turned in fairly early.
He snapped his fingers. The barn. He hadn’t seen her when he’d put up Samson for the night, but he hadn’t been looking for her either. And lord knew how many nights he’d spent in the comforting quiet of the barn chasing sleep. Slipping back outside, he broke into a jog, not wanting to waste a second. If she wasn’t in the barn, he’d alert Travis.
His feet hit the gravel and he skidded, but regained his purchase. He paused at the barn door to catch his breath, then hauled the heavy door back, sliding into stealth mode as he entered. “Kate?” he called softly. He cleared the tack room, then started with the stalls, quickly moving through the space. “Kate? You here?”
His only answer was the shuffling and chuffing of the horses. Giving Samson a scratch on the forehead, he continued his search. And then he heard it – a quiet snuffle coming from the loft. If he hadn’t been alert, he’d have passed it off as a horse sound. His heart jammed up into his throat. Was she crying?
Scrambling up the ladder, he paused just below the ceiling, training kicking in. Someone was definitely up there. He didn’t hear signs of a struggle. Only quiet sniffles. Slowly he peeped over the edge, scanning for signs of trouble, eyes coming to rest on a blanket covered body, shaking and bathed in moonlight.
Cash’s heart cracked wide open as he rushed to her, protective instincts taking over. He dropped to his knees, pulling on her shoulder, rolling her off her side and lifting her up to slide in behind her so he could hold her on his lap. “Oh, hon. Talk to me. What is it? What’s got you so upset?”
Kate turned her head to him, clutching his coat and letting out a wail that made his eyes wet.
Oh God, what had happened? Was it her family? Had someone died? Was she dying? He went cold at the thought. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” He rocked her, letting her sob, his chest aching at the pain in her voice. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He’d endured far too many nights on his own, despairing and wrestling with demons to let anyone, especially Kate, go it alone.
He settled her more comfortably in his lap and leaned against the hay bales, talking and stroking her back until her sobs subsided to intermittent sniffs. What had broken her? If it was fixable, he’d figure out how to make it better.
By the time she raised her head, the moon had moved out of his line of sight. Bringing her hand to his cheek, she let out a shuddering sigh. “Cash.”
His name on her lips was the sweetest music. Promise and possibility. Desire and sweet heat all wrapped into a husky lilt. And her eyes. No one had ever looked at him with that kind of intensity. Raw vulnerability and determination lasering right to his soul.
“What is it? What happened?” he whispered, his voice a husk. “Talk to me.”
Her answer was everything he expected and at the same time, a total surprise. He saw it coming as if in slow motion but was powerless to stop it, not that he wanted to. He’d waited his whole life for this moment. Her lips against his were tentative at first, as if she were waiting for him to stop her. Or take over. Everything in him stilled, expectation pounding in his veins. It would be so easy to press her into the hay and ravish her in the manner he’d imagined. Lick her and suck her, caress her to heights until she cried his name in ecstasy.
But as her mouth moved more insistently, she pulled him under her spell, and he tightened his embrace with a groan, giving in to her lead, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth. She tasted like sunshine and sugar. She shifted, straddling his lap, deepening their kiss, pulling him closer. Her essence seeped into the cracks of his soul like healing ointment, and fire grew in his veins, stiffening his cock as she rocked against him.
He stroked down her back, grabbing her ass, squeezing her lush curves, and notching
her right against his erection straining against his zipper. God, he wanted to be inside her, to lose himself in her.
But no… his damned conscience chastised. Not like this. He couldn’t take advantage of her like this when she was vulnerable and clearly broken up about something. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, pulling away, breathing harshly.
Her eyes had grown wild. Lust-crazed. She pressed herself against him, rocking against his dick, tongue flicking along the inside of his lip, begging for more. Fuck, he was only human, and she was so goddamned gorgeous and sweet. Her sweetness shattered him. He craved it like a man in the desert starved for water. With a low growl, he took over, plundering her mouth, dying a little as she met him halfway, hands slipping under his coat and pulling his shirt from his jeans.
Her kisses were heady. Intoxicating. He pulled on her shirt, seeking the softness beneath, and was rewarded with the sweetest sigh when he found it. He skated his fingers across her ribs, to the swell of her breast, seeking and finding a nipple, caressing and pulling it into a tight peak beneath the silky fabric of her bra. Her head dropped back. “Yessss,” she hissed softly. “I’ve waited so long for this.”
Her words acted like an ice bath. In an instant, a flood of memories chilled his veins. He couldn’t do that. For both their sakes. She’d only get hurt, and he’d be powerless to help her. He set her off his lap. “We. Can’t. I’m sorry,” he murmured, unable to look at her for fear of what he’d see in her eyes. “I’d only hurt you. And you’re too sweet.”
“But, Cash–”
He shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face, chest burning. “You don’t know what you’re asking. People always end up hurt around me. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He brushed a final kiss on her temple and scrambled out of the loft as fast as he could.
By the time he reached the trailer, he’d broken out in a cold sweat. What had he been thinking? He was too messed up for her. It was only a matter of time before he froze again, and next time it might cost her life. And he couldn’t live with himself if he hurt a sweet thing like Kate.
CHAPTER 12
“Rough night?” Travis loomed over him holding a cup of coffee.
Cash closed his eyes, bracing against the memory of Kate’s mouth, her skin under his fingers. “Yeah,” he bit out. “You could say that.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Something trigger you? This is the first time since we’ve come home from the trek that you’ve camped out on the couch.”
“Nothing specific.” Except a blazing kiss that turned him inside out. “I… just couldn’t be alone last night. Too many memories.” God’s truth. He’d reached his trailer and realized he was too wound up. So he’d turned around and made a beeline for the main house, knowing it was his only chance for sleep. Childhood memories jumbled with his time overseas, tumbled with a laundry list of failures since he returned home, added up to a sleepless night filled with shakes and sweat. For whatever reason, knowing someone was close by, able to pull him back to sanity, held the terrors at bay. Cash pushed himself up. “That coffee for me?”
“Hell, no.” Travis laughed. “Get your sorry ass up and serve yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” He swung his legs to the floor, standing. God, he ached like he’d walked all night then folded himself into a foxhole to wait until sundown. Coffee would help.
“Don’t take too long. Hope Sinclaire’s coming over with a new mustang today. She wants us to help her sensitize it to sudden noise and motion.”
Cash froze, sugar spoon midair.
“I think you should be in the ring with her.”
“No,” Cash said flatly, tipping in the sugar and stirring so vigorously the coffee slopped over the rim.
“What if I gave you a direct order?”
“I’d say fuck you, asshole. We’re not in the service anymore.”
“I cut your paycheck.”
Cash slammed down the mug, spilling hot liquid across his hand, and glared at Travis. Travis didn’t flinch. He was fucking immovable. Anger burst through him like a geyser. “So you’re gonna fire me if I don’t get in the ring today? Is that what you’re saying?” His voice rose, but he didn’t care.
Travis arched a brow, jaw set. “I’ll remind you my wife and son are still upstairs sleeping.”
“I’m not getting in the ring,” Cash insisted.
“You need to.”
“Like hell I do,” he growled, adrenaline making his hands tingle.
Travis circled the couch, draining his mug and gently placing it on the counter next to his. He’d pissed Travis off. His left eye twitched, his only tell. Cash might outweigh Travis, but there was a reason Travis had been their leader. The man was fucking deadly, and nothing, nothing rattled him. “Like hell you don’t?” Travis challenged coolly. “Let’s start with how you tackled Kate the first night we were home.”
“She told you that?” How could she? How could she not, the voice of reason answered.
“She told Elaine, who told me.” Travis raised his hand. “Let me be clear. She was concerned about you. That’s all. And rightfully so.”
Damn.
Travis crossed his arms, widening his stance. “Have there been any other incidents since you came home?”
Cash shook his head, heat crawling up his spine. “Just the one,” he answered, the fight leaving him.
“And you don’t think this is something you should address?”
He dragged his gaze up. Throat so tight he couldn’t speak. It wasn’t fair. Travis had his shit together, and he was so… weak. Pitiful. Pathetic. God, he wanted to be sick.
“Don’t go there,” Travis said sharply, as if reading his mind. “Don’t do it. We all struggle. You think I haven’t been right where you are?”
He shook his head.
“You’re wrong. I have been. Ask Elaine. Ask Weston.”
Weston was another member of their SEAL team and now Prairie’s police chief. According to Travis, the whole set-up for Resolution Ranch had been Weston’s idea.
“Get this through your thick skull, sailor. We all have baggage. We all have shit to face. Every. Single. One of us. You’re not a goddamned unicorn. You know what separates us from the rest? We don’t run. Not from the enemy, not from our shit. So suck it the fuck up and meet me in the ring in forty-five minutes.” Travis’s gaze was diamond-hard. He wasn’t fucking around. “Or pack your bags.” He turned on his heel and strode out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.
Motherfucker.
Cash grabbed the back of his head, blowing out a ragged breath. In all the years they’d served together, Travis had never dressed him down like that. We don’t run. Jesus, he’d done nothing but run since he’d returned home. His chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe. He was sick of running. Sick of being afraid of the memories hovering at the edge of his conscious. He grabbed the coffee pot, clenching his arm to quell the shaking in his hand, and topped off his mug. Pulling in a shallow breath, he spooned in more sugar, focusing on nothing but stirring.
Second by second. Until he could manage minute by minute.
He reached for a paper towel, sopping up his spill. Extending his hand, he held it over his mug, slowly breathing in and out until it stopped shaking. Then he gulped down the contents of his mug, not caring that it scalded his throat. He relished the pain. It was a sensation other than panic. This was the end of the line. Travis didn’t dish out ultimatums for shits and grins. This was do or die time.
He thought of his mom. All she’d suffered when he was a kid. She had a nice life now. A small bungalow in Florida, not far from the beach, with a man who treated her right, and who he was proud to call step-dad. And what about Kate? She’d suffered. Was still suffering, from the looks of it. And even though he hadn’t been able to put the pieces together as to why she was here, he could see she was trying. He didn’t want to die.
He didn’t want to go on like this, either.
He grabbed the pot again, pouring out another steaming measure. He gulped it down without the aid of sugar, wincing at the bitter burn. God help him, he didn’t want to get in that arena. What if he fell apart in front of witnesses? Cracked wide open, spilling his guts into the dirt? Then what? Could he survive the shame of it? He was a fucking warrior for God’s sake. Shit was supposed to be easy for him. He was supposed to carry others. Not the other way around. He dragged in a breath, sweat pooling at the base of his skull. But one thing was certain, if he packed his bags and walked off the property, he would die. It would be too easy to end things.
Today he faced his demons.
Placing his mug in the sink, then tossing the wet paper towel in the trash, he glanced at the door and laughed. If he was going to die one way or another, he wouldn’t take the coward’s way out. He’d stand in the arena and die battling whatever shit rained down on him.
Forty minutes and a hot shower later, he paced the edge of the paddock as Hope pulled up with a horse trailer. Travis came up next to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
“I’m not so sure.”
Travis speared him with a hard look. “I am. I don’t choose quitters.”
Hope approached. “Ready?”
Not remotely, but Cash gulped and nodded. “Yep.”
She looked to Travis. “Who’s gonna be in the ring?”
Travis cocked his head toward him. “This guy. But I’ll be here to help with noise.”
“Great.” She turned to Cash. “So we’ll go through the same process of joining up, just like you did with Samson. Once you and Molly have established some trust, we’ll start working on the sensitizing.”
“Molly?”
“Yep,” Hope nodded. “As in the unsinkable Molly Brown. Molly’s had a rough time. She doesn’t easily trust people, and she’s still skittish. But once she’s connected with you, she’s a gem. Once we get her fully trained, she’ll be a great mount. We just have to have faith in her so she can have faith in herself.”