by Jillian Hart
Her big blue eyes met his, shielded, just as he suspected his were. Man, she was a sight, her hair windblown, looking like beauty itself, her goodness shining through. His chest cinched up with longing that had nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with something richer.
“I understand.” Her quiet words saved him. She wasn’t going to make him explain. “Since that American embassy thing on the news, I’ve developed a different opinion about you.”
“You have?” He reached for a chocolate cookie and took a bite. Soft and moist, he chewed, grateful because it gave him something to focus on. Something that seemed casual, sitting together in the shade on the back patio, surrounded by flowers and the tang of lemonade.
His interest in her answer was far from casual. What did she think about what he did, now that she had sat through the event with Giselle? Lexie could have no illusions about him. He carried a gun and used it, sparingly and defensively, but still, he used it. Did she think less of him?
“On the news reports there were all these people fleeing from the fighting. That I understand. I get running from danger.” She took a dainty sip of lemonade and relaxed into the cushions. “It has to take a lot of courage to stay. What you do makes a difference. People are alive because of you and your fellow Rangers. I saw the interviews some of the embassy workers gave.”
Talk about relief. He took a long swallow of icy lemonade because he didn’t trust his voice. Her answer mattered more than he could measure; her answer had made things impossibly harder. If she didn’t see the merit in his work, if her views of him had changed, then ending this and walking away would be a thousand times easier. Enduring her endearing ways and honest goodness was going to be a million times harder.
Hot wind puffed against his face as he set the glass down. He’d drained every drop. Before he could reach for the pitcher, Lexie lifted it from the table, leaned closer with her lilacs and summer breeze scent and poured.
“Your parents must have been glad to see you.” She set the pitcher down, her question a small one. The question in her eyes was a much bigger deal.
“I haven’t been to see my parents yet.” It was impossible to explain. He should have stopped by to see his family first, but instead he had driven straight to her. “I plan on seeing family next. I have thirty days coming. Hawk and I were going to head up to Alaska and do some sightseeing next week, but I had a hankering to see Wyoming again.”
“So here you are.” The question faded from her eyes.
“Here I am.” Maybe she understood what he couldn’t say. What he could never say. She had come to mean more to him than anything on this earth. He didn’t have a clue how that had happened. Between carrying her in the snow and typing his last letter to her, everything had changed. Slowly, silently, gently. “I should have called.”
“But you were on vacation, going where the wind took you?”
“Exactly.” That tangled knot of feelings had led him here. There were important things he could not tell her, because they were too deep and vulnerable. Those feelings were not why he had come. He stole another chocolate cookie from the plate. “This is where you grew up?”
“I took my first step right there by the back door.” She pointed to the patio where planter boxes brimmed with bold red and purple petunias. “There are a lot of good memories here.”
“You must miss your mom. You don’t see her during the summer?”
“I see her more when I’m here than when I’m in school.” She didn’t mention the calls back and forth and the weekend visits. Pierce hadn’t come to hear about her family’s travel habits. She didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t ask him what she truly wanted to. She couldn’t say what really mattered. She took another cookie, not at all sure what to do, grateful when he broke the silence.
“I’ve missed you more than I wanted to.” His voice dipped low. He stared hard at the woven green tablecloth. “More than I realized.”
That surprised her. “When I saw you at the fence line, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I m-missed you, too.”
That was incredibly hard to say. She squirmed in the chair, wanting to get up and dart away until she felt more comfortable. Until her heart was safe.
“I wanted to see you. And now that I have—” He avoided her, staring across the lush green lawn to the orderly rows of the vegetable garden. Julie sat on a little wooden stool, thinning carrots. He gazed farther out, as if trying to find an answer on the mountain-rimmed horizon. “I can’t stay long. But maybe long enough for that horse ride you threatened me with.”
“Great. We have a green broke horse that will be a real challenge.” She could see his struggle. Was it like hers? Afraid to get close, afraid to let go? “You do like challenges, right?”
“Only when I won’t wind up in the dirt, broken and bleeding. Some battles I stay away from.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying him.
She remembered what he had said long ago. Love is one battlefield I want to stay off of. His words swung at her like a silent, unseen mace, obliterating the tiny hope she didn’t know was there. She set her chin, refusing to let him see it. Doing her best not to feel the cold sweep of pain washing through her. “Then you can ride Red. He’s a gentle old soul.”
“Gentle. I can handle that.” Unaware of how he’d hurt her, he flashed her a grin, the one she loved so well. His hazel eyes flashed green and gold and the dimples dug deep into his cheeks. “I’ve got a hotel room in town for a few days. That ought to be enough to see the sights around here, don’t you think?”
“Especially if you don’t mind hanging out while I do my chores. It’s about time to start in the barn.” She bopped to her feet, but didn’t take a step, both needing to stay and to go. Retreating to the barn’s warm shade and comforting animals seemed like the perfect solution. Best to put some distance between them. She didn’t know how long she could keep her feelings buried. “If you want to hang here, I can get more cookies. Or you could take a walk around. There’s TV inside. You could take a nap. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll come with you.” He stood, grabbing the pitcher and the cookie plate. “I have some experience with barn work.”
“Some?” She grabbed the cups.
“Meaning a lot.” He held open the door. “I’m not one to sit around when there’s work to be done.”
“You’re on vacation.” The tile was cool on her feet as she padded straight to the dishwasher and loaded the cups. “I don’t expect you to pitch out stalls.”
“It’s one of my many talents.” He left the cookies on the counter and the lemonade in the fridge. “Now don’t go making jokes about my mucking-out capabilities. It’s tempting, I know.”
“I wasn’t planning on saying a word.” She grabbed her baseball cap from the peg on the wall. “I never turn down help filling the wheelbarrow.”
“Mighty sensible of you. I know what goes in that wheelbarrow.”
“Most animals are outside this time of year, so we’re lucky.” She leaned against the door, opening it, trying her best to look everywhere but at him. Impossible. He filled the room. He filled her field of vision. She shoved open the door, stumbling onto the hot bite of cement and the day’s baking heat.
She heard his gait behind her, felt his arm take the weight of the door and she launched away from him, determined to keep whatever space she could manage between them. But he fell in line beside her. They bypassed flower beds fragrant with colorful roses. It was a dazzling day with the sky as blue as dreams and the wild grasses singing lazily in the breeze. Horses grazed in verdant fields and shade trees dappled sunlight over them as they walked together, side by side.
There was no getting away from him. He stuck by her, towering at her side. “I wish I could stay longer.”
“I understand. Alaska is waiting. It sounds fun.” She pulled the bill of her cap lower to shade her eyes. “What are you guys going to do? Sightsee?”
“Mostly. Rumor is we’re going to camp, canoe, f
ish for our own dinner.”
“Ah, the stuff you think is fun, but really isn’t?”
“That would be it. We’ve been planning it for the better part of a year.” They were coming up on the barn, a big red structure opening out to the horse pasture. Pogo lifted his head to nicker at Lexie, then returned to his grazing. Pierce eyed several of the large animals. One was a sorrel, red from nose to tail. “That wouldn’t happen to be Red?”
“That’s him. Anxious to ride him?” She sparkled with mischief.
“You picked out the biggest one on purpose, didn’t you?” Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
“I promise he’s the gentlest one. That’s the upside. The downside would be that if you fall, it’s a much longer distance to the ground.” Grass whispered beneath her feet. “If you want to keep your boots nice, there’s an extra set of Uncle Bill’s boots. He won’t mind if you borrow them.”
“I just might, that way I don’t track stable muck into your aunt’s house.” He followed her into the shadowed entrance of the barn, their movements rustling in the big silent structure. The haymow overhead was nearly empty of hay, but the sweet scent of it lingered as if freshly mown. The first cut wouldn’t be brought in until after the fourth. A pair of chickadees cheeped overhead, warning the intruders of their domain.
He took the rubber barn boots from Lexie, and one lone calf bleated from somewhere inside the belly of the barn in one long low.
“That’s Buffy. She’s always the first—” She was drowned out by a bellow of bawling calf cries. She jammed her feet into barn boots and tugged them up. “I’m coming, babies. Hold on.”
That only brought a bigger round of moos. Unaffected, Lexie led the way to a side room, where counters sported plastic milk bottles set out to dry and a deep double-sized sink. A fifty-pound bag of milk replacer sat by the cabinets, open, with a measuring scoop handle-up in the powder mix.
“Need any help?” His question brought an instant head shake from her.
“I’ve got this down to a science.” She turned on the faucet, holding her hand under the stream, adjusting the taps for the right temperature.
“I won’t mess up your system.” He ambled next to her and began righting the dozens of bottles on the counter. “How many calves?”
“Fifty-two. Let me guess. That’s a small number to you. Your family has a bigger spread?”
“My folks only raise a few for beef. Now my uncle, he’s got a big spread. I don’t know how many calves they have in a year, but it’s staggering.” He watched as Lexie grabbed a five-gallon bucket and dropped it into the sink. A few huge scoops of milk replacer added to water, and stirred. He’d seen it before. Knowing the routine, he began lining the bottles into the sink while she checked for any lumps and kept stirring.
Something moved in the corner of his vision. A white streak plopped onto the counter and sat with feline grace. Two blue eyes studied him as the cat began licking one pristine paw.
“Snowball, meet Pierce.” Lexie dropped the long handled spoon on the counter.
He grabbed the handle before she could. “Don’t argue. I’m not about to stand here and let you lift this. It’s heavy.”
“I do it dozens of times a day.”
“Not today.” He began pouring, careful not to spill. “Tell me whoa.”
“Whoa.” She took the partially full bottle while he filled another to the same level. “Why didn’t you write me?”
“Honest?” His pulse skidded to a rocky stop. He kept his hands steady, moving onto the next bottle. But out of the corner of his eye, he kept a careful watch on her.
“Yes, I want the whole truth.” She topped the bottle and set it on the counter. Vulnerable. It was in the wide guilelessness of her eye. He remembered what she had told him, how hurt she’d been by love.
No miles separated them, this was face-to-face, without time and distance making it easier to keep it light. There was no computer screen to hide behind. He filled the last bottle in the sink and set the bucket on the counter.
Maybe it was time to be no-holds-barred and armor off. “I didn’t write because I was afraid to. You’ve gotten too close to me, Lexie.”
“I feel the same way,” she agreed.
“Distance is safer.” He didn’t know why he could read the emotions on her face, he’d never been able to see anyone so much. Understanding, fear, agreement, it was all right there between them.
They worked together, topping bottles, as the calves bawled soulfully.
“What are we going to do about it?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He finished the last bottle in the sink, handed it to her, and their fingers brushed. The simple contact felt like a tsunami’s leading edge hitting him, obliterating him, carrying him out to sea. He pulled away and gathered half of the bottles, working methodically, keeping his emotions on hold.
“The babies are waiting.” She gathered the bottles in her arms and led the way down the far aisle, the cat trailing after her.
The words he’d spoken were between them now, a truth neither of them knew what to do with. As he followed her, he couldn’t help thinking it was like driving down an unexplored road in a Humvee and knowing in an instant before you were ready to drive over an IED. Knowing that after the boom, nothing would be whole again. You wouldn’t be whole again.
A smart man would stop if he could.
“What is all this fuss about?” Lexie’s gentle voice rose above the rustle and cries of the calves, penned two to a stall. She set the extra bottles on a nearby shelf, talking all the while.
He caught a glimpse of snowy white noses and velvet red coats between the gate rungs as the little ones stretched as far as they could toward their caretaker.
“Buffy and Button, you’re first.” She cradled the bottles, one in each arm, holding them for the calves. Hungry mouths latched on, big brown eyes watching her with adoration. “What good girls you are. Now, you boys, you wait your turn. Ladies first.”
The hungry calves in the other pens bawled, begging for Lexie’s attention and a warm bottle. Light sifted down from the haymow, gracing her, and Pierce froze in the aisle, awed by this new side of her. She had been the stoic injured girl in his arms, the understanding friend he could confide in, the lovely graduate student at the symphony, the smart and fun pen pal, the sun-kissed woman riding her horse bareback through a field, and now this, the country girl bottle-feeding two calves.
It was more than his heart could take. He fell hard and so far in love with her, he would never be whole again.
Chapter Twelve
The evening had been flawless. Uncle Bill’s barbecued bacon burgers and Aunt Julie’s potato salad and fixings had been the perfect complement to the pleasant afternoon. Followed by chocolate cream pie, cold sweet tea and a hot, lazy sunset. At the moment Lexie couldn’t ask for more.
On the patio watching the riot of purple, magenta and gold paint the horizon, she couldn’t measure her contentment. It seemed limitless. With her feet up on the ottoman, leaning back in the comfy chair cushions with Pierce at her side, she felt life couldn’t get any better. It simply couldn’t. It didn’t seem possible.
“Yep, this is the best place to be, in my opinion.” Uncle Bill pulled out a chair and took a seat, setting his glass of tea on the table. “Every now and then I get the notion to go traveling, but I never get farther than this.”
“Why would you?” Pierce agreed, the ice in his glass tinkling as he took a sip. “I’ve seen a fair part of the world and I’ve never seen anything as peaceful as those Wyoming mountains.”
“I believe you, son. I did my traveling in my Army days, and I don’t miss it.”
“Speak for yourself,” Aunt Julie piped up from the railing, where she was lighting a citronella candle. “I didn’t have any Army days. I, for one, would like to see more than my backyard.”
“Come over here and I’ll change your mind.” Bill winked and patted the chair beside him, as if knowing full well th
at would make his wife chuckle warmly. “Lexie, how about you? Do you want to see the world?”
“I’m not opposed to it, but I don’t feel like I have to, either.” She took a sip of tea and savored the sweetness. “Basically, I can be happy wherever I am.”
Beside her she felt Pierce’s intense scrutiny. He’d been like that since he’d fed the animals with her. First holding the bottles for the calves, the dear little things, as they butted and bawled and craved affection. He’d been an old pro at feeding grain, handling the calves with care and cleaning out their pens. He’d good-naturedly helped her feed and water the rest of the stock and horses.
What was he thinking? She stared out at the stunning sunset, where the blinding blaze of the sun slipped farther behind the mountains, but the scene no longer calmed her. Pierce wasn’t looking for serious; she knew that. But did he regret coming? Was this all too mundane for him? Was he thinking, who knew a girl could be so provincial and boring? He lived an adventurous life. Yet another reason why it would never work between them.
“I would be happy seeing Paris once in my life.” Julie winked as she pocketed the matches and tapped across the patio to her husband’s waiting arms. “Or the Great Barrier Reef. I would like to see that. I’ve always wanted to snorkel.”
“I’ll take you over to the pond then, and we can see what’s under the lily pads,” Bill teased, love warm in his voice.
“Oh, you!” Julie laughed, slipping out of his hug. “I’ve seen enough frogs. While you’re here, Pierce, you should have Lexie take you up along the creek. There’s a swimming hole not too far from here. I’ll make you two a nice picnic lunch to take along.”
“That sounds real fine, ma’am.” Pierce stretched out in the chaise beside her, appeared interested. “There’s nothing like a cool dip on a hot day. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“I’m used to trouble,” Julie assured him.