by Zoe Dawson
“You did a great job, guys. Thanks,” Kia said after they got back in Wes’s truck. “I need to stop at the bar and see how things are going. I’d already planned to have Sally Jean cover for me for the weekend, but Friday can be really busy.”
“Sure,” Wes said.
“You are quite the little organizer,” Tank said. “That must have been a lot of work for you. The people who were supposed to be on your committee are a bunch of slackers.”
She smiled at Tank. “Thanks, it was a lot of work, but worth it. The tables look amazing.”
Wes parked right outside at the curb. “I can spring for lunch,” Kia said.
“The food is excellent here,” Wes murmured.
Kia led the way inside, and Sally Jean was talking/flirting with the liquor deliveryman. She couldn’t help it. Sally Jean preferred bad boys, rebels, and guys who were out for a good time, and nothing more. She didn’t do long-term commitments or emotional entanglements. As soon as she signed for the shipment, she turned toward them. “Kia!” She ran out from behind the bar and hugged her tight. “I was so worried about you. How are you doing?”
“Much better. We just came from The Barn.”
“I’m sure it looks fantastic. I wish I had been in your high school class.”
“We’ll need menus, oh, and did you do the deposits?”
Sally Jean nodded and then walked across the floor to grab the menus. Kia hadn’t missed the way she had raked her eyes over Tank. Kia glanced at him and he was following the movement of her slim hips encased in tight denim.
Throughout lunch, they kept exchanging glances. Finally, Kia left her bodyguards at the table and walked over to the bar. “Oh, my God. He is gorgeous. Who is he?”
“He’s Wes’s friend.”
“A SEAL?”
“Yes, I stopped to check in. Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ve got you covered, but completely jealous of you getting to hang out with two hotties.”
“I would rather not need bodyguards, Sally Jean.”
“Right, of course.”
Back in the truck, Wes’s cell rang, and he answered it through his truck speakers. “Hello.”
“Mr. McGraw, this is Sarah Ferguson from Jasper Realty. I’m having a difficult time discovering who owns Sweetwater Ranch. I’ve even visited with the foreman who told me it’s a corporation, Summit Enterprises, but I can’t get anyone to phone me back. Do you have any additional information?”
“No. I don’t.”
“All right. I’ll keep trying. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”
He disconnected the call, frowning.
“That’s strange,” Tank said.
“Yeah, it is dang strange.”
Wes glanced at her. “Kia, do you think you could work your magic and find out who owns Sweetwater?”
Her gut churned and she turned to him in horror. Oh, no. This had to be her worst nightmare—now Wes wanted her to investigate who owned Sweetwater! Oh, man, what a tangled web she’d woven. “Um…all right.” How could she refuse him?
Into the silence that settled into the truck, Tank said, “You’re buying a ranch?”
As Wes explained, Kia sat silently between the two of them, feeling trapped and sick to her stomach.
10
The mixer was in full swing and everyone was talking about the table decorations which he had to admit were pretty spectacular. Kia had assigned them the London table. There was a place card with London in script, a miniature London Bridge, Big Ben, a small red double-decker bus and an at attention, expressionless Queen’s Guard with the iconic tall fur cap. There were lit votives and pretty flowers mixed in with the tiny models. He had to admire her imagination. She was currently handling a small crisis with the caterers, and it still cheesed him off at how she was treated, but with that bunch, it shouldn’t have surprised him.
He had to admit. It was more than strange to be back here with the people he’d gone to high school with. Back then, he’d had the expectation that his life was laid out for him. There was no deviation, no other choice he wanted to make. It had all been about Sweetwater, ranching, following in his father’s footsteps. It was all about being exactly like his father.
He swallowed hard and walked over to the flat world map where people had been using the small red pins to show where they had travelled. Ever since he’d come to his realization that he had been numbing himself all these years, the memories were even more painful, but it was like draining a wound that had been festering for so long, a life-saving, required process that he wasn’t really done with. There was relief in recognizing that he’d shut down and he’d lived ten years of keeping his emotions in check.
Even in this room, he could feel her presence filling him up. He’d been right. Taking Kia had lifted the fog, and he felt even more keenly focused. In fact, he felt like he was…more. More lethal, more sexual, more masculine, more rooted. She laughed in that easygoing way of hers, and his gut tightened.
Now that he was analyzing his actions all those years ago, he had to look at the ones that involved Kia. His relationships had always been lackluster and based more on getting laid than on any emotion he’d ever felt for the women he’d dated. He remembered the exact moment when he thought that he had really fucked up. That he’d never taken the chance on her. You knew she would do this to you. Tie you up in knots, make you feel lost and challenge you.
After his father’s death, after refusing to talk about it, refusing to go to the funeral, refusing to deal with the loss of the ranch, he’d gone back to school, but it was like he was living someone else’s life. Gone was everything he had ever believed, the whole foundation of his life wiped away with one pull of the trigger. Halfway into the semester, Lisa Palladino, his current girlfriend had broken up with him, and he couldn’t generate enough energy to care. She had told him that she loved him, but she couldn’t be with a man who was emotionally unavailable. She had tried to help him, but he didn’t want help. He hadn’t even blinked twice when she left. He wouldn’t open up, and he wouldn’t make her a priority in his life. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t, it was that he couldn’t or he would have lost it. But that wasn’t what his father had taught him to do. A man provided for his family, stayed in control and dealt with his responsibilities.
But that meant nothing to him because all his father’s words that had once been so full and deep were nothing but empty bits and pieces of a hollow alphabet.
He couldn’t even remember feeling anything…anything but shame, a sick, awful debilitating feeling that sat on him in waking moments and buried in dreams that woke him up with such anguish, he could barely breathe. The only thing that got him through each day was exercise, specifically lifting. Looking back, he realized it was the catalyst that had released all his tension, lifting something heavy, holding it and getting the relief of then setting it down. Someone had told him swimming would help with flexibility and running would keep him lean, so he’d started using the pool and it was there where he found comfort and support. Another world he could disappear into. It was the only place in his life where he felt almost free. Conditioning his body kept him away from alcohol and drugs. But he spent more time away from his studies and his grades started to slip. The school tried to help him, but he rejected counseling and kept telling everyone he was fine. But everyone knew he wasn’t, best of all him. But denial was a potent thing.
He hadn’t even begun to sort through his SEAL service.
When he’d come across the navy recruiter, he wasn’t sure why he’d stopped. He wasn’t sure why what the man said had sunk in. He’d taken one look at Wes and asked him if he’d ever thought about becoming a SEAL. Wes had to be completely honest and tell him, fuck no.
The man hadn’t lost his stride at Wes’s rough language. In fact, his eyes had lit up. The more Wes listened to the “opportunities” of being in the navy, the more he thought about escape, getting away and running his body hard so that he wouldn’t have to use his mind.
He’d signed up on the spot. He sailed through the testing, especially the aptitude tests and the physical conditioning. Some of the testers had to look at their watches several times to make sure they weren’t seeing things. Excelling at the time was something that was ingrained inside him, and he was sure that perceptive recruiter saw that in Wes from the moment he met him. He got his orders and packed up his shit, shipping it home. He dodged his mother and sister’s calls. Kept only essentials and reported to Naval Station Great Lakes and boot camp. He pushed his limits every day and his drill instructors looked to him to set the pace, his teammates struggling to keep up with him. He needed the exhaustion that came with eating, sleeping and breathing his training. It kept him even too tired to dream.
Looking back, he realized that the navy had taught him much more about himself than he had ever known was possible. It broke him down into pieces then reassembled them. He found he enjoyed working with other men, pushing them, inspiring them, leading them.
They were easy, uncomplicated and didn’t require him to touch any of the emotions he’d started to bury. He couldn’t help it as his training progressed, and he and his training class started to bond. It’s where he met Kid, this brash, out-there knucklehead who met him stride for stride, pushed him harder. Kid had the kind of controlled chaos that left Cowboy awed. He admired his thirst for experience and how he embraced it and, more importantly, how his skewed way of looking at things solved intricate puzzles. They went to BUD/S together at the top of their class. He couldn’t be happier that the boy wonder had found his happily ever after.
She came up beside him. Was Kia his HEA? Who was he kidding? She was embedded, and he was struggling to deal with emotions that weren’t only rusty, but felt awkward and unfamiliar until she touched him and like the witch he’d named her, magically felt right.
She just felt so damn right.
But, even with his realization, Reddick wasn’t his home and the memories were still painful, still shameful. His time was limited and how could he even build a relationship when distance was such a huge obstacle?
He picked up a pin and stuck it in Kabul. That would have to be representative of his time in Afghanistan, although his travel hadn’t involved vacation in any sense of the word. He’d travelled extensively on Uncle Sam’s dime to places that weren’t even named on the map, crisscrossed oceans and land masses, fought, bled and took down enemies. His throat tightened. So much of him was tied up in patriotism, pride, respect and dedication, he realized that the SEALs had saved him from becoming something less than he was capable of, that the spiral after his father’s death would have brought him to ruin.
He had to also acknowledge that he might have lived up to his potential as a SEAL, but he was still not quite there in his personal life. Bits and pieces of his father’s guidance over the years kept surfacing everywhere he looked. The memories stirred up even more shit, and he suspected they always would.
He’d only known her for less than a full week. How he had fallen so hard in such a short period of time wasn’t lost on him. SEALs measured their lives in reflexes and action. Anything worth doing was worth doing to the fullest. Connecting to Kia, frankly, didn’t surprise him one iota. Kia required action.
She tapped his temple. “What’s happening up there, handsome?”
“There are so many places that I’ve been, I don’t think you have enough pins here. I’ll keep them to one place to signify the countries I’ve been to.”
“All of them, I assume.”
“Nope. I’ve never been to Canada. Not much going on there that requires SEAL involvement.”
She smiled and ran her hand down his arm. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you just pin the places that have meaning to you or that you have always wanted to go, instead of the places where you’ve been deployed?”
Her touch, her voice grounded him. He found he was willing to figure out shit, make decisions, take a risk with her than he had ever been open to in the past. He wasn’t sure where this was all going to end, but he couldn’t leave Kia vulnerable to an assassin. It was frustrating that they had no information to go on, no clues as to who this man was who wanted to kill her. But after several days of nothing, he certainly wasn’t going to be lulled into a false sense of security. His vigilance had to remain high.
He started to do as she asked and instead of feeling the tension from those conflicts like the Darién Gap and Philippines, he thought how he wanted to experience Paris with her, watch her enjoy each nuance of each new place he pinned. He stuck a pin into Toronto, and she laughed softly.
He specifically would love to go to Florence because he had always admired Michelangelo, Renaissance architecture and Tuscan food. When he set a pin there, she picked up one and set hers right next to his.
He turned to her about to suggest a nice walk along the wraparound porch to look at the stars and maybe steal a few kisses when he heard his father’s name. Conversation surged, and he missed the rest of the sentence, but he stiffened. Kia looked at him.
Then he heard “Sweetwater,” then “tragedy.” He closed his eyes and all the terrible memories surged, leaving him completely breathless. How could they not think of him as his father’s son…that coward’s son?
He pivoted and sought out the person who was speaking and unable to help himself, he strode over there. “Don’t you have anything better to do than gossip about my family?” he asked low and menacing. “Isn’t it old news by now?” The man backed up a step, a guy who had been so into the rodeo when he’d been in school and had done well on the circuit once he’d graduated.
“What? I wasn’t talking about that.” Where Wes had expected to see pity, there was only respect. “I was stoked that your dad has been nominated to the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame. I so admired him and still do for his accomplishments on the pro circuit and then the success he made out of Sweetwater after he left to start a family. I’m sorry, Wes, if I offended you. He’s finally getting recognition.”
Cowboy was caught completely flat-footed.
“You didn’t know?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, backing up. Confused was an understatement. His knee-jerk reaction had been to assume they were saying something derogatory about his dad, and it was the exact opposite. For the first time since his dad’s death, he wondered if people had ever called him a coward at all. Or had they had sympathy for his plight, faced with losing everything he’d built, his failure had pushed him to a drastic end.
Through these people’s eyes, he suddenly saw his dad, alone, the ranch he had loved so much on the brink of bankruptcy. The legacy he had been charged with maintaining and preserving for future generations and more specifically, for his own son, lost. Had he judged his dad too harshly, had he put him on such a high pedestal, worshipped him and when he’d fallen from grace, condemned him?
The shame he had experienced before had all been tied to his dad’s action, but now, he was ashamed of himself, heartsick that he hadn’t had the kind of compassion his father had always told him was more important than judgment. People made mistakes, and they were fallible and fragile.
Kia wrapped her arm around his waist. Filling the silence with how thrilled she was to hear that news, her tone so genuine.
Then she steered him toward the door that led out to the porch. His tight lungs loosened as the cool air blew across his skin. “Are you all right?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Oh, Wes. Talk to me.”
“I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I need to speak with my mom. Now.” The pain mixed with anger, an emotion he hadn’t felt until just right now.
“I’m ready to leave. I’m here for you.”
“Are you okay?” Tank said from the doorway.
“No,” Kia said. “We’re going.”
“Okay. Is there a threat to you?” he asked, immediately intent.
“No. Wes needs to speak with his mother.”
They got into his truck, and he drove. The pressu
re was too strong. He murmured, “I judged him. Unfairly. All this time. I thought they were talking about him being a coward. That by association that made me one, too. I was devastated, torn apart inside. I thought how could he leave me like this? This shameful way. It ruined me back then and all I could think about was myself. I didn’t have any compassion for my dad, Kia. I didn’t even attend his funeral. I cut my family and my ties to home, a home I lost when Sweetwater was sold. He was supposed to be stronger, fight. We were supposed to fight...together. But he took the easy way out.”
He pulled up at his sister’s two-story house and parked. He exited the truck, went up to the porch and knocked on the door. When it opened, his sister stared out at him. It was clear she was still angry about him missing their breakfast, but in the depths of her eyes was also a sadness, one he was probably responsible for.
“Where’s Mom?”
“I’m here,” she said stepping into the hall. She was in her robe, and he realized she was angry and fed up with his behavior. She had a right to be because he’d never explained himself. Never asked any questions. “When were you going to tell me that Dad got nominated for the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame?”
Her face went white, her mouth compressed into a hard line. He could feel the indignation in her. She had aged well. Her hair had turned a perfect silver, and the lines on her face did not detract from her stately good looks. Yeah, she had aged well, but she hadn’t aged softly. “Outside, both of you.” It was appropriate that his sister was involved in this discussion. He and his mother might need a buffer.
“If you had bothered to show up for breakfast I would have told you.” She clutched the robe, and Erin stepped close to her and wrapped an arm around her. It was clear that they had been each other’s support for years while he’d been acting like a complete asshole. “But I don’t know why I even bothered. You abandoned this family a long time ago.”