by Kat Cantrell
Actually it was both. She’d solidified that they were in this together at the same moment she’d fanned the spark between them.
He didn’t bother to fight it. All this was inevitable. Serenity had even predicted he’d find his soul mate after relocating. He’d just never expected to be sharing emotional intimacy with the woman he crossed swords with on a regular basis. Or that he’d be faced with convincing her how great they were together and left wondering how successful he’d be at it when she seemed determined to keep her distance.
Instead of pretending she didn’t affect him, which he had way too much practice at, he flipped his arm over and captured her fingers in his, lacing them together tight. “I’m counting on it.”
Fifteen
When they got back to town, Caleb had a renewed sense of purpose, and only some of it had come from holding hands with Havana for the last few miles of the journey. Shockingly, she’d let it ride without comment, but heightened color in her cheeks advertised that there was something going on inside her that she didn’t plan to share.
One day he’d be better at interpreting her blushes. For now it was enough to know that she’d been affected by something as seemingly innocuous as holding hands. He couldn’t wait to see what else she’d let slip regarding his progress with her.
“Are you going to tell people you’re not engaged to Scott?” he asked her as he pulled the Yukon into the space in front of Serenity’s hotel where he’d been parking it.
She blinked. “I wasn’t planning to make an announcement, no. It’s not really anyone’s business.”
“Except it kind of is since I’m dating you now,” he reminded her brusquely, daring her to contradict him. She might tack on “casually,” but they were dating. “I don’t relish the idea of anyone thinking I’m moving in on someone else’s territory.”
And he had a lot of plans involving late-night rendezvous on his balcony. Strolls down the street to Ruby’s, hand in hand. Jaunts to the springs where they may or may not remember to wear bathing suits. One or all of those things were on the horizon if he had anything to say about it, and he’d rather not have anyone think negatively about Havana or their new mayor while he was doing it.
“They’re not going to think that.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “And so what if they do? We know the truth.”
“Do we?” He shut off the SUV and gave her his full attention, resting one arm across the top of the steering wheel as he faced her. “Do you have any concept of how much I want to kiss you right now? And how I’m holding back because… Well, I don’t know why.”
“Because of me?” she guessed quietly. “Or because of what happened in the parking lot. With the stuff you’re carrying around from your time in the service.”
Both. Neither. He had no idea whether he was coming or going with Havana, and it was messing him up. “Maybe I do have some things to work through.”
She cocked her head. “Before what?”
Before he deserved her.
That blank had filled in instantly without any conscious thought.
It was not what he’d have said the answer was, but it was true. That was the bottom line. Syria had messed him up way before Havana had and then kept making things worse. She no doubt sensed that. Of course that was the reason she’d held back, insisting that she didn’t want anything serious and refusing to see that Caleb wasn’t her ex— that wasn’t the real reason.
It was an excuse. She knew he hadn’t quite gotten it all together yet. Knew he was plagued with self-doubt and had become the king of second-guessing every single step.
Honestly, that was why he hadn’t pushed back when she’d jumped on the casual bandwagon. He’d instinctively known space was what he needed too. And that sucked.
“Maybe table this discussion?” he mumbled, taking the coward’s way out. But it was all he had at the moment.
He let her retreat in the lobby of the hotel, not because he wanted to, but they both needed the downtime. Besides, he had some recruiting to do. Who better to head up the town’s infrastructure than four guys at loose ends who had his back? And vice versa.
He started with Tristan Marchande, who answered his hotel room door on the first knock.
“If it isn’t our illustrious mayor,” Tristan said with a grand bow that at his height only made him look stupid.
Caleb brushed past him with a well-placed elbow. “Don’t call me that.”
“Maybe I should call you Lover Boy instead?” Tristan suggested with a snicker, shutting the door and jerking his head toward the lone window in his room. “Saw you head out with Ms. Nixon this morning, looking very cozy.”
“So?” Caleb shrugged it off. Marchande was the last person he needed poking into the status of his relationship with Havana. Tristan never had female problems and would probably laugh his butt off if he found out Caleb couldn’t resolve his. “We went to talk to Scott about axing the shopping center. It went well.”
“That’s great. What did he say?” Tristan threw himself on the bed to get comfortable, his default when embroiled in a serious conversation. It meant he was ready to dig in for as long as it took and why not be relaxed while doing it?
Caleb couldn’t claim the same ability. When things got real, he tended to pace, which worked well when the other party stayed out of his way. Marchande got that and had automatically made room. Yet another reason he was here. Tristan had a smart mouth, but he also had a thousand other great qualities that couldn’t be bought for any amount of money.
“He gave us six months to build a town. Like the whole thing. I’m officially behind the eight ball.”
Tristan pursed his lips. “But with the right stick, the ball goes in the corner pocket in one shot. Where does my name go on the list?”
And like that, Tristan was in. Relief eased the pressure in his chest. “I need a fire chief. You’ve already got the nickname. Put it to good use.”
They didn’t call Tristan Le Torch strictly because of his skill with the ladies. The man knew fire better than anyone he’d ever met, bending it to his will with almost supernatural ability. It was mindboggling.
But instead of immediately nodding and asking when he could start, Tristan laughed. “C’est fou, mon frère. Get back to me later when you’ve had your coffee.”
Caleb paused midpace to toss Marchande a scowl, having easily translated his teammate’s French after so many years of hearing it. “It’s not crazy, it’s perfect.”
Sobering, Tristan stared at him. “I’m not ‘in charge’ material, Hardy. Bark up another tree.”
This was not how this conversation should be going. “You think I am?”
“Seems like this is a good time to remind you that I was against the idea of you running for mayor,” he said with a little more heat than the situation warranted. “I’m a sidelines guy when it comes to authority.”
“Really, Marchande? That’s how you’re gonna be about this when I’ve come to you for help?”
All Caleb got for his trouble was a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t be such a baby. I’m here for better or worse. But you need someone who knows the score. I don’t have a clue what a fire chief does. Besides, I like to play with fire, not put it out. You got a crew doing demo? I’m your man.”
That was the problem—they weren’t demolishing anything. Not anymore. This was about building on the foundations of a town that had welcomed them with open arms. Creating a place to flourish.
Maybe he was the only one who wanted that. Or maybe Tristan Marchande needed a swift kick in his laissez-faire attitude. Not hard. Just enough to get his butt in gear. They’d all been affected by the honorable discharge; that’s why they’d relocated to someplace that wasn’t crawling with guys still in the Navy. Tristan needed to get on board and do it fast.
“This is your chance to figure out what a fire chief does,” Caleb said. “Google it.”
Tristan spread his hands, palms out, the nonverbal equivalent to not my circus. “I’ll screw it
up.”
Which wasn’t the same as not being interested or not having the skill set. That was pure fear talking. Caleb wasn’t the only one carrying around a boatload of emotional crap from al-Sadidiq, and that alone was enough of a reason to mellow out. He could cut Tristan some slack.
“Not like you’ll have to live up to the previous one,” Caleb reminded him.
“Oh, Dieu merci!” he shot back, so heavy on the sarcasm that it was apparent he wasn’t actually thanking God. “That makes it all better.”
Okay, Marchande wasn’t biting. Obviously. Frustration curled Caleb’s hands into fists, but he held back from driving one into the solely out of respect for Serenity’s property. How did Marchande not see that this was his chance to vanquish the demons? Whatever they’d brought home with them from Syria, hiding from it wasn’t going to fix anything. Tristan should take this opportunity and run with it.
All at once, the conversation he’d had with Havana crowded into his mind—this was where he needed to take a step back and figure out how to win Tristan’s allegiance instead of brute forcing it down his throat. Caleb had a tendency to push people past the point of comfort. Usually for their own good.
And just maybe Havana hadn’t been too far off about Caleb’s hero complex. Except it wasn’t that he wanted to win this argument with Marchande because of an overly aggressive need to arrange everything like chess pieces. This was Caleb leading from the heart, with a genuine desire to make sure his guys were taken care of.
Wow. When exactly had he started thinking of himself as a leader anyway?
He blew out a breath, his thoughts a jumble.
“You’re right. This is not the job for you,” he told Tristan. Not yet anyway. “If I get the guys together, will you at least hear me out? Figure out where you fit?”
Cautiously Tristan shrugged. “Sure, ami. I’m not aiming to be difficult, just… you know.”
Yeah, he knew.
There was no time like the present to move the dial on this hoedown. Caleb rounded up the others, and as had become custom, they wound up at Ruby’s in the corner booth. The diner shouldn’t have started to feel like home so quickly, but the cracked plastic over foam already knew the shape of his butt, conforming to it instantly as he slid into the middle spot, Rowe on his left, Tristan on his right, and Isaiah next to him. Hudson took a chair from the nearest table, the same one he always grabbed, and turned it backward in a move so smooth it looked choreographed.
Implausibly, they’d already found a groove. Now they all needed to step up and give back.
“For whatever reason, the citizens of this place elected me mayor. I’ve got to find a way to honor that trust,” Caleb told his team, meeting the gaze of each one individually so they really got the importance of what he was saying. “I need you guys more than I ever have before, and that’s saying something.”
“Name it and it’s done,” Hudson said before he’d stopped talking, bless him.
The others nodded, Tristan included, which hadn’t been so much of a given. But at the end of the day, they were all good men who needed a bit of guidance from Caleb.
“Appreciate that. Here’s the deal. Superstition Springs needs a police department. A school. A fire department. A thousand other things I haven’t thought of yet. And I have six months to get it operational. How do I do that?”
“With our help,” Isaiah suggested as if that was obvious. “Are you looking for us to pick up a hammer or start making a list of the thousand things?”
“All the above. I’ll assign things if need be, but I’d rather you do what makes sense for you.” This is what he should have done in the first place instead of making a potentially serious misstep with Marchande. “I need a police chief, a fire chief, some people to help get this town on the map. A PR genius would be stellar. Get people in Austin to relocate their businesses here. Someone has to run the school. Stop me when you hear something that appeals to you.”
The rundown alone exhausted him, let alone the thought of the work involved. Six months seemed like a blink of an eye. Not nearly long enough to scratch the surface of this task, let alone get the town profitable and attractive to a resort guest.
“Here you are.”
Havana’s voice slid into his gut and unfurled, inexplicably calming him at the same time it pulled a sharp thrill through him. His inner turmoil would never be strong enough to block the way she affected him. Caleb glanced up to see her standing there, red hair drawn up in a saucy ponytail and a pretty brown-haired woman behind her.
“Here I am.” He grinned at her with absolutely no reservations about the ribbing he’d get later from the guys about the goofiness quotient. “Were you looking for me?”
She nodded without an ounce of guile. “I brought you your first volunteer. This is Cassidy. She’s working with Tallhorse at the schoolhouse, but she’s ready and willing to be dedicated to organizing it into something state approved.”
Which wasn’t even close to what he’d hoped she’d sought him out for. But it was a start.
Isaiah jumped up immediately. “We’ve met.”
He took Cassidy’s hand and made sure she heard everyone’s names again, asked after her mother as apparently they’d had at least one conversation about that subject. Caleb let him do the niceties. He loved that kind of stuff. Caleb only had eyes for Havana. When he’d left her earlier, she’d been quiet and he really hadn’t expected to see her again today.
There wasn’t really a good way to extract himself from the increasingly large crowd of people, all of whom were in the way of what he really wanted to be doing—spending time with Havana. But he had a job to do, and she’d been holding him at arm’s length for a reason. Maybe he should let it be for now.
Caleb invited Cassidy to sit down so they could talk through her ideas. Hudson pulled over another chair for Havana, and they all listened intently as Cassidy outlined some of the programs she’d hoped to start. Some of the kids in the area were being homeschooled, and she thought a few of the moms might be willing to teach a bigger group if they could find a building that would hold so many. Cassidy had done research into creating a charter school, which she thought would be easier than creating a whole school district but would still allow the institution to receive state funds for operational costs.
For the first time, this build-a-town idea had something concrete they could hang their hats on. The big knot that had formed in Caleb’s throat eased off a little. It could work. The whole plan could work. And then he’d be free of the demons that were howling for restitution.
Maybe then he could figure out how to move from casual to special with Havana.
“You’re hired,” Caleb said instantly when she’d finished talking. “Do you have any friends who are as articulate and motivated as you? Send them my way.”
Cassidy smiled as Aria drifted over once she arrived at the diner to start her shift.
“Anyone hungry?” Aria asked dutifully, her puppy dog eyes for Tristan in place. She was totally unashamed to wear them for the length of her entire shift and not at all concerned that everyone knew she had a huge crush on the man.
“Always,” Tristan told her with a wink, which might explain why she had a crush on him. He flirted with her shamelessly, no matter how many times Caleb warned him that Havana’s sister had no barriers against a player who had blown through half the women in San Diego before their first deployment.
The guys ordered burgers, and Isaiah asked Cassidy if she wanted anything, insisting that he was buying. Caleb rolled his eyes. Apparently he was in the middle of a giant group date. But since the focus of the conversation had fallen away from desperately needed city services, he let them have their fun. This was part of finding a place in Superstition Springs, and he couldn’t be the only one who got lonely late at night.
But if they weren’t going to talk shop, then he had better things to do. It was probably fine to let his pleas marinate for a while anyway. Everyone was eating and laughing at T
ristan’s jokes, clearly not concerned with the heavy subject of building a town from almost nothing.
“Let me out?” he murmured to Rowe, who obediently moved, allowing Caleb to slide out of the booth. He snagged Havana by the elbow, smoothly extracting her from the group.
Anyone wanted to make a federal case out of him spending time with Havana, they could come talk to the mayor on Monday morning at… wherever his office ended up being.
“Take a stroll with me,” he implored Havana as she eyed him curiously.
Apparently she’d picked up on the urgency of the request because all she said was, “Sure.”
There wasn’t much room to stroll in Superstition Springs. They wound up on his balcony because he couldn’t think of another place to have a private conversation. She needed to hear some hard truths about Caleb Hardy before this went any further.
“I figured out the answer,” he told her as they leaned on the railing together and watched the dust settle in the road below. “To what I have to work out before I can do any of this.”
“I wasn’t holding my breath,” she said wryly. “But okay. What is it?”
“I have to figure out how to be okay with the fact that seventy-five people died because of me.”
Sixteen
Havana’s insides turned to ice, but she somehow kept the reaction off her face. “Tell me more.”
This wasn’t what she’d expected to be doing when Caleb had dragged her away from Ruby’s, but clearly he needed to talk. How could she refuse to listen, even though his leading sentence had made it sound like he’d butchered human beings in cold blood?
She’d never believe that was the case no matter what he said next.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he fell into when he was considering what to say.