by Julia London
Samantha remembered one afternoon when Macy had been babysitting her cousin’s toddlers, Chase and Caden. She’d brought them along when she and Samantha paid a visit to Fox Service Company, hoping to persuade the company to donate five free home cooling unit inspections to their cause. The manager of the company was a friend of Wyatt’s and was happy to invite the four of them into his office. While they were talking, Chase got his hands on a marker and drew a big black line on Macy’s expensive leather purse. Both the manager and Samantha had stared, wide-eyed, as Macy laughed. She took the marker from Chase, then excused herself to clean him up.
Samantha was horrified, and said so when they left the office with the five free inspections. It was a beautiful purse.
“Yeah, but it’s just a purse,” Macy had said cheerfully.
That was Macy—easy and cheerful and persuasive.
Project Lifeline meant a lot to Samantha and Macy. Samantha had assumed they would run the organization until the war was a distant memory, but all that changed when Macy had called her in shock to tell her Finn was alive. Stunned, Samantha had listened to Macy crying with relief and joy. Alive! How was that possible? Why wasn’t Tyler alive? Why wasn’t it Tyler?
Samantha had tried to absorb the shock while Macy babbled about what that meant. She loved Wyatt, she said. But she loved Finn, too.
If someone told Samantha that she could have as much as a single moment with Tyler, she would give up everything and everyone for it. Everything. That Macy could even hesitate for the space of a breath had turned something sour inside Samantha. She resented Macy for that moment of indecision. And that resentment was festering into anger. Samantha had seen Macy on TV with Finn looking so happy, but Samantha knew what was in Macy’s heart.
She had no idea how she’d manage to face Macy the next time she saw her. Honestly, she didn’t know if she could face Macy at all without letting on how much she envied her for being so incredibly lucky to be able to choose between two men she loved.
Samantha shook her head and turned around to the counter with the drinks. “Here you are,” she said, but it wasn’t Linda Gail and Davis standing there; it was Brodie Lockhart. Linda Gail and Davis had taken a pair of armchairs near the periodicals, both of them staring out the window. Samantha followed their gaze and saw what had captured their attention.
“Hey, Sam,” Brodie said with a charming smile. If there was one thing the Lockhart men had in abundance, it was good looks.
“Hi, Brodie,” Samantha said, set the Graebers’ coffees on the counter, and nervously ran her palms down the sides of her apron. “What can I get you?”
“A couple of plain ol’ coffees, please.” He reached in the back pocket of his very tight jeans for his wallet. “What’s that going to set me back?”
Samantha had to think a moment. “Five twenty-five.”
Brodie withdrew a ten from his wallet and handed it to her.
Samantha quickly rang up the coffees and gave him change. “You want those for here?”
“No thanks,” Brodie said, still smiling. “Gotta run.”
Samantha looked over Brodie’s shoulder at his brother, Finn Lockhart. There he was, in the flesh, Macy’s husband. Alive. It was so unfair. Everyone’s soldier should come home, not just hers.
Finn was waiting outside, leaning back against the fin of the pickup, his hands shoved in his pockets. His hair was lighter than Brodie’s, more of a golden brown, but just as thick. He was squinting at something down the street, and he reminded Samantha of the painting that hung in city hall, of an Old West cowboy leaning up against a split rail fence. He had that hard, lean look of strength to him. It was sexy, frankly, and it made Samantha resent Macy even more.
“Have those right out,” she muttered as an image of Tyler danced in her head. She wondered what he would look like if he came back.
Samantha had just finished pouring the coffee when she heard Brodie say, “Hey!” She glanced over her shoulder; he was running out the door.
He was too late—Finn had driven off in Brodie’s truck.
13
Macy pulled her Jeep into the Shell station to get gas and some water for herself. When she got out of the Jeep, Milo, who was hanging halfway out the back window, tried to lick her face, but Macy dodged his tongue and scratched him behind the ears instead.
Wyatt would be angry when he discovered she’d taken Milo—he loved that dog. Macy hadn’t decided until the last minute, but Milo was her dog.
Now, as Macy leaned into the Jeep and across the gearshift to reach her purse, Milo began to whimper.
“I gave you love, buddy,” Macy said, distracted. “Where is my billfold? Please don’t tell me I left it at home.” She climbed into the driver’s seat to shake out the contents of her purse onto the passenger seat. Milo whimpered again, then barked, his tail beating against the driver’s seat. “Milo, wait,” she said, finding her small billfold.
Milo slammed his whole body into her seat. Macy backed out of the Jeep, but as she did, Milo barked again, startling her, and she banged her head against the doorframe. “Ouch!” she cried, and with her hand on the top of her head she whipped around, her gaze landing on Finn, who was standing behind her with a look of amusement on his face.
Macy’s heart leapt at the sight of him. Lord, but he’d always had that effect on her. He wore civilian clothes—a pair of jeans that fit him like a glove, a chambray shirt that made the copper in his eyes shine. His hair was brushed back and over his collar. He looked amazing. The scar on his temple was the only thing that indicated he’d been through the hell of war.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes moving up to her hair.
“Hey,” she replied, grinning like a fool. She’d probably never get over being completely overjoyed to see him alive and well. But Macy was suddenly aware that she did not look amazing. She was wearing a pair of knee-length, cutoff sweats and a camisole. After this morning’s events, she hadn’t found the energy to dress appropriately, but then again, it never occurred to her she’d run into Finn. “Oh,” she said, putting a hand to her hair. “Oh, man.”
“How are you?” he asked.
“Me?” She self-consciously dragged her fingers through her hair. “I’m good.”
Milo barked again. He’d managed to get one paw out the window and swiped at Finn. Finn smiled as broadly as Macy had ever seen him smile, and Milo was exuberant. This was Finn, the man who had saved Milo from certain death when he’d been dumped in the country. Macy knew the story by heart—Milo had wandered to Finn’s door, close to death, covered in ticks and a bad case of mange. Finn and Luke had brought him back to life.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, but I saw you drive by with Milo and I wanted to see my dog,” he said.
His dog. Not her dog, not Wyatt’s dog.
“Hey, sport,” Finn said, and put his hand to the dog, his expression full of unguarded affection.
Macy pushed Milo’s head into the Jeep so she could open the door. The dog made a keening sound of joy as he leapt from the Jeep and lunged for Finn, planting his paws on Finn’s shoulders with such force that Finn had to catch himself with a step backward. Tears wet Finn’s eyes, and he went down on his haunches with Milo, burrowing his face in the fur of Milo’s neck.
“Oh, Finn,” Macy whispered, kneeling down beside him.
He looked embarrassed and quickly dragged his sleeve across his eyes. “I’m okay,” he said with a sheepish laugh. “But I have missed my dogs.” He scratched Milo’s ears again. “Mom said you got rid of Lucky and Bruno.”
Karen Lockhart could really grate on Macy’s nerves. “Your mother,” she sighed. “I didn’t get rid of them, Finn. But I couldn’t take them all to town when I left the ranch.”
“Yeah, about that…why did you leave it?” he asked. “I understand selling the stock, but why did you need to leave Two Wishes?”
That was simple. She was lonely, despondent, miserable. Every place she looked reminded her of Finn and her loss.
“Well…I thought you were gone.” It was amazing how she could still tear up at that. “And I found it pretty awful there without you.”
He looked at her a long moment. “I think I’d find it pretty awful there without you, too. So you left?”
She nodded. “I got a small apartment in town, but there wasn’t enough room for all the dogs.” Macy thought of that day, how small and empty she’d felt. She was beginning a new life she hadn’t asked for or wanted. “I asked everyone in the family if they could take them, but no one had the space or the time to give them. Your mom was perfectly happy with me giving the dogs to Ed Boudine at the time, and he took really good care of them.”
“Took?”
There would be no end to the bad news, it seemed. “Lucky got sick and he had to put him down. Bruno’s still with him, and Milo…I could never have given Milo away.” Finn swallowed and shifted his gaze to the dog.
“Cancer,” Macy added softly, her voice breaking a little. “Lucky had cancer. But Bruno is still out there chasing squirrels.”
Finn nodded again. “That’s the only thing Bruno could ever do that was worth a damn.”
Macy smiled.
“So you just left the ranch sitting there?”
She hadn’t exactly left it sitting there. She should tell him, Macy knew she should tell him that it had all but been sold, but she was going to fix that. And Finn had endured so much bad news as it was. “Something like that,” she admitted.
Finn seemed to accept that. “Hey, buddy,” he said, sending Milo into another fit of apoplectic wiggling as he scratched the dog’s throat. “Maybe I’ll drop by and check on Bruno,” he said absently. He gave Milo another hug and stood up. Milo was instantly at attention, his head cocked back, panting eagerly, watching Finn’s every move.
Milo had been the one constant in Macy’s life, the one thing that kept her connected to Finn all this time. “Do you…do you want Milo?”
Finn looked startled by the question. “What—you mean now?”
“No, I…I mean, he’s been with me a long time, and I’d…I’d hate to lose him.” It would devastate her. “But he’s your dog, Finn.”
“That sounds a little final, Macy. Like we’re dividing the sheets.”
She didn’t want to think of dividing the sheets—that was the furthest thing from her mind. “I’m going to stay with Laru,” Macy blurted.
Finn cocked a brow.
“Yep. Laru,” she said to his unspoken question.
“Does that mean—”
“It means I need some space to think,” she said, and opened the Jeep’s door. “Are you taking Milo?”
Milo answered that by jumping into the back seat of the Jeep. Someone honked as they drove by, but Finn didn’t seem to notice. He squinted at Macy and shifted closer. “What’s going on, Macy?” he asked in a low, soothing voice.
Macy stepped back, afraid of what she might do if he got too close. She might throw her arms around him, might press her face into his neck, might put her hands in his hair, might crumble, just crumble, crumble, crumble.
“If you want out of your marriage to Wyatt, you know no one is going to fault you. Least of all, me.”
Macy shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”
“You wouldn’t be alone,” he said, and took another step closer. “I’d be there to help you.”
Macy’s heart began to pound. What sort of hell was this? She wanted Finn; she wanted him as badly as she’d ever wanted him, yet she could still feel Wyatt’s body on hers from their lovemaking earlier. “I honestly don’t know what I want,” she said. “Everything is so different now.”
“The only difference is that I’ve been gone awhile. Everything else is the same.”
“It’s not. You know it’s not,” she said softly. “Lucky is dead. You were held by the Taliban for three years. Your horses are gone. I am remarried. Nothing is the same.”
He tangled his fingers with hers. “We can make it the same—”
“Wishing won’t change what is. In all honesty, I don’t know how well I even know you any longer, Finn. I mean, you’ve been through so much, and I guess so have I, and in some respects, it feels like we’re strangers. Don’t you feel that?”
“Can’t say that I do. But baby, if you think we’re strangers, then we need to keep talking and holding onto each other ’til we’re not strangers anymore.”
Oh God, how she wanted to do just that, to hold onto him until the last three years faded away.
Someone passed by and honked the horn. She heard the word hero as the car sped by.
Finn heard it, too. He glanced up the street a moment. “You take Milo,” he said, and reached in through the window to pet the dog one last time. “We’ll talk about him when I’ve gotten settled in.”
“Okay,” Macy murmured.
“Laru’s, huh?” Finn said.
Macy nodded.
He smiled a little and touched her hair, twisting an end loosely around his finger. “Don’t worry yourself so, Macy,” he said. “Trust me—we’re gonna figure this out.” With that, he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from her, ambling back to Brodie’s pickup. He climbed in, started it up, and pulled out onto the road, where he flipped a U-turn.
It wasn’t until his truck had disappeared down the road that Macy realized the man behind her was yelling at her to get the gas or move the Jeep.
14
Finn should never have chased after Macy like that, but he’d seen Milo as she’d gone by and he’d reacted without thinking…and then he’d seen her climbing out of the Jeep, her legs slender and tan, and he couldn’t help himself.
Damn it to hell, she was pretty, as pretty as the first time Finn had laid eyes on her in the parking lot of the University of Texas football stadium. Mike had scored tickets to a Longhorn game and they’d joined some of Mike’s friends. Macy showed up with the girlfriend of one of the guys. She wore a Longhorn tank with little shoulder straps and a UT baseball hat. And she had a pair of tiny orange longhorns painted on her cheeks.
She was pretty, Finn remembered thinking at the time—just pretty, but not astoundingly so. Yet there was something about those big blue eyes—kindness, genuine warmth—that had drawn him in and held him from the first moment they met. He hardly said a pair of sentences to her that night. He asked her if she was into football.
“Not really,” she’d said with a smile. “But I’m graduating next May, so I’m being supportive.” She held up her little finger and forefinger. “Hook ’em Horns.”
Finn had smiled. “What are you studying?”
“Social work,” she’d said proudly, to which he’d said nothing. He didn’t know what to say to that. “I know, I know,” she said, still smiling. “Bleeding heart liberal and all that, hard job with no money. My parents were really hoping for law school, and I was really hoping to win the lottery.” She’d laughed at her joke. “Well, I didn’t win the lottery, so I guess this is the next best thing.”
Finn remained silent. College wasn’t exactly his thing, and he didn’t want to sound ignorant.
“I’m kidding,” she said, touching his hand. “Not about law school, because I really didn’t want to do that. About the lottery. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that would be great, but I really like social work. I guess I’m just a sucker for kids. So what about you? What are you studying?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I train cutting horses.”
“Cutting horses!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up, and for a moment, Finn thought there was a connection. “That sounds really cool. What do they cut?”
It should have ended there. She knew nothing about ranching or horses, and he knew nothing about college or social work. But Finn could think of little else for days afterward. He’d never been a very good dater, but somehow he’d screwed up the courage, got Mike to track down her number, and called her.
Now, he thought, she was the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth, at least to
him. It was true what they said—beauty was more than skin-deep.
It was that long line of memories of Macy and the hope of holding her again in his arms that made Finn run his mouth today and try to talk her into leaving the man she’d married after him. Honestly? He’d seen a crack in her veneer.
Laru’s. Finn remembered where Laru lived. Nice place. Great place to get away.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Saddle-brew Coffee Shop and parked the truck. He’d just shut the door of the pickup when Brodie stepped outside. So did two others—a large woman and an even larger man rushed toward him, startling Finn. He instinctively put his back against the truck and looked around for an escape.
“Sir, I just want to shake your hand,” the man said, extending a beefy hand. “It’s not every day that a person gets to meet an actual hero.”
“I—”
“My husband ought to at least introduce himself,” the woman said, crowding in beside her husband. “His name is Davis Graeber, and I am Linda Gail Graeber,” she said eagerly. “I went to school with your Uncle Braden.”
“We’ve heard an awful lot about you, sir,” Davis Graeber said, thrusting his hand forward again in such a manner that Finn felt compelled to take it. “What you endured must have been hell.”
“Yes, sir,” Finn said and looked over the top of Mrs. Graeber’s head to Brodie, who was coming toward him with two more people in tow. What had he done, called for backup? Who were these people? As they crowded around him, he began to feel the big blue Texas sky press down on him.
“So what are your plans now that you’re home?” Mrs. Graeber asked as two women and Brodie formed a half-circle around Finn. “Are you staying with your mama? I know she’s so happy to have you home.”
Finn couldn’t seem to find his voice; his tongue suddenly felt thick in his dry mouth.
“Do you have a job, Finn? Because if you need a job, my family will give you one,” another woman said. “We’ve got a brickyard, and we could always use a good man like you. We’d be awful proud to hire you on.”