The SEAL's Return

by Patricia Potter

  “Not very pretty, are they?” he said casually.

  “I’ve seen worse,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and matter-of-fact.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You only have to be a resident in an emergency room in Chicago or any big city,” she explained in a trained neutral voice. “There’s little I haven’t seen.”

  She forced herself to focus on the new wounds. There was a deep cut and other abrasions on his left knee, and more on his left hand. His left wrist was also swollen and he winced slightly when she felt around it. “I don’t think there’s a break, but it’s probably sprained,” she said. “I should do X-rays.”

  “It’s not broken,” he said with certainty. “I know the difference.”

  She didn’t press the issue. She washed the open wounds with soap and water, then applied antiseptic cream and bandaged them. A lot of them were surface cuts. Not serious, but they could become infected. “I’m going to give you an antibiotic shot,” she said. “As for your wrist, twenty minutes ice, then twenty minutes heat, then tape it. If it’s not better in the morning, call me.”

  “Anything you say, Doc,” he replied.

  “Do you even have a heating pad?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t seen one.”

  “I’ll bet Mrs. Byers does. I’ll stop by her house and ask.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll just use a towel.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”

  “Your body says otherwise.”

  He shrugged. “I’m alive.”

  “Not long, if you continue to do battle with large moving objects.”

  “It was for a good cause.”

  “Do you always go around saving dogs and kids?”

  “Can’t say I do. I usually stay away from both.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He looked directly into her eyes. “Emotions get you killed.” It was said in that same matter-of-fact voice, but the tightening of his jaw emphasized the words.

  “Are you still in the army?”

  “Navy, Doc,” he corrected, making it plain there was a huge difference. “No. We’ve separated, but I don’t intend to stay in a rocking chair.”

  She couldn’t imagine he would. He was all barely suppressed energy. Covenant Falls couldn’t hold him long.

  Go. Go while you can! her brain was screaming that warning to her, but she couldn’t seem to move off her knees.

  The room seemed to shrink, the air between them suddenly charged. She could almost smell the ozone. Her face flamed, and heat surged through her, fueling a raw hunger.

  She was only too aware he was almost naked, that his body was too near to hers, his breath too close...

  What was she doing?

  He was a stranger. A patient. A man she had only met once before. A man who had obviously led a violent life. He was everything she’d fought against.

  She was just lonely, that was all. She’d had no time for romance these past few years. Between the residency and her mother, she’d been too exhausted to think about sex, much less romance. When she wasn’t on duty, she was sleeping, studying or trying to help at home.

  “I have...to go.” The words were forced out by some protective instinct. She hurriedly got to her feet, almost stumbling as she did.

  He searched her face for a long moment—or was it a second that seemed longer? “Don’t worry about me. I’ve had far worse after a day’s training.”

  “W-well, then, I had better see about my sister.” She was stuttering. She never stuttered. “Thanks again for helping Kerry. If you need anything, I’m at the clinic on Main Street.”

  “I’ll be sure to call,” he assured her solemnly, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes, crinkles at their corners. He was obviously more amused than grateful for her attention.

  If he hadn’t just risked his life for her sister, she might have made a retort. Instead, she hurriedly replaced every item in her bag, then, as an afterthought, took out a roll of tape and another sample bottle of ibuprofen, putting them on the sink. “And use those.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Then with as much dignity as she could manage, Dr. Lisa Redding turned and walked out. She hoped he didn’t notice that her legs weren’t very steady.

  * * *

  JUBAL STOOD, FOLLOWED the doctor to the door and watched as she walked down the steps to her car and drove off.

  He’d been close enough to catch a floral scent from her hair. Her hands had been efficient but gentle. Her face had held so much concern as she ministered to what he considered nothing more than minor irritations.

  He had let her because her hands felt good. And because he hadn’t wanted her to leave.

  So now he knew for sure where the kid came from. And his dilemma was greater than ever. Before, he hadn’t known Gordon’s sister. Now that he knew, everything he did moving forward would be a lie of omission.

  But he had, more or less, agreed not to say anything if the kid worked off the debt. Jubal had watched the boy back away tonight. Gordon was probably afraid that now Jubal knew who he was, he might well say something to his sister.

  Lisa Redding certainly didn’t look like someone the kid should fear. She had obviously been terrified for her sister and showed no blame toward the boy. She appeared to be a good doctor. Professional. But damn, there had been an instantaneous electricity that flashed between them, a moment of mutual attraction that was as strong as any he’d felt. She’d felt it, too, he’d wager. He had seen it in her eyes. He’d also seen the dismay.

  He’d felt that, too. He was in no position to start a relationship, especially since his stay here was short. He was still suffering from night sweats and flashbacks. And couldn’t even sleep in a bed.

  And then there was a very basic conflict in their lives.

  He’d been damned good at war. He had been among the best of the best and it had become his identity. Now that it was gone, he hadn’t an idea in hell who he was or what to do.

  Lisa Redding, on the other hand, was a healer who had a fine career ahead of her. She knew who she was and where she was going.

  They were traveling in opposite directions. And why was he even considering anything other than a casual acquaintance? It was only his second day in Covenant Falls. What was it about this town that had transformed Clint from a hell-raising chopper jockey into a small-town police chief, and Josh Manning, a former Ranger, into a businessman with a wife and kid and a horde of animals? And why, dammit, couldn’t he erase images of Lisa Redding from his head?

  Something in the water? Whatever it was, it wasn’t for him. The sooner he left, the better. Problem was his commitment to the kid.

  Jubal changed from the stained running shorts to jeans and a clean T-shirt, then, ignoring the stiffness in his body from the fall, he headed out to climb the mountain trail. He made it past the lookout rock and continued until the path became uneven.

  He knew he should head back down before it became too dark. Instead, he stared at the valley below. Beyond the town were fields, ranches, tiny dots that were probably grazing cattle. Peaceful, until the sun dipped toward the horizon and lit the sky with fire.

  He suddenly felt lonely, an emotion he’d thought he had conquered. But then, he’d never been hit by a ton of bricks before, and that’s what had happened when he looked into Lisa Redding’s eyes and saw that she felt something, too. One of his more literate buddies once called it a coup de foudre, a blow of madness. Others simply called it a sock in the gut. He hated the whole idea. To him it had always sounded more like a loss of sanity. Or a fairy tale to explain a basic human need.

  He reached the end of the path and walked back to the cabin. He went inside, made a sandwich, grabbed a beer and went out on the screened
porch.

  His cell phone rang, and he saw it was Clint. He almost ignored it, but hell, he was his guest. He punched the button and Clint’s voice came on.

  “You okay?” Clint asked. “I heard about the accident with the new doctor. I’d planned to take you to the Rusty Nail tonight, but I was delayed by a domestic call, and then you didn’t answer the phone.”

  “I took a long walk up the mountain. I’m fine. Just some small scratches.”

  “Andy told me you saved the new doctor’s sister.”

  “Highly exaggerated. The driver was going all of five miles an hour.”

  “Well, you’re famous now. What about the Rusty Nail?”

  “Can we make it tomorrow?”

  “You’re staying, then?”

  “A few more days,” Jubal answered cautiously.

  “Terrific,” Clint said. “And I won’t ask why. I can take tomorrow off and show you around a bit more.”

  “And deprive the town of protection? I thought I would explore on my own, if that’s okay.”

  “It is. I’ll pick you up tomorrow evening at six unless we have a major crime wave.” Clint hung up.

  Jubal turned the cell off. He needed time alone after today. He hated being the center of attention. The last thing he wanted was to be “famous.”

  He watched as clouds moved in and took over the sky. Distant rolls of thunder moved closer. Lightning streaked across the darkness and lobbed arrows of fire toward the lake.

  He watched it all, this theater of nature. He was usually content with his own company. The months of isolation in the jungle should’ve made him crave company, but they hadn’t. He’d learned to cope with silence. He’d made up games, reread books in his mind and even wrote a few. He relived his childhood days at rodeos and talked to his father.

  He stretched out in the chair and closed his eyes. The thunder was strangely comforting. Still, he couldn’t quite banish a brown-haired, brown-eyed doctor from his thoughts.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GORDON WAS IN his room when Lisa and Kerry arrived home with Susie.

  Kerry limped slightly but insisted she wasn’t hurt. Lisa gave her an ibuprofen and suggested she go to bed.

  Then she knocked on Gordon’s door.

  To her surprise, he opened it immediately. “Is Kerry all right?” he asked.

  “Just shaken up a bit.”

  “I didn’t mean to let the dog go,” he said. “It saw a squirrel and took off, jerking the leash out of my hand.” Then he hung his head and some of the defiance slipped away. “I should have held on tighter.”

  “You went after her,” Lisa said. “I just wish you hadn’t disappeared afterward. You could have met Mr. Pierce.”

  “Yeah, well, I felt in the way,” Gordon said.

  She nodded. “Don’t forget you have an appointment tomorrow with the police chief. Nine a.m. I’m going to the clinic then. I’ll walk with you. It’s just across the street from the police station.”

  “You don’t trust me,” he accused.

  “Should I? I remember you promised me you wouldn’t meet with your so-called friends again in Chicago, then you tried to sneak out.”

  He shrugged, but his gaze met hers. “I am sorry about today,” he said.

  Dumbfounded, she stood there at the door. Then she nodded her acceptance of the apology before heading downstairs. That was the first positive reaction she’d heard from him since...it seemed like forever.

  Maybe this was a good move, after all. Despite the great escape, Kerry was happy with Susie. She’d scolded the dog upon reaching their house, but it was probably meaningless, since she was kissing and hugging the dog at the same time.

  Lisa counted the other good experiences. She had her first patient without a disaster. She’d met two interesting new friends in Stephanie and Eve.

  She had also met a rather fine male specimen. She quickly erased that plus from her mental list. The last thing she needed in her life now was someone with as many scars on his body as Mr. Pierce had. She suspected from his gruff manner that not all of them were physical.

  Besides, he wasn’t her type. Not that she really had a type. She’d been too busy for much more than coffee dates these past few years. She wanted to establish her career first, and she still had several years to go. And then there was her family. Who would want an almost fourteen-year-old girl and the sullen seventeen-year-old boy that came with her? It was definitely best to stay away from him completely, even in her thoughts.

  A crash of thunder echoed outside, followed by lightning that lit the backyard. It broke off her mental meandering. She went to check on Kerry. Her sister was reading in bed with Susie snuggled next to her. Lisa thought about saying something about germs, but she resisted. The doctor part of her said it probably wasn’t a good idea. The sister part delighted in the first real look of pleasure she’d seen on Kerry’s face in months.

  Lisa returned to the medical charts she was reviewing, but instead of seeing print on pages, she saw Jubal Pierce’s penetrating eyes as she bandaged some of his newest wounds. She suspected he’d been indulging her...

  It was nearly midnight when she finished the last patient file. She checked again on Kerry. Still asleep. She picked up the dog, who protested with a small growl. Ignoring it, Lisa found the leash and took Susie out. It was raining, but it felt good to her. Cleansing. Susie quickly did her business, then headed back inside.

  Lisa wiped the dog dry, then put her back in Kerry’s room where she promptly jumped up on the bed and cuddled next to Kerry.

  Exhausted, she went to her bedroom. It certainly had been a busy and interesting day. She’d treated her first patient, obtained her first dog, her sister had survived a near-serious accident. And then there was Jubal Pierce...

  She grabbed a novel and went into her bedroom. Hopefully that would divert her from this afternoon—and from the man named Jubal.

  * * *

  JUBAL ROSE AFTER a sleepless night. The rain had kept him inside and the room had kept closing in on him.

  He went out to the porch. It was not quite dawn. The sky was clearing and the air was warm. He decided to take a swim. He pulled on a pair of trunks, jogged down to the dock and dived into the lake.

  The fact that his left wrist hurt like hell slowed him down, but he made it across the lake and back. By then the rising sun showered golden streams of light across the water. It should have been hopeful but instead he felt a cold emptiness. Maybe it was lack of purpose or being an outsider. It had been a long time since he was part of a team.

  Or maybe it was the young woman whose concerned eyes and gentle touches had awakened an aching need in him. That need was still in him hours later, although he knew it could go nowhere.

  A world of experience divided them. She fought for life. He’d seen the worst men could do. As much as he told himself he was on the side of civilization, that he was one of good guys, he was haunted by too many dead and dying faces.

  He should keep on schedule and leave tomorrow. The kid could manage without him. He waded to shore rather than lifting himself onto the dock. No sense in aggravating his wrist, even if the pain reminded him he was alive. He took a hot shower, hoping the rush of water would wash away unwanted memories and quiet a current need.

  After showering, he applied ointment to his wounds and taped his wrist, then changed into an old T-shirt and sweatpants. After eating a breakfast of toast and cereal, he grabbed a bottle of water and headed out for his run.

  He decided to expand it beyond the town. From his perch on the mountain yesterday, he’d noticed a road that appeared to only service outlying ranches and farms. He judged the first ranch to be about five, maybe six miles from the cabin. An easy run for him.

  The sky was clear after last night’s storm, the air fresh. He turne
d right at the community center, passed a school, then ran alongside the lake for four blocks before starting east toward the road he’d observed yesterday.

  He passed several fenced properties, then stopped when he saw a grouping of horses taking their leisure under shady trees. On a whim, he stopped running and walked over to the fence and whistled. Several of the animals approached cautiously, and he ran his hand down the neck of a pinto.

  Memories flooded back. He used to hang on paddocks during rodeo days. He was seven, and he thought traveling from one rodeo to the next with his father was the best life ever.

  His mother hated it.

  He recalled the constant arguments. The fights. The accusations. He would sneak out of the cheap motel room or rented trailer and run over to the arena where he’d find the horses. Not the wild broncs, but his father’s horse and the other riders’ horses. He pocketed sugar cubes from the diners where they ate and usually had several with him.

  He remembered the first time his father had put him on a horse. “Kid’s a natural rider,” he’d crowed to anyone who’d listen. It remained the second proudest moment of his life.

  Number one was the receiving the SEAL Trident. After seven months of pure hell, he’d emerged among the few who had survived the most rigorous military training of any service. The trident was his only tattoo. Nothing could ever top it. He only wished his father had lived to see it.

  He shook off the memories and looked around. Beyond the horse pasture, cattle grazed in a separate area. The grass was a rich green, which meant the rancher probably had an irrigation system. A modest ranch house and several other buildings were located well back on the property. The road leading to it was barred by a locked gate.

  Another horse, curious about the stranger, wandered over, nickered and stuck his head over the fence.

  “Hey there,” Jubal said. “You’re a handsome fellow.”

  The horse tossed his head as if he understood. He was a buckskin, the same as Dusty, his father’s cutting horse. A flashback sent him back to the dust-filled arenas and his father aboard a bucking bronc. He also remembered the hospital rooms when his father had been thrown...