by Jillian Hart
“In my opinion, horses always act weird.”
“That’s because they aren’t always predictable. Even the best-trained horse will surprise a good rider.”
“Even you?” He arched one dark brow. “I’ve heard you are quite the horsewoman.”
“Believe me, I know plenty who are better riders than I will ever be. Especially when Crystal refused to get back on the trail. When her horse balked, I should have insisted she dismount immediately. I already had, and I was reaching for her mare’s bridle.”
“You must have trouble with wildlife on that mountainside.”
“Yes, and if a horse sees a predator, there’s no guarantee you can hold them. Crystal is a strong-minded girl, I adore her, but she was testing my patience by not listening. Then the ground gave out. Her mare must have sensed the earth wasn’t steady. She took off, threw Crystal. I hit a back hoof on the way down. We fell a long way. My horse had already taken a few steps off the trail and had calmed down.”
“Both horses wound up back home okay.”
“Yes, and I’m grateful. Comanche is a good boy. He’s the reason you found us.”
“Yes. It’s the reason we knew where to start looking. At first they thought Crystal’s dad might have abducted her. That threw everyone off for a bit.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t considered that. She knew a little of her students’ private lives, but not too much. She was aware the family had been through a bitter divorce. “I can’t imagine how terrified Patty must have been.”
“We were called in around chow time to help with the search.” Hawk pushed away from the wall and grabbed a hard-backed chair by the top. He swung it toward the bed, seating himself on it like a motorcycle.
“I should have realized they would have called over to Fort Lewis for help with search and rescue.”
“Then, what, you would have been better prepared to see me?” Kindness warmed his intense blue gaze. “You couldn’t have known I would be on post at all. Just like I couldn’t have known when I took a look at who we were searching for that they would hand me your picture.”
“No.” She swallowed hard, as if not pleased they had circled back around to the past, which was an impossible river between them.
“It’s going to be all right, September.” He reached out, his warm callused hand settling on her forearm. “We don’t have to talk or think about it. We’ll chalk it up to divine providence and go on from here.”
“Good plan.” She tried to think straight, but the sunlight blazed strangely bright until she could not see. Maybe it had something to do with her concussion. When the sun faded to its usual midmorning glow, Hawk gazed with concern at her, appearing as solid and as unyielding as a granite mountain. She swallowed hard, trying to act normal. “You must be up for deployment soon.”
“I’ll be Stateside for a while, but you know that can change at a drop of a hat.”
“I do. You’ve been a Ranger for a long time. You like the lifestyle.”
“Seven years.” He shook his head, scattering what there was of his short dark hair. “You’re doing well for yourself. I hear you have a reputation at what you do.”
“A good one, I hope.”
“Very good, from what everyone at the stables told me. You’ve done an admirable job, September. I wish I could say I’ve got my life together the way you have yours.”
“Why do you say that? I thought you loved your job.”
“Now, I never said that exactly. I love being a Ranger, but it comes at a high cost. I almost opted out. Losing my best friend was hard on me. In the end I feel committed to what I do. I don’t think I will ever give up the military. Although you have a nice peaceful life here. Spending your days doing what you love. It’s got to be a good gig.”
“I like it.” She tried to resist the pull of his kindness. “It’s not saving the world.”
“There are many ways to save the world. Teaching kids to ride and show their horses, that’s a good way for them to spend their time. Instead of some alternatives.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way. There are a lot of good life lessons in caring for a horse and establishing a trusting relationship.”
“Maybe that’s where I went wrong in life. I didn’t have a horse.” He winked at her, but she got the feeling he was covering up something that saddened him. He rose from the chair and swung it back into its original place. “Well, I don’t want to take up more of your time. I’m glad you’re doing well, that’s what I had to know.”
“Thanks to you.” Her throat tightened, and if she didn’t say it now, then she never would. “It was easier seeing you again this time, when I expected it.”
“You knew I would drop by?”
“Yes. It’s something a man like you would do.” She blushed at the compliment she paid him, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable when she didn’t want to feel anything at all. “When we were in the mine and I first saw your face, I knew everything was going to be all right.”
“That has to do with you, September, the woman you are. I did my job, that’s all.”
How she wished she could turn back time and work it so her life and Tim’s could have turned out differently. She would give anything to fix what had been broken, both in her and for Hawk, as well. He’d lost one of his best friends, a friend he hadn’t been able to protect.
She didn’t know what to say to him as he crossed toward the door. A knock startled her. Her sister hurried into the room with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and gave Hawk a narrow look.
“And here I thought you would be bored waiting for me.” Chessie backtracked. “I didn’t know you had a visitor. I can come back. I’m dying for a cup of tea.”
A seed of panic took root between September’s ribs. Panic, because her sister had jumped to the wrong conclusion—that she and Hawk were interested in each other. Even the thought of opening herself up like that again terrified her. “No, stay.”
A little too abrupt, September, she told herself. Hawk had to have heard the sharpness in her tone. What was he thinking?
“No need.” His rich, buttery baritone rang reassuringly. “I’m on my way out. September, you take care now.”
“You, too, Hawk.” The words squeaked out of her throat.
His gaze fastened on hers, making the room and her sister’s presence fade away. She saw something akin to her own wounds shadowed there, hiding in his eyes. Her pulse skyrocketed over the fact that she wanted something she no longer believed in.
“I hope you find that happy ending you always wanted. You deserve it, September.” His voice resonated with sincerity. Saying nothing more, he nodded in acknowledgment to her sister and strode from the room. The pad of his boots on the tile faded to silence, but his presence somehow remained.
“Good-looking guy.” Chessie poked her head around the door frame to get another look. “Who is he?”
“One of the Rangers from Fort Lewis who found Crystal and me.” She breathed a sigh of relief, troubled by the man and his shadows. At least he understood. He had his wounds, deeper and more severe than hers could ever have been. War could do that to a man.
“There was road construction. Sorry. I should have remembered, but you know me, too much on my mind.” Chessie plopped the duffel on the foot of the bed and unzipped it. “So, are you going to date him?”
“Date Hawk?” There was a picture she couldn’t quite bring into focus. “Hardly.”
“I had to ask. You never know. Time heals all wounds. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but one day things will be better.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She didn’t believe it, but she didn’t want to drag her sister down. “Did you remember to bring shoes?”
“Are you kidding? There’s nothing more important than shoes.” Chessie pulled a pair of snazzy boots from the bottom of the bag. “Ta-da. See, your big sister won’t ever let you down.”
“You’re one blessing I’m grateful for.” She smiled, trying too hard
to find the normalcy her life had once been. It didn’t work, but she hoped she looked as if it did. She feared she would always feel out of sync, as if she were looking at her own life through a foggy mirror. She thought of Hawk and wondered what he was doing with his day off. She wondered how he managed to walk in the light with so many wounds in his soul.
Hawk strode through the automatic doors and into the blinding sunlight. The cool kiss of the mid-December breeze felt pleasant against his skin. He’d stopped by to see the little girl, Crystal, but she was in ICU and not taking any visitors. He’d met her mom, though, and learned that they expected to move her out onto a floor that afternoon. Things were looking up. He’d left a balloon bouquet with Patty, and that was that. He had no more reason to think about September Stevens. So, why was she on his mind?
It was a mystery. Loose ends, maybe, or just the fact that their paths had crossed. He hauled his bike key from his pocket, fiddling with it as he hiked toward the parking lot. If only he could have stayed away. Seeing her again tied him up in knots, and he was afraid to look at those tangled threads too closely.
He straddled his Harley and plugged in the key. While the engine rumbled, he hauled his helmet off the backrest and that’s when he saw her. His gaze drew to her like fate. September, in a mandatory wheelchair, emerged from the automatic doors onto the concrete walkway, with his gardenias in her arms.
How pretty she looked. She wore a light pink T-shirt that said Ride for the Cure, jeans and black riding boots. Her softly bouncy hair shone like cinnamon in the sunshine. She was still as sweet as ever. She’d always been delicate and kind, and not even life’s hardships had changed that. He surely hoped that God had been watching over her specially, as he’d kept her in prayer. He would never forget seeing her after the funeral, an image of perfect grief. He’d been in awe of her. What would it be like to love so much? To have been loved like that?
He tugged on his helmet and yanked on the straps to secure them. Across the way, a light blue SUV crawled to a stop at the curb, and September’s sister emerged from it. With a hurried gait, she started loading the flowers several hospital volunteers were carrying. They scolded September for standing and trying to help out. He spotted a few arrangements already in the back of the SUV.
He grabbed the grips and fed the engine. The bike gave a satisfying roar. Something kept him from leaving. Maybe it was the sight of September, pale and fragile with a bandage on her forehead and a pink cast on her left arm. Yep, that got to him. He couldn’t hold back the pounding need to look after her. He wanted to be the one to take care of her. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It simply came into being.
With one last look, he rolled the bike backward out of the parking space and released the clutch. The Harley shot forward, taking him away from September, but not from the thought of her.
Chapter Three
Chessie set the last vase of flowers in the middle of the breakfast bar and fussed with it, turning the vase to get it just right. “So, time to fess up. What’s the deal?”
“About what?” September looked up from her position on the couch, sorting her mail. A surprising amount of junk had accumulated during the two days she’d been in the hospital.
“Not what. Who.” Satisfied with the way the flowers looked, Chessie dropped into one of the bar chairs. “What was Mark Hawkins really doing in your hospital room?”
“The obvious. Bringing flowers. Seeing how I was.”
“I didn’t know you had anything to do with that life anymore.”
She meant army life. September sighed, remembering the tough time her sister had given her over her decision to date a Ranger and then accept his marriage proposal. She tossed a handful of advertisements into the paper-recycling bin. “I haven’t seen Hawk since the funeral.”
“Talk about coincidences.”
“You have no idea.”
“Not a good coincidence.”
“No.” Her heart twisted hard, remembering how Hawk had changed. What had happened to him? “I’m trying to move on with my life, and it’s not easy. Something always pops up to pull me back.” Something forced her to remember when life had been bright and her dreams shiny and new.
“He should know that. He should have left you alone.” Chessie, protective big sister, folded her arms across her chest. “Want me to talk to him?”
“No. He meant well. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him again. As if. He will probably be TDY by the end of the week.”
“You mean on a tour of duty?” Chessie relaxed and propped her chin on her fists. “All right, I won’t hunt him down. But that doesn’t mean you’re okay. You didn’t need a reminder of your losses.”
“True.” She tossed a few more envelopes thick with coupons she would never need. “He looks hardened. No longer the carefree guy I remember.”
“War will do that, I suppose. It’s his choice to do what he does, carrying a gun and shooting people with it.” Chessie had a strong opinion on that. She had strong opinions on just about everything. “Don’t worry, I will stay off my soapbox, but what kind of man does that year after year?”
The kind who cares about others more than himself. September kept quiet. She wasn’t up to any kind of serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of war. Nor did she remind her sister that those words maligned Tim’s memory. Tim who had died trying to save innocent embassy hostages. Hawk had been wounded on that mission, she remembered. The hows and whys were a mystery to her.
“I’m going to swing by and pick up some pizza. That ought to put a smile on your face.” Chessie slid off the chair and hooked her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’ll get a dessert pizza, too. The Stevens girls are going to totally carb out.”
“Sounds just like what I need.” Comfort food all the way. She flung the last junk mail envelope into the bin. There, done with that chore. Not that there weren’t a dozen more needing to be done around here. Clutter was accumulating. She needed to give her family room and kitchen area a serious going-over. Keeping busy would keep her mind off her troubles, right?
“What are you doing?” Chessie scolded from the doorway. “I see you getting up. You’re going to do housework, aren’t you?”
“Why do you say that like an accusation?” September swiped a stack of books off the coffee table and tucked them into the crook of her good arm. “I have pizza coupons you can use.”
“I have some in my car.” Chessie closed the door and crossed through the living room. “That’s it, I’m calling for delivery. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Now lie down. Do it now, or I’ll make you.”
“This sounds exactly like my childhood,” she quipped, reluctantly putting down the books. “No one can understand the hardship I went through as your sister.”
“Ha, ha.” Chessie tapped her foot, pointing to the arm of the couch where she’d propped two fluffy down pillows earlier. “Feet up. I mean it—”
The doorbell rang. She was saved. She kept her feet firmly on the hardwood floor. “Should I get that?”
“As if.” Chessie huffed out a frustrated sigh as she pivoted on her Mary Janes and marched through the town house. “You stay right where you are, sister dear. You just got out of the hospital and you’re going to take care of yourself even if I have to—”
She opened the door and fell silent. Curious, September leaned forward far enough on the cushions to see a uniformed delivery dude holding pizza boxes.
“Got a delivery for Hawkins,” he announced.
“Hawkins?” That had her moving across the room. She was halfway to the door before she saw the black motorcycle pulling up to the curb out front. Hawk swung off his bike, unbuckling his helmet.
“I’ll sign for it.” He slung his helmet over the backrest while the delivery guy handed Chessie the pizzas. The look on her sister’s face wasn’t a good one.
What was Hawk up to now? Why was he here? She hadn’t recovered from seeing him in the hospital. She hadn’t recovered from seeing him at
all. Why did he have to show up looking so alive and vital?
“What aren’t you telling me?” Chessie asked as they watched Hawk sign the charge slip with an efficient scribble.
“Not one thing.”
“I hope you’re right. I’ll take these to the kitchen.” Chessie tapped away, her tone cool.
The sunlight graced him, but he was a man who walked as if he did not notice. He’d turned grim over the last hard years, and his strong, granite face, which had always been quick to grin, was serious.
She held the door for him, watching as he strode up the walkway. She couldn’t stop from caring. Well, not the serious kind of caring. What she felt was sympathy, she told herself, understanding for the man who had rescued her. Nothing more complicated than that.
“Hope you don’t mind.” He slipped the receipt into his wallet. “I figured you wouldn’t be up to cooking and your sister might appreciate a little help.”
“It was nice of you.” She didn’t need to wonder if there was a deeper motive or a hidden agenda. He was a straightforward guy. She liked Hawk; she had always liked him, and why wouldn’t she? He had been a good friend to Tim. He was a good man. That’s what she would concentrate on and not the past, not the hurt. She pulled open the door a little wider in welcome. “Why don’t you come in and have lunch with us?”
“I don’t mean to impose. I wondered if there was anything I could do for you. Run some errands or something.” He crossed the threshold, towering over her. “I’m good at fetching.”
“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do?”
“Positive.” His humble grin reassured her.
He was merely being kind, the way Tim would have wanted. That realization made her heart squeeze shut. There was the past, yawning wide open, full of everything she had lost. Best to pretend it wasn’t there, a void between them. Dully, she let him take charge of the door and close it.
“I didn’t know what kind of pizza you like,” he explained, “so I got a couple different combos.”