by Lori Ryan
“Mm-hm,” she murmured, going to Tess.
James moved over to stand next to her and she felt the heat of him even though there were a good several inches of space between them.
She reached to put her hands on either side of Tess’s face when the horse pushed her muzzle into Presley’s chest. “I just wanted to say hi to her.”
He was looking at where Tess pressed her face to Presley’s chest and she felt her cheeks heat, for some reason.
He cleared his throat and reached a hand up to Tess’s ear, giving her the same treatment he’d just given Cayenne. “She’s been great this week. We’ve been out just about every day.”
Presley grinned as Tess moved closer and closer to James. “Clearly, her loyalties are shifting.”
He laughed. “Nah, she’ll always be your girl.” He looked to the horse. “Won’t you, baby?”
And now Presley was jealous of Tess. First Cayenne, now Tess. This was bad.
“I think the riding has been really good for my legs,” he said.
“Oh?” Presley wasn’t surprised that riding would help him with his injuries. It was great therapy. She hadn’t known exactly what his injuries entailed, though.
“Yeah. I get a lot of pain in my legs. They were burned.”
“You don’t limp,” she said, then wanted to kick herself. She had no idea why she’d said it.
“Not usually, no, but I get shooting pains in them sometimes.”
“But the riding helps?” She figured she would bring it back around to his initial statement since she had no idea what to say.
“It does. I don’t know, I guess maybe just using them more is helping.”
“I think they say there’s something about the way the rocking movement of the horse moves you. It helps with gait. And I’ve always thought there was something to the heat of the horse’s body against your muscles, you know?”
She looked to him and found him watching her with an intensity that both caught her off guard and stole her breath.
She looked away.
“How was your trip?” He asked.
She thought for a minute, not really wanting to give him the pat answer that everything was great. For some reason, she didn’t like the idea of giving him the expected answer that did nothing to say how she really felt.
“It was long.” She stopped herself from explaining that she didn’t like being on for the crowds and people who wanted face time with her or her father.
“But you’d rather be arranging flowers?” He asked, a teasing tone lightening his voice.
“Something like that.” Actually, the idea of sitting and working on an arrangement was exactly what she’d like to do. It was calming to look at a piece, move something here, take away something there, add just the right splash of color or find the right weight or texture of flower.
“Will you get very far behind with missing so many shows?”
“In the year-end rankings, you mean?”
“Is that what it’s about? The rankings?”
She nodded. “Sort of. For this year, for me, yes. It’s not an Olympic year.” She’d been to the Olympics the previous year, bringing home an individual Silver and a team Gold. “But there’s qualification for the World Equestrian Games, if I don’t drop far enough to be out of the running.”
“You went to the Olympics?”
Presley grinned. She was damned proud of her Olympic medals and the time she’d spent with her team held some of her favorite memories. “Three times.”
He whistled. “Damn, girl. I guess I should have guessed as much with the way you fly over those jumps. Will you drop behind too much to make the World Games because of your injury?” He seemed to move closer and Presley found it hard to control her thoughts with him that close to her.
“I, uh, it depends on how my competitors all fare while I’m out. I might be able to make up some lost ground when I get back. If I’m not out too long and if the top riders don’t all run away with the rankings while I’m out.”
They might not. Petra Albescu had performed exceptionally poorly over the weekend and Donna Mooreland, one of Harry’s riders, had struggled in the jump-off against a rider who really wasn’t as good as she was. That was the way riding was. Sometimes, even if your competition wasn’t as good as you, your mount had a poor day or you just weren’t on target the way you needed to be. A lot of factors needed to come together in the ring for things to go your way in the ribbons.
She looked back toward James, finding his gaze on her again and she would swear he’d moved closer, making her heart slop around in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so she just stared.
Presley searched her mind for something to say, but found a giant blank. Her eyes flew to his and, she realized, he didn’t seem to be waiting for her to say anything. His eyes were on her mouth and the air was thick with a tension she recognized but didn’t have a whole lot of experience with. She might have made a sound, part moan, part question.
He answered by bringing his mouth to hers, not moving his body at all. He simply lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. The moment was perfect, and still, and all she wanted but hadn’t known she wanted. And then, in a heartbeat, it changed.
The moment seemed to burst to flame and his whole body moved then, turning to take hold of her. He drew her in, pulling her to him. Pressing their bodies together as Presley’s head spun.
His mouth was seeking, demanding, needing, and she found answering need spiraled through her.
Now she moaned again, fully this time without question, without hesitation.
His response was a growl as he moved his mouth to her neck and she felt the kiss rocket through her body. She felt it through her stomach and lower, then down through her toes which seemed to curl in a way that made her truly appreciate the saying toe-curling kiss.
Presley didn’t know when her hands had flown to his shoulders, but she clung to him, wanting to be closer. She ran her hands over his shoulders, then up his neck, to his short-cropped hair. She splayed her fingers over him, a pool of desire taking over.
And then he stopped. So quickly she thought she might fall over when he stepped away.
His eyes were wide. Even in the dim light she could see the horror in his eyes at what had happened and immediately, she wished she could sink into the blackness that covered the farthest corners of the barn.
At least he didn’t apologize. That would have made things worse.
Instead, he turned without a word and walked away, his body stiff with regret.
11
James liked the way he could sometimes seem to make time stand still when he worked with wood. Or maybe it was that he could make time move so quickly, he didn’t realize it was going by. Whatever it was, it let him escape his thoughts for a while. Today, he’d left the barn doors open wide but had the lights off inside the barn.
He was sanding again, the repetition of the action clearing his mind. He guessed for most people, hand sanding would lead to boredom. He liked the simplicity of it. He needed to find the emptiness that would let his mind give up on reliving the kiss with Presley over and over again.
He moved one hand over the wood with the sanding paper in hand, then followed it with a stroke of the other hand, feeling the grain of the wood. Sanding hand, then free hand. Sanding hand, then free hand. The pattern wasn’t the most efficient for achieving a smooth surface, but he’d found it was the best for clearing his mind.
One minute, James was sanding, and the next, he looked up and saw the silhouette of a man in uniform standing in the doorway of the barn. The flashback hit hard as he spiraled back to another building and another time.
His squad mate, Jordy Peters, screaming at James to get back. The faces of Brian Russell and Matt McPherson as they turned to run, shouting something at him he couldn’t make out.
Then Lulu was there, pulling him out of it.
James shook as he dug his hands in her hair. Somehow, he’d landed on his ass on
the barn floor, Lulu in his lap and the calm eyes of General Cutter watching him.
The General sat on his haunches a few feet away, waiting as James huddled with Lu.
When a few minutes had passed, the General stood and offered James his hand, lifting him to his feet when James took it.
“Are they happening often?” He asked with the strong but quiet voice James had come to expect from him.
“Not too often.” He lied to the man, but could tell the General wasn’t buying it. “What are you doing here?”
If the General thought it was rude to ask the question, he didn’t let on. “Visiting Phoebe. She and Shane have been wanting to take a trip to DC, but I like the pie at the diner here.”
James let out a laugh as he remembered Laura telling him the General spent a lot of time with one of the sisters who owned the local diner.
The General shrugged. “Gina makes good pie.”
James shook his head. He made a mental note of all he’d just seen in the flashback. He’d need to write it in his journal when the General left. He sat in one of the chairs at the table while the General went to the other. He knew better than to tease Cutter for his crush on the diner owner. The General might act like his friend more than his superior, but there was a line you didn’t cross.
General Cutter took a piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to James. “It’s the name of a counselor that works with veterans nearby. I don’t know her personally, but she’s a veteran herself and she comes highly recommended from people I trust.”
James looked at the paper but didn’t take it. He’d seen a shrink when he was in the hospital after they’d pulled him out. It helped, but only so much.
Cutter leaned forward. “They took four years from you, Soldier. You can’t get those four years back, but you can make sure they don’t take anymore from you.”
Their eyes caught and held, and James reached out to take the paper. He shook just thinking of the idea of driving to a counselor, of telling someone what he was thinking. Then again, the flash he’d just had of the firefight in South America was the most detailed he’d had yet. Maybe talking to someone would help him remember. He looked down at the name.
Sarah Garrett.
He looked at the General. “You could have brought me pie, too.”
That got him a laugh. “Next time.”
James wondered if maybe he’d be able to go to the diner himself by the next time the General visited. An image of Presley and the kiss in the barn ran across his mind and he knew there were other things worth pushing for. Maybe it was time for him to push himself. He just didn’t know if he could ever get himself to the point where he’d feel worthy of Presley Royale. Where he’d feel like he wouldn’t just be saddling her with a man who could only bring her down. Because, really, what did he have to offer anyone right now?
Not a damned thing.
12
Three days and James still hadn’t been able to clear Presley Royale from his senses. He sat cross legged on the floor of his loft, eyes closed, meditating.
Four years in the hands of madmen and he’d meditated through hunger, pain, and sickness. But one kiss from Presley had gotten so deep under his skin, he couldn’t clear his mind.
He could still smell her, taste her, feel the soft curve of her body as he pressed her against him. He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands where Lulu had begun to lick.
As a PTSD support dog, she was trained to interrupt any behaviors associated with agitation or anxiety, so when he’d started flexing his hands into fists, she’d come forward to stop the behavior. Little did she know he was only trying to rid his hands of the sensation of touching Presley.
He rewarded Lulu with a scratch behind the ears, then closed his eyes to start again.
He’d begun meditating again to see if he could draw out the memories trapped in his mind. The nightmares had continued, as confusing and out-of-reach as they’d ever been and with Lulu trained to wake him any time they began, he wasn’t going to get more information that way.
He needed to get the memories to come when he was awake.
They wouldn’t come, though. All that came when he closed his eyes were images of Presley. Only this time, they mingled with memories of Catalina. One minute, he was holding Catalina, making love to her, then she switched with Presley and Presley took over. Neither woman let him get to the memories that really mattered, the memories of what happened that night.
James cursed and stood, giving up.
He crossed to the window and looked down at the barn. It had rained the day before, so he hadn’t been riding. He should take Tess out and exercise her.
He almost missed his phone ringing from the spot on the table where it sat buried under a pile of laundry.
He rescued it and saw the number for the shrink the General had given him.
“Hello,” he said, part of him wanting to hang up the phone so he didn’t have to deal with reality.
“Hey, is this James?”
He stopped for a second, wondering if he was wrong. He’d thought it was the therapist’s number, but she didn’t sound at all like he’d thought she might.
When he didn’t answer, she went on. “James? That you or did I dial wrong?” He could hear the shuffling of papers. “I’m horrible with details. Hell, I might have dialed my ob-gyn’s office for all I know.”
James broke out in a grin. He knew this woman. Not personally, of course. He’d never met Sarah Garrett, but he recognized her. She was the kind of tough woman who could go toe-to-toe with the guys when they were overseas.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, this is James.”
She acted like she hadn’t just faked him out and gotten him to talk. She also acted like they’d already gone through the preliminary niceties of a conversation, and jumped right in. “Listen, I’m gonna tell you, the best way for you to get yourself in here to talk to me is if we make an appointment soon, so you have less time to get your panties in a bunch over it. I also think you should make that appointment for early in the morning when there are very few people out and about. Easier on you to get here if you don’t have to drive in traffic and you won’t have to see anyone but me. My receptionist doesn’t even come in until eight, so if you bring your ass in at a God-awful hour—say, six o’clock—you’re not going to run into her.”
Apparently, the doc had this shit figured out.
Her next words told him she thought following her advice was a given. “Tomorrow at six?”
There was only the slightest hesitation on his part. He’d have to see if Laura could drive him. She was usually up early, so it wouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah,” he said before he could chicken out. “See you then.”
He let out a breath, and grabbed a shirt from the back of the chair where he recycled most of his clothes until they were ready to be washed. Time to get Tess out and go for a ride. The more he could keep his mind off the appointment he’d just made, the better off he’d be.
When he’d groomed and saddled Tess, he walked out the large double doors at the end of the barn with her, planning to go to the mounting block near the side pasture. His sister Laura called out to him before he got there.
She was waving at him from ten yards away. James headed toward her instead of the mounting block.
“Hey, Rabbit,” he said, using the nickname he’d used with her as a child. She’d been like a little scared bunny when she was younger. Not at all like the woman who stood before him.
The name gutted him, reminding him of all the ways he’d let her down.
She seemed to brighten at it, though, eyes sparkling as she glared at him in mock annoyance. “You getting ready to ride?”
He didn’t answer her. Just looked over at the horse with her saddle and bridle on and back to Laura, who laughed as though she’d realized how stupid the question was.
James moved to a fallen log in the grass and used it to mount Tess, then put a hand down to Laura. “Come with
me?”
She looked up at him for a minute, and he knew she was getting ready to argue. He quirked a brow in the way he had when they were younger and he’d wanted to dare her into doing something he knew would take pushing.
She shook her head, but reached an arm up as he moved his leg forward, letting her use the stirrup to climb behind him on Tess. She wrapped her arms around him and he grinned as he moved Tess into a walk, heading for the ring.
“I need to ask you for a favor.” Somehow asking her when she wasn’t facing him seemed easier. Not that asking his sister to help him was hard. It was admitting he was going to a shrink that was, though he didn’t know why that should be. Hell, people probably expected him to be off his rocker.
“Anything.”
He knew she meant it. “I have an appointment tomorrow morning and I need a ride. It’s early, though. I have to be there at six and it’s twenty minutes away.” He’d looked and Sara’s office was in the next town over.
“No problem. As long as I swing through and pick up donuts for Jamie on the ride home, she’ll be happy to help Cade muck out stalls while I take you to your appointment.”
“Thanks.” He should spend more time with his niece, Jamie. Maybe he could have donuts with her after his appointment.
“You like riding Tess for Presley, don’t you?”
“Mm-hm.”
“And you like Presley,” she went on.
He didn’t respond. She knew this already. She’d warned him that Presley was too complicated for him and that he was too complicated for Presley. He understood that. Hell, no one knew better than he that Presley was better off without him.
He went past the ring to the large field Cade kept trimmed and clear of rocks and let Tess move at a lazy pace around the perimeter. Most of the time, the horse was pushing for a faster pace, but today, she seemed content to stroll while he and Laura talked.
“I think maybe I was wrong,” Laura said quietly, to his back. He stiffened.
“About what?”
“About Pres. I think maybe you’d be good for each other.”