Home on the Ranch: Her Cowboy Hero

by Pamela Britton

  Her feet touched the ground. She raised her hand and placed it against the side of his face, and his laughter faded.

  “It’s been a long time for you, too, hasn’t it?” she asked.

  He fixed her bra, pulled her shirt down, but he didn’t let her go. “Longer than you know.”

  She almost shook her head. No. She did know.

  Chapter 13

  He didn’t want to let her go.

  Her eyes held him like riptide, their color as blue as the water on a Caribbean beach. He saw things in that gaze, things he’d never thought to see in a woman’s eyes again, only this time it was different. This time it made him think things no sane man with his kind of hang-ups should be thinking.

  “We should go.”

  His body still hummed in response to what they’d almost done. His heart tapped his chest in the same way the stock of an automatic rifle hit him when it fired. He wanted to keep on kissing her, but that damn rooster was still nearby.

  She must have been thinking the same thing, because her lips tipped up in wry amusement, but when their gazes met again, some of the heat between them still lingered.

  “Let me show you Sparky.”

  He moved back, reluctantly, because he knew the moment their bodies parted it would start to fade, this crazy, unimaginable attraction, and in its place would follow the ice-cold touch of sanity.

  She stepped away. He moved back even farther, and it was as if he could suddenly breathe, as if he’d been underwater holding his breath and now he’d broken the surface again, his face cooling, his mind clear of the grogginess that came with lack of air.

  She kept walking. He hung back, scooped up a rock from the barn aisle, lobbed it at the renegade rooster, who squawked in outrage and flew off.

  When he turned back to her he wanted to hurry and catch up to her, to say a million things at once, and also nothing at all. She seemed to be gathering herself, too, as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She headed toward another stall at the end of the row with the same determination of a soldier who’d just been mustered.

  “We need to talk.” He had to pull the words up from deep inside him, because they didn’t want to be said. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  She stared at the horse behind the wrought iron bars of its stall. The bay horse eyed them curiously. He watched her lift a hand, place it between the bars, the horse coming forward and sniffing her. He used one of the same bars to hold himself up, clutching it and leaning into it, as he peered down at her.

  “You don’t need to say anything.” She pretended an interest in the horse. “I’m just as aware of all the reasons why this would never work out as you are.”

  He clutched the bar tighter. “Not all the reasons.”

  Something in his voice must have caught her attention. Her eyes caught his own, and he began to sink down into the depth of them again before he caught himself and drew back.

  “I’d be no good for you.” He sucked in a breath of air, his throat starting to constrict. “There’s things...”

  Why was it so hard to tell her?

  “...things going on up here.” He tapped his head. “Things that make me impossible to love.”

  Love? When had love entered into this? Why the hell had he even mentioned the word?

  Dusky light poured in through the open door in front of her, brushing her face with the delicate hues of pinks and golds. She looked as delicate as a doll, her face so small compared to him he could cup the whole thing in a palm, her lashes so thick and so dark they were like the edges of a butterfly’s wings, their surface painted a dazzling blue. Those eyes filled with confusion. He told himself to leave it alone, that he’d said enough.

  “I’m not the same as I was before,” he said, for some reason compelled to explain. “When I returned from over there, I just...”

  He’d never spoken to anyone about this before, not even Liz.

  “I was just different. Liz saw it. My dad saw it, too. They both did. I think in some ways I drove her into his arms—”

  “No.” She clutched the hand he’d been using to prop himself up. “Whatever you might think, there was no excuse for that.”

  God help him, he wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he grasped the iron bar as tight as he could, rooting himself to the earth, his other hand balling into a fist.

  “I changed over there, Jayden, and not for the better. It’s hard to blame Liz when I know...”

  Her eyes scanned his, first one and then the other, as if seeking to put together truth by finding the answers in his eyes. He almost lifted his hand, the free one, and smoothed a lock of black hair off her face. The pale pink sky gilded the silky strands reds and golds. She could not have been more beautiful to him in that moment than any other woman in the world. He understood then what it meant to have someone take your breath away, because he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

  “What happened?”

  He didn’t want to tell her. He feared if she heard the truth he might never see softness in her eyes again. But wasn’t that what he wanted? Shouldn’t he be pushing her away? For her own good. And yet...he couldn’t.

  “Nothing I want to share.” He let go of the bar, turned to face the horse. “Nothing you need to hear.”

  She didn’t say anything. It was her move next. God help him, and if she touched him, if she showed him any sort of kindness, he’d kiss her again, and this time he doubted he’d be able to stop.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway,” he heard her say. “We’re kidding ourselves if we think this could ever work out.”

  Just like he’d been kidding himself when he’d come back from overseas, thinking his guilt and his shame and his terrible mood swings would fade with time. They hadn’t.

  “Tell me about Sparky,” he said, nodding at the horse.

  She peeked up at him, held his gaze for a moment, and he could tell she’d seize the change of subject with both hands.

  “What do you want to know?”

  * * *

  She avoided him the rest of the night, easy to do in a large crowd of people. Her family was loud and boisterous and kept Colby entertained, and so she told herself she could ignore him, and she did...for the most part.

  “He seems like a nice man,” her brother Maverick said as they both watched Colby leave the party. “Flynn must be thrilled he’ll take Sparky and Scarlett off his hands.”

  She told herself not to watch him go, but the veranda leached light from the interior of the home, giving her a perfect view of him as he stood and said his goodbyes. His gaze connected with her own. It was the visual equivalent of being zapped by a cattle prod.

  “I’m just glad they’re going to a good home, especially Scarlett.”

  Beneath Maverick’s cowboy hat, his eyes narrowed with a smile. “You always did have a soft spot for that horse.”

  Maverick was in charge of her father’s cattle operation, which was a job unto itself. Horses were a piece of equipment to him, a means to an end, and so he’d never gotten close to them like she had. Now dogs... His cattle dog, Sadie, meant the world to him. She sat off to the side of the family, her eyes trained on her human.

  “I’m glad it worked out,” Jax said from across the table.

  “Me, too,” said Flynn from all the way from the other end.

  “You think Dad will be okay with it?”

  Everyone grew quiet for a moment, and she realized her father was the elephant in the room. Did they know she’d tried to talk to him earlier in the week?

  “He’ll be fine with it,” said Uncle Bob. “He knows those two horses will be better served at Dark Horse Ranch.”

  The light from a citronella candle flickered across the faces at the table. Her aunt had retired for the night. Paisley slept on a blanket not far from where she sat. Tomorrow would be
a busy day, and she knew she would need to leave soon, but she waited until she heard Colby’s truck make its way down the driveway before announcing, “I should probably leave, too.”

  Her boss caught her gaze.

  She’d gotten to know him a little better tonight, had heard all about his military contracting firm and the adorable story about how he’d met his wife, and stories the rest of her family seemed familiar with.

  He still intimidated the hell out of her, and so when she stood and he said almost instantly, “Jayden, can I talk to you for a sec?” she tensed.

  What had she done? Dear Lord in heaven, he hadn’t seen them down at the barn, had he? No. The rooster would have been after him if he’d been nearby.

  “Sure.” She glanced down at Paisley, still out cold. She had a feeling whatever he wanted to say to her, he’d prefer to do so in private, so she retreated to a picnic bench off to the side of the veranda, one shielded by the branches of an old oak tree, the leaves concealing the stars above.

  “What’s up?” she asked, her hands splaying flat on the wooden slats so that she could feel the initials her brother Shane had carved into the seat over a year ago. “S+K.” Shane plus Kait.

  Jax took a seat next to her, and it was dark, but not so dark that she couldn’t make out his face, his gray hair more silvered by the moon behind them.

  “First of all, I just wanted to tell you how much we love having you at the ranch.” He leaned forward, rested his arms on his legs, hands clasped. “You’re doing a great job.”

  The breath she released deflated her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “But you looked a little weird when you came back from the barn. Colby wasn’t being difficult again, was he?”

  Damn. She’d known it would be something like that. She’d tried to paste a smile on her face, had known she’d failed miserably. Colby had it easy. His face always had a stony countenance, and so he’d looked normal.

  “I was just out of breath from the climb up the drive,” she hedged.

  He didn’t say anything, but that didn’t surprise her. The man had a lie detector for ears. She pitied his kids.

  “Look. I’m going to be honest. I’ve been worried about Colby for a while now. The ranch is his life. He never goes out. Never calls home, at least not that I know of. Never gets visitors. Never goes anywhere.” He frowned. “He’s a lot like Bryan in a way. I was hoping the two of them would connect somehow, maybe help each other, but that’s a whole other problem.”

  They’d both closed themselves off.

  I changed over there, Jayden, and not for the better.

  But at least Bryan’s family wanted to help him. Colby had been betrayed. Nobody had been there for him, probably not in a long, long time.

  “Anyway.” Jax looked like a man who’d walked through a graveyard and been chased out by ghosts. “I just wanted to make sure you know that he might come off as cold and distant at times, but he’s a good guy. Don’t let him get you down.”

  He hadn’t been cold earlier. Not at all.

  She had to look away, but not before she caught a glimpse of sadness in her boss’s eyes, that and something else. It was as if he understood what Colby had been through in a way that only someone who’d battled their own demons could. For the first time she wondered what Jax had been through in the past. What demons did her boss carry from his own time in the military? No wonder he wanted her to understand Colby. It probably drove him to help his friend Bryan, too.

  He stood, looked down at her. “His bark is worse than his bite, Jayden. Be patient with him.”

  He walked away, his footfalls muffled by the damp grass and a dusting of leaves that coated the ground.

  Be patient.

  She didn’t want to be patient. She wanted to put Jax’s words from her head, to keep the barriers up, because when Colby kissed her it was like clinging to the back of an unbroken colt, unpredictable and terrifying and yet when the dust settled and you started moving as one, so perfectly wonderful that it brought tears to your eyes.

  And that scared her to death.

  Chapter 14

  “You know, you should probably just jump her.”

  Colby snapped his head around, his arm freezing in the midst of brushing Bentley. Bryan Vance. Just what he needed.

  “I mean, I’ve been watching you two for the better part of a week now, and it’s all getting kind of old. And today...today you haven’t stopped staring at her since you tied that damn horse up.”

  He slowly turned to face the man. He hadn’t shaved. Not in days. He’d started to take on the appearance of a mountain man. Hair mussed, the gray more pronounced because of its longer length.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Vance?”

  Inside the arena, Jayden worked with Dylan and three other people. Derrick, their ranch manager, had finally returned. The older man worked on the hinge of one of the arena gates, fixing a pesky squeak. Volunteers led the horses the disabled veterans rode, Jayden in the middle calling out each exercise. She’d just asked them to pat their head and rub circles on their belly, and there’d been a burst of laughter. That was what made him look. The grizzled army veterans might think it a funny childhood game, but it really did help with hand-eye coordination, opening neural pathways and increasing motor skills.

  “I don’t need help. You’re the one who needs help. Mooning after that woman.”

  Colby held on to his patience by the thinnest of threads. “You riding today?”

  “No.” Bryan wheeled his chair toward him.

  For over a week now they’d been trying to coax Bryan to ride. He’d resisted at every turn. Jax had even been called in at one point. The two had retired to Bryan’s cabin. Colby had no idea what had been said, but his boss’s friend was still a no-show every morning. He ate. He slept. Sometimes they’d see him wheeling himself around the property, but that was the extent of his therapy.

  You can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.

  “Is there something else I can do for you, then?” His movements echoed the terseness of his words, Bentley lifting her head, he brushed her so hard. He instantly softened his touch. Damn the man. His frustration had translated to the horse. Or maybe it was a different type of frustration, one born from having to watch Jayden all morning. He didn’t know. Didn’t care. Or so he told himself.

  “Nope.” Bryan’s word sounded almost chipper. “I’m just here for the entertainment. Kind of fun to watch a bunch of clowns playing kindergarten games on horseback.”

  Colby swiped a little too hard again. “Yeah, well, at least they’re trying.” He stopped, switched the brush to his other hand. “Years from now you’ll look back at this moment and realize things could have been different. Instead you’ll be that old man in a wheelchair that all the kids are scared of.”

  It wasn’t like him to be so ugly to a guest, but his frustration with his life had spilled over into his professional life.

  “Sounds good to me.” Bryan rolled his chair forward and then back again. “At least I’m not afraid to admit what I am.”

  And there he went trying to bait him again, but it wouldn’t work. Instead Colby tossed the brush into the box and headed for the tack room, returning with a saddle and pad a moment later, the metal end of the girth dragging on the ground. He didn’t care.

  “The difference between you and me is I have your best interest at heart, whereas you only care about yourself.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Colby tossed the saddle pad over Bentley’s back. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that. You’re not alone in this. You have friends and a family who care if you get better. And a whole team of people with your best interest at heart. And instead of thinking of them, you’re too busy wallowing in self-pity to care.”

  Bryan’s brows lowered. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with
.”

  The saddle landed on Bentley’s back with a soft thud. “You might be surprised.”

  Silence. Colby presumed it was nose-out-of-joint kind of quiet, the kind of muteness caused by impotent fury. But when he switched sides to start girthing up, he happened to glance over at Bryan. He was studying him intently.

  “What branch?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What branch of the military were you in?”

  So he’d finally figured it out. “Army.”

  “Special Forces?”

  He tugged on the girth strap. “Once upon a time.”

  “How many years were you in?”

  “Eight.” The leather strap made a snapping sound, he pulled on it so tight. “And before you ask, medical discharge.”

  He let that sink in as he finished, and when he was done, he stopped in front of Bryan. “I was part of a cleanup team in Iraq tasked with finding and eliminating rebel strongholds. We were about three days out when we became separated from our convoy. Freak sandstorm. Too far out to get back in time.” He refocused on Bentley, checked to make sure he had the saddle in the right position. “Found a place to wait it out, but what we didn’t realize is we were in the middle of a nest of Iraqi insurgents. Weather cleared up. Both sides opened fire. We were outmanned and outgunned. I tried my best to get my unit out unscathed. Couldn’t do it.”

  This next part was hard, so hard he had to clutch the saddle for support. He took a deep breath.

  “I watched my men get picked off one by one.” He shook his head, closed his eyes, remembering the sound, the screams, the smell. Some days he would swear he could still smell the acrid stench of gunpowder. “I was wounded. Bad. Rescue team tried to get to me. I say tried because they had to turn back the first time. Taking on too much fire. I had to sit there, my men dead all around me, wondering if I should just take my gun and end it for myself. Their second try they got me out, but I sat there for six days. Six goddamn days.”