CHAPTER 12
Of course, she’d had to wear the blue shirt today. The one that made him want to drown in her big blue eyes. With a grunt of frustration, Travis crushed the empty paper cup and tossed it in the nearest trash bin as he walked down Main.
Four construction trailers stood in the middle of the street. Reconstruction would begin in earnest today. That would give everyone something positive to focus on for the remainder of the long, hot summer. With luck, some of the buildings would be finished in time for the holidays. He could only hope.
But even the prospect of a brand new Main Street wasn’t enough to pull his thoughts from Elaine for more than a second. She’d looked so sweet and uncertain, standing there, staring up at him. The urge to fist his hand in her ponytail and tilt her face up so he could take a taste of that full mouth had been powerful, and had his cock pressing painfully against his zipper.
And what had he done right after he’d insisted they keep strict boundaries? Gone and made a date with her by way of bringing Dax back to the Hansens. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Another rule broken.
How many rules did he have to break before he got burned? The odds were increasingly against him where Elaine was concerned. He was a former Navy SEAL for chrissakes. The sharpest of the sharp. He could calculate wind drift for a bullet from a thousand yards away. He could kill a man before the man was even aware he was there. Why couldn’t he exercise any self-control where Elaine was concerned?
He’d have to do better.
He’d calmed down by the time he joined the Hansens down by their training pen. “Where’s Cassidy?”
Parker gave him a look of surprise. “I didn’t know she was coming this morning.”
“She better,” he growled, irritation flashing through him. “We had a deal.”
Parker scowled, then turned to Hope. “What do you need us to do?”
She gave each of them a hard look. “These horses are already spooked. We want to gentle them, and that starts with our first interaction. Follow my instructions and we’ll be good. Go all cowboy on me, and we’re gonna have problems. Understand?”
Parker and Gunnar nodded, and she swung her gaze to him. “Travis?”
He nodded once, not caring that he was glowering. Where in the hell was Cassidy?
An hour later, they were hot and sweaty. The horses were calm in their new environs, and still no sign of Cassidy.
“Travis,” Hope called out. “You’re up first.” She held out a harness and a lead line. “We’re starting from scratch here. You’re going to have to get the horse to trust you enough that she’ll let you put on a halter.”
“What do I do?” He could do anything, she just needed to show him once and he’d have the sequence committed to memory.
She chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s more being than doing. For now, just walk around the ring.”
The big bay snorted at the other end of the pen and eyed him warily. He could do this. How many times had he charmed virtual strangers, gained critical information his unit was able to use to save lives? Except once, the voice in his head condemned.
“Get the horse moving,” she called quietly. “Pick a direction.”
He raised his hands and the horse started, trotting around the fence and stopping on the other side of the ring. He dropped his hands. “Now what?”
“You have to keep it moving. Move in closer.”
Focusing on the horse like she was a target, he advanced. She whinnied and hopped, moving around to the other side. After several tries, he succeeded in getting the horse to circle the ring, but even after Hope demonstrated how to build trust and get the horse to let her put on the halter, Travis failed repeatedly, frustration growing with each attempt.
“Okay, back off for a sec. Walk with me,” Hope tugged on his sleeve. “What’s her name?” Elaine’s face shimmered before him. “Flipper,” he responded automatically. He hadn’t thought of the imaginary mascot Weston had made up during a low point in BUD/S training for years. Flipper the man-eating mermaid had gotten them through the worst moments of their ordeal. But he was on land now, with no threat of having his balls chewed off. Of course, failing in front of the Hansens didn’t feel swell.
“What’s going on, Travis?” Hope barked at him exasperatedly. “You’re confusing the horse. You’re sending it all sorts of mixed signals. I don’t know what kind of stuff is going on with you, but you either need to let it all out in the ring and get through it, or leave it on the other side. Flipper here deserves better.” She crossed her arms, waiting.
Shit. Weston might as well be sitting on his shoulder. He could just see Weston’s smug grin as Hope went on. “You might be able to bullshit your friends, but a horse can always tell when you’re bullshitting.”
Whose story are you living, Man? He could hear Weston asking. Weston was right. He should be living a good life for his fallen comrades. A life of enforced solitude didn’t honor the dead. It just made him dead.
“Earth to Travis.” Hope waved a hand in front of his face. “You wanna try again? Or are you done?” The challenge in her voice was clear.
“I’m in.”
“Good. Let’s go again. Follow me.”
This time, he settled his thoughts the way he did on a mission. Focusing only on the work in front of him, letting his awareness heighten. He was surprised when he checked his watch forty-five minutes later. He’d completely lost track of time in the pen with Hope. Instead, focusing on Flipper’s breathing, and the way she pricked her ears, or licked and chewed. His heart lifted the moment she dropped her head and let him place the halter over her ears. He gave her an appreciative scratch. “Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re a good girl.”
“Good job, Travis. You made good progress with her today.”
Excitement buzzed through him. There had been a moment in the pen when Flipper looked at him, and he swore she looked right into him. Right through the shit and into his soul. He wasn’t one to get hippy-dippy, but Hope was right. Somehow, Flipper could sense the bullshit. And when he’d let it go, had settled into his breathing, she’d calmed right down. He had to tell someone. There was too much energy ricocheting through his body to keep it all to himself. He pulled out his phone, then deflated.
Who was he going to call? Weston?
Elaine.
His chest grew tight, and he slowly replaced the phone, excitement draining from him.
Parker cleared his throat. “So I heard you’re running for sheriff?”
Shit – how long did that take? He wasn’t ready to go public, even if he’d pretty much slapped Steve Lawson’s face with a glove the other day. He didn’t even have a website up yet. “I see the rumor mill is fast at work,” he answered a little too brusquely.
“No one would be better.”
Travis snorted as he fisted his hands on his hips, toeing the dirt. “Thanks. Not a done deal. Not sure I want the job.” He’d do the job. Hell, he’d be a great county sheriff, and people would be safer because of it. But given the billboards popping up, it might not be easy to beat Lawson. Weston had mentioned the day before that Lawson had the ear of the governor and other elected officials in the county, along with a hefty bank account.
Travis could match it with his own funds, but every dollar he spent now took him a step farther from his dream of someday restarting the ranch. At least the barn was done and looking great. Too bad it would go unused except for a few as-yet-to-be-acquired horses.
As soon as he could politely make his excuses, he took his leave, promising to return as often as his schedule would allow. He’d intended to go straight home, to shower and change before returning for Elaine and Dax. But instead, fifteen minutes later, he found himself staring at the new front door of Millie’s Organic Grocery.
What in the hell was he doing? He didn’t cook. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking. Not real cooking.
The kid would need dinner. And something better than the microwave burritos he usually grabbed from the gas station. Travis’s hand hovered over the handle. It wasn’t too late for him to turn around. No one would be the wiser.
“Travis?” Millie Prescott yanked open the door just as he reached for the handle. Adrenaline shot into his legs, making them twitch. He should go. This was a bad idea.
She stared at him quizzically. “Are you lost? Dottie’s is two blocks over.” She smiled up at him hopefully, her yellow hair a fuzzy halo, and he glanced behind her at her stocked shelves, taking in the markdowns.
Shit.
Even though she’d come through the storm relatively unscathed – her building had been narrowly missed – she was still struggling. He made a note to remind the force at their next morning staff meeting to make sure and stop by. It wouldn’t hurt him to stop by either. Maybe learn to cook, even though he’d never stop eating at Dottie’s or Gino’s Trattoria, or ordering tamales from Luci Cruz. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. “I need help,” he finally blurted out.
Millie’s face lit with a huge smile. “You’ve come to the right place.”