10
MATEO LEFT THE arena, his father’s stinging reprimand in his ears. His parents had raised him according to one hard and fast rule: respect. Respect the horses and their strength. Respect the cattle and their need for peace. Respect family, friends, and coworkers, because they had needs as well as talents, strength, and flaws. To treat another with respect was to show respect to yourself—or at least that was what his father had taught him.
All the way back to the ranch, Mateo had been preoccupied by Dr. Rhodes’s surgical presentation. Heading to the barn, he’d worked himself up to discussing his options with Claire, only to find her in the middle of a headlong race into disaster. Sin was a powerful little mustang, and she’d been crow-hopping and half-flinging his beautiful British blonde about like a rag doll.
Terror had flexed around his heart. He’d barely noticed his father or anything else in the arena, only Claire in danger. Having trained Sin, he knew how to get the mare’s attention, and it had worked.
Even Ramon had thrown his hands up after their heated words.
“Mijo,” his father had said in that terse, no-nonsense way of his. “This behavior is unacceptable and even you know it. So why are you trying to defend a bad choice?”
“Why the hell were you just standing there letting Sin take her for a ride like that?” Challenging his father went against the grain, but Claire and Sin had both been in trouble. What had Ramon done?
“I was ready if she needed help, but she was managing the horse. Even if she was in trouble, we train, we work with the animals and the riders. We do not chastise them as if they committed a crime.”
“We do when they are foolish and endanger both themselves and the horse they are riding. An accident at this stage in her training could set Sin back months.” And could have hurt Claire badly.
That was when his father had thrown up his hands and walked away. Walking off his anger hadn’t done a damn thing but increase the pain in his back. He needed to go back to the truck, take his pain pills, and maybe sleep it off. Or maybe he should just get a cold beer and stay away from people.
Instead of doing either, he leaned against the railing of an empty paddock and stared out over the fields. The sun was edging the horizon when a boot scuffed the dirt behind him.
“There’s no other way to say it.” He sighed to himself. “I was an ass, Claire, and you certainly didn’t deserve it.”
“Good delivery, genuine boot leather you’re chewing. I’d recommend meeting her gaze, hat in hand, when you do that.” Tanner wasn’t quite laughing at him, but the former captain did wear a grin as he leaned against the fence next to him. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Yeah, you could say that. I was rude as hell to Claire, and I thought she’d come to find me since I hadn’t gone to find her.” Mateo tugged his hat off, then raked his fingers through his hair. He’d already pulled the hair tie out. A headache crawled along his skull.
“Well, you already know you were an ass,” Tanner said, folding his arms on the fence and looking out at the fields. “Ramon says it’s interesting to watch her work.”
“She’s got a lot of talent,” said Mateo. He owed her one hell of an apology. “Not sure I totally get how working with the horses will be therapeutic.” Which wasn’t fair. “I mean, I get it, but—the guys who do the program are going to need access to the horses. Maybe even a place to stay.”
“All true,” Tanner said. “Dad and I have been talking about adding on a series of cabins. Not as large as the guesthouses. More designed for weeklong, maybe two-week guests. We’re kicking around putting in ten of them. We’d book the guests in, and they’d spend the week working with the horses and maybe doing some guided trail rides.”
“You want to turn Round Top into a tourist spot?” That didn’t sound like Tanner or the Colonel.
“Hell no,” his friend said, glancing at him. “I want to make it a healing spot for guys like you and me. Guys who aren’t lucky enough to come home to a place like this, to open land and horses. Part of the reason Jules and I went to Claire was that she already had an operation like this set up outside of London. They worked with wounded Royal Marines specifically, and she had a lot of success.”
Interesting concept. Claire didn’t talk a lot about the work she’d done before she came to the States. He knew she’d worked with horses, even that she’d worked in equine therapy, but not that she’d specifically worked with vets. Then again, she’d told him a little about her father, so it made sense.
A breeze brought the scent of horses, grass, and the dust of the ranch. Mateo knew the place like he knew his own soul. Thoughts of being right where he was sustained him through deployment, surgery, and hospital stints.
It was the smell of home.
“She had an excellent reputation.”
“So you said the first night she got here.” Mateo sighed. “I get it, she’s good at what she does and you want her to work here.”
“Here, yes,” Tanner remarked slowly. “It was about more than just working here; it was about working with you. Then we would build from there.”
Working with me? “You son of a bitch,” Mateo said, blowing out a breath. He didn’t know whether to be pissed or impressed. Was Tanner behind Claire’s desire to make him her guinea pig? Had Tanner asked her to work with him? Fucking great. He really was a pity case. “You told me you needed me to work with her to take the pressure off you and the Colonel . . . but you wanted me to do the therapy because you think I’m broken.”
“No, you think you’re broken.” Tanner straightened and looked Mateo square in the eye. “You were wounded, and you’ve been walking wounded since I got here, and from what I hear, a long time before that. You’re not alone, buddy—you’ll never be alone. You’ve been more yourself since Claire got here than you have been in a long time.”
Dammit. Tanner had done it. He’d asked Claire to work with Mateo. So had she been working him this whole time? That first day in the barn, neither of them had held back on their opinions. When he’d gone to her place the next morning—they’d been awkward, but step by step, the awkwardness had gone away.
After the trip to Fredericksburg, she’d taken care of him and kept his secret. Mateo hated the doubt. He trusted Claire. Didn’t he?
“Dude, suck it up. You have friends, you have family, and now you have Claire. Don’t screw that up.” What the hell did Tanner know about that? But his friend wasn’t done. “I’ve seen that wounded-dog look before. I wore it. I damn near screwed things up with Jules, mostly because I thought I had to be the one to fix everything. It’s what we’re trained for. We’re not men who want to be rescued. We’re the guys who do the rescuing.”
Though he didn’t like the comparison, Mateo forced himself to listen. Just like in Rhodes’s office. Understanding the risks didn’t change the surgical dangers he faced, but it made making a decision easier. If he understood what the hell Tanner had done—or asked Claire to do—maybe it would make his choice easier too. He liked her, dammit; he didn’t want to resent or hate her.
“Claire didn’t come here to try and fix you; she came here to make her program—which works—available to more guys like us. To guys who need it. Dad and I aren’t going to charge folks to come here and work with the horses. We’ll make it available to any veteran who needs it. If they want to donate after the fact, we’ll roll the money into the program. I was damn lucky I came home intact. I’ve got my health, my life—and now my wife. You know more about what it is to lose something over there than I do. Claire can help with the horses, but I need you to help with the guys—and the girls. The vets.”
“That’s why you wanted me to be able to work with her.” Mateo kept a firm grip on his temper. Get all the information. The mental reminder worked.
“Because you will be, if it all works out the way we want it to.” Then Tanner pulled off his own hat. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her to work with you to get under that wall you’ve been building around yourself. We all know you’re suffering, and every damn one of us wants to help. You gotta let us do it. You gotta let her.”
“You been spying on us?” It should have annoyed the hell out of him, but it didn’t. Tanner was an upstanding guy.
“Nope, but I got eyes. You’ve been happier, and you haven’t had that air of fuck off floating around you since she got here. I call that a win, and if it turns into something more—we’ll throw you a damn party.”
Mateo believed him. “Well, save your money. I didn’t see just my therapist today, and it might be a few months before I can help run this program of yours.”
Telling Tanner what Rhodes had said to him proved a hell of a lot easier than he’d imagined. By the time he finished explaining the benefits and risks of the surgery, the sun had set, leaving them under a blanket of quiet darkness. Overhead, the stars twinkled. Another perk to calling Round Top his home was that the universe was right on his doorstep.
“I got your back no matter what you decide,” Tanner told him. “Tell her the same thing, be up front.”
He trusted Claire, but he wasn’t sure he could tell her about the surgery. “I hate the idea of disappointing her.”
“So you decided to piss her off. I relate to that.” Gripping his shoulder, his oldest friend said, “First, you need to make up to her. Get flowers, a bottle of wine or whatever it is she likes, and grovel. Then, when you’ve softened up the playing field, tell her the truth.”
“Does that really work?”
“Depending on how mad Jules is, sometimes I just have to listen when she tells me no.” Then he laughed. “She has my number and I’m damn glad of it. Sounds to me like Claire has yours. I say go for it. She’s tough, and I think she might surprise you.”
“I wish it was that easy.” Though she had been surprising him since she arrived.
“It’s only as complicated as you make it. You coming to the house for dinner?”
“Not tonight. I have some thinking to do.”
He stayed down at the paddock long after Tanner left. Every part of him wanted to go to Claire, but he held back. Not because he didn’t want to see her but because she deserved better than the crap he’d pulled today. If he’d had it in him, he’d have kicked his own ass for talking to her that way.
But Tanner had been right about one thing: They were men used to action. What he needed was a plan.
Then it hit him and Mateo had to laugh—it really was pretty simple.
The next morning, he arrived on Claire’s doorstep. An armful of roses from his mother’s garden and a picnic basket with everything he needed for a proper tea party. Maria had practically shaken with excitement when he’d asked her what went with a proper tea.
Claire answered his knock, her radiant blond hair spilling down her shoulders. A sunburn had turned her cheeks and forehead almost solid pink, but it had also deepened the blue in her eyes. Instead of her cami and shorts—the morning outfit he’d grown to adore—she was dressed in a sundress.
Her gaze went from the flowers to the basket to his face. Her expression was shadowed.
“I’m a jackass,” Mateo said without preamble. “I’d like to say I’m your jackass, but I haven’t earned the title yet.” Holding out the flowers to her, he continued. “Roses, because they are strong, beautiful, and prickly if you do not handle them with care—just like you.”
“Mateo—you weren’t a jackass. Well, not at first, not when you helped with Sin. I understand you wanted to help me and that you were worried about us.” A ghost of a smile passed over her lips. Accepting the flowers, she sniffed them and her smile grew. “Thank you.”
“Not done,” he said, finding a smile as he held up the basket. “Every morning we have tea, and I drink it out of those delicate little cups of yours. Never thought that would be me, but that hour every morning we sit in the sun in that kitchen and drink tea together, I feel more me than I have since an IED shattered my life. I’m not broken, but I am in pieces. . . .” It was hard to push past the catch in his throat. “Your tea makes it better—you make it better.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she accepted the basket. “Would you like to come in for some tea?”
“I’d like that very much.”
When she pushed the door open wide, he followed her inside with his heart hammering so loud, he could have sworn she had to hear the rapid beating against his rib cage. Once in the kitchen, she put the roses on the counter along with the basket. Then she began setting up the teapot. Mateo didn’t sit, preferring to simply watch her go through the ritual of preparing tea.
After she placed the teapot on the table, she fetched another cup and saucer for him, and this time she put them on her side of the table: an open invitation to join her on the cushioned window seat.
The mule kick his heart delivered had him opening his mouth to come clean about the day before. Then his arms were full of Claire, and she rose up on her tiptoes. He met her kiss like a drowning man coming up for air. Electricity sparked through him as her body pressed into his, yet there was care in how she held him. Scraping his teeth lightly against her lower lip, he broke from the kiss reluctantly. All he wanted was to follow through on the exploration.
Her breasts against his chest and the silk of her hair against his skin were a delightful temptation. Nuzzling another kiss to her lips, he said with a sigh, “I have more to tell you before we keep doing this.” She deserved the truth. “I need to tell you about yesterday.”
Pleasure dilated her eyes as she gazed at him, and he groaned at the way she looked at him. Goddamn, he wanted to be the man worthy of the passion drenching her expression. “Okay,” she said, then ran a hand over his shoulder to his face. The warmth of her skin against his sent another shudder through him and his cock stirred. It was so absolutely unexpected, he went still. His hips to hers, he became aware of the pressure of her lower body on his and of his body’s response.
Rhodes had been right—thank God. Now he really needed to tell her.
Stealing another kiss for courage, he said, “Thank you for trusting me.”
“You came, you apologized, and you said the most beautiful things—and even more, you meant them. Thank you for trusting me.” It was a firm reminder that their relationship went both ways. After another long moment, she slid back a step, but took his hand in hers.
He followed willingly.
Settling onto the seat a beat after she did, he let out a sigh. Not even the stiffness in his back could compete with feeling sensation in his dick for the first time since his injury, and that was all thanks to her.
Tea poured, she stirred in her sugar and cream while he mirrored her actions. Cradling her cup, she turned those azure eyes on him and he melted. Tanner wasn’t wrong—she had his number, and he’d never been more grateful.
Time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I did more than go to PT yesterday, I went to see a specialist—Dr. Rhodes. He’s been proposing a surgery to me for months, but I was sick of surgeries and didn’t want to listen.”
She took a sip of her tea, then said, “Go on.”
She would listen to him. “It’s a long story, but here goes. . . .”
And if she thought less of him after, he’d deal with it.
To say she was stunned at Mateo’s arrival speech didn’t even begin to cover Claire’s response. Troubled dreams haunted her night. Waking early, she’d half-embraced the idea of taking the day to herself, to figure out what she wanted and sort out her confusing emotions. She’d come to Round Top for a job, but she’d found so much more. One answer had become clear the moment Mateo arrived on her porch that morning; they’d been apart for half a day, emotionally and physically, and that distance hurt.
“And the doctor’s sure the procedure will work?” She had trouble wrapping her mind around all the terms.
“It has to work, and Rhodes is the most competent guy I’ve dealt with since I woke up in Germany. Every other surgeon told me I’d have to cope, that the slivers of metal were too small, or in too dangerous a location, or behind my rib cage, which complicates the issue. I’ve been doing physical therapy for a long time, and it’s always hit-or-miss. I have good days and I have bad.” His even tone and his absolute calm kept her nerves in check. Acceptance showed in his eyes. “He had a video showing the procedure, on a guy with similar issues and shrapnel in bad spots. The surgeon doesn’t have to open me up, he can do it laparoscopically. They use devices that have magnets they can activate once they reach the metal. It helps them lock on, then remove it. Once all the pieces are out, there’ll be another round of recuperation and physical therapy. The next step will be steroid injections to reduce the swelling around the spinal cord, if it hasn’t gone down on its own.”
“You trust him?” She wasn’t a surgeon.
“I do—he didn’t sugarcoat what could go wrong, but in the field—you have to trust the guy in the front. He’s going to be the guy in the front.” Covering her hand with his, he said, “I won’t lie. I’m doing this in part for you, but more for me.”
“Good.” No one should put themselves through hell for someone else.
“Maybe,” he said with a little laugh. “When I kissed you the other day—I haven’t felt this way about a woman in a long time. I wasn’t—I wasn’t responding the way I should.”
“Dysfunction is normal after trauma.” He wasn’t the only one who could show acceptance. “It can be emotional, it can physical—it can be a lot of things. I’m not afraid to be here for you while we figure it out together.”
And she wasn’t. The confusion she’d wanted to sort out earlier, she answered for herself. Lifting his hand, she placed hers to his, palm to palm, then slid her fingers between his own.
There were so many things she could say, so many metaphors she could fall back on. Instead, she went with a simple and direct statement. “I love you, Mateo.” Maybe it was too early to take that leap, but she didn’t plan to run away from it. Even if needing someone that much scared the hell out of her.
Shock rippled across his face, and her stomach tightened. It had been a long time since she put herself in such a vulnerable place with a man. Squeezing her hand gently, Mateo leaned toward her. “It’s my charm, isn’t it? How I scowl? That’s what did it?”
The too-serious nature of the question set her laughing. “Absolutely,” she said.
“Seriously, I love you too.” The declaration took her off at the knees. “I do—but I need to finish being honest with you. ’Cause it’s not pretty in here, and I’m not holding you to anything. A week isn’t enough time to figure out a commitment.”
“Says you,” she said, touched by his dedication. Leaning in, she stole another kiss, and he groaned against her mouth.
“You’re terrible.”
“I could be far more distracting.” Need kindled in her blood, every touch just amping her desire for more.
“No ma’am, you rein it in and stop rushing into a canter. We’re just walking right now.”
Claire giggled. “I’m not a horse to be gentled.”
“I know—you’ve been gentling me for days.” Knowing gleamed in his eyes, and she squinted at him.
“I admit, I’ve been trying to get close to you, but it’s been more out of a need to understand. Liking you? Falling in love with you? That’s all your fault for being so damn attractive when you’re not wrinkling your nose—well, that and trying to drink tea.”
Lips pursed, he studied her. “That’s because tea makes everything better.”
“See, he can be taught.” Delighted, she mimed zipping her lips, and he shook his head.
“You don’t have to do that. Never stop talking to me, Claire. Your accent is a delight, but your mind? I love your mind; I love how you see things—how you rush in to accomplish your goals and you don’t let anyone stop you.”
“You value stubbornness as a quality,” she said, unable to resist. “I can’t possibly let you go.”
Another head shake followed by laughter eased his frown. “We’ll add ‘impossible’ to that list.” Then he touched two fingers to her lips, silencing her retort. “This part is difficult to admit, so bear with me. I need the surgery for another reason—and it’s not just the pain or hopefully being able to ride again.”
She knew, though, that the latter meant the world to him. Kissing his fingertips, she caught his other hand in hers, offering her strength and support.
He opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come; instead. he blew out a ragged breath. “Fuck me, this is hard.” Then he frowned. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to curse in front of a lady.”
“Curse all you want.” Language couldn’t hurt her, but concern was tying her up in knots. Don’t push. Just listen. The hardest part of caring for anyone was watching them struggle with something difficult and not try to step in and do it for them.
“I don’t know that sex is an option—I haven’t had an erection since I woke up after the accident.” The bold statement cost him, and the corners of his mouth tightened. “Not even morning wood. Something that, as a guy, you have a tendency to expect. Thought it was the pain at first—or the drugs. But even when I stopped taking the meds, it didn’t come back, and I told myself I didn’t care. I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I could barely stand up straight—what woman was ever going to look at me twice?”
Then, because she didn’t dare say anything—not yet, not while he was opening his soul to her—she reached up to run her fingers through the dark length of his hair. He’d not tied it back today, and the thick curtain hung to his shoulders.
It slid through her fingers, soft and strong. Just like the man himself.
“Then I met you and I was reminded that I’m half the man I was before. . . .”
A move to reject his statement was on the tip of her tongue, but he shook his head, and she bit back the response.
“Kissing you should have left me hard and horny; instead—I had no physical reaction, even though I wanted more with you. I wanted to touch you—explore you, make you scream.” If he was trying to seduce her with his words, he was succeeding. Her nipples tightened as though he’d actually caressed them.
“I wanted to see your hair spread out on the pillows. I wanted to taste you . . . and no matter what was going on up here”—he touched the side of his head, then his heart—“nothing happened down there.”
Her heart contracted again.
“I didn’t want to tell you—I didn’t’ want to tell anyone.” His hand shook. “It’s one thing to know you’re not whole—it’s entirely different to admit it to anyone else. The doc—I told Rhodes. He said it’s possible that after the surgery, and the swelling reducing in my spine—I’ll experience sexual reflex again based on what I see and smell. You know—be normal.”
Mateo’s courage took her breath away, and it required every ounce of her strength to keep still and not intervene. Not yet. Her training told her he needed this for himself. He needed to share his narrative. The woman in her wanted to protect him, to pull him close and tell him it would be okay.
Professional instinct kept her heart in check. Soon, she promised herself. Soon.
“The risk of permanent paralysis remains, but it’s a much smaller risk than before, and I think it’s worth it. I want to be a whole man for you. If that means a whole man in a wheelchair, then so be it.” He lifted their joined hands to his lips, then brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “I need you in my life, Claire, but it’s not pretty here, and I can’t always promise sunshine and breezy days. Sometimes it’s hotter than hell and if a blue norther comes down—well, then it’s cold enough to freeze your ass off. It’s not the tea that makes me better—it’s you.”
“I’m not a fair-weather kind of girl,” she told him. “Stormy skies are okay. I have an umbrella, remember?”
He laughed, and a tear slid down his cheek. The single drop shattered her. “Woman, you’re crazy.”
“Maybe, but you should know . . . I don’t do what I do—and I didn’t just come here—because I wanted to make a name for myself. Every choice I’ve made in my life has been because I wasn’t there for my dad. I didn’t know how to be there for him. I was a kid when he came home from conflicts in the Middle East. The man I remembered from my childhood—this big, boisterous guy who threw me in the air and made me laugh and always seemed to have a joke to tell—turned into this dark, cold, distant figure. He lost himself to a bottle—then one day, he just lost himself completely.”
Mateo’s attention was riveted on her, and she took strength from his focus.
“I was thirteen when he killed himself. No one could explain to me why. What had we done? What could we have done? I already loved horses, but I ran away to them. I felt better when I was with them. As I got older, I understood that he’d been experiencing depression and post-traumatic issues. Likely there was nothing I—a kid—could have done. But I didn’t want anyone else to find themselves lost with no one willing to reach a hand out to them.” Running her tongue over her teeth, she let the tangle of loss skate through her. She’d accepted it, come to terms with what it meant to her a long time ago. “I focused on psychology and equestrian studies because I wanted to help people like my dad.”
Mateo held her hand to his chest, listening. She didn’t know if she could ever tell him what a gift he gave her when he did that.
“I came here because Tanner and Jules offered me a brilliant opportunity to help more military veterans—then Tanner asked me to be patient with you. He told me about your injury, but I never imagined that the one thing I would be most grateful for was that my education had prepared me for you. Physical or mental—you and I? We can face them together.”
“You blow me away,” he said simply. Cupping her cheek, he stroked his thumb beneath her eyes. “You look tired.”
“Oh, I’ve forgotten what a thrill it is for a man to remind me about the bags beneath my eyes.” The teasing remark struck true, and Mateo laughed.
“It was a poor but subtle attempt to invite you to bed.” Though his eyes twinkled, a hint of shadow remained within them. “Rhodes suggested that I could respond to touch—just not mental stimulation.”
“So you want to touch, not look, is that what you’re saying?” She was seduced despite herself. He’d been so damn raw and honest with her. There was no way she’d reject the invitation.
“Baby, you have no idea how much I want to touch you. Whether I can perform or not, you’re going to have a good time.”
Heat bloomed within her, and her breath caught in her throat. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Closing the distance between them, he stroked her lips with another kiss. The shock to her system dashed aside any other thought. “My bedroom is upstairs,” she said against his mouth.
“We haven’t finished our tea.” He leaned away, a flirtatious grin stretching his beautiful, firm lips.
Claire picked up her cup and drained it in one gulp, then set it down, and when Mateo mirrored the action she grinned wider. “Shall we?”
“Oh.” Rising, he kept a grip on her hand and helped her to her feet. The stiffness in his movements worried her, but she trusted him to know his own limitations. “We definitely shall.”
On his way to the stairs, he paused at the front door and locked it, and Claire chuckled. Upstairs, she followed him into her bedroom. Shyness stole through her when they stood in front of the bed, but they’d both come a long way to get to this part, and she wasn’t going to let trepidation hold her back.
Releasing him, she freed the straps tied behind her neck, then drew down the short zipper on the side beneath her arm and let the sundress fall. Standing there in only her panties, she smiled at him.
Mateo blew out a breath, his gaze adoring as he looked at her. “Wow.”
Best. Compliment. Ever.