Chapter 3

After dinner Becca insisted on cleaning up. She’d shooed the three of them out of the kitchen, and now Alex stood in the living room of his youth at a loss.

It was an incredibly surreal thing to have eaten dinner at the kitchen table of his childhood and not have his father there. It was beyond awkward to have a woman he barely knew doing their dinner dishes in the place his mother had once stood.

Even after dinner, he didn’t have a better read on Becca. She was skittish, that was for sure, and maybe that was reasonable, but it seemed…over the top. He stared at her back, trying to work through the puzzle as she washed.

But no matter that his mother had once done the same thing in the same place—he only saw Becca. She had a slim frame and her hair was a riot of different shades of brown and red all braided together. She had her shoulders hunched over the sink as if she could block out the world.

If only he could figure out why.

He blew out a breath and turned his attention to Gabe and Jack. They were sprawled out in the living room, Jack flipping through the channels on the TV and Gabe scrolling through something on his phone. The dogs curled up on the rugs on the floor, seemingly happy with a little company.

Alex had enough responsibility to deal with before he figured Becca out, so that’s what he needed to focus on.

He strode back to the entryway where he’d left his bag. Though he’d instructed Gabe and Jack on what rooms to take, he hadn’t ventured to his own room yet. He’d needed some time to gear up to stepping foot into his childhood bedroom. He needed time to brace himself for the onslaught of memories that would be found there.

Alex grabbed his binder that kept his meticulously organized business notes and returned to the living room. The room was different than he remembered. He had memories of clean, gleaming dark woods and furniture and blankets in shades of tan and brown.

Now, it was colorful and cluttered, two things his father had never cared for. Even when his mother had been alive, there hadn’t been knickknacks or stained glass or vases littering every surface.

Which meant this was likely Becca’s mother’s influence on the house, or maybe even Becca’s.

He’d have been lying if he’d pretended it didn’t bother him a little bit. It shouldn’t have—he knew it shouldn’t have. Still, it grated along his nerves.

Another thing to shove away for the time being. He had a foundation to get off the ground.

Alex plopped himself onto the couch and the binder onto the coffee table in front of him.

“Please, God, no,” Gabe said, pretending to recoil from the sight.

“Tomorrow is the first day of this new venture. We need to go over the plan.”

“Isn’t the plan to figure out what the hell we need to do to get the bunkhouse hospitable? That’s hardly binder worthy.”

Alex flipped to the schedules tab. “I’ve created a five-step plan for determining our next course of action with the bunkhouse.”

“Christ,” Jack muttered. “You’ve lost it, Maguire.”

Alex ignored the bubbling urge to refute Jack’s claim. An argument would hardly prove his point. He was fine. Being organized and prepared for each next step was hardly a reason for censure or concern.

“Alex. Just this one time—one time—couldn’t we play it by ear?”

Alex hated when Gabe used that reasonable, careful tone with him. Alex had been the first one to heal, which meant he was the one most removed from the accident and the lingering effects of it. Gabe didn’t have a right to be careful with him.

“You know as well as I do what playing it by ear gets you.”

“Hardly going to die here,” Jack returned, an edge to his voice Alex recognized. It was half of why Alex and Gabe had worked so hard to get Jack on board with their venture. Jack needed an extra dose of healing, but he was never going to take it.

Not unless it was under the guise of work.

“I think we need a plan.” Alex glanced back toward the kitchen. “Becca? When you’re done in there, can you come in here?”

There was a long pause before she offered an okay.

“She’s a jumpy little thing, isn’t she?” Gabe murmured. “What’s the story there?”

“Hell if I know,” Alex returned, his voice just as low so Becca couldn’t hear it in the kitchen. Alex focused on his binder. He’d spent the past year collecting information, making timetables, estimating cost and labor. Gabe and Jack had both been irritated with him for doing it in such detail, and for being so high-handed as to do it all himself.

But Gabe and Jack didn’t seem to understand the necessity of a full, detailed plan of attack, and Alex was most comfortable with a situation when he was in charge. Being in charge had kept everyone under his care safe and unharmed.

Except for that one time. Which reminded him of the time when he’d been a boy. In a car. Powerless…

He shook it away. Neither accident was his fault. He’d been through all the required therapy. He had no guilt and no blame. None.

How could he have known some guy was going to throw a grenade into their vehicle? How could he have planned for that eventuality in enough detail that he could have kept from crashing the DPV? He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

His mind screamed one million possibilities, and he ignored them all. It tried to prod him with memories of his mom’s accident. He pushed it all to the back. Because that’s what he was supposed to do. Ignore the guilt, ignore the pain, ignore the lives that had been lost.

“You okay?”

Alex glanced at Jack, who was eyeing him with an all-too-shrewd gaze.

“I’m fantastic.” He would make sure of it.

Becca stepped into the living room, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders still hunched as if that might protect her from them.

“What’s up?” she asked, her eyes darting around the room and never staying on any one thing for long.

“I had some questions if you’ve got a few minutes to spare?”

She glanced back at the kitchen almost wistfully, but she nodded. “Sure, I’ve got time.”

He knew he’d done nothing to make her afraid. Clearly she had some issues, and they were all her own, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible for putting her at ease and making sure she understood they were all on the same team here.

“I was about to go over my plans with the guys, but I definitely want your input. I had a chance to walk through the bunkhouse this afternoon while the guys were settling in, but you might know something that I didn’t notice.”

“Okay.”

“Here. Have a seat.” He gestured next to him.

If she tried to hide the grimace, she failed, but she didn’t bolt. She moved around the back of the couch and sat down with a very large and safe distance between them.

“Here’s my schedule for tomorrow. I want you to take a look and see if anything seems off.”

She blinked down at the binder. “You already have a schedule for tomorrow?”

“I have a schedule for the next six months.”

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. It was the first time she’d done that without looking like she was working very hard to meet his gaze. Her eyes were a dark, pretty green that reminded him of summer.

“If we want to open by winter, we need a solid plan. A detailed plan. I know you probably have plans of your own. We can compare and contrast, compromise when necessary.”

“I don’t have anything like this. I just kind of go with the flow. Address problems as they crop up. Figure out what I’m going to do in the morning based on what happened the day before.”

Alex glared at Jack and Gabe as they made choking sounds in an attempt to swallow down laughter. Well, Gabe was trying to hide the laughter; Jack made no bones about it.

Becca looked around the room at all of them. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all. You just uplifted Jack’s and my spirits beyond belief,” Gabe said with a grin.

Her face scrunched into confusion. “I did?”

“We are constantly telling Alex to play it by ear, take it day by day. Mr. Six-Month Schedule doesn’t listen.”

“Just because you schedule something, it doesn’t mean you’re not flexible,” Alex returned. He wasn’t going to let Gabe or Jack give the wrong impression of him. “If something changes or something happens and we need to alter this, we can do it. I have it all saved on my computer.”

Jack snorted.

“Did you do this before?” Becca asked, poking at the binder much like Gabe and Jack did. As though it were some foreign object brought from outer space.

“Before?” he grumbled, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his tone.

“Before you went into the military? Burt and I ran the ranch in a much more…laid-back way.”

Alex scowled and then forced himself to relax. “This is slightly different. We’re starting an entirely new venture. It’s going to require some organization if we want it to run smoothly.”

She cocked her head and studied him. It was the first time he felt like she was really looking at him. She wasn’t hunched into her own world—she was trying to figure him out.

He couldn’t say he liked it. “What?” he demanded.

She shook her head and smiled. Not something nervous or timid, but the kind of smile nurses gave a guy when he asked about getting the hell out of the hospital. Kind but with a little bit of pity laced in there to undercut that kindness.

No, he didn’t like that at all.

“Nothing. Let me take a look at your schedule. I’ll see if I have any thoughts.”

She pulled the binder toward her, and Alex had to resist the urge to yank it back. He didn’t particularly want an outsider’s judgment, but that was going to be part and parcel with all this. Even when he didn’t like it, even when she gave him that pityingly kind smile, he had to deal with it.

She was now his partner, which meant treating her like he’d treated his men. Gentler, maybe, since she was not a Navy SEAL or even a soldier, but with some trust.

So he linked his fingers together and tried to get over the roiling frustration bubbling through him.

* * *

It was the first time Becca felt like she wasn’t…less. Her nerves had settled, her shyness receded. Because with shocking clarity she suddenly understood Alex. Maybe not completely, but a big component of his character. It was quite familiar.

In the aftermath of her childhood illness, her mom had employed that same fervor. She’d begun to think she could plan everything out, schedule everything, protect Becca from every possible threat. Her mom had thought that, with enough control, she could ensure Becca never got hurt or sick again.

Clearly Alex had different motivations, but Becca was willing to wager he thought that, if he planned out everything, he could control his life instead of having it unexpectedly changed for him.

It was the first time since he’d arrived that she felt some empathy for him.

She looked over his schedule for tomorrow. It was meticulous to the point of…she didn’t even know what. She’d never seen anything like it. Burt had certainly never been the kind of man to type things out, let alone print and organize within an inch of their lives.

Alex was a guy who seemed like he was on top of it all and had everything under control. He had that calmness that radiated off of him and made her all the more nervous.

But this… It pointed to something far different underneath that facade. It was an incredible comfort to Becca that he wasn’t as with it as he appeared.

“This is a good start,” she said. “I think you’re going to want to bring in a professional to inspect the bunkhouse. I’m sure you can do a lot of the repairs yourselves, but you want to know the roof and foundation are going to stand up to any plans you make.”

“Can you get me a list of people who’d be able to do that?” Alex returned.

“Sure. I think Connor Black is probably the only one in town. Of course, you could have someone from Bozeman come out too.”

“Connor Black.” Alex rubbed his large hand across his jaw. “I know Connor.”

“I’m sure you know a lot of people. Not exactly a lot of outsiders in the valley. Even after being gone as long as you have.” She gestured at the rest of the binder pages. “May I?”

Alex nodded his assent and she began to flip through his detailed plans. It would be good to work with someone like Alex because this was so beyond her scope. Becca had learned not to make plans. Not too far into the future anyway. Goals, yes. Plans with timelines? No.

Life could be unpredictable and she’d decided to embrace it rather than fight it. One day at a time. She’d had so many setbacks as a kid recovering from meningitis. Autoimmune problems. Minor sicknesses hitting her harder than everyone else. It had taken years to get her health under control, and then more years to convince Mom it really was.

Plans like this were great in theory, but maybe it would be good for Alex to have someone like her who knew how to change ideas on a dime. Who knew life enjoyed sweeping in and knocking your feet out from under you.

After all, hadn’t she been feeling settled and happy and sinking into planning things when Burt had died?

She flipped back to Alex’s plan for tomorrow. Tomorrow was all she was going to focus on. She’d leave the meticulous planning to Alex.

“Tomorrow’s plan looks good. I’ll get Connor’s number for you, so you can call him first thing. I have a meeting with a possible therapist tomorrow afternoon.”

“Therapist?”

The sharp demand came from Jack. She had to look away from his intense and slightly angry glare.

“I have the horsemanship background, not the therapeutic part. We’ll need someone who’s trained. No one in Blue Valley is licensed in what I need to get my mentorship hours, so we’ll have to hire someone who can do that. I’ve had some phone conversations with a few candidates, but this woman seems the most interested and the most qualified. I’m going to conduct a formal one-on-one interview to make sure she’s what we need.”

“We don’t need a therapist,” Gabe said, clear and flat.

“Especially a civilian,” Jack agreed.

Jack’s little comment had her spine straightening. “What kind of problem do you have with a civilian? I’m a civilian.”

Jack didn’t say anything, though he held her gaze, not once blinking his unflinching, blue eyes.

“We’re bringing military men here to work and find purpose,” Alex said, clearly trying to play peacemaker. “I’m not sure I agree with Gabe and Jack that we don’t need a therapist on staff, but I do think it should be former military. Add to the fact that she’s a woman—”

Becca whirled on Alex. “What problem do you have with her being a woman?”

“We don’t have the facilities to house a woman. You can’t have us and her living in the same bunkhouse as anyone who comes here. It wouldn’t be comfortable for her or them. We need to focus on men. At least as we start.”

“Bullshit,” Becca retorted. Every single one of them raised their eyebrows at her and she was mad enough that she could only think, Good. Good she had surprised them and good they learned she could be…a bit nervy at times, but she had a backbone too.

“A therapist licensed in therapeutic horsemanship and counseling who has studied PTSD extensively has exactly the background necessary regardless of her military experience. Not to mention, this isn’t for men only—there are plenty of women who’ve been deployed and deserve to find purpose here if they choose to.”

“That would be complicated, Becca. Right now we’re creating a single bunkhouse. That’s not about excluding women—it’s about what we can reasonably do.”

“My ass,” she retorted. “If we have an interested female veteran, we’ll find arrangements for her as well. I’m not going to be the only woman here just because you guys are afraid of some breasts.”

Again, she enjoyed the shocked looks on all of their faces. At least until they exchanged glances. It irritated her they could communicate with each other like that, excluding her.

At least when she was irritated with them, her fear and nerves tended to dissipate. Maybe she should just be irritated with them all the time.

“This is a group effort, I know, but the therapeutic horsemanship is mine,” Becca said fiercely. “That’s my baby. We agreed on that. You guys are going to be in charge of all the stuff with the cattle and bringing the veterans in. I’ll handle hiring the staff I need.”

“Don’t you think we should have a consensus, being partners and all?” Alex asked coolly.

She glared at Alex. “No. Certainly not if you’re really going to sit there and say a licensed therapist isn’t qualified to be part of your oh-so-manly endeavor just because she’s a civilian.”

“That’s not what we’re saying. That’s not what Jack meant,” Alex said all too carefully, and while Jack didn’t look pleased to be spoken for, he didn’t say anything further.

“We never talked about having therapists wandering around. It’s going to make a lot of the guys uncomfortable,” Gabe said, and Becca figured it would make Gabe uncomfortable, but she didn’t say that aloud. “At least former military adds some common bond.”

“A guy who’s been through what we’ve been through wants somewhere to have a purpose. We need work. Hard work. Value. That’s the point of what we’re doing,” Alex said, his voice still so calm and even that it stoked her irritation higher.

“I think it’s important we have a licensed therapist on staff,” she returned with none of Alex’s stoicism. “If that’s going to scare you and the other men off, regardless of their military background, then you and they are not ready. You cannot heal someone who doesn’t want to be healed. There has to be some desire, a desire that isn’t wrapped up in whether you can be military buddies with the therapist. We haven’t figured out how the program will go on the day to day, which a therapist will help us with, by the way. That being said, therapeutic horsemanship can be optional, but I’m not giving this part up. And I’m not compromising on this necessity. Even if it makes you lot uncomfortable.”

“Why is this so important to you?” Alex asked, his voice quiet and concerned.

Which made her nerves flutter. She had a lot of reasons for doing this and she wasn’t comfortable sharing them. They were personal and somewhat embarrassing.

She swallowed. “I was planning on having a therapeutic horsemanship arm of the ranch before you called and told me that you wanted to move home. Before Burt died.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm her rioting nerves. She focused on finding the right combination of words to give them enough so they didn’t argue with her, without giving so much of the truth she made herself uncomfortable.

“My focus was going to be kids with terminal illness, but this is pretty rugged terrain. We’re isolated. It would have been difficult for families like that to get here with the health risks involved. Expensive to create the kind of facilities and doctors needed.”

No one seemed particularly impressed, which meant she had to give a little bit more. She looked down at her clasped hands.

“I don’t know you very well, Alex, but I thought a lot about how hard it must have been to be injured and lose your father all in one fell swoop. I couldn’t help but think about how many people go through really hard things after their deployment and how they’d be the perfect candidates for hard work as healing. When you were talking about your idea to bring some soldiers home to find some purpose, I couldn’t think of a better new focus for my horses than wounded veterans.”

That seemed to reach them a little deeper, but still they said nothing. They didn’t exchange glances or look at her—they all had a certain military blankness about their expressions. Becca wondered if it was a choice to respond that way or simply habit.

“Maybe you guys are perfectly healed emotionally.” She didn’t believe that, because if they were healed, they wouldn’t be concerned about having a therapist on the grounds, but she’d give them their space on that right now. “But there will be men and women who come here who will need someone to talk to. Someone who can help them work through their conflicting feelings. You should all know that. Even if you don’t need it, you should know some people will.”

Alex glanced at the two stoic men he’d brought to their ranch. Becca still couldn’t tell what those looks meant, but clearly they were communicating.

“All right. I think if we all agree, it’s fair that Becca handles the therapeutic horsemanship without our interference. We’ll set it up as she had planned, allowing her to hire who she wants. If you do hire a woman, you’ll also be in charge of securing housing for her.”

Becca softened a little. She’d voiced her opinion, and Alex and the men had listened. Maybe she didn’t need to be so sensitive, so knee-jerk in asserting her independence. They weren’t her mother. “Of course.”

“I’ll look at the schedule and determine a good point to reconvene after we’ve got some guys here and see if it’s working.”

The warm glow of compromise faded. “What do you mean ‘if it’s working’?”

“If we’re carrying a therapist on staff and paying her, but she’s not doing anything because no one wants to talk to her, then we’ll have to dissolve that part.”

Becca bit back a nasty retort. She breathed. She counted to ten. She focused on the fact that she knew the soldiers would need this. They still had a lot of work to go before they got there, so she needed to hold her tongue and her ideas would prove themselves.

If they didn’t, she’d fight all three men. Nerves and timidity be damned.