Chapter 5

Alex was quickly learning the downfalls of working with someone you didn’t know.

She didn’t at all seem to appreciate he was letting her lead as she stormed back to the living room where Ms. Finley was waiting.

The potential therapist had settled herself into a chair and looked serene and at ease. That was the thing about psychologists and the like—they always looked so damn calm and pleased and it did nothing but make Alex edgy.

Luckily, he knew how to hide that, just like those people had to be hiding their own shit.

Alex passed around the coffees with his own serene smile in place while Becca asked the woman about her experience.

Oddly enough, Becca seemed at ease. He figured she’d be as skittish as she’d been with him and the guys yesterday. It was why he’d wanted to be a part of the interview. To help, to smooth over any issues. He was used to being in a place of authority. Becca clearly wasn’t, but she appeared to be totally in control and comfortable.

The therapist asked some questions of her own about the position. She and Becca discussed therapeutic horsemanship mentoring, developing programs, horse care, but nothing they discussed put Alex at ease.

What he didn’t know about Ms. Finley was why a young woman would want to move from Denver to the middle of nowhere Montana and try to help a handful of soldiers who meant nothing to her.

“You’ve given me a lot to consider,” Becca said with a smile. Something about that soft, easygoing smile made him think of this morning and smooth, long legs and—nope, he wasn’t going there.

“I have a question,” he blurted with no finesse whatsoever.

Becca scowled at him but he ignored her.

“Absolutely,” Monica replied with a nod. “Fire away.”

“Why is military PTSD and recovery of interest to you?”

“My father was in the army during Desert Storm. He struggled when he returned, mentally and physically, and I was inspired to look into fields that might allow me to be of some help. Aside from that, my husband was a helicopter pilot in the army, and he was killed in Afghanistan. If you’re looking for understanding, Mr. Maguire, I have it.”

Shit. “Ms. Finley—”

She lifted a hand to cut him off. “I know how men like you think, to an extent. There’s a distrust of mental health professionals and a distrust of anyone who hasn’t been through what you’ve been through. That’s understandable, but I have a unique perspective. I have observed a variety of responses to the stresses of war as a daughter, as a wife, and as a professional. I’m very, very invested in your idea and I hope you’ll seriously consider hiring me.”

“We’ll do more than consider it, Monica. I think you’d be perfect for the position,” Becca said, her tone brooking no argument.

Except Alex had some argument. They needed time to discuss this, but Becca sent him a killing glare.

“Thank you, Becca,” Ms. Finley said warmly. “I do feel like it’s pertinent to let you know I have a son. If you hire me, we would need to make the move before the school year starts. If you wouldn’t be paying me until the men are brought on, I may need to make some alternate arrangements. And it’d be incredibly important to me that Colin be allowed to spend time here and not feel unwelcome or underfoot.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t see why that’d be a problem. Do you, Alex?”

Alex tried not to think too hard on it. A kid who’d lost his dad to war. He’d known those dads, who’d left behind entire families. “No,” he said, surprised to find his voice sounding a little too scratchy. “We’d have no problems with that.”

“Good.”

“And we’ll work something out about getting you guys up here before the school year starts,” Becca added. “I think you’ll be such an asset.”

Becca and Monica stood, so Alex followed suit. While he agreed with Becca that Monica would be an excellent choice for an on-site therapist, the idea of all of it left him…itchy.

Becca and Monica shook hands, and then Monica turned to him. She offered a genial smile that put him on edge, which probably wasn’t fair. He just…

He just…

Damn if he had an ending for that thought. He shook Monica’s hand and tried to force a smile of his own.

She placed her hand over their clasped ones and looked him directly in the eye. “Thank you for your service,” she said emphatically.

It took every ounce of willpower not to jerk his hand away, and something about her expression gave him the more-than-uncomfortable feeling she knew that.

Becca showed Monica out and Alex stood in the living room trying to breathe through whatever the hell was working through him. He felt shaken and his breathing wasn’t even, but surely it was just…hunger. Too much coffee. Why would the woman’s thanks affect him in any way?

He didn’t hear Becca come back inside until she spoke. He very nearly jumped.

“She’s perfect. Admit it.”

“She is perfect for the role,” he agreed, but that discomfort in his gut wouldn’t allow him to leave it at that. “I remain unconvinced we need the role.”

Becca rolled her eyes and began collecting the half-full coffee mugs. Alex ignored the fact that he’d only had a few sips of his.

“What? Are you afraid she’s going to find out you’re not the paragon of mental health you’d like to think you are?”

He tried to refute that, opened his mouth to explain just what his thought process on the matter was, but he couldn’t seem to get those all-important words out.

She glanced at him with too-soft eyes and a cocked head, her expression making him tense. “That’s actually it, isn’t it? You’re afraid she’s going to tell you you’re messed up in the head.”

“Hogwash.”

She snorted. “Hogwash. Who says hogwash? Hick is like eighty and even he doesn’t say that.”

It had been his mother’s favorite word, but he didn’t want to think about that. “Hick says fiddlesticks instead of fuck.”

Again Becca paused her tidying, but this time she smiled at him. Soft, sweet, tempting.

No. Wrong word. Something else.

“Yeah, he does,” she murmured before walking into the kitchen.

Alex watched her disappear. It felt like things were spiraling out of his control, but he needed to stick to what they’d decided last night. Give Becca the space to do this, and reevaluate if it wasn’t working.

And the kid?

Alex pushed the thought of the kid away. He tried to push the thought of an on-site therapist away. Jack, Gabe, and he were fine. They didn’t need to get messed up in worrying about any of that.

They’d been discharged honorably and with all the debriefing required by the Navy SEALs. They were fine.

Let Becca worry about the therapist. She hadn’t needed his help in the interview, so things were great. He needed to focus on the cattle. His plans for teaching Gabe and Jack—and the men who would come—how to be cattle ranchers.

Admittedly, back in the hospital in Texas, he’d thought ranching would be like riding a bike. He’d get back and remember all the different aspects to it, but everything was proving to be a bit more difficult than he’d imagined.

Which meant he needed to go have a good couple hours’ conversation with Hick and really settle himself in for what his end of the bargain would require.

Some therapist thanking him for his service…or all the ways he hadn’t done his job…weren’t worth a second thought. He was fine.

No one was going to convince him otherwise.

* * *

Becca rode her horse through the north pasture. It wasn’t part of any of her chores for the day, but as the sun set on this beautiful spring afternoon, she’d wanted some alone time. Time to breathe. Some time to ride in the cool but vibrant air.

She was going to have to explain to the guys that her mother was coming for dinner tomorrow. She was going to have to warn them about the way her mom would fuss and say all sorts of things that would make everyone uncomfortable.

Becca could ask Mom not to go on and on about how the men needed to take care of Becca. She could beg her mother not to badger them with directives on how Becca needed someone to make sure she was healthy and safe, but if Becca told her not to do it, she was almost certain Mom would do it all the more.

It was going to suck, but Becca couldn’t dwell on that. She was still just happy her mom had given her some independence by moving off the ranch. Something Becca couldn’t have dreamed possible in the direct aftermath of Burt’s death.

Becca drew her horse to a stop at the top of a swell of land and looked out over the mountains in the distance. It was the most beautiful sight in the world. Awe inspiring. Every time she looked out at those mountains, she knew she had a place here. Felt it deep in her bones and her soul. She belonged to this ranch and she was doing some good with it.

Moments like this filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. Every time she’d gotten so worried about Alex and his friends coming that she’d been ready to call him up and call it off, she’d ridden out here and found her strength again. Her courage.

Becca watched the blaze of gold fall deeper behind the mountains. Bitter cold swept in fast, but she could feel spring in the air, the way the snow melted throughout the day. No more had fallen for a week. A good late-winter storm could swing through and bury them again, but spring was getting there. Rebirth and renewal were everywhere.

She’d needed that reminder last year, repeatedly. That new things and lives could come from death and grief and cold. She needed the reminder again this year as she started this new venture. And found her strength. The strength in herself.

She’d done a great job yesterday with Monica, and Becca was so excited to have a woman that passionate and skilled and invested on board.

Of course, Becca was more than a little curious about the way Alex had paled when the woman had thanked him for his service. It reminded her a little bit of his expression when she’d told him “welcome home” at the airport.

The man thought he was Mr. In Charge and In Control, but Becca was beginning to see a thread of something underneath that. She hoped Monica’s presence would help all three of the guys. They might not think they needed some therapy, but Becca was quite certain they did.

She nudged Pal to turn and head back to the ranch. Pal needed little encouragement to take off. She was a calm, steady horse, but she loved to gallop as much as Becca loved the freedom to enjoy it.

As a teenager, she’d been afraid. Afraid of testing her limits and the way any testing might hurt her mother. But Burt had encouraged her to take a few risks. To find her own way. Now, she couldn’t gallop across the ranch and not miss him.

The pain of missing him was starting to get to be an almost-good type of hurt. It still made her sad he wasn’t here, but it felt good to know he’d be proud of what she was doing. He’d be proud of her.

She wondered if Alex knew how proud Burt had been of his son the soldier, the SEAL.

Out of sheer habit, Becca pulled on her reins and slowed Pal down before she reached the view of the house. Mom wasn’t there to scold, but it wasn’t easy to break ten years of habit.

She nudged Pal to walk toward the stable, but she heard voices on the opposite side of the stable and rerouted Pal to go around instead of inside. They turned the corner of the building and found Alex, Jack, Gabe, and Hick standing around Magnolia, the horse Burt had bought for Mom.

A good horse, stable and calm. Used to nervous or finicky riders, which made Becca think this was some kind of lesson.

Hick was shaking his head and Alex looked stern and disapproving. Gabe was laughing. Considering Jack was leaning against the stable wall and scowling, Becca had a feeling he was being uncooperative.

“I’m not getting on the fucking horse. You never said getting on a horse was part of this.”

“You’ve stared down men with assault rifles, Jack. How the hell are you scared of a horse?” Gabe asked, clearly needling him.

“I’m not scared of the horse. I grew up on a damn farm,” Jack retorted. “I got a chunk blasted out of my leg. I’m not looking to break it trying to get on that thing.”

Becca urged Pal closer to the group, finally garnering the attention of the men. Gabe and Hick smiled and nodded their greeting, Jack cursed, and Alex looked at her with a focused intensity she didn’t understand. She didn’t think she’d ever understand him.

“Look, Becca’s not afraid of a horse, Jack.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gabe.”

“Why don’t you hop on, Gabe?” Becca offered, smiling sweetly.

Gabe grinned. “Touché. I like her.”

She rolled her eyes and dismounted, walking Pal over to the guys. So far, she’d heard them all swear at Jack and accuse him of being afraid, but she hadn’t heard anyone offer any kindness, especially considering he was worried about his injuries.

Maybe that would be her role here, with these three very different men—a little kindness.

“You know, when I moved here, I was intimidated by the size of the horses.”

“Okay, if she’s going to try and psychoanalyze me, I’m getting on the damn thing.” Jack finally moved off the wall and over to the horse. Though irritation and maybe anger radiated off him in waves, he approached the horse exactly as he should have. He used all the right holds, had all the right footing. Though his overall mount was a little bit clumsy, it was technically perfect.

“There. Happy?”

Becca grinned. Maybe it had been accidental—she hadn’t thought kindness would spur him on quite that way—but she had been the one to get him to do it. Still counted.

“Do you want me to teach you how to—”

“Fuck off,” he muttered. He very cautiously but correctly nudged the horse forward. He had the appropriate grip on the reins, best posture in the saddle.

“You’re doing an excellent job for a beginner,” she called.

He flipped her off and she laughed. It very nearly felt like having a brother, or what she’d imagined having a brother would be like. When she turned to face Gabe and Alex, they were staring at her somewhat openmouthed.

She ignored the errant thought she didn’t feel particularly sisterly to Alex, and she was step-related to him. “What?” she asked.

“We’ve been trying to convince Jack to get on that horse all damn day. It took you about three words.” Alex was frowning at her.

Becca flashed him a smile. “I bet you never tried to be nice.”

“He hates when people are nice to him,” Gabe returned.

“Well, apparently the thing he hates is the thing that got him up there.” She shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

“She’s smart,” Gabe said, somewhat in awe, as though he were surprised.

“And she’s right here,” Becca said. “You can stop talking about her as if she weren’t.”

Gabe laughed, good natured as ever. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So, when are you going to get on a horse?”

Gabe cleared his throat. “Today was Jack’s lesson.”

“Uh-huh. And what about you, Alex? Did you get on a horse, or did you just give Jack shit all day?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “I grew up here. I know how to ride a horse. I don’t need any lessons.”

“Really? Want to race?”

He took a step forward and opened his mouth to say something, but his leg seemed to give out a little bit on the hard step forward. He corrected quickly, but up until that point, she’d thought Alex completely healed of his injuries. He didn’t noticeably limp the way Jack and Gabe did. Clearly he was mostly healed, but that near stumble pointed to some residual effects.

“It’s almost dinnertime. It’s your turn, isn’t it?” Alex said, his voice flat and his expression inscrutable.

“It is indeed,” Becca returned, forcing a pleasant smile. “Come on, Pal,” she murmured to the horse, giving his reins a tug as she walked toward the barn. “Hope you like salad,” she yelled over her shoulder, hoping to get a laugh or a smile at least.

She got both from Gabe, neither from Alex. Not exactly a surprise.

Though she felt good about herself for helping get Jack on the horse, she was a little bit concerned about how she might have made Alex feel in regards to his injuries. She needed to be more careful. She couldn’t let the fact that the guys gave each other shit make her think she could do the same.

She didn’t know them as well as they knew each other. She didn’t know their vulnerabilities, though it was hard to imagine Alex having any. Still, she had to be more careful.

She took Pal into the stable and led him into his stall. She talked to the horse as she brushed and groomed him. Since she’d never had friends, had never actually gone to school, she had always talked to the horses. She’d participated in a few homeschool outings once she’d gotten older and Mom had finally relinquished some of her tight-fisted control, but the ranch animals had been her friends. It was a one-sided relationship, sure, but when it was all she had, she had to go with it. Had to get what satisfaction out of it she could.

“It’s not so one-sided, is it, baby?” she murmured, brushing Pal down. “But I do need to get better with actual people since actual people are going to be here.” Actual people. Mostly men. Soldiers. Hurting. Healing.

“I just have to remember no matter how obnoxious they are, I can’t provoke them. It isn’t fair.”

“Neither is treating us with kid gloves.”

Becca screeched and dropped the brush. She pressed a hand to her heart as she turned to find Alex walking toward her.

“Why are you eavesdropping on me?”

“Why are you talking out loud if you don’t want to be overheard?”

She turned back to face the horse, grabbing the brush and focusing on finishing the job. Brush, comb, wash. All while trying to fight the embarrassment swamping her. “I wasn’t talking about treating you with kid gloves,” she muttered.

“It’s exactly what you were doing.” He’d gotten closer, had to be standing at the entrance to Pal’s stall for his low voice to be that clear. “Unless you can explain some other reason why you think provoking us would be unfair.”

Becca frowned at Pal’s flank, trying to find the words that would refute that, but he had a point. Maybe she was talking about treating them differently, but there was a reason. A good one.

“Your leg buckled,” she said, her voice so quiet and squeaky it was a wonder he could hear her at all, but she could tell from the way the air went tense and still he had heard.

“I can race you. Race right now,” he finally responded, his voice cool and sure.

She shook her head, irritated enough with him to get over her embarrassment and meet his challenging gaze. “You’re going to let your pride hurt your injuries?”

“I’m healed.” He was standing at the entrance of the stall, far too…broad and foreboding and clearly angry.

“Look, I’m sorry if something I did or said hurt your pride or whatever, but—”

“You didn’t.”

“Then why are you looming there?” she said, gesturing at him with the sponge she’d grabbed to wash Pal down with.

He opened his mouth but eventually only closed it without saying anything.

“Exactly. Your knee gave out. It’s nothing to ignore. Certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I damn well know my injuries are nothing to be ashamed of.” But he said it with a fervor she almost didn’t believe.

She didn’t like him still standing there, so she did the same thing she’d done to Jack. Employed some kindness. “Would you consider telling me what happened?”

He stiffened and backed away, the fierceness in his nearly golden-brown gaze dimming into that shuttered thing he did. Though his reaction had been what she’d expected, his words surprised her.

“It was a crash. A grenade was thrown into the back of the vehicle I was driving.”

Becca couldn’t have hidden her horror if she’d tried. He said it so flatly. She couldn’t imagine it—not that she’d been able to imagine any scenario that wasn’t horrifying.

“Most of my injuries were sustained when I ran into an embankment due to the explosion. Gabe was next to me and in the seat that took the most damage from the crash. Jack was in the back. His injuries mostly stem from the grenade blast.”

She’d lost track of washing down Pal, was blindingly aware of how hard she’d thought her life was being sick and having an overprotective mother. But Alex, and Gabe and Jack, had gone to war. War. As a choice.

“You didn’t get any injuries from the grenade?”

His eyebrows drew together, the only not smooth, not calm thing on his face. He squinted out the barn doors. “There was another man in the car who stepped on the grenade and positioned his body so he’d get most of the force of the blow, which lessened its impact on the rest of us.”

Becca blinked. She couldn’t bring herself to ask, but she had a bad feeling she knew what had happened to the fourth man.

“My lingering injuries stem from the vehicle folding in on my knee, requiring what amounted to a knee replacement. My knee is fine now. I just sometimes don’t have all the strength it needs, but it’s only a matter of time until I’m completely recovered.”

“Is that what the doctors say, or is that what you say?” When he didn’t respond, she knew what the answer was. “I see. Well, I have no intention of treating you or Gabe or Jack like some sort of delicate invalids. I just want to strike the right balance. You three know each other. You’ve been through hell together. You have the right to jab at each other, and I don’t…I don’t know you well enough to get into that.”

“If they’re jabbing at you, you can jab right back. You don’t have to feel bad about that. Jack can be a surly ass, and Gabe’s an obnoxious moth—” He stopped and cleared his throat pointedly.

She smiled, happy for the bit of levity. “What about you?”

“I’m a perfect gentleman.”

She laughed, and though he frowned, she saw a little glimpse of humor behind it. It was a nice moment to have some humor. It’d been a long few days of…well, not really understanding each other. It would take time to find that understanding, but she liked the progress they were making.

What she didn’t quite like—or maybe more accurately didn’t know how to feel about—was that little tickle in the bottom of her gut whenever their gazes met. Like nerves, but not like the nerves she knew so well. It wasn’t about not knowing what to say. It wasn’t even not knowing what to do. It was something else. Something she’d never felt before.

She got the strangest notion he felt it too because he wasn’t saying anything and he was staring at her. Just as she was staring at him. The moment held too long, and a prickly awareness spread across her skin as though he’d touched her. He hadn’t, wasn’t even close enough to.

“My mother’s coming to dinner tomorrow night,” she blurted. She had no idea why all of a sudden she was nervous with him again.

“Well, we can give you your space.”

If only. “You misunderstand me. She’s coming to dinner to meet you. I mean, all of you. This is fully a check-on-Becca dinner and all three of your presences will be required.”

“Not necessary. We’ll make ourselves scarce and you can have a nice meal with your mother.”

“You obviously haven’t spent enough time with my mother to understand that no is not an option.”

“I’m a grown man and a soldier.”

“But you are no Sandra Denton.”

He gave her an odd look, almost like he didn’t believe her. But he’d see. Oh, he’d see, and Becca could only hope she wouldn’t be too embarrassed to enjoy it.