Chapter Eight

Dusty wiped sweat from his brow, noting that more instantly appeared. He wanted to kick himself for not bringing a sweatband or at least a handkerchief with him. Fixing fences always proved hot work in the summer. Add in temperatures in the triple digits and a clear, sun-filled sky and he’d be lucky to have any dry clothing by the time he finished. He yanked off his leather gloves, unsnapped his lightweight shirt and slid it off. His discarded garment safely wrapped around the fence, he tugged on his gloves, picked up the pliers and returned to work.

The crunch of shoes on moisture-starved grass drew his attention. Glancing up, he found April walking his direction, a large Thermos in hand. Her typical attire of T-shirt and jeans covered a petite body with all the right curves. Her blonde hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail that swayed with each movement. A light layer of makeup covered her face, adding to the natural beauty and supple skin so soft to the touch. Lavender carried to him on the breeze, the scent nearly as enticing as the woman headed his direction.

She’d headed home after helping him with the early morning chores and had obviously bathed and changed. After the past three days of her hanging out with him from sunup to sundown, he found the time alone almost deafeningly quiet and a bit lonely. They didn’t have to speak in order to share companionable silence, simply having her close by made his day a bit brighter. Odd, considering he’d moved there three years ago to escape meddlesome family and enjoy a fairly isolated existence. Never once had he felt the depressing weight of loneliness, not with Ben, the horses and an endless list of chores to do. Not until April showed up and stuck to him like a burr in a horse’s tail. Since then, he found himself looking for her every morning, anticipating her presence and chipper attitude.

“I thought you might be thirsty. It’s sweet tea.” She smiled at him and crossed the remaining distance with a long stride before handing over the container.

He stuffed the tool back in his pocket, took off his gloves and set them on top of the thick wooden post. “Thanks.” He flipped the lid open and took a long, cooling drink, the liquid nearly as refreshing as a dip in a chilly creek. Each swallow soothed his dry throat and pepped up his energy.

He lowered the container, only to find April staring at his bare chest. Her gaze reflected appreciation, intrigue and a hint of blatant desire. He could almost see the hamster wheel turning in her mind as she checked him out.

Before he might have reminded her of his solidly single status. Now, after spending some time with her and hearing her background, he didn’t have the heart to criticize. Instead he soaked up the silent compliment with relish. Women had looked at him before with all sorts of expressions written on their faces. Yet no one had seemed as interested, as enthralled and sincere as April. She continued to focus on him like a man stuck on a deserted island for months looking at a juicy steak. Hungry.

Desire hit him like a runaway train, sending a wave of absolute need straight to his groin. Insistent and aching, his erection protested the tight quarters in his denim jeans nearly as much as the hardness demanded an outlet. Preferably April naked under him, spread for his taking, her nails biting into his back as she begged him to sink deeper, to carry them both straight to rapture.

He drew in a breath and ignored the sultry temptation of the woman before him. Getting all hot and bothered each time she came around would sentence him to walking with a rigid boner the majority of each day. Not a bit comfortable for work, let alone climbing into a saddle. Chastising himself, he pushed his body’s needs far from his mind.

Glancing up, he found a pretty pink blush coloring her cheeks, a telltale sign she’d been caught staring at him. He grinned to himself, enjoying her innocent reaction to his exposed body. His groin tightened incredibly as she continued to rake him with her twinkling gaze.

Time for a distraction before he got another silly idea in his head like kissing her once more, slipping his tongue inside for another heady taste of the woman who proved a contradiction to his beliefs about the fairer sex. “I thought you were going home to catch up on chores there.”

“I got most of them done. The advantage of living in a small house, the cleaning takes only a short time.” She shrugged. “I figured you’d be out here still working since that was on your to-do list this morning and thought you might need something cold to drink.”

“I appreciate it.” He considered her generosity and the fact she spent so many hours at his stable. If she had a hobby or a social life, he didn’t see how. He’d wager her days were spent alone and devoid of excitement, which would explain why she tagged along with him all the time lately.

A sudden observation came to mind. “You’ve never mentioned having a pet.”

“I don’t have one.”

His eyebrows arched. “As much as you love animals, I find that strange.”

She sighed and reached out to steady herself on the corner post. “I had to put my cat down a few months back. Cancer. After that, I’m still not sure I’m ready for another one. Then I saw the love between you and Ben and decided to take a chance with a dog. A war dog.”

“I understand.” He could empathize. Bonds formed with animals were as strong as family. In his case, stronger. Looking up, he found Ben still lying in the shade at the entrance to the stable, guarding as Dusty had told him to do. Not that he expected someone to try to break in while he worked in the far pasture, but he preferred Ben stay in the cooler shade rather than lie in the hot sun at his side. The dog’s thick coat wasn’t made for these extreme conditions. His advanced age didn’t help, either.

Once more he replayed April’s words. To lose a pet, especially having to make the difficult decision to end their life, took a toll on a person’s soul. He knew Ben’s day would come and hoped Mother Nature made the decision instead of him.

“I noticed the smoke is getting thicker.” She turned her attention to the sky, effectively changing the difficult subject. “The news said the fire is still out of control, pushed by high winds, and heading more this direction now.”

Dusty took another drink and replaced the lid. “Yeah. It’s getting worse.” He pinned her with his gaze. “You need to start packing now.”

April blinked at him and her face scrunched in bewilderment. “Packing? The news said the fire is still a hundred miles away.”

He raked the horizon, sniffing the breeze. The whoosh of chopper blades carried to him. Turning, he spotted the helicopter flying fairly low to the ground.

Images flashed into his mind like pictures in a slideshow before smoothing out into a 3D action movie on a big screen.

Explosions covered the sound of the Black Hawk as it landed. His team jumped out, rifles at the ready, as a hail of bullets flew their direction. Men dove for cover. He hit the deck, felt sand kick up in his face as a bullet landed too close for comfort. Adrenaline spurted into his blood, giving him the energy to regain his feet and surge ahead, running in a crouch to make less of a target. Thick, acrid smoke filled the air along with the stench of blood, battle and death. Gunshots drowned out the yells of the soldiers and the cries of the wounded. Ahead of him, a Humvee jumped as yet another roadside bomb detonated, throwing the passengers high into the air before they plummeted to the ground and lay crumpled like sacks of potatoes, blood covering their clothes. Body parts flew like projectiles through the dust.

His team leader waved them ahead. With a burst of speed, Dusty ran flat out to the line of military vehicles, hit the ditches for cover once again, then lifted his rifle and aimed. Rounds burst from his gun at a furious pace. Over and over he aimed and shot, not keeping count of the numbers of men who went down under the relentless barrage. The barrel of his gun heated to near scorching as he shoved yet another clip in and fired once more, laying a steady stream of deadly bullets in an effort to eradicate the enemy, protect his team members and rescue the ambushed Army personnel before they suffered any more losses.

Turning his head to the side, he saw a man dressed in white palm his cell phone. Urgency rushed through him at the realization of the man’s brutal intentions. Spinning around, he barely aimed, simply shooting off enough rounds to ensure the man wouldn’t sit back up, reclaim his cell phone and set off another deadly bomb.

A sharp bite of pain drew a vicious curse from his throat. Looking down, he found his shirt turning red. Rage and months of rigid training took over. Ignoring the wound, he emptied the rest of his clip, not stopping until his gun clicked empty and no other tangos stuck their head over the small hill.

Hearing a moan, he twisted to find one of his teammates on the ground, holding his leg—or what was left of it. A medic rushed over and opened his treatment box. Another man spoke into his radio, presumably calling for a medical chopper pickup. Hurrying over, Dusty dropped to his knees and took Blaine’s hand in his. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re gonna make it.”

Blaine’s brown eyes, filled with pain, met his. “Kill that son of a bitch for me.”

Dusty nodded. “Gladly.”

The medical staff shuffled Blaine onto a board and scurried off toward a safe landing zone several yards behind them. He watched them go, his heart in his throat as he wondered if Blaine would even survive.

“Dusty? Dusty?”

For a moment he thought one of the team called his name. A few seconds later, he realized a woman had spoken.

Blinking, he struggled to pull himself away from the horrific scene.

“What do you see?” April stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on his biceps.

He flinched at her touch, but managed to pull himself out of the waking nightmare. Sucking in a deep breath, he focused on the concern written on her face, the pretty blue eyes full of sympathy.

“A glimpse into hell.” The quiet words came out gravelly and hoarse.

“A flashback.” She trailed her fingers down his arm, her touch light and soothing. Finding his hand, she linked her fingers with his.

He tilted his head back, drew in air and willed his pounding heart to slow.

She squeezed his fingers. “It’s okay now.”

Swiveling, he faced her, finding the caress reassuring and helpful in banishing the memories back into the recesses of his mind. He seized the present reality and held on tight.

“Shit.” He ran his free hand through his hair and shook his head. Still a bit rattled, he forced calm and control back to the fore.

That was fucking awful. He’d had nightmares countless times. Never before had he experienced a flashback and he sure as hell didn’t want to see another one. To have his life taken over in a split second, where he could have sworn he’d returned to the front, unsettled him like nothing else could. He prided himself on a will of steel and supreme control. Having a flashback had nearly demolished his hard-won determination and shaken him to the core.

Gathering up his inner control, he blew out a long breath and looked back to April.

She found the scar on his upper arm with her fingers, then lightly traced the roughened and uneven skin. Her brow furrowed. “You were wounded.”

He nodded, her caress and fascination had stolen his ability to speak. Emotions flooded him, namely relief and need. No other woman in recent memory had touched him like April did, with care and tenderness. She dug a little deeper under his skin and planted roots.

Why her? Why now?

After months of contentment alone, why did she have to come along and show him how much he longed for the company of a woman—the gentle contact, her listening ear? April’s gift of humor kept him off balance, as did her stubbornness and refusal to back down at his surliness. He’d thought he just needed to get laid, to work off some built-up steam. Instead he found himself drawn into the moment, standing in the hot sun with April holding his hand and rubbing his arm in a show of support, soothing the last images from his mind as she eased him back into the present.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.” He dropped her hand in order to reach for another drink. He opened the Thermos and took another long swallow, trying to add moisture to his suddenly dry mouth. Done, he replaced the lid and set the container at his feet. “Thanks again.”

“Sure.” She studied him for a long moment. “Is the fence stable for now?”

He tilted his head, perplexed by her question. “Yeah, why?”

She smiled shyly. “Why don’t you come up to the house? I’ll fix us some lunch.”

Dusty opened his mouth to protest, but quickly changed his mind. The more he tried to push her away, the stickier she became. Instead of a harsh rejection, he met her gaze and nodded. “I’m about done here. Why don’t I finish up first while you go on inside?”

“I’ll wait.” She shifted the weight on her feet and appeared a bit antsy.

For a second he couldn’t see the reason for her behavior change, then the light bulb clicked on in his brain. She’d only been in his house once before. Walking in unattended and scouring through his fridge probably crossed the line into awkward and intrusive. He’d feel the same way if the roles had been reversed. “I’ll be done in a couple of minutes.”

She glanced up at him and nodded. Relief crossed her face. “Okay.” April turned and surveyed the horizon. “I know the fire is still a ways off, but I can’t help but be concerned.” Worry edged into her tone.

He followed the line of her vision. “Truth be told, so am I.” He blew out a breath. “I think we should prepare for an evacuation. Without rain and with these winds, that fire will spread worse than a locust infestation across the land.” If only heavy moisture would appear. No such luck. The weatherman droned on each night about the same old forecast with no relief in sight. His gut told him something had to break and soon. Unfortunately, right now the break seemed to be coming in the form of an inferno. “Fires are fickle. They can change on a dime. If that happens, things can go to hell in a handbasket real quick.” He looked up once more, noticing the distant plumes of gray smoke, and his gut clenched.

“Where will you take the horses?” She looked over the field at the animals standing idle in the shade, their tails continuously flipping to shoo away flies.

The question had entered his mind more than once. Thus far no answers appeared. “I’ll make some calls today.” And hope that someone has room for that many animals for an extended period of time and an extra trailer or two to haul them at a moment’s notice.

April eyed the sky with worry written across her face. As much as he wanted to ease the stark lines, he couldn’t. He’d make plans and get everything ready just in case the worst-case scenario became reality. His luck had held thus far, but as he’d learned in the military, eventually everyone’s luck ended.

* * * *

“You really need to get to the store sometime.” April smiled at Dusty over her grilled cheese sandwich. They’d returned to the house for lunch only for her to find he had little available for a quick meal preparation. She made do with sandwiches and chips, but also made a point to remind herself to bring him something more substantial later. “A man can’t live on sandwiches alone.”

“I’ve got stuff in the freezer.” He took a long swallow of his ice water.

“I have a feeling you don’t cook much. Probably not much point when it’s just one person. At least that’s my experience.”

“I’ve made do. Better than the MREs in Afghanistan.”

She blinked at the mention of his service. He’d never really brought up many details, and the fact he did so now surprised and delighted her. A sign of trust and acceptance, hopefully. “Were they tasty?”

He snorted and bit into his sandwich. “It was food. Some days we were too busy to eat anything.”

“You went hungry?” Concern swamped her.

He shrugged.

April took a long drink. Never before had she really thought about the frontline troops getting fed, especially during battle. Now Dusty gave her the impression that, at least in his experience, food became a luxury. Once again her heart clenched at what he must have gone though. “I’m sorry. You did so much, and the thought of you doing without bothers me.”

He took another bite and chewed. His gaze met hers briefly before he stared at his plate.

End of discussion about his service, obviously. But she didn’t want to let the small glimpse into his past end.

She recalled the event earlier, a flashback, a horrible one at that. Presumably the chopper flying overhead had triggered the images. Understandable, yet she worried. In their short association she knew he’d missed sleep one night due to nightmares, now this.

As a nurse, she saw patients with post-traumatic stress now and again, especially veterans. One had even warned her not to touch him when he was asleep for fear of an instinctive response that could endanger her. She’d taken his word and made sure to knock before entering his room each time to avoid startling him. Yet she’d never seen someone have a flashback, seen them transfixed, staring off into space, unresponsive to their name being called. Dusty had done just that. His jaw had clenched, his eyes set, his lips pulled into a thin line. She’d seen his fists tighten and known his heart had to be racing as he suddenly panted for breath.

Her heart went out to him—living with the memories of horror, dealing with nightmares and flashbacks. How he kept his sanity, she didn’t know. Probably sheer guts and stoic control. Unfortunately, she worried his tough determination wouldn’t be enough over time. He needed the peace and serenity the animals brought him. He especially needed Ben. But in the long run, she thought he also needed some professional help.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She tiptoed into the topic with hesitation and tentativeness. After all, they’d known each other less than a week—not enough time to develop a strong enough rapport to broach such sensitive subjects.

His gaze met hers as he crunched a chip.

“I know most soldiers suffer from PTSD after returning from war. I’ve read even the war dogs do.” When he said nothing, she plowed ahead. “It’s got to be very difficult and unsettling. I just wondered if you’d considered seeing a therapist about it.”

Dusty stared at her for a long moment, his face expressionless even as his eyes bored through her. She held her breath and refused to back down. Tension filled the room, so much so Ben trotted over and rested his chin on Dusty’s thigh. Dusty petted him and finished the last bite of his meal. “I’ve got work to do.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and stood. “Go home and get packed.” With those final words, he strode out the door and back into the stable, Ben right on his heels.

April’s hopes and heart sank. She lowered her head in defeat. She’d stepped over the line with Dusty and knew it, but only because she truly cared.

Standing, she gathered up the remnants of their lunch, snapped the clasp over the bag of chips and returned them to where she found them. She turned on the hot water, set the plug in the sink and added detergent. After gathering up the dirty dishes, she placed them in the soapy water then started washing, her thoughts a whirlwind.

At least he didn’t yell. She found one positive in a whole convoluted mess of negatives. She’d seen his face pinch when he ordered her to leave. Evidently she’d hit a touchy nerve and he didn’t feel comfortable discussing his issues with a near stranger.

“I’m such an idiot.” She sighed and continued with her task. They had found a balance as friends, yet she’d had to push, had to mess everything up with her big mouth.

Finishing the last plate, she quickly dried everything and returned all of them to the cupboard. She wiped off the kitchen table and the countertops, then let the dirty water out. Hanging her rag over the bridge between the sinks, she surveyed the room and gave a nod of approval. Clean enough.

With a heavy heart, she exited the house section and entered the stable, searching hard for Dusty, only to find herself alone. Striding outside, she raked the area with her eyes, finally locating him in the back pasture, collecting the black filly he was in the process of breaking.

Uncertain what to do, she pondered her options. She could wait for him to return and apologize. Or leave as he requested. Or try to find some common middle ground. Decisions, decisions. Walking away felt like abandonment, yet she didn’t want to press her luck by hanging around if he needed space.

He approached, watching her like a hawk. A tad uncomfortable, she lifted her chin and straightened her back. Don’t let him see you sweat. She snorted to herself. She’d been perspiring since she’d gotten up that morning. He’d long since seen droplets of moisture bead and trickle down her face. Same with him. His clothes were damp in spots and would continue to be so until the horrendous heat broke.

He led the filly in and tied her to a stall so he could saddle and bridle her. His face gave little indication of his emotions, although his dark eyes didn’t appear nearly as cold as before.

April met him as he finished tying the knot. “Look. I probably overstepped my bounds. I’m sorry if I offended you, but I’m not sorry I said something. I hate the thought of you hurting.” She bit her lip and looked directly at him. “You deserve to be happy and free.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Who says I’m not?” The words came out clipped, full of annoyance.

She went with her gut. “I think anyone with bad dreams compliments of their years of service wouldn’t consider themselves happy. Not until they found a way to cope and hopefully control the side effects of being a hero.”

“I’m no one’s hero.”

April refused to look away. “You’re my hero.”

His mouth opened, but shut once more. Before he could answer, her cell phone rang. Plucking the device from her pocket, she checked the caller ID and immediately answered. “Hello?”

“April? It’s Mary from work.” Her nurse manager’s voice came across loud and clear. “I’m sorry to bother you on vacation, but we have an emergency.”

“What’s wrong?” April’s heart climbed into her throat.

“We’re under mandatory evacuation orders due to the fire.” The hospital lay approximately twenty miles south of the stable. If the fire threatened them enough to have to move every patient out, things had to be getting much worse. “We need everyone to come in and help transport patients. All the equipment has to be packed and moved as well.”

“I’ll change clothes and be on my way.”

“Thanks, and I’m sorry to interrupt your vacation,” Mary replied contritely.

“No problem.” April clicked off.

Glancing up, she found Dusty staring at her with curiosity and a bit of concern. “The hospital is under a mandatory evacuation order. I’ve got to go in and help get patients transported out and pack up supplies and equipment to be stored elsewhere until the threat has passed.”

“That’s too damn close for comfort.” He puffed out a deep breath.

“I’m sure they’re closing the hospital early because of the length of time it would take to move everything. Although that’s not much consolation.” She worried her bottom lip.

His eyes sparked before he lifted his gaze to look around the stalls. “Packing’s definitely in order.”

She nodded. “I’ll be back to help as soon as I finish at the hospital.”

Dusty shook his head. “I’ll take care of everything. Just take care of yourself.”

The firm words didn’t surprise her in the least. Dusty had probably never asked for help in his life. Stubborn cuss. Just another part of him that both flustered and thrilled her.

On impulse, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. He returned the embrace, squeezing her snug. Resting his cheek against hers, he simply held her for the longest time, unmoving except for the puffs of air tickling her shoulder. His actions soothed her, speaking loud and clear where words remained unspoken. He felt something for her. Friendship. Companionship. Perhaps something more. The level didn’t matter as much as the basic principle that he cared.

With renewed hope, she savored the moment, soaked in his strength and dug deep to find her own courage. As much as she wanted to spend the day just like this, she couldn’t. The hospital awaited.

He slowly released her, setting her a step away. His gaze locked on her face.

She gave him a sad smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be back before you know it.”

His lips hitched up only slightly, the emotion not carrying to his dark eyes. “Be careful.”

Lifting on tiptoe, she brushed her lips across his cheek. “Promise.” She took one last look before turning and heading for her vehicle.