Second Chances (9 page)

“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
lines on her pretty face, 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 over her grilled cheese
sandwich at Dusty. They’d returned to the house for lunch only for her to find
he had little available for a quick meal preparation. She made due with
sandwiches and chips, but made a point of bringing 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 due. Better than the MREs in Afghanistan.”

She
blinked at the mention of his service. He 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 down 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 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 even warned her not to touch him when he’s asleep for fear of an
instinctive response that could endanger her. She took 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, see 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 saw his
fists tighten and knew 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 one another less than a week. Not enough
time to develop a strong enough rapport to breach 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 too.” 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 then 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 had to push, had to mess everything up with her big
mouth.

Finishing
the last plate, she quickly dried everything and returned 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, 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, his eyes 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 got up this 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 find 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 her present location. 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 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.

Dusty
turned on the radio, then opened a plastic carrier sitting on his desk. Ben
tilted his head as if wondering why he was moving files from the heavy metal
cabinet into the smaller tote. Pausing, Dusty plopped down in the old wooden
chair, the seat squeaking under his weight, and petted the dog’s head. Ben
looked up at him as his tail brushed the floor. “Looks like our luck might run
out, buddy. The fire is drawing closer and no one I’ve called has trailers or
men available to haul stock. Even if there was someone, I haven’t found a place
to take them. With the vast amount of acreage affected, no one nearby has
anything left.” He ran his hand through his hair and stared at Ben. “I didn’t
need anyone, was happier alone. Now, when the chips are down, I’m out on a
ledge by myself.”

He
sighed. Except for April. She’d worked her ass off at the stable, volunteering
her time and energy to help care for the animals. Even more, she added a bit of
humor into his life, a renewed thought that perhaps all women weren’t made from
the same mold, and made for an overall good friend. Friend?
Bullshit.
He’d wanted more from the day
she strode through his doors full of excitement and determination, only her
reservations and his hard lessons prevented him from throwing out a pick-up
line or three.

Then he
kissed her. The best and worst thing he’d ever done. She tasted like ambrosia
and set a flood of desire streaming through his blood that had yet to
dissipate. More than that, she reached something deeper, tenderer inside,
twisted him in knots as he discovered places he didn’t know existed with her
name written on each and every one. She’d grown on him in their few days
together, turning a once awkward silence into familiarity as they worked
side-by-side day in and day out.

Now she
ran off toward the inferno to help rescue her small hospital and all those
inside.

His gut
clenched with worry, even as he reminded himself she spoke the truth. The
authorities would clear hospitals and institutions first due to the number of
people and time needed to evacuate the essentials to safe ground. However, just
the fact they made such a declaration stirred up worry and fear, something he
hadn’t felt in forever.

“The
fire still wages out of control. Latest information claims eight percent
contained as the continued dry conditions and high winds push the flames
northeast,” the radio announcer droned on.

Dusty
sighed, his shoulders pushed down in defeat. For three years, he wanted nothing
more than to be alone with his animals, to live in peace and tranquility
without the spiky thorn of dealing with too many people. Ironically, here he
sat, packing up his office, waiting for Mother Nature’s fury to play out, and
the realization of his huge error slapping him directly in the face. With his
world going to shit, no one had his back.

He
thought of his brothers, the terrible fist fight between him and Archer that
ended any association with them for the past three years. Before he acted like
an arrogant imbecile and turned on them for pointing out what he refused to
see, they always stood beside him. He would never have to even ask, they would
come a running if they thought he had bit off more than he could chew.

Plucking
the phone from his pocket, he pulled up his contact list, and eyed Archer’s
number. His finger hovered over the button.

Despite
their anger and hurt feelings, more than likely his brothers would come save
his ass. Yet, his pride stopped his hand. Slowly, he set the phone on his desk,
then released a breath.
I can deal with
this.
All he needed was a bit more time and luck.

The
thought didn’t bolster his spirits in the least. Instead, he felt more morose
than ever. Scratching behind Ben’s ear, he took comfort in his best friend,
while worries ate away at his gut, leaving his stomach churning. Always before
he knew things would simply work out. After spending four years as a SEAL, he
didn’t fear much, including death. The trivial matters were just
that—trivial—and most things fell into that particular category.

Unfortunately
a pending natural disaster fell outside the limits of basic issues he no longer
fretted over. His animals and livelihood were in potential peril and the one
woman who actually cared raced off toward the wildfire to save others.

With
the unsettling thoughts, he stood and resumed packing, still racking his brain
for answers.

The
familiar rumble of a car engine slowly entering the drive alerted Dusty to his
visitor. He paused in his task of organizing horse feed in order to peek out
the stable door to see who decided to pay him a visit. Instantly, he recognized
April’s large SUV.

Relief
and a jolt of excitement hit him directly in the chest. She’d been gone for
nearly two days and he hadn’t heard a word. Not that he actually expected her
to call, but deep down, he needed to hear her voice, to ensure she arrived in
one piece, and the fire didn’t threaten her life before she could bolt for
home. He’d chastened himself for the reaction, understanding what the sentiment
meant deep down, but not anywhere near ready to deal with such profound
questions.

She
pulled up and parked, then jumped out. “Hi.”

“Hi
yourself.”

Leaning
into her vehicle, she wrestled for some items, the position stretched her jeans
snug over her curvy backside. He appreciated the view which only caused him to
envision rubbing his hands over her delectable body, testing each hill and
valley for suppleness and softness.

With a
full plastic bag in hand, she shut the driver’s side door. “How are the horses?
Did they give you any problem?”

“They’re
fine and no problems at all. Miracle is coming along slowly, but surely.” He
studied April like a book. She appeared clean and healthy dressed in her
typical attire of jeans and a T-shirt. Pink tennis shoes covered her feet. Yet,
her face told the story. Lines of fatigue and dark circles under her eyes spoke
of missed sleep and stress. Concern cascaded over him. “You look ready to
drop.”

She
frowned and he wanted to kick himself for his less than tactful greeting.
Lowering his head, he ran his hand through his short hair, and watched her with
avid interest. “I’m glad you’re back.” The words carried truth.

Tension
eased from her face as her blue eyes lit up. “Thanks. It was crazy, but we
managed to get everyone and everything not cemented down sent to safer ground.”
She stepped forward to stop in front of him. “I brought lunch.”

Guilt
pressed his shoulders down. She worked her ass off for the hospital, brought
him food, and all he could say was how tired she looked. Whatever happened to
his manners? His charm? Hell, he used to be able to pick up a woman with a grin
and a line. Now, he couldn’t even show basic kindness to the woman who had
given so much of her time to help him with daily chores. Stop being a damn
prick and wake up, he chided himself and blew out a breath. “You didn’t have
to, but thanks.”

She
beamed, which put a small smile on his own face. “It’s meatloaf from the small
diner. I hope you like it.”

He
blinked at her. “Carry out from Nelly’s?”

“Yep.”

“My
favorite.” He wrapped an arm around her and nudged her toward the house portion
of the stable. “Let’s go eat.”

Ben
bounded over, sniffed April, and wagged his tail in happy welcome. She paused
for a second to pet him. “Don’t worry. I brought you some goodies too.” He
barked as if understanding every word.

She
paused to allow him to open the gate, tripping over a rock. “Umph.”

Dusty
caught her to steady her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.
Just tripped.” She glanced down. “What’s in the small box?”

“Spare
key.”

“Smart.”

Holding
the gate open for her, he waited until she passed through, before closing the
barrier, and striding to open the entrance to the house. Not stopping until he
reached the kitchen. He started pulling out necessary utensils and glasses.

He
poured them each a glass of ice tea while she unloaded the food. Both plopped
down after she left an oversized dog cookie on Ben’s bed. The radio played
softly from across the room where he’d left it on earlier.

“Where
did you find those?” He nodded toward the bag she pulled the dog treat from.

“A
gourmet dog shop on the way back. I never noticed them before, but they have
tons of things. Food, toys, even clothing.” Her gaze landed on Ben, who lay on
his bed eating with obvious delight. “Looks like I need to swing by there more
often.”

Dusty
watched his companion animal for a long moment. “I’d say you did well.” He
opened his Styrofoam container, found a full meal still steaming hot, and
hungrily dug in. The first bite nearly made him groan with the delicious taste.
“Nelly is the best cook around.”

April
sampled her potatoes and nodded. “I think so too. Didn’t know she did takeout
until today, though. I wanted something more than fast food, but didn’t want to
take the time to sit and eat at the restaurant. When I asked, she told me she’d
happily fix up a couple of plates.”

Not for
the first time, he noticed the subtle signs of her fatigue. Her normally bright
eyes appeared dull and she only picked at her food. The previous lines grew
more prevalent as time went by.

He’d
learned how to determine how close a man stood at the end of his rope with the
SEALs. God knew the supervisors pushed him and the other recruits to the brink
over and over again. He always managed to find a little more buried inside that
served him well then, on the war front, and even now when nightmares limited
his sleep dramatically.

“You
could use a nap.”

She
glanced up at him. “Maybe later.”

She ran
close to her body’s limits, though not quite at the end of her rope. Dusty
didn’t want to push her to see how much more she could take. Instead, his
protective instincts leaped to the fore, demanding he care for her, provide a
comfortable place for her to rest until she caught up on much needed sleep. He
hadn’t felt the urge to look after a woman since, well, quite a while ago.
Realization of how far April had dug under his skin should have shocked or
concerned him. Instead, he felt comfortable warmth spread through him. He might
have only known her for a few days, but her inner self remained transparent and
rang true.
Just admit it, SEAL, she’s
grown on you. Big time.
Oddly enough, the thought didn’t send him into
defensive mode.

“You
can use my bed. For a nap, that is.” He gauged her reaction closely.

Her
eyes widened in surprise before her face softened. The corners of her mouth
curled up as she met his gaze with genuine appreciation. “Be careful. I just
might take you up on the offer.”

Her
lighthearted teasing prodded his sense of humor. “It’s all yours. Unless you
prefer Ben’s oversized pillow.” He looked down at the canine finishing his
snack. “But, I should tell you he snores.”

She
giggled, the sound rivaling a happy meadowlark in the spring. “Does Ben’s owner
snore as well?” Coyly, she peered up at him through her lashes.

“Now
that would be telling.” He jumped into the humorous bantering with both feet
and a teasing smile.

April
grinned and dug into her food. He matched her in pace and soon both sat with
empty containers as he polished off the last of his tea. “The sheets are clean,
if you’re ready to lie down.”

Her
head tilted as if seriously considering his offer or trying to figure out a
particularly complex puzzle. “What will you be doing while I sleep in your
bed?”

Images
of a naked April snuggling into his sheets sent a spear of desire through him.
She would curl up, her long hair spilling over the pillows. He’d crawl in
beside her, find her nape with his lips, and commencing kissing her until her
need grew to such a fevered pitch she begged him to cover her, to make her his.

His
cock reacted to the erotic image, causing a definite discomfort in his jeans.
Dusty sucked in a breath and tried to cool his overheated body.

The
radio squealed blaringly followed quickly by the disc jockey’s voice, now
serious and excited. “This is an emergency warning for residents north of
Jackson Station, east of Boulder City, west of Union, and south of Fairway. The
wildfire has turned. Strong winds are driving the fire rapidly northwest. If
you are in these areas, evacuate immediately.”

Dusty’s
gaze met April’s widened eyes. He stood and tossed away the empty container of
his meal. “Go on home. You’ve got to pack so you can get out of here.”

She
shook her head, followed his lead, and then walked quickly through the office
door to the stable. “No way. I’m not leaving you like this. You can’t get
everything here boxed up and the horses loaded in time by yourself.” She paused
to look at him. “Besides, my bags are already packed.”

He tilted
his head toward her, surprised by the fact she refused to leave and that she’d
actually did as he’d advised.

A small
smile crossed her lips. “Yeah, sometimes I actually do listen to you.”