Wild Horses (17 page)

After her shower, she grabbed a pair of Levi's that hung low over her hips and added a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. Then she rolled them up to capri length. That looked a little better. She put on her best bra and pulled a long-sleeve T-shirt over it. It was a dusty rose color and had a low V-neck. Not dressy, but pretty.

A turquoise necklace she'd picked up when she'd worked in New Mexico added to the look, and once she'd slipped her feet into her nicest brown leather flats, she felt good.

She glanced at the clock. Six thirty. Almost time to head to Todd's. But she could hear Wade kicking off his boots downstairs, and there was one thing she needed to do before she could enjoy her evening.

They hadn't really talked since the day he'd fallen apart. Dr. Miller had advised her to give Wade space to work through things. But she couldn't leave tonight without making sure he was okay.

She paused in the hall to grab her brown leather jacket and then walked into the kitchen, where her brother was adding ice to a big glass of water.

“How's the well?” she asked. They'd hired a driller to dig a new one, on the north end of their property on land that they were hoping to use for grazing.

“Getting deeper,” he answered, glancing over at her. “Still no sign of water. This drought is terrible.” Her outfit must have registered because he looked surprised. “You're all dressed up!”

She giggled. “My wardrobe must be pretty pathetic if this outfit is considered
all dressed up
. I'm going to Todd's for dinner.”

“You look great.”

“He invited me and...” She felt her face heat; she must be blushing crimson. “There's a small chance I'll stay.” She hated to bring it up but didn't want to cause Wade any extra stress wondering where she was.

“Not sure I wanted to know that. It's probably my brotherly duty to go over there and give him some kind of talking-to. But he's a great guy. So I guess I'll just tell you to have fun.”

“You really like him?”

“The dude sat by my bed all night. Did everything but sing me lullabies. He's all right.”

“But are
you
all right? I don't need to go if you feel as though you need me here.”

Wade took a sip of water and looked out the kitchen window.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I'm your sister. I get to worry.”

“I'm sorry about what happened.” When he finally looked at her there were tears in his dark eyes. “I don't exactly know
what
happened, but I know it was ugly and I'm sorry.”

“What
do
you remember?” she asked gently.

“I was cleaning the shed, and I got pissed off because I was just so sick of cleaning up all the junk. So I grabbed a beer because it seemed like if I drank a little it would make the whole process easier to deal with. But then Rancher Bob came by and demanded restitution for his cattle, and I could see the disgust in his eyes when he looked at me. All he saw was a lowlife Hoffman, drinking in the middle of the day, surrounded by all this stolen property.”

He took a swallow of his water. “It felt as if no matter what I do, folks will always see me that way. And then I drank more beer, and I guess I just kind of lost it. I don't really remember that part too well.” He ran his hands over his hair. “I must've really scared you.”

“I was scared, but I'm also kind of glad it happened.” She took his hand. “I didn't know that you were having such a hard time.”

“Maybe I didn't know it myself. It kind of crept up on me. I still don't understand it. Now I'm questioning every thought. Is this me? Or my PTSD talking?” He took another gulp of water.

“Want me to stay home? I can see Todd another night. You and I could hang out, watch a movie...”

He shook his head. “You and Todd have been dancing around each other for too long. Go have fun. Don't worry about me.” He picked up a pamphlet from the stack she'd left on the kitchen table. “I have some great reading material to keep me busy. This one looks good.
Me and My PTSD.
” He held it up next to his face and gave her a cheesy smile, making her giggle. Then he reached for another, opening it with mock enthusiasm. “
Antidepressants and the Brain.
This looks awesome!”

Nora shook her head, loving her brother more for the way he could laugh at his own illness. “Just read a few. Then watch a movie or something. But nothing with war. Or shooting.”

He gave her a tired smile. “I'm going to turn into a chick if I follow Dr. Miller's orders. Maybe we have an old Julia Roberts DVD lying around? Or there's always
Real Housewives
... I hear it's a great show.”

Nora laughed. “It will be good for you. You can get in touch with your more sensitive side.”

“You'd better get going or you'll be late for your date.”

“How do you know when my date starts?”

He looked sheepish. “Todd called me today. He wanted to make sure I'd be okay. He actually invited me to come to dinner, too, if I wasn't feeling up to being on my own. But I figure you two don't really want me to crash your big night. Like I said, he's a good guy, offering to babysit the mental gimp.”

“Oh, shut up.” She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his description. “You are
not
a mental gimp. You'll take the drugs for a while until your brain gets used to civilian life. And if you have any sense, you'll go to counseling.”

He made a face.

“Don't knock it until you try it.” She wagged a finger at him. “Tomorrow I'm calling the VA up in Reno to get a list of possible counselors. Some of them will even work with you over the phone. You could be out mending a fence or something and get your counseling at the same time.”

“Okay, enough with the pep talk,” Wade said. “Or are you just stalling because you're freaked out about your date?”

“Maybe a little,” she confessed. “Julia Roberts does sound pretty good right now.”

He pulled her in for a quick hug, and she relished the rare moment. Sent up a prayer of thanks that so far, he was okay.

Planting a kiss on her head, he set her back from him, his hands on her shoulders. “Don't be a wuss. Get the hell outta here.”

“Try to relax, okay?”

He smiled. “Stop hovering. Dr. Miller's orders.”

“Right.” She headed for the kitchen door, pausing to blow him a kiss. “Good night, Wade.”

“See ya. Tomorrow.”

“Wade!” She blushed scarlet at his insinuating tone.

His laughter, following her out the door, felt like a miracle.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
ODD
DIDN
'
T
ANSWER
the door when she knocked, so Nora made her way around the side of the house, as she'd done the day of his party. She stepped up onto the deck. The grill was glowing under its lid and the air was filled with the aroma of something delicious cooking under there. But there was still no sign of Todd.

Then she saw the luminarias. Paper bags filled with sand, glowing from the candles set inside. They started at the edge of the deck and then made a path up the small rise beyond.

It was magical, like traveling a road meant for fairies. She'd only seen things like this in magazines. At the top of the rise she gasped.

There were lanterns set up in a circle, flickering in the evening light. They formed a ring around a table for two, covered in a white cloth, with a small bouquet of wild roses in the middle. From somewhere jazz was playing. She looked for the source and saw an iPod on a stump, with little speakers on either side. Next to it, a champagne bottle was half-buried in an old metal bucket filled with ice.

She heard a noise behind her and turned. Todd was coming up the path, carrying a basket of blankets. “In case you get cold,” he explained in place of a greeting.

“This is beautiful,” she told him as he set down the basket. “Thank you for doing all this.”

He stepped toward her, leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I'm just glad you agreed to dinner.”

“How could I not, when you gave me a cold swim on a hot day?”

He grinned, just self-conscious enough to look adorable. “Hey, it worked. You're here.”

She looked around at the picturesque scene he'd created. “I'm here. I didn't know you'd do all this.”

He winked. “There's a lot you don't know about me.” He pulled the champagne out of the bucket, popped the cork and poured her a glass. “A toast to rope swings and strange coincidences like the one that brought us back into each other's lives.” The clink of their glasses sounded foreign in the quiet of the evening.

“To random occurrences,” she responded, and he laughed again.

“You aren't going to let me be romantic, are you?”

“It's hard to turn off my logical mind,” she explained.

“Try.” He turned up the music and pulled her close with his free arm, dancing her slowly around. Nora held her champagne tight and followed his lead, trying to lose herself in the moment. But part of her held back, marveling that he'd done all this for her.

She closed her eyes and swayed with him, secure against his tall frame, borne along by his arm across her back. She felt him bend to plant a soft kiss on her head. “I'm so glad you're here,” he whispered.

“Me, too.” It was better than anything she'd ever imagined. He'd made it so perfect.

The song faded and Todd stepped back and went to the cooler, taking out a tray of hors d'oeuvres. There were sliced pears, figs with tiny slices of parmesan cheese on them, small round crackers with goat cheese already spread.

“Come on over to our appetizer station.” He led her past the dinner table and down the side of the rise that faced the mountain slopes. On a small, flat area were two yellow Adirondack chairs, with a low table between them. He set the tray on the table. “Pick a seat,” he said.

She chose the farthest chair and sat down, relaxing the second she nestled into its depths. The sun was behind the mountains, framing the shadowed peaks in a backdrop of pink and gold. “What a perfect spot,” she said.

“One of the first things I did when I bought this property was make this little terrace. I need my sunset spot. I guess it comes from growing up on the coast and watching the sun go down over the ocean every day.”

She remembered how they'd go up into the Berkeley hills sometimes and watch the sun sink behind the Golden Gate Bridge across San Francisco Bay. That was her only experience with coastal living. “Tell me about it. Tell me about all the good parts of growing up.”

He was a born storyteller. He told her about his favorite skateboard parks, the gang of geeky friends who'd dubbed themselves the Grunges, about surfing and snowboarding and the band he'd been in for a little while. And about the peace he'd found at his family's mountain cabin every summer.

Some of the stories were familiar from when she'd known him before, and some were new. There was no need to edit anymore. They already knew each other's big secrets.

They talked through dinner, and the sun was long down by the time they finished the grilled chicken and vegetables he'd prepared. Nora stretched in her seat, warm and full and glowing from the red wine he'd served after the champagne.

“Are you sleepy?” Todd asked. “Because I have an idea.”

Every nerve went on alert as she waited to hear what he would say.

“S'mores. How long has it been since you had one?”

She let out her breath, both relieved and disappointed that his idea was so tame. “Since college, I think.” Since they'd been together.

“That is
way
too long!” He uncoiled from his chair, full of lithe energy. “Let's go. Fire pit. Now.”

“Bossy,” she told him, blowing out the candles on the table.

“Just looking out for you.” He bent down to extinguish the luminarias that hadn't yet gone out on their own. “Someone's got to corrupt you a little.”

His words hung between them, and Nora wondered if the idea sounded as enticing to him as it did to her.

Just beyond the deck was a big circular area where Todd had cleared away the brush and built a fire pit out of rock. He threw a couple of logs in and set a little kindling underneath. The flames caught right away. “Why don't you stay here and relax while I grab the marshmallows?”

She sat down on a wooden bench and watched the flames grow. When she leaned back she could see stars that went on to the horizon. Maybe it was the wine, but she felt surprisingly peaceful. Whatever this evening meant, wherever this thing with Todd went, she was having an incredible time.

Todd came up behind her. “I'd love to know what you're thinking about right now.”

“That this has been delicious.”

“
This
is even more delicious.” He handed her a skewer with a marshmallow on it and set down a plate of graham crackers and chocolate on the nearby table.

“We're really doing this?” She eyed the sticky blob on the end of her skewer.

“Get roasting, Hoffman.”

She smiled at his use of her surname. It had always been such a negative thing. There were times when she'd even thought of changing it. But coming from him it was an endearment. She stuck her marshmallow near the flame, careful not to actually catch it on fire.

Todd put his skewer right by the flame. “You have to get closer to the fire if you want any results.”

“No way. I can't stand it when they go up in flames.”

“It'll be fine.” Just when he finished uttering the words, his marshmallow caught, incinerating in a burst of blue flame on the end of his skewer.

“Ha!” Nora giggled as she watched him frantically blowing it out. “See? Play too close to the fire and all kinds of bad things happen.”

“Are we talking about more than marshmallows?” He pushed the charred hunk of sugar off his skewer and it fell into the fire pit with a hiss. He reached in the bag and grabbed a new one. “Because if we are, there's always a second chance to get it right.” He paused, skewer pointed in the air. “As a matter of fact, maybe we
are
talking about more than marshmallows.”

“It seems like second chances are a little more rare in real life,” Nora murmured, pulling her perfectly golden marshmallow away from the coals.

“So I'm going to cherish this one.” He looked at her and the firelight flickered gold and shadow across his skin. “And try my best to get it right.”

His words sent nerves and emotions rippling. She wanted, so very much, to get it right, too. “Well, you set the bar pretty high with this date,” she teased him. “So good luck.” She walked over to the stump where he'd left the crackers and chocolate, making herself a gooey sandwich. When she turned, he still hadn't roasted his marshmallow. He was watching her instead, his face a combination of hunger and humor.

“I don't think I'll need luck. Not when we have this thing between us.”

“What thing?” She took a bite of the s'more and marshmallow oozed out, coating her fingers, sticking to her chin. “Oof...so sticky!” She swallowed the sugary mouthful, its taste bringing back memories of their campouts in college. She'd never had a s'more until then, and when he'd introduced them to her, she'd spent the next few evenings around the campfire making up for lost time.

He was grinning at her now, and reached over with his thumb to wipe some marshmallow off her cheek.

“I think it's actually too sweet for me. Finish mine?”

He took it from her and she watched him take a bite. And grimace.

“Wow. I hadn't remembered what sugar bombs these are.” He set his skewer down on the edge of the fire pit and held the s'more back out to her. “You gotta help me. Just take one more bite?”

She tried to take it between her fingers but it was crumbling.

“Just bite it,” he said. So she leaned over and bit while he held it for her. When she pulled back, a long messy string of marshmallow came, too.

“Eek!” She tried to brush the string away but it stuck to her hand, stretching but not breaking. “Help!”

“Hang on.” He stroked his knuckles over her lips to remove the string, popping it, along with the rest of the s'more, into his mouth.

“Rescued,” he said after he'd swallowed.

“Thanks,” she murmured, distracted by the way his knuckles had felt on her mouth, rough and soft all at once.

“Glad to oblige. Always.”

She saw it in his eyes. That thing she'd been wanting to see there ever since they met again. Desire. Admiration.

“Hang on,” he said, leaning closer on the bench. “You have one last crumb.” But instead of taking it off with his fingers, he kissed her on the cheek, lingering there for a heartbeat or two. And then his mouth was on hers.

He tasted of sugar, chocolate and wine, and he smelled of campfire smoke and whatever musky aftershave he had on. It all combined to make her a little dizzy.

His mouth explored hers gently, his lips caressing over hers as if remembering the shape of her mouth. His fingers wove through her thick hair, and he tilted her head to take the kiss deeper.

There was familiarity in his kiss. She remembered the shape of his mouth. She felt the shadows of past kisses hovering in the background like bittersweet ghosts. But they faded as he changed his pace, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, his tongue over hers. He shifted closer on the bench, turning her, pulling her leg across his thigh until she was straddling his lap, the heat of the fire at her back, the heat of his mouth below hers.

He pushed the hair away from her face and kissed her hard, the way she'd been longing for, so she had to clutch at his shoulders to keep her balance. Her world narrowed to his mouth on hers, his tongue, warm and sweet.

Hands still fisted in her hair, he pulled away so he could look into her eyes.

“You're so beautiful. You always were.” He kissed her mouth again, so gently. “Will you stay?”

For a moment, the only sound was the fire, snapping and hissing.

She felt as if she was standing at the edge of that flash flood. And once she stepped into its depths, she'd be torn and tumbled by the current, with no idea where it would take her, or if she'd make it through alive. But she couldn't resist the rushing water.

“Yes,” she said quietly, running her thumbs over his cheekbones, kissing him softly on the lips. “I'll stay.”