Return to Marker Ranch (17 page)

“Yeah, I think I might,” Wade told him, almost surprised by his own words. He did want to come back. Even sitting in the room saying nothing helped. Just being near people who were going through something similar to him was healing.

“You'll march with us, right? On Veterans Day? It's a quiet parade. Just the high school band plays. No fireworks or sirens allowed.”

Wade remembered Tabitha's sneering comments at church. “A Hoffman marching down Main Street? I don't think Benson is quite ready for that.”

“Well, ready or not, you're here and you're a veteran. So they can take their prejudice and shove it.”

Wade laughed. Ethan was so totally unapologetic. It was refreshing. “I'll see,” he told him. “But I don't know if I'm ready for a parade just yet.”

“Well, think about it.” He handed Wade a card with his name and phone number written on it. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you want to talk.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” Wade tried to imagine calling the confident man after one of his dreams. Or after he'd run like a scared kid out of a movie. He couldn't. He shoved the card in his back pocket anyway. “I'd better get going.”

“A few of us are heading out for a beer. Want to join?”

“Another time,” Wade said. He felt exhausted all of a sudden. Like he'd absorbed too much, felt too much and his skin was too thin. He gave Ethan a wave and headed out the door, welcoming the chill. Ideally it would wake him up enough to get him home to his bed. Anxiety knotted inside him when he thought about sleep. It was unnerving not knowing if it was going to be a good night or bad. Maybe he'd take one of Doc Miller's jumbo sleeping pills just to make sure he got some rest.

He looked up at the stars, shining crystal clear across the autumn sky. He took a breath and let it out slowly, watching it form a cloud around his head. Tonight hadn't changed everything, but it had shifted something inside of him. It was a relief just to acknowledge that things hadn't been going so well.

He thought of Lori and her faith in him. He hoped he was worthy of it. Tonight he'd learned that healing was a long process and could take years. But if he did what he needed to do, he could make progress. And after his panic at the movie last night, one thing was clear. Any step forward was better than staying where he was. He had to make progress, and if he didn't, he had to let Lori go.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
HE
STEPLADDER
SEEMED
steady until Lori climbed onto the last couple steps from the top. Grasping the edge of the white canopy that sheltered the rummage sale tables, she straightened up shakily. She unfolded the banner that would hang along the edge of the canopy and threaded a rope through the grommet at the corner. Her numb fingers felt clumsy as she worked the ends of the rope through the metal loop at the top of the pole.

It wasn't even 7 a.m. and she'd been here for half an hour. One more reason that next year, when the pastor asked for someone to coordinate the rummage sale, she was going to sit on her hands and make sure they didn't wave themselves in the air to volunteer.

But she'd get a break soon. She was in charge of setup and the first couple hours of selling clothes. Then another church member was taking over, and Lori would be free to wander through the festival until it was time to pack up the booth. She was looking forward to wandering. The Benson Harvest Festival was a huge event, stretching down Main Street for several blocks and ending with a big stage and a live band down by Sixth Street. There were a lot of local artists at the fair, and Lori was hoping to find something pretty for Mandy's Christmas gift.

“You look a little shaky up there.”

Lori started, then recognized the deep voice below by its power to quicken her pulse. Glancing down briefly, she tried to keep her smile casual. “I'm okay.”

Wade was standing at the foot of the ladder. “You look cold. I brought hot coffee. Wanna trade places?”

“I'm good.” She tightened the knot and started down the ladder. He held it for her, standing opposite from the rungs so when she got to the ground they faced each other.

“I missed you this week,” he said.

“I'm glad.” She felt a little shy. The last time they'd seen each other was on their disastrous date. She hadn't meant to avoid him, but she'd welcomed the time away to catch her breath. And to read everything she could about PTSD. “I didn't know you were coming to the festival.”

“I wouldn't leave you to deal with the baby stuff. I promised I'd handle it. So here I am.”

“But you're not worried? About the crowds? The noise?”

He smiled wanly. “Sure I am. But you're at the quieter end down here, so ideally I won't do anything too crazy.”

“You don't have to help,” she said quickly. “I'm okay.” She was, kind of. She'd loaded everything into her truck on her own, and though she didn't love being around the baby gear, it didn't break her heart anymore.

“Lori.” He reached around the ladder and took her hand. “If we're going to spend time together, you have to let me try things. Please don't treat me like I'm broken or try to protect me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I will be. Even if the festival ends up being too much, I'll be okay. Let me try it, all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered. He was right. If she was going to stick by him, she was going to have to trust him.

“Is one bad date enough to justify a little PDA?” he asked.

“What?” she sputtered, taken totally by surprise.

“Unless you've changed your mind about wanting to date?”

“No. I haven't.”

“Well, in that case...” He brought his mouth down to hers, brushing her lips in the faintest of kisses. The kind of kiss that made her want more kisses. “It's nice to see you,” he murmured.

“Nice to see you, too” was all she could manage with kiss-scrambled wits.

“I want to help.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and went to her truck, pulling out a cardboard box labeled with the word Adult
.
“Where does this go?”

“Let's put it over here on this table by me, and we'll put the baby stuff over there.” She pointed to the table closest to him.

He set the box down and went for another.

She tried not to notice how he looked in his faded jeans, his navy-blue parka and his dark cowboy hat, pulling the boxes out. But how could she not? He moved with such coiled energy, like he was holding some of his actual strength back.

He grabbed another of the big cardboard cartons of clothes. “Try your coffee.”

She ignored him and pulled a box out of the truck, dumping it on the ground.

He was grinning at her. “Stubborn much?”

“Back at you.”

“We're good that way,” he said. “But seriously? You should try that coffee.”

She grabbed her cup and took a sip. It was foamy and sweet. “You got me a latte thing!”

“I remembered that you like them.”

Well, that was cute. And the drink was perfect for this chilly fall morning. Decadent and hot. She could see the steam rising. “Thank you. I love it.”

A now-familiar nose poked her shin. Snack had emerged from snoozing in his bed that Lori had placed beneath one of the tables. Yeah, she was pathetic, bringing along a bed for the little guy. But she'd never had a small dog before. He seemed to get chillier than her old cattle dog had. Was she going to have to buy him one of those little sweaters come winter? She wouldn't even think about that now.

She bent down and scooped him up. “Hey, buddy,” she said quietly, and he nuzzled her cheek.

“What the...” Wade reached out his hand and Snack gave a dignified sniff, then allowed Wade to rub his jaw. “Nice fur, little guy,” he said. Snack snorted, and Wade grinned. “Is this the dog we talked about in church? He's wild looking.”

“He's some sort of terrier,” Lori answered. Oh, what the hell. She might as well own it. “He's my dog now. I've had to accept that. He even comes with me on rides.”

“He can keep up?” Wade gently lifted one of Snack's furry paws with one finger. “His legs can't be more than six inches long.”

“He doesn't keep up. He rides
with
me.”

Wade's smile became a grin. “In the saddle? No kidding!” He fluffed up the fur on the dog's head until it spiked like a punk rocker. “Not the dog I'd have pictured for you, but I like him. He has character. What's his name?”

“Snack.”

He laughed out loud, and damn, did it look good on him. She stared, trying to absorb it, trying to memorize it, like something she could pull out and ponder on a bad day.

Wade shook Snack's paw. “Good to meet you, Snack,” he said solemnly.

Snack huffed and tried to lick his fingers.

“Not polite, Snackeroo.” Lori set the dog on the ground. “Go lie down,” she told him, and he trotted back to his bed.

“Well trained already,” Wade said.

“Working on it,” Lori answered. She took another sip of her foamy coffee. “And speaking of working, we have to get this stuff unpacked.”

“Sure.” He smiled again, and she felt it across her skin. What was going on with her today? She was ogling him like a teenager with way too many hormones. Maybe it was because she finally knew what was really going on with him. He'd always seemed so unshakable and tough that it was a little intimidating. But now she knew he was struggling. She wasn't happy he was hurting, but it did make him seem more human. More approachable.

She went back to setting out clothing for the sale, and Wade wandered off to deal with the furniture. She tried to focus on organizing the booth, but she was restless.

She kept stealing glances at Wade's profile while he was busy neatly stacking toys and baby clothes. He was handsome and composed, but now that she was aware of his condition, she could see the tension in his jaw and shoulders. She wanted to soothe it. Run her fingers over his muscles and help him relax. Her own muscles warmed at the thought. She didn't just want to date him, she realized with a force that had her starting. She
wanted
him.

She felt her face go red and turned her back to Wade. She never felt like this! In fact, she'd wondered sometimes if her libido was broken. Every time she'd dated anyone seriously, she'd felt this reluctance when things started to get too physical. She'd figured it came from knowing the consequences of casual sex way too well. But as the years went on and she didn't change, she'd wondered if maybe she was simply an unromantic person.

But this...it was like the blood in her veins had gotten thicker, warmer, and she was restless. She turned back and stole another peek at him. His lower lip was just a little full. She wanted to kiss it again.

He glanced over, caught her staring and gave her a quick wink. Would he ask her out again soon? Should she ask him out? She wanted to. Well, what she really wanted was to proposition him. But she'd never done anything like that before.

It was disconcerting, how fast things had changed between them. Not too long ago, he'd asked her to dinner and she'd said no. Then he'd asked her out in the parish hall and she'd said no again. But at church, something had started. This need for him grew on her like a vine, attached sticky tendrils to her skin and clung tight. Their one bad date hadn't taken away this feeling that they were meant to be together. That she needed to be with him.

She snuck another peek. He was placidly laying the folded clothes in piles on the table, arranging them by size, just like they'd planned. Totally oblivious to her thoughts.

He turned, a blue onesie in his hand. “Are you doing okay with all this? I can take over the booth for you if you'd rather not deal with it at all.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I'll stay, but I really do appreciate your help. When I first found out about that load of baby clothes, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

He came toward her like he was going to give her a hug, but he stopped short. Took her hand in his. “It's been okay, right? Maybe even a little healing.” He reached over, grabbed a white baby hat with pink strawberries and plopped it on his head, where it sat at a goofy angle. “I bet together we can face down any baby products that come our way.”

She had to smile. She
was
handling it all way better than she'd ever thought she could. The clothes were actually kind of adorable. But an invitation for a baby shower had arrived this week, from a high school friend who'd moved up to Carson City. She'd popped the RSVP right back in the mail with No checked. So she still had a way to go.

She went back to arranging her table, looking for a safer topic. And a distraction from how much she wanted to kiss him. “What have you been doing this week?”

“Working with my new horse, Jackson. The one Todd brought over?”

“How's that going?”

“It's coming along. I didn't think I could do it, but he lets me lead him around now, and touch him, and he's not totally terrified of the saddle pad anymore.”

“Hey, that's progress,” Lori said. “Baby steps.”

“Yup,” Wade said and glanced at her uncertainly. “I guess I've been taking a few other baby steps, too. I went to a veterans' support group.”

“Seriously? That's amazing!” Her own relief surprised her. Like she'd been holding her breath, wondering if she was going to regret loving him. “I'm so proud of what you're doing,” she told him. “With the horse
and
the group.”

He took her hand and pulled her gently toward him. “I want to make you proud.”

She nodded, her words lodging in her throat. His eyes flickered to her mouth, and something in her fluttered in response. He wanted to kiss her. She knew he did. He stepped closer, still holding her hand. “Lori, I'm so honored that you put your faith in me. I'm going to work hard to get better. I promise.”

And her caution was overruled by his words and sweetness and the attraction she'd felt all morning. She was filled with a bone-deep need to be there for him, to be
with
him. She took a step toward him, stood on tiptoe and brought her mouth to his, not willing to go without the taste of him any longer. One kiss, and she'd savor it slowly. One kiss to tide her over. She pulled back, searching his eyes for his reaction.

She'd cracked his reserve. The intensity she craved was there in his eyes—that laser focus on her that left her system humming with anticipation. He whispered her name as his lips found hers again, as his hands cupped her jaw and he angled his head to take the next kiss deeper.

The
heat
he brought! It slid over her skin, melted her fears, had her clinging to his shoulders for support, grateful for the arm he slid behind her back to keep her from falling. All the sounds of people setting up the booths around them faded to a background hum. Her whole focus was riveted on the feel of his mouth on hers, the strength of his shoulders under her hands.

The sound of clapping teetered on the edge of her awareness, then broke through the rushing of her blood. It got louder, and Wade pulled back.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered, and she glanced over to see they had an audience. A clapping audience. The dozen or more people who'd been setting up booths around them had all stopped to watch the show.

“It pays to get here early,” someone called, and everyone laughed. Wade grinned and pulled Lori in for one more kiss, accompanied by loud cheers. Lori flushed, embarrassed, wondering if it was possible to melt into the pavement. Other ranch owners didn't make out in the middle of a booth at the Benson Harvest Festival. She wasn't exactly conveying the impression of responsible citizen that she'd so hoped to project.

But Wade smiled at her, half shy, half triumphant, and she decided that it didn't matter. Benson would have to take her or leave her as she was, because no way was she not kissing Wade Hoffman again. She clung to his neck and threw herself into another kiss, a feast of heat and need that filled her up like nothing else.

“Damn,”
Wade breathed when she let him go. “Lori, what the hell did I do to deserve that?”