Page 17 of Sweet Courage

Hanson shrugged. “Something about the stillness of him—calm eye, loose ear, utterly unbothered by the chaos.”

Turning to the horse, she looked back at Hanson again. She watched it happen. The same quality she’d seen in him around Boots. Around Valor on his better days. She’d give anything to know what else was running through his mind as he watched the animal watching them.

A sudden, sharp whistle blew from the arena entrance, followed by a voice carrying over a loudspeaker. The words were a rapid, rhythmic chant that sounded absolutely nothing like English.

Hanson turned his head, trying to locate the source of the noise. Through an open bay door, they could see the dirt floor of the arena.

“We’d better take our seats.” Alice waved them on.

Moving quickly, they hurried past the waiting horses and climbed up onto the metal bleachers. Far enough to take it all in, close enough to be seen. Below them, a man in a booth spoke at a speed that defied logic.

“What is he even saying?” Hanson lifted a hand, pointing toward the booth. “Is that a number or a—”

Before his arm was fully extended, Kat lunged, her hand clamping down hard over his fingers. With a sharp tug, she yanked his hand down to his side. “Be careful,” she giggled, practically pinning his arm against his hip. “Or you might buy a horse.”

Hanson looked down at her hand, still wrapped firmly around his, then back to the arena. “But I don’t have a number.”

Kat shook her head, not letting go. “Doesn’t matter. If you bid enough, they’ll be more than happy to take your money, number or no number.”

“Oh- kay.” He swallowed, and Kat suddenly realized exactly how warm his skin felt beneath her palm. The hard line of his jaw had completely vanished. “No pointing. Anything else I should be careful of?”

“Yep.” Her chin dipped. “Also, no nodding, no aggressive scratching.”

When he nodded, blowing out a deep breath at his misstep, she finally released his hand.

The first horse went quickly. Then the second. The horse that had caught Hanson’s eye came up for bid. The man in the booth rattled off numbers that could barely be understood.

His gaze dropped to her face, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that sent a very distinct, unhelpful flutter straight to her stomach. “This is fun.”

“Some people come just to watch.” She couldn’t resist smiling back. She didn’t mind these auctions, but had never considered them fun—until now.

Still grinning, his gaze returned to the horse that was getting quite a lot of bids.

“Almost wish I had a reason to buy a horse.”

If it could keep that smile on his face, so could she. So did she.

Chapter Eight

Balancing two flimsy cardboard boats of loaded hot dogs for the others and one traditional dog for himself, Hanson navigated the uneven dirt path leading away from the concession stand. At least walking across the covered arena was proving easier than ordering hot dogs had been. After listening to the guy in front order multiple hot dogs each with different toppings, his mind went blank, realizing he couldn’t remember who wanted what. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought perhaps everyone had agreed loaded. He’d never been so thrilled not to have to remember details as when the counter guy merely nodded after he’d said four loaded hot dogs. The next part had been more challenging. Somehow, through the noise of the auction and the horses and the people roaming about, he finally was able to order a plain hot dog for himself. Once he got to the condiment counter, remembering he liked mustard and ketchup must have been muscle memory—the one thing he could rely on. Determined not to drop their lunch in the dirt, he kept his eyes on the ground, ensuring his boots didn’t catch on the deep ruts left by heavy truck tires.

“I was about to send out a search party.” Kat appeared from between a pair of dually trucks, stepping into his path. She had her small leather bag slung across her chest and a look of deep appreciation on her face as her eyes dropped to the food he carried.

“The line was long.” Hanson offered her the boat in his left hand.

Kat took the cardboard container, her fingers brushing his knuckles in the transfer, her gaze darting from her hot dog to his. “Your hotdog looks rather lonesome.”

“Lonesome?” How the heck could a hot dog look lonesome?

“Okay, plain.” She took a bite and the way she moaned at the flavors had him sucking in a deep calming breath. “Now this is a Texas hot dog. Not that bun wrapped thing you have.”

“I’ll have you know I come from a long line of meat eaters who consider anything more than ketchup, mustard and maybe a smidge of relish, sacrilege.”

She shook her head and held out her hot dog smothered in onions and jalapenos. “Here. Take a bite.”

Against his better judgment—and every instinct that had kept him alive through two deployments—he took the bite she offered. The first second was fine. And flavorful. Just as he was about to bob his head in agreement a delighted moan caught in his throat. The throat that was now suddenly blazing like a four-alarm fire. His eyes watered and he frantically scrambled to unscrew the cap on his soda, before successfully downing half the bottle in one massive gulp.

Sporting an impish grin that told him she had known exactly what was going to happen, Kat handed him a napkin. “You’ll get used to it.”