“While it’s more responsibility, the work is incredibly rewarding. I’m so proud of everyone associated with the agency and the difference we make in the lives of those who’ve served our country.”
Her flat voice didn’t match her words, and sounded as if she’d repeated the sentences so often she no longer heard them. Closed off, straitlaced, and dispassionate. That wasn’t the Carly he remembered. What had stolen the joy, the spirit he remembered lighting her up like a Texas high school football stadium on Friday night when she had talked about Horses for Heroes?
“Are you happy? Do you enjoy being executive director?”
She stumbled, kicking up a cloud of orange Texas clay. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to discuss my job satisfaction with you.”
He laughed. “That politically correct answer says it all. Ryder’s right. You do need to loosen up.”
Color surged into her face as Carly spun to face him. Damn. He hadn’t meant to say the last words loud enough for her to hear.
Chapter Five
Owen swallowed hard,shifted his stance, and fought the guilt sprouting inside at the injured look flaring in Carly’s eyes. It would be easy to wrap his arms around her, hold her tight, and tell her everything would be alright because he’d help her fix the mess with Ryder. From there his mind wandered to kissing her soft lips until both the world and their problems faded.
Talk about a slippery slope. Not that he hadn’t already been sliding with thoughts of losing himself in her. Since seeing her at his parents’ house his hands had itched to explore her feminine curves until he discovered the ways she’d changed. His body hardened imaging how much better lovemaking would be now, compared to when they’d been awkward eighteen-year-olds.
His body humming, he clasped his hands in front of him to cover his growing excitement. When was the last time he felt this ready to go without touching a woman, and why was it Carly who revved his motor? It didn’t make sense. Sure, he’d thought of her over the years, but he hadn’tlongedfor her. He’d never viewed her as the one who got away, and yet, standing here with her, that was how he felt.
Six months of deployment, a sporadic sex life with his girlfriend before that, and too much time on his hands maybe? He could choose one or all as the culprit for how he felt.
Once he dove full force into his rehab and channeled his energy there, being near Carly wouldn’t leave him half erect.
Owen tried to remember what they’d been talking about before his trip to fantasy island. If he couldn’t retain simple information, how would he recall intricate details of meetings, briefing data, and instructions? In addition, his job required a sharp intellect to assess a situation based on past experience and current information. The past? No problem. Current info? Big one.
“With most folks I’d play along until I remembered what we were talking about, but I won’t waste energy doing that with you,” he said.
“You’re not the only one forgetting things today. Though you wouldn’t think it from my unprofessional actions dumping my personal problems with Ryder on you, I’m usually great at keeping my work and personal life separate. Somehow you make me forget I’m at work.”
Good. He wasn’t the only one thrown off stride. Nothing hit a man’s ego harder than a woman winding him up tighter than a stallion in spring saying she wasn’t interested.
“It seems I owe you another apology,” Carly said in what he’d already recognized as her no-nonsense director voice. “How many does that make so far?”
He shrugged. “I’m not counting.”
He’d have sworn the women he’d been with since Carly had wiped away details of her, but today they’d rushed back, heavy and intoxicating. If he kissed her, would she still taste like caramel because she couldn’t face the morning without her fancy latte from Brew You? Would her hair, when it brushed over his skin as she lay sprawled on top of him, feel as soft as his favorite flannel shirt?
“I promise from here on, I’ll be nothing but professional,” Carly said, dragging him away from his memories.
Before he could respond, gravel crunched under tires as a red pickup pulled into the driveway. She glanced over her shoulder, stiffened, and smoothed a hand over her long brown hair. The rosy Texas sun-kissed glow on her cheeks and the twinkle in her eyes disappeared, leaving her features blank. “That’s either Holly, my assistant director, or Dennis Petrasik. They both drive red pickups, and I can never remember who has the truck with a white stripe on the side.” She bit her lip as if realizing she’d started rambling.
He resisted the urge to smile. Guess she hadn’t lost that nervous habit.
“If it’s Dennis, he’s here to act as the sidewalker during your session. He’ll be expecting us to meet him in the riding arena.”
“Sidewalker? What’s that?”
She glared at him, hands on her hips. “You’re kidding, right? Not only did you grow up in Service, but I volunteered as a sidewalker the entire time we dated, and I talked to you about what I did. How can you not know, and for that matter, why would you choose a therapy you know so little about?”
Because I came to Horses for Heroes to work with you.
Owen shoved his hands in his pockets as he considered how to crawl from the hole he’d dug. “I remember the important parts of what you said, like how much the program helped people.”
“I remember how your eyes sparkled and how you rejoiced in every veteran’s success as if it were your own. I remember you refused to give up on anyone, and never allowed a man to give up on himself either.”
He needed her strength and reassurance as his safety net. If Carly didn’t give up on him, he’d get through this and regain his life. He truly believed that. He had to.
*
