His words swelledinside her heart, but she had to forget what he’d said. Not that she expected having more luck with that than anything else since Owen stalked into her office. He’d thrown Carly so far off her game she wasn’t even in the stadium parking lot.
As she led Owen through the barn to the tack room, she marveled at how he still possessed the unnerving ability to turn the conversation back to her, and more importantly, to get her to open up to him. She had to regain her footing, keep things on a professional basis, and quit ricocheting between treating him like a long-lost confidant, her biggest irritation, and the headliner in her wildest erotic dreams.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The familiar smells of horse and fresh hay swirled around her, calming her edgy nerves. When she opened them again, she stared at the bike helmets, horse blankets, and bridles nestled in cubbies and lining shelves around the room.
Frowning, she realized she often went weeks without being around a horse. She loved riding and grooming horses. Both activities lightened whatever burdens weighed her down. How had she lost so many parts of life that gave her joy?
Vowing to quit depriving herself, she grabbed a plain black helmet she thought would fit Owen, and held it out to him. “Try this one for size.”
Staring at her as if she’d asked him to try on a pink tutu and pirouette down Main Street in the Fourth of July parade, he said, “What do I need that for? I’ve got a hat.”
Ah, the joys of clients with short-term memory issues—repeating the policies and procedures they’d discussed five minutes earlier. “While a helmet and a cowboy hat both go on your head, they don’t serve the same function, and in this case, aren’t interchangeable. The helmet protects you in case of a fall. Your hat won’t.”
“You think I’ll fall? Off a horse? I’ve been riding since before I could walk. I don’t need that ridiculous thing because I won’t fall off.” He punctuated the last words, his voice low, as irritation tumbled off him like rocks in a landslide. Then to ensure she understood he tossed her a glare capable of making any rustler shake in his boots.
“Don’t act all insulted. I wasn’t commenting on your riding skill. As far as I know, we’ve never had a client fall, and I don’t expect you to be the first.”
She held out the helmet again, but he folded his strong arms over his broad chest in offended male defiance. “I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”
The man could give stubborn lessons to a goat. After counting to ten, both in English and Spanish, she took a calming breath and tried not to focus on his magnificent biceps. “Wearing a helmet is standard policy for legal reasons. No helmet, no therapy session.”
He seized the helmet, yanked off his cowboy hat, and threw it Frisbee style into an empty cubby. Then he slapped the helmet on his head. Carly bit her lip to keep from smirking at the sight of the tall, lean cowboy, his feet braced, his body stiff. If he didn’t calm down, he’d end up like a Loony Toons character who got so mad the top of his head blew clean off. “It’s really not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say since folks won’t see you wearing this—” His voice trailed off, and he thumped the helmet. “Damn. What’s the word? You said it a second ago. How come I can’t remember?”
His affronted alpha male attitude evaporated, and his vulnerability reached out to her, reminding him of what he’d endured. “It probably doesn’t help, but problems like recalling the word ‘helmet’ is common with brain injuries. We’ll work on coping strategies during speech therapy.”
“Screw dealing with it. What can I do to get my brain to work the way it used to?”
“Everything you’ll do here will help, but recovery takes time.” And there was no guarantee he’d return to who he’d been cognitively and speech-wise, but she kept that to herself. She knew better than to poke a riled-up bear.
“It’ll take time. Those words grate on my nerves,” Owen said. “It took an instant to make me like this. It’s not right it’ll take so damn long to fix.”
“It’s definitely not fair. I wish I could change it for you.”
A twinkle returned to his eyes, and a smile played on his lips. “You can’t change that, but you could cut me a break on this.” Once again, he thumped the helmet. “Being seen wearing this riding a horse is a nightmare for a self-respecting Texan. It’s just plain wrong, like putting high heels on a football player.”
This time she couldn’t contain her amusement.
“Damn it, woman. Wearing a helmet is bad enough without you snickering. At this rate, I won’t have any pride left when I leave.”
“Oh, please. Quit making such a big deal of this. On our website, we have pictures of big burly veterans with manly tattoos riding our horses and wearing helmets.”
“Anyone who takes my picture like this better run.”
Carly bit her lip. She shouldn’t keep teasing him, but it was so hard to resist when he acted all tough, macho man. Maybe one quick, little jab wouldn’t cause too much trouble. “You know those papers you signed in my office?”
He nodded.
“One gives us permission to use photos taken of you during sessions and at any Horses for Heroes events.”
He paled, and his eyes widened for a second before he regained control. “You can put my picture on the website or wherever you want without my permission?”
“Technically, I already have it.”
Owen straightened, and his dark gaze zeroed in on her as he stepped closer. Not enough to invade her personal space, and yet, somehow, he did. “Like hell you will.”
She laughed to ease his tension and hers. “It’s so easy to make you go all hard ass military, and it’s so fun, but there’s no reason to worry. While legally we wouldn’tneedto ask before using your picture, we always check with clients first.”
