He needed a purpose other than returning to the military to occupy his mind and his time. He missed the comradery, being part of a team, and being productive. He needed to feel useful. Today, working with Carly, he’d felt that same sense of teamwork and being part of something bigger than himself. He enjoyed the challenge of creating the presentation as much he had Carly’s company.
Could be he was onto something.
Carly got so nervous over public speaking she made herself sick. Had she known the issue would be that big a struggle when she accepted the job? Seeing her today had been a stark contrast to their therapy sessions. She’d been flustered, unsure and downright miserable instead of strong, confident and happy, which made him wonder why she’d taken her current position.
Unlike Carly, the thought of talking to folks about Horses for Heroes left him invigorated. Could they help each other out? The idea was definitely worth thinking about.
After changing his jeans and T-shirt for his uniform, Owen walked downstairs. The tantalizing aroma of warm cookies drew him to the kitchen where he found his mother pulling a pan of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. She glanced at him and smiled. “My, don’t you look handsome. What’s the occasion?”
He snatched a treat off the cooling rack and bit into the gooey, crispy goodness. “You can have one, but that’s it. I’m sending those to Wanda Rowland’s middle boy. He was deployed last month,” his mother said.
Leaning against the counter, Owen shared the details of his morning. “Turns out Carly hates public speaking. I’m going along for moral support.”
“I’ve worried about that. I know she’s doing a wonderful job running the agency, but I don’t think it makes her happy.”
“I agree.”
“That’s too bad. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Carly, especially after having to move back in with her father.”
He tried to remember what Carly said about moving back home but came up blank except for sensing she’d left out part of the story. “What happened?”
“Normally I wouldn’t say anything for fear you’d accuse me of gossiping, but Carly never made a secret of why she moved back home. The whole town knows how her boyfriend hurt her.” His mom placed her hand on his arm. “But if I tell you, don’t let on with Carly. No sense in stirring that pot and burning her again.”
After he promised, his mom continued, “After dating for six months or so, Carly moved in with her boyfriend, a manager at the tire manufacturing plant. We all thought they’d walk down the aisle one day, but then out of the blue, he moved to Kansas City. Carly never mentioned the details, but one look at the poor dear told anyone he ended things. After he moved, she couldn’t afford to live in the house they’d rented.”
The story sank to the pit of Owen’s stomach. Funny, how no one, not even his mom, had mentioned Carly had cared enough about another man to move in with, much less thought about marrying him. The thought of Carly playing house and sharing a bed with another man burned as bad as when he’d eaten Sick of It All’s “Dragon’s Breath Hardcore Hot Sauce” to win a twenty-dollar bet against Landon. He couldn’t taste anything for a couple days after eating that damn stuff.
“Carly deserves better,” his mother said.
Owen almost cringed at the familiar gleam in her eyes and the silly Mom-grin plastered on her face. One he recognized from whenever he came home and mentioned a girl he was dating. He cringed knowing what conversation she’d launch into next. “I know that look. Don’t get any ideas about me and Carly.”
“What’s wrong with me hoping you two get back together? I’m not getting any younger, and neither are you. You’re my only child, and if I’m ever going to have grandchildren—”
“Have you considered adopting a baby brother or sister to take the pressure off me?” Owen draped his arm around his mom’s shoulder. “Better yet, adopt a teenager. That way you won’t have to wait as long to start nagging my sibling about grandkids.”
“Very funny.” His mom swatted his chest, and then clasped his hand. His stomach clenched, suspecting she was loading her big guns. “Your dad and I won’t live forever. I worry about you being alone. You need someone to share your life with. Would you and Carly—”
The doorbell rang saving him from the uncomfortable conversation. At least he thought so, until he headed for the front door and his mom followed.
When he opened the door, the sight of Carly on the front porch, her simple black skirt hugging her womanly curves and showcasing legs that would make a saint break out in a cold sweat, left him tongue tied. Forcing his gaze off her dynamite legs, he focused on her face. She’d gathered her hair into a loose bun. The somber style was an odd contrast with the skirt. Despite that, all he could think about was taking down her hair and running his fingers through it.
“Why you look as pretty as a field of bluebonnets in spring, Carly. Doesn’t she, Owen?” His mother’s say-something-and-quit-acting-like-you-were-raised-in-a-barn tone snapped him from his sensual haze.
Not trusting he wouldn’t drool or say something inappropriate, he nodded.
Pretty wasn’t how he’d describe Carly. A smoking hot businesswoman, perhaps, and he’d love to be her assistant. Now that was a fantasy. His body tightened at the images running through his mind.
“You ready?” Carly asked.
“You bet.” So darn near ready it was embarrassing.
*
Owen stood surroundedby retired teachers pelting him with questions about his military service and return to town. The revamped program had gone well. His stories and insights paired with Carly’s facts and experience proved informative, entertaining, and at times emotional, but they definitely held everyone’s interest. When she hadn’t felt competent to answer someone’s question, she deferred to him. He anticipated to enjoy the event, but the sense of accomplishment, how well he and Carly had worked as a team, had surpassed expectation.
For twenty minutes since their program ended, he and Carly had been trying to leave, but were only halfway to the door. If he didn’t speak up, he and Carly would be here until the second coming. “Ladies, I hate to, but we need to go. I’m still recovering and my strength’s not back yet.”
A chorus of “oh, nos,” of course he should go, and “oh, dears,” echoed around him, while Carly gazed at him with worry-filled eyes.
