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“You a friend of Bruce’s?” Debbie crossed the room to them.
“No. I kinda bumped into him.” At least the first words out of her mouth to Debbie weren’t a lie.
Debbie scratched her head, as if she didn’t know what to make of Sarah, and faced Bruce. “Since when do you turn down my chicken soup?”
Bruce’s gaze darted from Sarah to the door. “No time. I have to get the horse ready for Charlie.”
Debbie checked her watch and frowned. “But it’s only—”
“Gotta go.”
He left without a backward glance and let the screen door slam behind him.
Sarah blinked at his abrupt departure. His relationship with Debbie must be solid for him to feel free to act so rudely.
Bruce hiked away from the house at a brisk clip, not sure what to make of Sarah. The tiny woman wearing a jacket two sizes too big didn’t belong doing a job that required hard physical labor.
No mistaking that look of fright on her face earlier. He’d seen it enough to last a lifetime. He set his jaw and scanned the perimeter. Tall grass swayed in the empty fields, and the surrounding woods were quiet. Nothing out of place. Yet something or someone had this woman spooked.
Despite her small frame, she carried herself in a way that made her seem taller, and he hadn’t missed the spark in her eyes when he’d questioned her about working at the farm. But the dark half-moons under them and the tightness in her face were textbook signs of stress and lack of sleep.
With large emerald eyes, fair skin, and wavy, dark hair, her striking features could turn any man’s head. Yet, something had stirred inside him when her cheeks turned pink.
He tamped it down.
Didn’t want it.
Didn’t need it.
Most of the women he’d worked with in the Navy were tough from the job and didn’t blush. Not much different at the farm, for that matter. Sarah had a softness about her, a vulnerability, but also spunk to think she could hold her own.
He frowned and continued on his way.
“Whoa.”
Someone tapped his elbow, and he swung around to find himself face to face with his uncle Joe.
Crap.
Of all people.
“Where’s the fire?” Wrinkles formed on the sides of his brown eyes as he squinted against the sun.
A vein pulsed in Bruce’s temple. He never flew under Joe’s radar. All the years Bruce had spent in the Navy, no one could read him. It’s what had made him one of their best operatives. But Joe? It was like he was hardwired to Bruce’s brain. The man didn’t miss a damn thing.
“I’m headed to the stables.” Bruce glanced at Joe’s hand still on his arm.
Joe let go but didn’t move to leave. “Why do you look like you saw a ghost?”
Bruce would rather break in new boots with a blister than discuss his feelings. Yeah, he had a ghost, and he wasn’t about to betray her. “Everyone’s full of questions today. I’ll never get to the barn at this rate.”
“Uh-huh.” Joe’s eyes narrowed. “I just left there. The place is still standing.”
“Well, I have stuff to do before Charlie shows up.” He needed to get away before Joe dug any deeper. Turning his back, Bruce called over his shoulder, “See you later.”
He strode toward the barn. When he entered, the sweet scent of hay filled his nostrils. Horses snorted in their cool, dark stalls. He worked his way down the aisle, stopping to stroke their heads as they poked them over the half doors.
As usual, when he came to Misty’s stall, the old mare neighed and nudged his hand. His heart squeezed. She might not be around much longer. The last of his father’s horses, and what a trooper. Misty had turned out to be a perfect therapy horse. She’d been gentle and sweet from day one. His father had chosen well when he’d bought her for Bruce’s early lessons. Maybe his dad would have been proud of what Bruce had done with Misty and the program. He needed to stay focused. The veterans depended on him.
