Shit. What was he supposed to do? The guys didn’t cry. They swore a lot, but not a one of them had cried. He couldn’t just stand there and let her cry all by herself. She’d had one guy desert her in her hour of need. He’d be damned if another one would.
Moving quickly to her side of the horse, he spoke her name so she wouldn’t startle. Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
With a sob, she turned and buried her face against his chest, knocking her hat to the ground. He wrapped her in his arms and held on while she soaked his shirt with her tears. She was a fairly noisy crier, and he thanked God for Rocket Fuel, who remained calm and stoic in the face of her misery.
Adam wasn’t so stoic. He wanted to find the a**hole who had left her to be trampled by a mob. Adam had a strong urge to rearrange the guy’s face. Accidents happened, but she wouldn’t be sobbing in his arms if the slimeball had stuck by her.
Thank God she’d plowed into him the other night and he’d had the presence of mind to get Will’s card to her, or rather, to her friend. Valerie couldn’t do better than Will for a problem like this. But she was crying so hard, and all he knew to do was hold her and tell her everything would be okay. He doubted that she even heard him.
Eventually she ran out of steam, but she kept her face pressed against his damp shirt. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.”
“I am. I don’t even know you.”
He rubbed her back. “Sometimes that’s better.”
“Maybe.” She sniffed and kept her face buried. “I’m supposed to stay for a whole hour, but if it’s okay with you, I’d like to hang it up for today.”
“Whatever works for you.”
“I’ll be back.”
“I hope so.” He really hoped so.
“I didn’t know brushing a horse would turn me into a faucet.”
“Like I said, Rocket Fuel has his own methods for getting to know folks.”
“He’s a great horse.”
“Yes, he is.”
She took a shaky breath and finally lifted her head. “Don’t look at me. I’m sure my mascara’s smeared and my eyes are red.”
“So’s your nose.” He wasn’t about to obey her command not to look at her. She was beautiful even when she wasn’t.
“You weren’t supposed to look.” She gave him a wobbly smile.
“I like looking at you, Valerie.”
“Stop that. You’ll make me cry again. How come you’re so great?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a quick, but very warm, kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”
He stood there in stunned silence. That’s something else the soldiers never did. Should he kiss her back? No. She’d expressed gratitude, not passion. His mouth tingled and he felt a little dizzy. Then he realized that could be due to lack of oxygen, and he dragged in a breath.
But it had been a long time, more than a year, since any woman had kissed him on the mouth, and he savored the sensation. No doubt about it, whatever emotions he’d locked away during the divorce proceedings were working loose. That would be good news if he had an outlet for those feelings, but as he did not, he was on the road to Frustration City without a detour in sight.
Four
Originally Valerie had been scheduled to spend an hour each Saturday morning at the Triple Bar, but she wrangled an extra hour from work midweek so she could go out more often. The senior partners at the law firm seemed happy to give it to her.
She’d told them she was in therapy to get over her PTSD, something she’d never talked about in the office before. They were delighted. Apparently everyone she knew had been hoping she’d get herself help, and she’d had no clue they were paying that much attention.
As she drove out to the ranch for her third Saturday session, she hummed along with the radio. Three weeks ago she’d made this trip with a sour ball of anxiety in her stomach. Today she felt as if the sun was shining in her heart, even if it wasn’t shining outside.
Rain had been falling off and on ever since she’d left her apartment. She didn’t know how that would affect her work with Rocket Fuel, but Adam hadn’t called to cancel, so apparently they were still on. That made her very happy. The hours spent at the ranch had become her favorite thing.
She loved watching the new foal, Naughty Boy—aka Bubba—who was now big enough to romp outdoors with his mother. After she’d finished grooming Rocket Fuel, she’d walk over to the fence and the curious foal would run up to check her out. She’d stroke his silky neck for a few seconds and then he’d bound away again.
Grooming Rocket Fuel wasn’t scary anymore, either. She’d even tried leading him around the corral a few times, and she’d learned how to put on and take off his halter. She looked forward to gazing into his liquid brown eyes and running her bare hands over his solid warmth.
Sometimes she got a little teary when she did that, but she’d never completely lost it like she had the first time. That morning she’d clung to Adam as if he were the mast of a ship in a storm-tossed sea which she couldn’t let go of for an instant, or else she’d drown.
They hadn’t spoken of that moment since then, but she thought about it constantly. Her tears had come without warning. She’d always prided herself on controlling her emotions, especially in front of others, but she’d been helpless to do it that day.
When she’d felt the warmth and strength of his arm around her shoulders, she’d allowed herself to let go. And he’d come through like a champ. The memory of his solid warmth and his soothing words remained clear three weeks later.
Another sensation remained clear, too—the velvet touch of his lips against hers. Later that day she’d blushed to think that she’d been so bold, but her embarrassment had faded since then. In fact, she’d been tempted to try it again. Or maybe not.
She’d debated the wisdom of that during the days when she wasn’t at the ranch, days when she missed Adam a lot. Judging from his casual comments, he hadn’t dated anyone since his divorce. But she’d caught him watching her a few times with a gleam in his eye.
If he’d been alert, he might have caught her doing the same with him. His gentle, yet firm, approach to his horses was sexy. She liked his loose-hipped, confident stride, and she’d learned to read his mood by the way he wore his hat. Nudging it back with his thumb meant he was curious about something and about to ask a question. Pulling it low over his eyes indicated intense focus, or even anger.
She wondered if he knew that he’d jerked down the brim of his hat when she’d told him about Justin leaving her at the concert. His anger, coupled with his emphasis on keeping her safe, had been one of the reasons she’d started blubbering. Add in Rocket Fuel’s patience with her lame attempt to groom him, and she’d been an emotional wreck.
Three weeks later, she felt stronger. Sirens still made her feel slightly nauseous, and she took the stairs at work instead of riding in the elevator with a bunch of folks. She’d promised herself to take the elevator on Monday, though.
Last night she’d met her friends for drinks at the Golden Spurs and Stetsons, and she’d suggested sitting within view of the door, but not right next to it, like before. She also gave herself points for overcoming her humiliation enough to go back in there. Baby steps—but important ones, in her estimation.
Melanie and Astrid had asked her how she was getting along with Adam. That was a complicated question, so she’d dodged it. Knowing her friends, they hadn’t been fooled. They’d figured out she was interested. But they hadn’t pushed for more information, for which she was grateful.
She hadn’t worked out her own feelings for the guy. But when she drove up and saw him standing just inside the barn door out of the rain, her heart did a little somersault of joy. He obviously was waiting for her.
When she stopped the car and climbed out, he smiled and motioned to her. “Get on in here. And watch out for the mud.”
“What, you’re not going to spread your cloak over that puddle?” She left her hat on the passenger seat. She wouldn’t need to shade her eyes from the sun today.
“This is a working ranch, lady, not the streets of Elizabethan England.” He grinned at her as she made a dash for the barn. “Was that a test to see if I’d heard of Sir Walter Raleigh?”
“I wouldn’t presume to test you on trivia.” She fluffed her hair with her fingers. “I’ll bet you had a grander education than I did.”
He thumbed back his hat. “You didn’t Google that information?” Apparently the guy wore his hat, rain or shine.
“Actually, I did Google it, so I know how fancy your education was, but now I’m kind of embarrassed about snooping.”
“Don’t be.” His silver gaze was warm. “I would have done the same thing in your place.”
“I’ll bet not many ranchers around here have degrees from Harvard.”
He grimaced. “Family tradition. My grandfather went there, and my father went there, so of course I had to go there.” Then he blew out a breath. “Listen to me, whining because I was forced to attend an Ivy League school. What a brat.”