He hoped she could feel just how much he wanted to drag her into his arms, hold her, start making amends for the grief she’d endured, thrust into the world alone and with no compass. Why hadn’t she stayed in touch with his family? His momma had loved Skylar. His old man had been protective of her, as if she was the daughter he’d never had, and had always gotten a pissed off tick to his silent jaw whenever she had to go home to Rhett’s trailer. They would have taken her in. Loved her. She would have been there when he’d gotten home. Maybe he would have changed his mind on the spot about freeing her from him had she run to him on the tarmac with his family.
Maybe he never would have drank and pill-popped himself into oblivion.
The dog snarled again, yelped, but try as she might to roll herself onto her feet, she couldn’t.
“Silly girl,” Skylar said with a smile, stroking her back, as if the stray had just made a cute head tilt and not tried to use their hands for supper.
“Okay, you get that end, I’ll get this one,” she said.
“Roger,” he replied and noticed the briefest of double takes as Skylar processed his militaristic word, as if she didn’t recognize him. Or, more like, she remembered all too well.
They lifted the blanket like a sling and moved to his truck, laying the stray in the bed. The dog growled as they both jumped back, and she tried to hoist herself off her belly to flee. But the back leg faltered. On a whine, she succumbed to remaining down.
“Whoa, girl, this ain’t no rodeo,” he said—soft, low words—daring to stroke the dog’s back. “Leave that bronco nonsense at the door,” he crooned, and his fingers suddenly grazed Skylar’s again through the dog’s fur as they both tried to ease its distress.
They froze.
His pulse spiked again at the contact, of all the stupid times for that to happen, and yet he didn’t withdraw. Not touching her was killing him. He knew every inch of this woman’s flesh. Knew things like what made her toes curl, the way her eyes fluttered when she came and how damn pretty it was. And yet a simple brushing of fingers was causing liquid fire to sizzle through his veins. He didn’t pull away. This time she, too, seemed reluctant to pull back, as if they both needed a moment to interpret what the other one’s skin felt like.
“You always had a way with animals,” he said, his finger draping over hers to hold it for one fleeting second as if in a pinky promise.
“You did, too.” Her finger responded in kind, such a tiny olive branch.
Their fingers linked in this sliver of time, his skin basked in the warmth. He wanted to kiss her. The timing couldn’t be worse. What had it been like to get that horrible news? How would he have reacted or felt, thinking she’d been killed? He would have gone off the deep end. She really had seen a ghost in the ED. No wonder she’d passed out, while Ashley had flirted right in front of her. My God. He didn’t want anyone else, ever. He wanted her.
But now wasn’t the time to sweep her into his arms and intertwine his limbs with hers. He felt Sky’s gaze upon him, met the gaze with his own, absorbed the vision of her pert nose, freckles, her teeth pinching her lip, her wide blue eyes. They weren’t frosty anymore. They were forlorn.
She swallowed, as if her throat were dry. “Remember when we planned out that veterinary clinic and stable?”
Yeah, it was all he could think about since he’d run into her. And with the contract Lopez wanted to offer her for her therapy horses and veterinary know-how, those old plans might have some vitality in them yet. But he also remembered how pissed his pops had been when his and Skylar’s career fair project had been published in the paper and he’d gone on record saying that as the inheritor of Dixon Cattle Co., he intended to convert a portion of the land into an equine sanctuary and rescue. Remembered why he’d gone down to that army recruiter in a blaze of bluster while his dad had shouted out the front door that the Legacy would “never be a damned horse farm,” that horses weren’t profitable, and like hell he’d live to see the day when horses grazed his pastures instead of beef master and red angus. Remembered shouting in reply, after years of nearly breaking under his pops’s strict pressure, that he’d make it on his own and earn his way in life in the army where he could get his veterinary training without a dime of his dad’s precious money, and “Fuck the ranch—I don’t want it! I don’t want your money! I want you to stop telling me what to do with my life and shitting on my dreams!”
He’d been such a hothead, anxious to take the world by the horns and mold it into what he wanted, right then and there, that he’d screwed up everything he’d ever cared about in doing so.
“We would have made a good team, Trav,” she said, yet her finger tightened on his, as if she suddenly needed a lifeline. “Even in the face of your death, I wanted this dream with you in spirit if you couldn’t be here with me. It was the only thing that pulled me out of my downward spiral. I wish I would have known what a fool I was being played for—”
He grabbed her hand before she could turn her back, the weight of her words crushing his chest. Ailing dog or not, she needed to know right now that what she’d just said was bullshit. He wasn’t ready for her to snap this moment in half, didn’t like the final way in which she’d said that, even if his old nickname had slipped through her lips again and her voice was far more gentle, reminiscent of how she used to be.
“You weren’t a fool, baby, I was. This is all my fault—”
“Here’s your backpack, Skylar,” Lydia said as she jogged down the curb. “And your money. It was blowing away. Travis, I put your laptop and binder in your front seat.”
He nodded his thanks, irritated by the friend in their midst no matter her helpful intentions.
“Thanks, Lyddie,” Skylar replied. “Keep the money. You already poured the coffee. All right, you can follow me down the road, Travis,” she replied as Lydia hastened back to her shop.
He nodded. Jaw pumping. Emotions warring inside of him like rival soldiers.
“Let’s take care of this pup together, okay?” he said, and his palm came up and cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing across her skin. So smooth. Like suntanned silk. He wanted to nuzzle it. “And see what kind of a team we make. Because all I know is now that I’ve found you…I—I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.”
She breathed in shakily. Her eyes fluttered shut and she bit that trembling lip again. She was so tense. She wasn’t leaning into his hand like she would have once done, as if she was resisting what she knew would feel good and right.
“How would I ever be able to trust you?” she breathed. “Make me understand why you did it. Make me understand why our love wasn’t worth it before now. I have to know.”
So fragile beneath her tough facade. He leaned forward to brush his lips across her forehead, when he was resisting so much more—She yanked away, putting space between their bodies and snapping that burgeoning thread.
The air left his lungs at the emptiness she left in her wake. She dashed across the street to her truck, like Cinderella fleeing the ball, to get to the clinic and her animals, just like she’d always run to the animal shelter, her safe haven when she’d been frightened by her dad.
Was she frightened now? This seemingly confident woman who shouted curse words at trucks, popped her hip, and jaywalked like a badass cowgirl? And if so, frightened of what? Him? What she might still feel for him beneath the layers of ranch dust and emotional armor?