Page 22 of Cowboy SEAL Homecoming

“Your leg buckled,” she said, her voice so quiet and squeaky it was a wonder he could hear her at all, but she could tell from the way the air went tense and still he had heard.

“I can race you. Race right now,” he finally responded, his voice cool and sure.

She shook her head, irritated enough with him to get over her embarrassment and meet his challenging gaze. “You’re going to let your pride hurt your injuries?”

“I’m healed.” He was standing at the entrance of the stall, far too…broad and foreboding and clearly angry.

“Look, I’m sorry if something I did or said hurt your pride or whatever, but—”

“You didn’t.”

“Then why are you looming there?” she said, gesturing at him with the sponge she’d grabbed to wash Pal down with.

He opened his mouth but eventually only closed it without saying anything.

“Exactly. Your knee gave out. It’s nothing to ignore. Certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I damn well know my injuries are nothing to be ashamed of.” But he said it with a fervor she almost didn’t believe.

She didn’t like him still standing there, so she did the same thing she’d done to Jack. Employed some kindness. “Would you consider telling me what happened?”

He stiffened and backed away, the fierceness in his nearly golden-brown gaze dimming into that shuttered thing he did. Though his reaction had been what she’d expected, his words surprised her.

“It was a crash. A grenade was thrown into the back of the vehicle I was driving.”

Becca couldn’t have hidden her horror if she’d tried. He said it so flatly. She couldn’t imagine it—not that she’d been able to imagine any scenario that wasn’t horrifying.

“Most of my injuries were sustained when I ran into an embankment due to the explosion. Gabe was next to me and in the seat that took the most damage from the crash. Jack was in the back. His injuries mostly stem from the grenade blast.”

She’d lost track of washing down Pal, was blindingly aware of how hard she’d thought her life was being sick and having an overprotective mother. But Alex, and Gabe and Jack, had gone to war. War. As a choice.

“You didn’t get any injuries from the grenade?”

His eyebrows drew together, the only not smooth, not calm thing on his face. He squinted out the barn doors. “There was another man in the car who stepped on the grenade and positioned his body so he’d get most of the force of the blow, which lessened its impact on the rest of us.”

Becca blinked. She couldn’t bring herself to ask, but she had a bad feeling she knew what had happened to the fourth man.

“My lingering injuries stem from the vehicle folding in on my knee, requiring what amounted to a knee replacement. My knee is fine now. I just sometimes don’t have all the strength it needs, but it’s only a matter of time until I’m completely recovered.”

“Is that what the doctors say, or is that what you say?” When he didn’t respond, she knew what the answer was. “I see. Well, I have no intention of treating you or Gabe or Jack like some sort of delicate invalids. I just want to strike the right balance. You three know each other. You’ve been through hell together. You have the right to jab at each other, and I don’t…I don’t know you well enough to get into that.”

“If they’re jabbing at you, you can jab right back. You don’t have to feel bad about that. Jack can be a surly ass, and Gabe’s an obnoxious moth—” He stopped and cleared his throat pointedly.

She smiled, happy for the bit of levity. “What about you?”

“I’m a perfect gentleman.”

She laughed, and though he frowned, she saw a little glimpse of humor behind it. It was a nice moment to have some humor. It’d been a long few days of…well, not really understanding each other. It would take time to find that understanding, but she liked the progress they were making.

What she didn’t quite like—or maybe more accurately didn’t know how to feel about—was that little tickle in the bottom of her gut whenever their gazes met. Like nerves, but not like the nerves she knew so well. It wasn’t about not knowing what to say. It wasn’t even not knowing what to do. It was something else. Something she’d never felt before.

She got the strangest notion he felt it too because he wasn’t saying anything and he was staring at her. Just as she was staring at him. The moment held too long, and a prickly awareness spread across her skin as though he’d touched her. He hadn’t, wasn’t even close enough to.

“My mother’s coming to dinner tomorrow night,” she blurted. She had no idea why all of a sudden she was nervous with him again.

“Well, we can give you your space.”

If only. “You misunderstand me. She’s coming to dinner to meet you. I mean, all of you. This is fully a check-on-Becca dinner and all three of your presences will be required.”

“Not necessary. We’ll make ourselves scarce and you can have a nice meal with your mother.”

“You obviously haven’t spent enough time with my mother to understand that no is not an option.”

“I’m a grown man and a soldier.”

“But you are no Sandra Denton.”

He gave her an odd look, almost like he didn’t believe her. But he’d see. Oh, he’d see, and Becca could only hope she wouldn’t be too embarrassed to enjoy it.

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