Chapter Eight #4
Owen nodded. “Your mom always said freedom isn’t free, and vets pay most of the price. She said the rest of us should pay our fair share by making sure programs like this can help soldiers when they return home.”
“She said remembering how much protecting our freedom cost veterans put everything back in perspective and kept her going,” Carly said.
“There’s your ending.”
“I knew the paperwork and day-to-day operations had worn me down, but I didn’t realize how distant I’d become from why we do this.”
“You were mucking out the stall but weren’t getting to ride the horse.”
“Excuse me?”
“No one enjoys cleaning out a horse stall, but if you want to ride the horse that’s what you’ve got to do to get the payoff.”
She thought for a minute. Owen was right. The ride filled an owner’s soul and made the unpleasantness of shoveling manure worth it.
Over the last year as executive director, she’d mucked out a lot of stalls, but hadn’t ridden a horse once.
Her public speaking lacked enthusiasm and joy because she lacked them in her job.
She’d gotten too detached from the real purpose, the delight involved with Horses for Heroes.
Until she’d taken over Owen’s case. Working with him tapped into what drew her to her career, making a difference in someone’s life.
An unfamiliar burst of optimism for her program, Carly added Tim’s story to her notes and asked Owen to grab the Marine’s picture off the wall. When he handed her the eight by ten photo, she stared at the proud face and ran a finger along the frame. So many stories, alike and yet different.
“Countless lives changed for the better. Over the last year I’d forgotten that fact.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “I think we’re done.”
“Isn’t there something you need to say?”
She knew what he meant. Her comment that he couldn’t help with her presentation. Blast him for being right and wanting her to admit it. Lord, she hated being wrong. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
She sighed in exaggerated frustration. “All right. I admit it.”
“Not good enough.”
She folded her arms over her chest and tried to appear irritated. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Yup. Now no more stalling. You know what I want.”
She swallowed hard. The I want-to-throw-you-over-my-shoulder-and-carry-you-off-somewhere-private look in his eyes paired with his low, sexy voice made her tremble.
Did he have any idea what he’d said? What he did to her? Did he want to see her dissolve into a gooey puddle of feminine need before his eyes? She peeked at him from her peripheral vision, noted the slight upturn of his lips. Oh, he knew what he was doing all right. No doubt about it.
The question was, should she fight his fire with fire or water?
This time she looked him straight in the eye.
Their gazes locked and the desire radiating in his fueled the flames dancing inside her.
Fire. That was how she’d fight him. Definitely.
She wet her lips, and leaned forward, giving him an unrestricted view of her cleavage.
“Oh, I know what you want. I’m just not sure if I should give it to you. ”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and he too, swallowed hard. She leaned in farther and licked her lips again. The vein in his forehead throbbed at a frantic pace. “Your call.”
She tapped her unpainted fingernail against her lip, pretending to consider her options. “Maybe this once. You listening?” After he nodded, she continued, “I was wrong. I was a fool to think you couldn’t help. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done.”
“Thanks for saying that.” Owen’s gaze locked with hers. A connection deeper than one she’d ever felt between them flared to life.
And fighting fire with fire by playing his innuendo word game? Wrong choice. She should’ve gone with water. A bucket filled to the top with ice water to douse the attraction smoldering between them.
Carly concentrated on slowing her breathing and ignoring the desire pulsing through her.
The man had a brain injury. She should be able to best him at word games, but instead she felt like she played in the peewee football league, while Owen was a Super Bowl MVP.
Apparently giving his full, undivided attention was the key to him handling some of his problems.
What if he did that in bed? She’d be a smoldering pile of ashes in record time.
But she bet she’d be completely satisfied.
Blood rushed through her system heating her all over.
She squirmed in her chair, but that only made her ache more.
She thought about them together. In bed. Naked. Another mistake. A bigger one.
Her hands trembling, she clasped them together on her lap. “Thanks for your help with my presentation. I’ll take it from here.”
“Where and when’s the retired teachers’ meeting?” Owen asked, his fingers poised over his phone to add the information.
Carly paused. The thought of Owen sitting in the audience as she gave her presentation sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
If he gave her one of those I-remember-what-you-look-like-naked-let’s-get-reacquainted looks, she’d forget everything but her own name.
Either that or she’d be so nervous she couldn’t utter a word.
“Thank you for the offer, but it’s unnecessary.”
“I mucked out the stall. Let me go riding.”
His quiet plea along with the one in his eyes rippled along her heartstrings. The man played her like a virtuoso destroying her defenses. Unable to deny his request, she said, “You can act as my color commentator. I’ll pick you up at four this afternoon.”