Chapter Thirteen #2
“With the way your legs look in that skirt and heels, if you stand and reach for something, Clint will fall at your feet and give you whatever you ask for.”
She chuckled. “I highly doubt that. He’s gay and came out years ago.”
“Not that it matters, but how’d I miss that news?”
She shrugged, and he continued. “Damn. You reaching for something was my go-to strategy. Now we’ll have to rely on our powers of persuasion and facts.”
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Or you could spill something on your shirt forcing you to take it off, for me to clean it or to change into a borrowed one. You’ve got a great chest. I bet you could have him falling at your feet.”
“Let’s keep that little gem in our hip pocket as a backup if we get in trouble.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “Tell me you don’t think we’ll need to resort to that.”
Owen cupped her face in his large, warm hands. His strength flowed through her, reassuring her. “We’re in this together, and we’ll do fine. Remember what a great team we made talking to the retired teachers? How when I lost my train of thought, you stepped in?”
She nodded. “And when eyes started glazing over, you stepped up and told the stories like how Not-Abner got his nickname.”
“We’ll do the same thing today. Plus we have a dynamite proposal.”
Her muscles relaxed. Her stomach wasn’t clenched quite as tight. She could do this. No, they would do this. “How do you always know what to say to keep me from going completely wacko?”
“I have no idea, but I’ve thought the same thing about you a time or two.”
For someone who barreled into her life like a raging bull, trampling bits and pieces of it and she’d insisted would become the bane of her existence, he’d surprisingly made some wonderful differences in her life too.
Instead of resenting going to work, she now found herself more content, and the days she worked with Owen, either administratively or for equestrian therapy, she felt a sense of career fulfillment she hadn’t experienced in almost a year.
They had fun and balanced each other which gave her grounding.
She admired his strength and courage, trusted his judgement and advice. She simply enjoyed his company.
Oh, no. A terrible thought bolted through her, rocking her back on her heels. Ice swept through her veins and her vision blurred.
No. She’d been so careful this time. She couldn’t be falling in love with Owen. Not again.
Refusing to consider the possibility and ramifications more, she focused on their presentation. “Thanks for the pep talk. Let’s see about getting Horses for Heroes new office space.”
When the middle-aged receptionist with curly hair and purple glasses perched on her head ushered them into Clint McMillan’s office, Carly had settled into business mode.
Now Owen found he was the one struggling to focus on the task at hand because Carly’s gorgeous legs kept distracting him.
He’d had the same problem when she arrived for the retired teachers’ meeting when he saw her wearing this same formfitting pencil skirt, prim white blouse, and high heels.
“Come in and have a seat, you two,” Clint McMillan said as he waved a hand toward the plush black leather chairs in front of his massive cherry desk.
Damn, even when Owen didn’t look at Carly, he still glimpsed her long legs out of the corner of his eye. How had he missed the fact Carly’s legs could stop traffic better than a railroad crossing gate? But then how often had he seen her legs lately since she, most times, wore jeans or slacks?
“We’re so glad you could meet with us, Clint,” Carly said. “First, thank you and American Mobile Homes for the support you’ve given Horses for Heroes over the years. No matter how shaky the economy was, you remained one of our staunchest, most consistent supporters.”
“I believe in what you do. I was lucky when I returned home from Vietnam. I came home to a family and community who appreciated my service and helped me heal. A lot who served there weren’t as fortunate.
” Clint’s voice broke. He removed his glasses, placed them on his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll just say some of the soldiers I met over there came home worse for the wear and never recovered.
There aren’t enough programs like Horses for Heroes, and I want to ensure you can help as many vets like Owen here as possible. ”
Taking advantage of the opening, Owen said, “Growing up here I knew the work Horses for Heroes does was important but being a client has given me a new perspective. I keep thinking of a kid I met in the hospital in Germany. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen.
An IED took his right leg, and his brain injury made him shake uncontrollably.
His speech was so slurred most days we could hardly understand him.
How will that kid have any quality of life without a program like Horses for Heroes? ”
“Because of Owen’s insight, I realized we have a bigger issue with our administration offices than I thought,” Carly said.
“The staff and I’ve grown accustomed to how loud the offices are, but our clients aren’t.
Pair that with the sensory sensitivities many of them experience and being there can add to their trauma.
Owen experienced that when a storm blew in during our first meeting. ”
Knowing that was his cue for the big push, Owen inhaled deeply, preparing for his balancing act between self-preservation which insisted he remain detached and connecting with his experiences to make an emotional impact.
His sweaty hands clutched the chair arm.
His adrenaline overloading his system, in his peripheral vision he caught Carly shifting in her chair. She wouldn’t let the demons take hold.
Owen cleared his throat. “A storm blew in after I arrived at the office. The wind sounded like a freight train would bust through any minute. The rain pounded on the stupid tin roof like gunfire, but when lightning hit a nearby tree, the thunder shook the walls so hard that I swore the cracker box shed would tumble down on me. I wondered if anyone would dig me out this time.”
Beside him, Carly rummaged through her bag for tissues. After dabbing her eyes, the tissue clutched in her fist, she said, “And it doesn’t have to be severe weather to trigger issues for our PTSD clients. If the wind kicks up enough from the west, the building creaks and moans.”
Clint rubbed the back of his neck with a shaking hand. “I just have one question. How can I help?”
Thirty minutes later when Clint escorted them out after touring the American Mobile Homes’s office, Owen and Carly hadn’t walked five feet before she launched herself at him. All he had time for was to brace himself and catch her. “I can’t believe we got more than we asked for!”
Not only had Clint donated their choice of mobile homes, he’d called the Dallas designer who’d redecorated his space two years ago and convinced her to donate her services.
“And it’s all because of you,” she said.
“It was a team effort.”
“We were kind of amazing in there.”
He nodded, unable to speak for fear he’d say what he was thinking. They could be amazing in other ways too. Boy, he could be heading for big trouble, but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore.
*
May continued to fly by for Carly. Her father enrolled in an online bookkeeping class.
He’d also followed through on his promises to be a more involved parent with Ryder.
Unfortunately, her relationship with her brother hadn’t changed.
He avoided her and when he couldn’t do that, he responded in three words or less.
The good news was there hadn’t been any behavioral issues since the night at the bowling alley.
But the biggest changes in her life were because of Owen.
He became a familiar fixture in the Horses for Heroes offices.
When they weren’t in therapy sessions, they worked on the office plans, or other long-term fundraising strategies.
Her job became enjoyable and instead of dreading going into the office, she looked forward to her days there.
She and Owen also enjoyed each other’s company at dinner, the bowling alley, playing miniature golf, or watching movies.
Neither mentioned her moving or the future, preferring to live for now.
But what confused and surprised her most, was despite how comfortable they were and their attraction burning between them, they hadn’t progressed past heavy petting when they found her house or his parents’ empty.
Tonight, she and Owen sat snuggled on his couch watching the latest Marvel superhero movie. The more time they spent together, the queasier the thought of leaving Owen made her.
“You seem far away tonight,” Owen said, breaking through her thoughts.
Before she could answer, her cell phone rang.
She wiggled and twisted in Owen’s arms until she grabbed it from her back pocket.
Before she shut it off, from habit, she glanced at the screen, and paused seeing her assistant’s name.
“It’s Holly. She wouldn’t call unless it was important. I’d better answer.”
Owen nodded.
“What’s up, Holly?”
“Carly, I’m in the hospital. I started bleeding.” Holly’s faint voice crackled with fear.
“The baby? Is it okay? Are you?” Carly asked.
“We’re both fine for now, but because of my history, my doctor’s admitting me. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine at work.” Carly mentally ran through Holly’s duties to determine the ones she’d need to immediately assume and what could be assigned to volunteers.
“I hate to do this to you, but my doctor says I’m done working,” Holly said, pulling Carly away from her list.
What? Done working? “If I get released from the hospital, I’ll be on bedrest until the baby’s born.”