6. A Call for Help
CHAPTER SIX
A Call for Help
O wen woke happy, whistling the cadence he’d started humming the night before when he’d left Paige’s house. He found the rhythm soothing, a memory of a past life that faded bit by bit each day. It was during the nights that he was back in the suck, when more than the songs came out to haunt him. Last night, though, for the first time since he stood on those yellow footprints and swore his fidelity to his brothers in the Corps, to his country, Owen went to bed and slept through the night.
No nightmares plagued him, no terrors came at him from all angles in the shadows. Just sleep. Blissful, restful sleep.
He wasn’t an idiot—he knew it was only one night, that the likelihood of his peace being the lasting kind was slim, but it had happened. And much sooner than his therapist back in Hawaii had told him it would come.
He blamed, or rather credited, Paige. He hadn’t had the kind of stimulating conversation he’d shared with her in a while. Talking to her made him feel alive, more than he had since before the RPG, before the Humvee. Sure, he’d riled her, and if he was being honest, he’d meant to.
There was something so sure about her, so confident, he had to see how deep it went. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find her as easily thrown off her game as she was. He liked knowing she had more to her personality than an “I’m-better-than-this-place” attitude and eyes he couldn’t look away from.
It wasn’t just the talking either. Owen hadn’t ever known anyone who looked like Paige, either. He went to bed with thoughts of kissing her soft, supple lips, imagining her hands fisted in his hair pulling him down to her, her tongue teasing his.
She’d tasted of caramel and spices from the island, of the rum she’d brought back. Of sunshine.
The last thought he recalled having before he fell asleep was of whether or not Paige’s skin would be as soft as the rest of her, if she tasted the same everywhere else.
That was it, and he was out like a light until his alarm rang at four thirty in the morning. He hadn’t relied on that alarm in months, years even. Hadn’t needed to, since he never really slept.
That morning, though, he threw on a pair of boxers and work jeans with two jagged tears in the knees. He left his shirt off, feeling a wicked heat hangover from the night before. Despite the small window AC unit he’d installed in his bedroom, the temperature in the house hadn’t dipped under eighty. It was like being in the Kuresh Valley in summer again—sans the RPGs and M16s aimed at him, of course.
He threw on his boots and a ball cap—forward facing this time—that at least blocked against the sun that reflected off the mountains. Damn if it didn’t trap all the heat on the top of his head, though. His mop of hair wasn’t helping, but he didn’t have the heart to cut it just yet. After a decade and a half of high and tights, growing out the hair was as much part of letting go as the rest of it.
Owen poured a half a cup of coffee, added a Splenda, then topped the whole thing off with milk to the brim. He needed the caffeine to go directly to his system, needed coffee he could chug. He hoped that and the granola bar he nabbed from his half-empty pantry would be enough to tide him over until his morning walk of his property was through.
Normally he’d take the property line at a stroll, but today he wanted it over with. He had big plans that didn’t take the farm into account. He’d done the groundwork on the crops already the week prior, and whatever was falling to shit on the house and barn he could take care of another day, his deck included.
Today, he wanted to take the horses out for a spin. He’d been hesitant to let them go wild on the trails he’d discovered on his evening runs because of the heat, but he still wanted them to get a chance to stretch their legs a little. The weather promised temps that dipped into the low eighties that afternoon, so he’d just take it slow.
Plus, he had a mind to take Paige out for the ride, if she’d forgiven him, that is. He liked the idea of her beside him, of talking to her. And yeah, maybe also watching the way she managed a horse, or how the horse would manage her. The way her body would look bouncing along a rustic mountain trail, the tight jeans she’d wear that would complement her perfect ass.
What he really wanted was the opportunity to find out the answer to what her skin tasted like, one of the first things he awoke thinking about. But that didn’t come overnight.
He gulped down the coffee and milk, not caring that he couldn’t savor it today. He needed to get that woman out of his head, for a little while at least. Work would do the trick.
He pushed open the screen door and walked out into the already eighty-nine-degree heat.
The rain better come in soon, or this would be a crap year for corn, not to mention the fire season come fall. He’d read in the local paper the morning prior that the moisture was down 22 percent from last year, 34 percent overall in the past five years. Not a good time to own a farm, he gathered between the lines.
Oh well. Too late now.
On the way to the fields he stopped by the barn to check in on the horses.
He reached above the first stall door with a handful of oats but got nothing for his efforts. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, hoping to rile her from sleep, but still nothing. He peeked in and saw his mare, Justice, laid out on the oak-chip-covered floor. She lifted her head, looked up at him with eyes that said, “No amount of food is worth being up this early,” and laid her head back down with a snort.
“I get it, darlin’,” Owen sang down to her. She was his gift, the one earthly being that had walked him off the edge of a dark, unforgiving cliff after his injury, the death of his men. A big part of his move to Banberry was so she could have the freedom to roam. “It’s hot as the devil out, and I don’t expect you’re wanting to be up moving this early anyway. I’ll bring you a treat when I get back. I don’t want you to be jealous, but I have a woman I’d like you to meet.”
At that admission, Justice raised her head and whinnied, then turned so she didn’t face Owen anymore.
“Fine, be that way, but I’m going exploring with or without you this afternoon, and I’d really like you to come along. We’ll be hitting the ridge you tried to take me up a few days ago.”
He dropped the oats back into the bucket outside Justice’s stall and popped his head in to see how Ares, his gelding, was doing. Getting the same response from him as his sister, Owen left the barn grumbling about the lazy horses, more anxious than ever to get chores done.
Begrudgingly, Owen started walking the fence line first, shoving at the posts, checking for rot, for weak beams, making sure they’d hold out through the winter. He rounded the corner on the south end of his property and stopped short, his arms raised up in the air, muscles tensed, his mouth open wide in surprise.
“Come the fuck on!” he screamed. “Are you kidding me?” He kicked the dirt, sending a cloud of dry dust into the air. Coughing, he waved the air in front of his face and walked up, shoulders hunched, to a thoroughly destroyed section of fence. Not just destroyed, but demolished . Like a bull had taken it down after being zapped by an electric prod.
Fuck.
He ran his hands along a jagged piece of pine that sprung out from the ground like it had grown that way. Except it was supposed to be sitting snugly in the post that lay on its side, covered in dirt next to him. Tangled barbed wire was strewn at his feet in a mess that could only be described as catastrophic.
Owen knelt down and picked up a bit of dirt on the top of the post, the part that was supposed to be as tall as his shoulders, rubbed the soft sand between his fingers. Short, black hairs fell on his palms.
Shit. Bear. Maybe plural.
“Goddamn it to hell,” he muttered, walking in the gap to survey the damage. Sure enough, he found prints as big as his hand in the arid ground, downed bushes and shrubs in their wake. At least, as far as he could tell, the barbed wire looked trampled more than dragged, so he guessed there wasn’t an injured bear somewhere on his property.
He’d walk the whole plot later when this was taken care of, just to be sure. Only one set of prints led away from the downed fence, so that eased his mind enough to walk him back a few paces from the mental ledge he stared down.
He made it to the last row of corn before the forest’s edge. Thankfully this time, the black bear—most likely a mature male—skirted the edge of his crop and went for the berry bushes that fell behind them. He couldn’t take the risk that he’d be as lucky the next time.
The exit wound in the fence was towards the back, another gaping hole as big as the first. So, the bear looked gone at least. Trampling back to the bushes cost him some skin and time, but he was glad to know that much at least.
Well, shit, it looked like his riding plans were as dead as the blackberry bushes he’d just surveyed. He needed to get the fence repaired before the animal decided it had the run of the place and wreaked havoc on his corn the next time.
It was his only big concern in starting the farm, that a part of the barrier would be taken down, allowing the wildlife to take free rein on his first go at crops. He didn’t need the farm to survive between his payout from the military each month combined with what he got from the VA. Still, though, he didn’t want to fuck up his hard work by being complacent, or what was he doing there?
It only took one go at heaving the dead post out of the way to know this was a fool’s errand. He was strong, but damn it, he couldn’t lift these beams by himself and fit them back into place at the same time.
Before he registered what he was doing, he found himself in front of Paige’s door, sweaty, covered in dirt and scrapes from berry bushes, knocking so hard his knuckles hurt since the bell hung by its guts, as dead as his fence. His vision blurred red along the edges, a parting gift from the Marines.
Dammit. He tapped his foot impatiently.
“Coming!” he heard from the floor above him. When no one came to the door after a few seconds, he knocked harder, cursing the pain that shot up his arm.
“Jesus! I said I’m coming. Who the hell—” Paige said, throwing open the door. She stood there in a bathrobe that had seen better days, the right side of it cocked up higher than the left, the center open to reveal a Star Wars shirt with Chewy on it that read “Feed Me.” Her short hair stood up on end, giving the impression he’d shocked the hell out of her.
Owen would have laughed if anything about this morning was funny.
“ You? ” she spat. Her mouth twisted in a scowl, the bags under her eyes belying a night that couldn’t have been a fraction as restful as Owen’s.
He’d feel bad for her later. Right now, he had bigger fish—or bear, rather—to fry.
“I need you to call Brad and get him out here.” Okay, maybe that was a little terse, but if she saw the fence he was dealing with, she’d get it.
“Good morning to you, too. And, I don’t need to do anything for you.” She started to shut the door on him, but he shoved his foot in, the weight of her crushing against the arch of his foot. He hollered, and she pulled back, her eyes big.
“I’m sorry, I just—” she started, her hands outstretched as if in explanation. He put up a hand to stop her and shook his head.
Damn, his whole body hurt. All he wanted was just for her to call her brother so he could get some help with his fence and save his crops before an angry black bear ravaged them. Again. Was that too much to ask?
“Your brother, please. Now.”
She nodded. He was grateful when she went into the house to retrieve her phone so he could wince in pain in relative privacy.
Any prior assumptions about how strong Paige was went out the window. She may have been small, but she had some force behind her.
Paige arrived back with the phone, dialed Brad’s number, and handed it over to Owen. She tapped her foot the way he had a few moments earlier, her lips pursed in a scowl that gave her forehead creases just above her nose. Not the most attractive look, but somehow, she pulled it off.
He took the phone and walked a few steps back towards his house. By now, the sun had risen fully over the horizon, and a few trickles of sweat trailed down his back.
Now that he had a moment of forced calm, he regretted walking out of the house sans shirt this morning. It was a rather uncompromising position to have to ask for help in. He looked like a lost member of the Chippendales who might have wandered off campus.
Tacky, Owen.
He turned towards Paige who looked away quickly. Did he just catch a hint of red creeping into her cheeks?
On the other line, Owen heard Brad’s husky voice.
“Jesus, Paige, did you look at the time before you hit dial? You’re not on the East Coast anymore.”
Owen cleared his throat.
“Um, well, sorry, Brad. This is Owen, actually.”
“Owen?” Brad asked, sounding more awake now. “Why are you calling from Paige’s phone?” Owen realized his mistake pretty damn quickly when the voice on the other end sounded confused, and frankly, a little judgmental.
“I didn’t get your number the other night, so I walked over,” Owen clarified. The last thing he wanted was one of the only guys in town his age thinking Owen was sleeping with his sister. Not that he hadn’t imagined it once or twice after their kiss last night…
“Oh. Okay,” Brad replied, still wary.
Owen didn’t have the time to try and fix whatever impression Brad had. Maybe later over a beer later, but right then Owen needed help.
“What do you need?”
“Sorry it’s early, but I know your parents are out of town and I just found a downed fence panel.”
“Human? Weather?”
“Neither. Black bear, from what I can tell.”
“Shit. That’s the first I’ve heard of that here. My buddy’s ranch in Austin had some bear this past year, but this far west is wild.”
“Got any guesses as to why they’re here?”
“Probably trying to find food in the heat. River’s almost dry, most of their food source, too. What can I do?”
“Can I get your help holding the panels up for me so I can reattach them?” Owen asked.
“Of course. But how’re you gonna stop this from happening again?”
“Good question. Got any ideas?”
“Not right now, but I’ll do some thinking on my way over.”
“Can you come now? I hate to ask, but—” Owen asked.
Brad cut him off. “I’m already heading to the car. Need me to grab anything on my way?”
“An extra hammer and level might be good.”
“Done. I’ll be at your place in ten.”
The phone clicked and Owen breathed out a sigh of relief, relaxed his shoulders. Even though it would take a bit of finagling to get the fence put back together, and fucked his afternoon plans, he liked knowing it was closer to being fixed. That he’d be the one to do the fixing instead of the damage.
With Brad’s help, of course.
This. This is why he’d chosen to move to a smaller town. Everyone was so friendly. If he needed help, he could count on a veritable stranger to come to his aid.
It was kinda like being back in the Corps—a brotherhood.
He handed the phone back to Paige, muttered a “thanks,” and started walking back to his place, his pace fast and purposeful.
“Excuse me?” she said, her voice shrill. She caught up to him in a few short strides. She was quick, despite being at least a foot and a half shorter than him.
“Hmm?” he asked, noncommittal.
“What the hell was that?”
“What was what?” he asked.
He’d need a shirt, not so much for vanity as much as lifting the heavy logs that made up the fence post, as well as the barbed wire that he’d need to grab a coil of before he headed down. He’d use the Brinkerhoff wire he’d found in the back of the barn. Even though it was over a hundred years old, he’d rather match the wire to the rest of the fence until winter when he’d restring it with something more modern.
Shit, he’d need to find the staple gun too. Where had he put that damn thing when he moved in? It should be in the barn as well, but he remembered using it in the guest bath a few days ago. At least he’d unpacked it. He’d probably grab his Colt .45 as well, just in case the bear got curious while they were still there. Couldn’t be too careful with animals in the wild, a tidbit he’d learned firsthand from hunting trips with his uncle.
“Hellooooo?”
He’d forgotten Paige walked beside him, matched him stride for stride. What the hell did she want?
“What?”
“I asked what the hell that was back there and you kept on walking.”
“Keep up if you want to talk. I’ve got to get my tools together before your brother gets here.”
“Seriously?” she hissed at him. But she didn’t slow down. If anything, she sped up so that she could glance back at him, look in his eyes. She looked cute all mussed up from sleep, when she wasn’t ready to start a war, that is.
For a split second he imagined what she might have been dreaming about that he’d interrupted, hoped it was him, but then he got to his barn, and became all business again.
“If you couldn’t tell, I’ve got a little bit on my plate.” He didn’t mean to sound gruff, but she wasn’t very good at contextual clues, was she?
“Yes, but if you don’t recall, you kissed me last night, and then this morning there’s not so much as a hello from you.”
“I said hello.”
He had, hadn’t he? He honestly couldn’t remember.
“Barely. I’m getting whiplash trying to track your mood swings, is all I’m saying.”
Owen wheeled on her; his finger extended like he was about to lay into a lance corporal for fucking something up.
“Listen. Last night was its own thing. I like you. I think you’re attractive. This morning, none of that’s changed.” He took a deep breath, aimed his knife-hand at the offending property he was headed to. “But I’ve got a downed fence, hopefully not an injured bear, but a bear just the same, roaming my property unattended. Whether or not I kissed you isn’t relevant right now, wouldn’t you say?”
Paige stopped dead in her tracks, throwing him off as he got to the back of the barn, examined the coil of wire. He turned back to her, her face scrunched up like she’d stepped in cow shit, not an entirely unlikely scenario. One more thing he’d handle later.
Her arms crossed over her perfect chest. He knew enough about women to know she was pissed, but he was light-years away from having a clue what to do about it.
Dammit. Why couldn’t just one thing go right that morning?
“No. It isn’t.” She turned on her heel and stalked out.
He wasn’t an idiot—he assumed there was so much more she wanted to say to him, but he was glad for so many reasons she’d elected not to. The last thing he wanted to do was make things worse with her.
Ticking her off wasn’t part of his plan today. In fact, he’d woken up expecting the opposite to happen. Though part of farm life included rolling with the unexpected and reassessing the situation as it presented itself, he still didn’t like how he’d treated her. Either way, horseback riding was out, fixing his fence and finding a loose bear was in.
There was his staple gun, too. Right on his work bench. He needed to make a more concerted effort to organize his stuff the way he’d had to in the Marines. This not knowing where he stored shit was going to piss him off and could be dangerous down the road. Maybe he’d ask Brad’s dad how he managed to keep everything together when there was just so damn much of it.
The door opened again and Owen turned to explain himself a little more to Paige. He could give her a second now that he’d found the immediate things he needed to get started. Instead, Brad walked through the door, looking uncannily like his sister after waking up. Just a much taller, less feminine version.
Damn. He should have been more patient with Paige, talked her through his thoughts this morning instead of snapping at her. It wasn’t her fault a bear ran amok on his property.
He’d fix that break later. Fence first.
“Hey,” Brad said. “Rough morning, huh?”
“You know it.”
Owen was somewhere between pissed and impressed. By his account, every day he woke up was a good one, but that didn’t mean starting that blessing off by finding a rogue wild animal hell bent on destruction of his property was good as well.
“I asked my pops. We’ve seen some crazy winters that have claimed more than their fair share of crops and livestock. We’ve also had an idiot or two who got too close to the border fences with their ATVs and knocked themselves and some posts out in the process. To his recollection, there’s never been a bear break-in, aside from the Marshall’s ranch that I told you about.”
“I’m just the lucky one, eh?” Owen laughed, a sardonic chuckle that shook his chest.
“Seems that way. Hey, why’d I see Paige tearing out of here like a bat outta hell on fire?”
“I don’t know,” Owen lied. He didn’t mean to mislead Brad, had a lot of respect for the guy, actually, but he didn’t think getting into the “I kissed your sister on a whim” part of the story would be a good idea with power tools in play. “Probably bummed I woke her up this early.”
He laid out his tool belt, outfitting it with enough hardware and machinery to build a shed on the spot.
Brad bought his lame excuse, even laughed.
“That sounds about right. Listen, I towed my four-wheeler over if you think it’ll be easier to get out there with the wire.”
Owen hadn’t thought about that. For a man who’d done some pretty badass, scary shit and lived to tell about most of it, he had a lot to learn when it came to handling a straightforward fix. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but this farming thing was harder than he’d thought it would be.
“That’d be great, thanks. Need help getting it off the hitch?”
“I’ve got it. How’re your horses? Did they steer clear of the bear?”
“Shit. I haven’t even checked that fence since earlier this morning. I should run down there. Have you had any incidents with bears and equines before?”
“Nah. I’m sure they’re fine. Horses won’t do anything to or for them if they’re just hungry.”
That was good news, but Owen’s anxiety crept back up, starting in his chest and spreading. It was hard to breathe. Usually that’s how he woke up after nightmares, but he hadn’t had an anxiety attack in broad daylight since the few months after his injury.
“You okay?” Brad asked as they headed out of the barn with their supplies.
“I’m fine. Just a lot to take in.”
Owen stopped and put his hand to his chest, breathed in deep, closing his eyes. As soon as he did, Paige’s confused smile came to him, unbidden, from right after he’d pulled away from their kiss the night before. Her natural reaction to his lips on hers had been so organic, so happy, he wanted more of it. As he thought about her, about kissing her again, his heart rate calmed down, his breathing regulated, and his chest relaxed.
Jesus. Two days of knowing this woman and she’d just inadvertently saved him from a panic attack it normally would have taken him a week to get fully past. He’d have to remember that ace in the hole for if he needed it in the future. Hopefully he’d need it less and less.
“You were in a combat outfit, weren’t you?” Brad asked, eyeing Owen carefully.
“I was. Fifteen years, ten tours.”
Brad whistled. “Talk about over-abusing the human capital, huh?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Owen said, shaking his head, a sad smile on his face.
“I’d imagine I don’t. You handling it, though? The coming home, I mean?”
Owen thought for a minute before he answered.
Was he? Handling it?
Sure, he got up, functioned, didn’t drink or drug his days away, but what about the nightmares? The anxiety?
“I’m not sure,” Owen answered honestly.
He didn’t owe Brad anything. Telling him the truth didn’t make Owen’s own life any easier, but he felt the possibility of the closeness he shared with some of his men with Brad, too. Plus, if someone in Banberry got to know him, the real him, he’d have someone to talk to if stuff ever got too heavy.
The two men walked up the hill in the heat, the sun shining down on them with a ferocity Owen had only known in the Middle East. There, they called the sun “Bob,” an acronym for Beast of Burden. It sorta seemed appropriate here as well, especially when there wasn’t any shade by the fields.
“I get it. You’ve probably seen shit the rest of us couldn’t dream up. Not to mention the fact that the rest of the country’s flat out forgotten we were ever at war. Doesn’t leave you with many resources, does it?”
Owen stopped at the top of the hill, his hands on his hips, looking at Brad.
“No, it doesn’t. You’re the first person in the civilian world I’ve met that understands that, though. Did you serve?”
Brad shook his head, wiped a line of sweat from his brow.
“No, but my dad did. Vietnam. Two tours.”
Owen shook his head and let out a sigh. “And he made it back in one piece? He had to have had someone looking out for him. He talk to you about it?”
“He has, if the conversation warrants it. My dad’s not like other vets in a lot of ways. He somehow kept his horrible dad humor, his light for life, sense of self. The war didn’t change him like it does most people. I’ve met some of his buddies, and man, they’re so bad off I wonder if they served in the same war. Despondent, solitary, addicted to something that’ll end up killing them.”
Brad paused at his car and four-wheeler, began untying the straps.
“Sounds familiar. Same shit, different war.”
Owen took hold of the straps on his side of the car and worked them free for Brad.
“Thanks for your service,” Brad said.
He sent a nod of acknowledgement Brad’s way. Brad returned it, then motioned to the back seat of the four-wheeler when it sat on level ground. Owen laughed.
“I haven’t been on the back of one of these since I was a kid,” Owen said. He pulled off his hat and ran his hands through his hair, dusting the long tendrils back off his face.
It really might be time for that haircut. Nothing too short, though.
“I’d offer you the wheel, but I don’t know you that well. I think maybe you should buy me dinner first,” Brad teased.
Owen laughed again. “Seems dangerous to put me behind you, then, don’t you think?”
Both men chuckled, but Owen slid onto the back seat of the machine and braced his hands on the wheel covers.
After a short ride, the men got to the downed fence and Owen slid off the seat before the engine came to a halt. He was glad he’d brought Brad back with him. The damage was worse than his original assessment of it, especially now that he’d had some time to process it. Hopefully, the spool of wire he’d brought would be enough. If it wasn’t, at least he had some newer stuff back in his barn, a short five-minute ride away with the four-wheeler.
Brad parked the vehicle and stepped back to survey the damage. He let out a low whistle that acknowledged the same measure of astonishment and confusion Owen’d had when he first saw it.
“Damn. You weren’t kidding,” he said.
Brad walked the same path Owen had earlier, and ran his hand along the post, letting the dirt play between his fingers, the same way Owen had. It gave Owen a small sense of satisfaction that his initial instincts about how to go about assessing the damage was correct. He was learning quickly.
“You’re right about the bear, too,” Brad added, holding up small tufts of black fur between his fingers. “A male, by the looks of it. Just be glad you didn’t come up on him trying to get in here. He probably wasn’t in the best mood when he found that ol’ razor wire.”
To emphasize his point, he put on a thick glove he’d pulled from his pocket and held up a handful of the wire. It had a small dusting of hair on it that Owen had somehow missed. Brad was right. His timing had been pretty good, considering.
“Think it can be fixed?” Owen asked. He tried not to let too much optimism creep into his voice, but he didn’t want to risk more damage to his land if he had to leave this section open.
“Oh, hell yeah. It’ll be a bitch, but I’d wager it’ll only take the two of us a couple hours or so.”
“Can you spare that time?”
Brad laughed, and Owen caught a smidge of mire in the sound.
“Yeah. Julia’s rearranging the living room this morning with finds from her job she snagged ‘on sale,’ so this is preferable. I should thank you, actually.”
There was no missing the sarcasm. Owen would tuck that away till later. He recalled the way Brad’s girlfriend had touched him at the welcome home party for Paige, guessed her innocent act didn’t get past Brad based on how he talked about her.
“I do what I can. If you need it, I’m sure I can drum up a few things to keep you busy this afternoon,” Owen quipped, trying to keep it light.
“I’ve got work this afternoon, but thanks. I may take you up on that at some point.”
Owen smiled. They fell into a comfortable silence, each wordlessly taking lead at different points of the cleanup, then, when the debris from the felled posts was cleared, the start of the renovations.
Owen was surprised at Brad’s strength and resiliency. Brad must’ve helped his dad on the farm growing up, maybe even recently, with his ease around the physically demanding work and grime that accompanied it.
After two hours of moving, building, hammering and tending to scrapes and cuts from the old wire, the men sat down, breathless, sweat dripping from both their brows. They looked like they’d been in a battle with the bear responsible for the mess—especially after they got to the second part Owen had found in the back of the property, behind the blackberry bushes.
Owen lifted his shirt and wiped at his face and back, sopping up the moisture. Though the tree line partially shaded them, it was still hot like a sauna.
“Is that what got you the medical retirement?” Brad asked, taking a long draw from a gallon-sized water jug he’d brought with him.
Owen let his shirt fall. He wasn’t embarrassed about the scar but didn’t like talking about his old life.
“It is. Humvee meets IED. One guess who won that one.”
“Ouch. Everyone else as lucky as you?”
Owen lifted the bracelet on his wrist, the black metal bright and hot in the sun, the names barely visible in the glare.
Brad walked over, peered closely at it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There aren’t words.”
The fact that Brad understood without Owen having to explain it made Owen feel better. The men on his bracelet were the stuff of his nightmares, always out of reach from him when he tried to rescue them from the blast. Or they’d be the walking dead, dragging limbs behind them, asking him why he didn’t protect them. Talking about them hurt in a place he was pretty sure Brad would empathize with but could never fully grasp.
Brad coughed, clearing his throat and the air.
“So, can I ask you a question?” Owen asked.
He needed to change the subject, figured now was as good a time as any to ask Brad about his sister, especially with the power tools away. They finished putting the supplies in the back of the four-wheeler. The fence was not only standing, but actually looked formidable. He’d have to make some improvements to the rest of his perimeter to match, but he was capable of doing that solo.
“Shoot,” Brad answered, starting the engine.
Owen didn’t get on the back of the vehicle right away. His question was awkward enough without sitting behind Brad for the return trip to the barn.
“I’m wondering about Paige, actually. I hope that isn’t weird, but she’s fascinating to me and I can’t figure out why. Would you have a problem if I asked her out? Not with, like, romance in mind, but because I like hanging out with her. She’s cooler than I thought. No offense.”
Owen exhaled. Damn if that one little monologue didn’t take a lot out of him. He was nervous again.
Brad smiled, not unkindly.
“None taken. I could tell she felt the same about you at her party, though after you woke her up at the crack of dawn this morning, that might have changed. I have some thoughts on that situation, but there’s no way I’m getting into it here in the heat. Plus, I’m hungry as hell. How about lunch and a beer at Jules and Verne’s? It’s a nice little dive that does both of those pretty damn well if you ask me.”
“Only if you let me buy to say thanks for your help today.”
“Done. Mind if I store the four-wheeler in your barn till later?”
“Not at all. We may need it again, depending on how hungry that bear is.” Brad nodded his agreement.
The men rode back to the barn in silence. One part of Owen’s old life he didn’t miss was working all day in this kind of heat. That would change when the blanket of winter set in on the valley, but right then, the sun and humidity sucked as much as it always had.
When they got to the restaurant, Owen in his truck, Brad in his Subaru, Brad stopped beside Owen’s lifted Chevy, admiring it.
His hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, Brad whistled.
“This is one gorgeous truck,” he said. He ran one hand along the bed. “Extended cab and bed?”
“Yep. Must haves for this kinda work, I figured.”
“Tow hitch?” Owen nodded as Brad peeked in the windows. “Carhartt seat covers?”
“Yup. They’re worth every penny I paid for ’em, too.”
Brad just shook his head, his dirt-covered hands on his hips.
“I’ve got a serious case of truck-envy right now, I gotta admit. Farm envy, too, if I’m being honest. I missed being out on that land.”
“You used to help your dad?” Owen asked, following Brad into the diner that matched Brad’s brief description perfectly. He nodded.
Owen’d passed it a couple times on his trips into town to grab supplies at the hardware store, but he probably wouldn’t have chosen it to stop for a bite based solely on the modest curb appeal. It didn’t scare him off, but at the same time, with its eave that needed a repaint, and a sign with only half the letters lit, it didn’t instill much confidence.
When they’d ordered and an appetizer of fried pickles and cheese sticks came, however, it was definitely a case of misjudging a book by its cover. The food, though simple, was cooked well, and the beer was cold enough to make Owen thankful he’d come for that reason alone.
“So enough about the farm,” Brad said as the server, a young girl in a 50’s hoop skirt and high ponytail, took their appetizer plates to make room for the burgers she promised were on their way out. “Let’s talk about my kid sister.”
“Is that going to be weird for you? I’m not interested in her like that,” Owen said. But as the words came out of his mouth, words he hadn’t uttered since high school, they rang untrue. An image of Paige coming to the door in pajamas that didn’t leave much to the imagination came to his mind, and he couldn’t shake it. Brad didn’t seem to care.
“You can be—that wouldn’t be weird. She’s my kid sister, but she’s an adult. A well-traveled adult, I might add. She can take care of herself.”
“That’s the impression I got,” Owen countered. He drank long and steadily from his beer, the bubbles sliding down his throat, cool and welcome.
“That’s also the problem. She’s been taking care of herself for so long now that I don’t remember the last time she let anyone get close enough to really know her. The closest she got is probably her ex, but that dipshit didn’t get in, not for real, or he never would have left her.”
“What happened there?” Owen asked. He took another sip, hiding his curiosity behind the glass. The more they talked about Paige, the more insatiable he became in all things related to her. He didn’t know where the compulsion came from, only that it seemed a good idea to pursue it.
“Rich, powerful admin for Docs Without Borders. They dated for a bit, then he cheated on her. She took him back when he promised he was sorry, that it was a one-time thing, even though all of us were ready to hang the guy by his groin off a ledge. Turns out the only thing he was sorry about was having to choose between the two women. He’d been playing them both, apparently, and Paige took it pretty hard. She said she loved him, but the more I find out about the guy, the less I believe she actually did. I find it a moral impossibility, someone like her falling for him.”
Owen let that roll around for a bit. He didn’t know Paige well, but was certain without a shadow of a doubt that the ex was an idiot, and worse, for thinking he could pull a stunt like that with a woman like her. A doctor living with almost no pay in a foreign country to take care of sick kids? Not a chance. Someone like that was a rare gem you didn’t just discard for a chunk of fool’s gold no matter how appealing a chunk it might be.
“Jesus,” was all he could get out.
Luckily, their burgers arrived, making it easy to think while they added ketchup, mayo, and Owen added some fries to the sandwich.
His mouth salivated as he inhaled the smell of the medium-rare meat and the cheese that sizzled on top of it. He’d eaten half a pound of fried cheese but found that he was still ravenous. Farming was proving to be a nice excuse for eating whatever he wanted.
“Yeah. Don’t tell her we talked about this, though,” Brad said with a full bite of the burger in his mouth. “She hates him right now, for good reason, and doesn’t like anyone to know how much the schmuck got to her.”
Owen mimed zipping up his lips and tossing the key and made sure he kept the silent promise by taking a quarter of the burger out with one chomp.
“Moral of the story, though, is be careful. I like having a guy my age I don’t want to punch in the face to grab beers with, so I don’t want to see you get hurt. She’s leaving in a week, and I know from cleaning up the wreckage more than once she tends to leave a trail of broken hearts in her wake.”
Owen nodded, his mouth empty, but his mind full. He heard every word Brad said, trusted that the guy had pretty good insight into his own sister’s psyche. Still, he wasn’t warned off the way he would have been if he’d been given the same “hold off” speech about anyone else. He wouldn’t admit it to Brad, but the unspoken challenge in her brother’s warning was an added edge to Owen’s need to be close to Paige. As he picked at his fries and Brad moved on to talking about his incomplete novel—he was stuck on the protagonist, trying to find a way to make her stand out off the page, something to make her three dimensional—Owen’s thoughts drifted to his day so far.
It was barely noon and he’d had breakfast, found the wrath of mother nature via black bear, seen the woman he was interested in just out of bed, fixed the fence, had a damn good meal at a place he’d have flown by if Brad hadn’t suggested it.
Which led to Paige. He’d planned on getting her attention a little later that morning, enticing her with coffee and conversation, and asking her to hit the trails with him.
Brad rubbed his stomach with a contented smile on his face as Owen settled the bill. Well, there was no reason he couldn’t pick up with his original plans for the day a little later than he’d first hoped.
“I devoured a crap ton of mysteries between missions, so I’d be happy to give you my thoughts on the female lead.”
“I’d like that,” Brad said, standing and arching his back in a satisfied stretch with a moan to match. “Tell Paige I said hi, and I’ll see her on Sunday for the family dinner,” Brad added, saluting Owen with a knowing grin as if he’d read Owen’s thoughts about his plans for the afternoon.
Owen smiled and got in his truck. After a huge lunch and two tall beers, preceded by hard, manual labor, he normally would have racked out when he got home, maybe followed the nap with a couple more beers. Now, though, his pulse quickened as each mile brought him closer to home, and to Paige.
Somehow, the words home and Paige gave him the same feeling. One thing was certain—if the bear didn’t get the best of Owen, he was pretty sure what would.