Chapter 3 #2
Mitch sat at the bar of Buck’s Roadhouse and nursed his beer. The bar wasn’t his first choice of places to be on a stormy night, but here he was. He’d driven through heavy rain and wind on his way to town. The need to get away from his parents’ prying eyes overrode his practical side.
The week hadn’t been a good one for him.
Twice he’d suffered attacks while helping his dad around the ranch.
At least he hadn’t been with any of the guests.
Alexander Ranch was one of the more popular dude ranches in the county so they always had plenty of people coming from the big cities to experience ranch life.
This week alone they had five guys who were originally from Australia but worked in Houston for a large oil company.
Mitch had spent some time with them, and they were fun guys to be around. Tonight, though, he needed to get away.
“You sticking around for trivia tonight, Mitch?” Buck, the owner asked him as he wiped down the scratched wooden bar.
“Nah I think I’ll head back soon. Forecast says there’s another trail of wicked thunderstorms heading our way.”
“Yeah, heard the same too. Although you know the weather forecasters, always predicting that terrible storms will hit and we get fifteen minutes of rain and two thunderclaps. Although there was a pretty bad one not long before you arrived.”
“I know I drove through it. This morning I was thinking the same as you, but when I was working the west pasture this afternoon, the skies looked dark and gray in the distance.” Mitch took a swallow of his now warm beer and grimaced.
He pushed the glass away. Buck eyeing his actions, grabbed a fresh glass and drew him a new one.
“Well, I’m still sticking to my original forecast. We’ll see who’s right.” Buck chuckled as he walked away to tend to another patron at the other end of the bar.
Mitch stared at the amber liquid with the white frothy top.
He really didn’t want another beer, but Buck was a Hunt stalwart, a former veteran himself, so in his own way, he was looking out for Mitch.
Although serving alcohol to a veteran was never a good idea.
Mitch had never used alcohol as crutch, even deployed he didn’t need to have alcohol on a regular basis, like some of the other guys.
When he was laying on his bed, sweat dripping down his face because he’d woken from yet another nightmare, the temptation to lose himself in a bottle loomed as a better option than dealing with the pain he was suffering alone.
The sound of voices and laughter sounded behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see who was coming in. No doubt the group of about ten people were here for trivia night and if that was the case, it was his signal to get the hell out of there before it became too crowded and he got stuck.
He was about to turn back to his beer when a final person walked through the door. His heart rate kicked up a notch as he recognized the dark tresses of hair and the wide smile on her face.
He didn’t know her name, but he hadn’t forgotten her face.
They’d shared a brief kiss. A fraction of time in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes, when he was in the midst of an attack, memories of her voice.
Her touch. Her mouth pressed against his would jolt him enough that he could pull himself out of the dark recesses of his attack.
The second she spied him at the bar the smile on her face froze and her eyes widened.
She wasn’t decked out in western wear like she had been that day.
The pink cowboy hat he’d found endearing on her that day was missing.
So were the cowboy boots and the flirty black sparkly dress.
Tonight, she wore jeans that didn’t look like they’d come from Walmart.
They fit her long legs like a second skin.
Her pink blouse looked silky and highlighted her dark tresses.
She looked vibrant and alive, and he should stay away from her, yet he found himself sliding off the bar stool and striding toward her before he could really think.
He stopped in front of her and inhaled. Like when she’d stormed away from him at the barbeque, coconut assailed his senses. He wouldn’t be able to look at an Almond Joy bar again and not think of her. “Hi.”
Her eyes widened when he spoke, as if that was the last thing she expected from him. “Hello, Mitch. How are you?”
Without the dregs of an attack lingering around his consciousness he was able to detect that her accent definitely wasn’t southern. Her words were rounded and proper. “Where are you from?” he blurted out.
Fuck, he really needed to work on his social skills. Before his last deployment he’d had some smooth lines and moves. Although the woman standing in front of him didn’t look like she’d fall for his usual pick-up lines.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I grew up in Boston. It was good to see you, Mitch, but I need to get back to my friends.”
Mitch glanced over to where she pointed and the group she walked in were watching them avidly. The last thing he wanted, and he suspected the woman in front of him wanted, was to be the center of attention. Yet he couldn’t let her go, just yet.
“You have me at a disadvantage. You’ve seen me at my worst and yet I don’t know your name.”
Her hand curled some hair behind her ear in an almost nervous gesture.
Her pink tongue came out and moistened her lower lip.
Mitch bit back a groan as his body reacted to the small motion.
It had been a long time since he’d a reaction that instantaneous to a person he was meeting for the second time.
“Nadia. My name’s Nadia and I really need to go. Have a good night, Mitch.”
She walked away before he could say anything else, the action cut deep, more than the girls he’d gone on first dates with never wanting another one. Mitch didn’t understand how a woman he’d met twice could have such an impact on him. But she did.
Nadia.
He let the name roll around in his mind. He liked the sound of it and it suited her. Suited her demeanor.
A loud clap of thunder boomed overhead, almost shaking the building.
Surprisingly, thunder or even loud booms rarely triggered him in to having an attack.
He still had no idea what triggered them.
All he knew was that he could be fine one minute and the next he was coming to thirty feet away from where he last remembered standing, sweat running down the side of his face.
He probably should get help. There was a VA Center in Kerrville.
Gene had given him information about it, but yet he still refused to go.
I also recognize a fool when I see one and that’s you, Mitch.
The snippet of the conversation he’d had with Nadia all those weeks ago came rushing back. Perhaps she was right and he was a fool, but he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.