Chapter 3
Three
Sebastian couldn’t sleep. That in and of itself wasn’t anything new.
He and insomnia were close friends, and he’d lain awake so often, he knew every knot and swirl in the plank ceiling above his bed.
But this time, it wasn’t for the usual reasons.
He wasn’t thinking of war or death or those he’d lost on the field of battle and after.
No, he was thinking of Laurel Maxwell. The absolutely off-limits woman he’d have on his arm in—he glanced at the clock—something like fourteen hours.
He hadn’t been able to resist following her outside.
Hadn’t been able to stop himself from doing what he could to erase the panic he’d seen so clearly in her eyes.
That vulnerability tugged at him in a way flirtation never could.
It wasn’t in him to ignore someone in need.
So he’d intervened, touching her, breathing with her.
Falling into those wide, hazel eyes. And now he couldn’t stop remembering the petal soft skin of her wrists.
The way her slim fingers had felt curling around his own wrists, forging a link between them.
No, not a link. It couldn’t be a link because she was Logan’s sister. Because she would be leaving the day after tomorrow.
And yet, he couldn’t stop remembering how it felt to have her look at him with trust. He’d felt necessary, needed, a kind of validation he hadn’t sought since his separation from the Army.
He’d wanted, needed to press his mouth to hers, to watch those pretty eyes fall closed, to watch them open again hazed with want instead of worry.
But even if she wasn’t Logan’s sister, he couldn’t go there.
He couldn’t be her short-term distraction, her temporary knight.
He’d known too many good men who’d let their hero complexes draw them down dangerous paths.
That way lay madness.
But touching her had felt so damned good.
Irritated and knowing he’d never find his way into unconsciousness, he gave up and dressed, shoving his feet into boots to head down to the barn. He’d check on his charges and work off some of this excess energy.
The night was colder than he’d expected, and he wished he’d thought to drag on more than a flannel shirt.
His breath puffed out in clouds just barely illuminated by the crescent moon.
Nothing stirred in the night. That utter stillness soaked into him, easing some of the restlessness he’d been struggling with.
By the time he opened the side door of the barn, he felt calmer.
The interior was warm, full of the sweet, familiar scents of hay and leather, underscored with the musk of animals.
This was the scent of his childhood. Of comfort.
This was what had saved him after the Rangers.
He hadn’t known it could or would, and he could only be grateful that Porter had shoved him into this opportunity.
The sound of a low, female voice brought him up short.
Stepping into the aisle, he saw Laurel at the other end, stroking a hand down Cas’s nose.
The gelding’s expression could only be described as ecstacy.
The moment she drew her hand back, he nudged her in the chest, hard enough she stumbled a bit.
“Demanding, aren’t you?”
“That’s Casanova. He thinks the attention of all ladies is his due.”
Laurel startled with a little yip. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry.” He ambled toward her. “What are you doing up?”
Though her attention shifted to him, she stepped back to the horse and resumed her petting. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m still in exam mode, and I haven’t been able to convince my brain there’s not something else I’m supposed to be doing.”
He doubted that was the only thing, but he figured she’d talk about it if she felt like it, so he let it alone.
“You’ve spent time around horses before.” So many people were leery of the big animals, but she didn’t seem intimidated at all.
Her lips curved into an easy smile—a real smile, rather than the socially-appropriate one she’d been using all evening.
This was the real woman. No artifice, no shields.
And standing here in flannel pajama pants and a Vanderbilt sweatshirt, she was even more stunning than the put-together debutante he’d met earlier.
Danger. Danger, Will Robinson.
“Yeah. A long time ago. I was horse crazy like any little girl, and my parents indulged me for a while, expecting I’d get over the phase. They never would buy me my own horse. So that’s on my bucket list someday. I haven’t been riding in years.”
Yeah, he could imagine the kinds of bullshit reasons they’d have given her. It wasn’t appropriate. Wasn’t ladylike. Didn’t expand her resume.
If it hadn’t been the middle of the damned night, he’d have saddled one of the horses and put her in the ring. She obviously missed it. Instead, he strolled over to lay a hand on Cas’s neck himself.
“It gets in your blood and you never really forget.”
She looked up at him in open curiosity. “Did you stop?”
Sebastian didn’t people much. He preferred the company of his animals.
And those people he did hang out with all knew his history, or enough of it to cover the big stuff.
It was a new thing to be around someone who didn’t know him at all.
Didn’t have any preconceived notions about who he was or what he’d been through.
He could pick and choose what to tell her.
What guy to be for this short, weekend entanglement.
“For a while I had a job that didn’t allow me access. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I got it back.” Understatement of the century.
“How did you get into horses?”
“My mom. She worked for one of those horse farms everybody thinks of when they think about Kentucky, so I grew up around prize-winning Thoroughbreds and spent as much time in barns as I did our house.”
Laurel beamed. “That sounds amazing.”
“A lot of it was pretty awesome.” Until it came to an end.
Her involuntary shiver pulled his brain away from that dark, mental path.
“It’s freezing. You should be getting some sleep. It’s an earlier day for you ladies tomorrow.”
She studied him for a long moment, still absently scratching beneath Cas’s forelock. “I’d rather keep talking. Unless you’re headed to bed.”
Her innocent words sent his brain down a merry, fantasy path involving her in his bed, where he found out exactly what was beneath that shapeless sweatshirt. His body stirred at the notion.
Nope. He needed to get that shit under control and fast. He ought to walk her back to the house.
Instead, he found himself striding into the tack room to grab one of the blankets he kept for the nights he spent out here keeping watch on injured or sick horses.
Shaking it out, he wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging the ends together like a big shawl.
The motion inadvertently brought her a step closer to him, and he caught the faint, subtly floral scent of…
what was that? Chamomile? Lavender? It reminded him of the herbal teas his mom used to drink.
Laurel reached up to clasp the edges of the blanket, her hand brushing his. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” He managed to withdraw without acting like he’d been scalded and nodded to a stack of square hay bales. “Want to sit?”
“Sure.”
Sebastian sat first, back against the wall.
He realized his mistake almost immediately when she sat beside him.
They weren’t touching, but it wouldn’t take much to reach out and twine his fingers with hers.
He was surprised by how much he wanted to.
The dim interior of the barn in this silent stretch of night felt too intimate.
Yet he didn’t want to walk away and go back to his empty house.
Laurel let out a long, weighty sigh. “You were right, earlier.”
He dragged his attention away from his desire to touch her and back to the conversation. “About what?”
“I don’t want that job. It’s what Dad wants me to do. What he’s expected me to do from the moment I announced my intention to pursue the law. I didn’t even know he knew about the offer. I was hoping he didn’t, so I could avoid…well, exactly what happened.”
He rolled his head toward her, catching the misery in her eyes. “What do you want?” It was a basic enough question, and one he doubted anyone else had asked her.
“To survive my last semester.”
That wasn’t the whole answer, certainly not the honest one. So he pushed, just a little, hoping to draw her out. “What else?”
She turned her head, and something other than misery came into her eyes. “To satisfy my curiosity.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper and he found himself leaning closer to hear whatever she wanted to confide. “About what?”
“This.” Lifting her face to his, she closed the distance between them.
Her lips were soft against his, but not tentative. It was a gentle question, and it shocked the hell out of him. For long moments, he couldn’t do anything but sit there, stunned.
Laurel pulled back, a flush staining her cheeks. “Sorry.” She looked away. “That was—”
Sebastian didn’t allow himself to think about the wisdom of his actions. He could only focus on the need to know the taste and feel of her. Sliding his hand into her hair, he framed her face, bringing her gaze back to his. Her eyes were full of distress and a guarded hope.
“A surprise. It was a surprise.” Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her hands came up to circle his wrists and he braced to pull away. Instead, she melted into him in a surrender that tore straight past what was left of his good sense. He was in so much trouble here, but hell if he could find the will to pull away.