snaps.
We both know who I mean.
And we have a silent agreement never to say his name again.
The career I had is over and done. Just like the Army. A bullet in the leg cut my service time short on a botched raid against a Taliban compound. So did the guilt I had over Mom spiraling downward.
I’d accepted that easily enough. I returned to acting as an adult rather than a child, giving it a second go, but when I found out what happened to my mother...
Yeah. Tobin would need a whole division of elite troops to drag me back to that shit.
“Forgive me,” he says, his expression lightening. “I certainly didn’t mean to dredge up old ghosts.”
“You know what happened, and you know why,” I say, needlessly reminding him that he’d been the one to point out what was going on.
Tobin’s little tip got me in a brawl that could only end one way. He tried to stop me, tried to be the voice of reason, but he would’ve had better luck talking sense to a hurricane.
Not that it matters.
None of that shit matters a damn anymore.
I’m done, done, and also done.
Tobin clears his throat, shifting his weight. “As far as Miss Sellers...she’s asked for a budget and access to a supplier to place orders for the materials we’ve agreed on.”
“Give her my Centurion card and that extra laptop. Let her go wild,” I growl.
“Very well, and how much have you decided for...”
He’s silenced by the look I give him. She could max out several credit cards and it wouldn’t faze my bank account. He knows it.
I also know Grace won’t burn a dollar more than she really needs to get things done.
“You heard me, Tobin. I said, wild.”
He nods. “Do you have any requests for lunchtime?”
“No. Whatever you want to cook today will be fine.” I set my coffee cup in the sink. “For all of us, I’m sure.”
He’ll come around, sooner or later, and understand that I have to help Grace and her father.
It just takes him time to make peace with new situations that seem threatening.
For once, this one actually is, but I know it’s nothing we can’t handle.
I head downstairs to the gym and change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to finish the workout I’d skipped this morning. The couple hours I spent shoveling snow were a good release of energy, and plenty of exercise, but I still need something else.
I’ve never liked sitting around and twiddling my thumbs.
Having horses like Rosie and Stern already makes being buried under a mountain of snow feel tolerable. Something that’ll keep me busy.
Maybe I’ll look up some horse auctions online this afternoon. See what’s out there.
Believe it or not, I wasn’t just bullshitting her about the pumpkin farming idea.
If this chick and her old man made a living off it, then surely I can manage.
Plus, something feels mighty rewarding about watching a big old mess of pumpkins come alive on their vines all season, only to hand them out to local kids itching to carve them up into pretty ghouls and superhero heads.
One thing that doesn’t bore me one bit about Dallas is how it still appreciates the little things.
Folks here don’t need a new candy-colored Tesla or an extended stay in the Maldives to be happy. They relish the simple pleasures, the joy of the seasons, the laughter and fun of families living a small-town autumn to its fullest.
I can’t even say I miss that shit.
I’ve never had it.
Maybe I’m still wrestling with the extreme quiet that comes from living in a place like this, but I know, deep down, there’s something here for me.
And I’m willing to work like hell to find it.
After a good hour of breaking sweat, I take a shower in the downstairs bathroom.
I’m surprised to see Grace examining the exercise room when I step out. After drying my hair with the towel, I drape it around my shoulders and button my jeans before stepping up behind her.
“Boo,” I whisper, holding in a chuckle as she jumps.
“Oh! You...I didn’t mean to interrupt if you were getting cleaned up.” Her cheeks glow cherry red, the same way they did back in the barn.
I wonder if she likes what she sees.
“Just showered, that’s all. I’ll find my shirt in a minute. What brings you down here?” I ask, smirking at how her eyes flee from my body.
She can’t be that big a prude, can she?
“Looking for my muse. Everything we talked about a