for a break.”
“A break? Like camping?”
“Camping without supplies, yes. Kind of.”
Sara nodded and leaned back against the couch. Mikey followed suit.
“So, no women at the moment, huh?” she asked, watching him closely. “Or do you have one? Your story changes.”
As she expected, he turned pink. “Nah.”
“What about that Brazilian bird Duke was talking about? She sounds hot.”
“Just because she’s from Brazil?”
“Yes, because she’s from Brazil! I’ve seen those girls. Ooh la laa.” A twinge of pain pierced her chest. She shifted uncomfortably, putting her beer on the coffee table. She shrugged it off with a deep breath.
“I know it hurts.”
“It’s fine.” She waved him away. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s talk about—”
“Just let me say this, Sara. You have to believe that this breakup isn’t about you. In you, he saw someone capable, smart, and ahead of her game. A classic beauty. Someone strong and untouched by life. You feel a different way, sure, but you wouldn’t know it to look at you. Men are… egotistical. I’ll admit it. We think we’re the top of the food chain. So when we see someone rise above us, who we’ve been taught to view as inferior, it crumbles us. He couldn’t compete with a woman. He had to settle for a girl.”
“So you’d walk away, too? I’m a super catch, but no one wants me. Is that it?”
It felt like something inside her ripped, sending racking sobs through her ribs and up through her throat.
Mikey pulled her close. “May and Dan think you’re the best thing since sliced bread. You’ve saved them hundreds in just one month. People on the ranch are praising your name because of the way you’ve changed how things are ordered and delivered—basically doing it all so they can do what they love and not push paper around. Jake thinks you’re a lifer. And he doesn’t notice many at all. Sara, you’re so special. I am so proud of you. I can’t tell you how proud. Don’t let one life lesson diminish your accomplishments.”
Hot tears trailed her face, and her hands pressed against Mike’s hard chest. Her face tilted up, taking in his face. His lush lips. She brushed her hand across his stubble and felt the roughness. She wanted his words to be true, wanted to be loved. For someone to think she was better than useless.
“Christie said you had a wicked scar on your chest,” she said absently, staring into those beautiful eyes, the black fringe giving them an allure she’d never noticed before.
He nodded slowly, his eyes traveling her face.
“Can I see? Where did you get it?”
Without speaking, he leaned back, as if in a trance. With a quick movement he lifted his shirt over his head. A glorious chest confronted her. One she wasn’t expecting. Well-formed pecs topped a washboard stomach. A tribal tattoo curved across his shoulder and down across his pec, accenting his muscle.
Without thinking, she reached up to trace it with her fingers. “What is this?”
“Though my family doesn’t like to admit it—because of my father, of course—I’m one-fourth Apache. My grandfather grew up on the reservation, but left for college and met my grandmother. You’ve never met him. My father and he didn’t get along.”
“On your mother’s side, right? I remember overhearing those hushed conversations.”
“Yeah. My dad tried to keep with the WASP mentality, and a Native American didn’t fit into that profile.”
“So… anything for a club membership…” Sara’s hands traced lower, sliding over smooth skin. Her palm stopped on his ribs. Her thumb traced a ragged white line.
“How did you get it?” she asked softly.
She looked up and met bottomless eyes haunted with pain.
“I was on detail. With Special Forces. Our mission was to secure the area. I came across a kid. Almost a child. He had an Uzi pointed at my chest. The way he shook, though.” Mikey dropped his head. His chest heaved with suppressed emotion. “I couldn’t kill a kid. I stared at the end of that barrel and said goodbye to life. And, in all honesty, you flashed into my head. I held on to your memory as I waited for death. But it didn’t come. His hands were shaking so badly, whereas mine were rock steady. After what seemed like forever, I stepped forward slowly and reached out to take the gun. I wasn’t going to hurt him. He didn’t want to be there anymore than I did. But then things went pear-shaped. Someone came from behind and grabbed me. I