he had, he’d be standing over her bleeding, broken body right now.
The image sent the night reeling, the moon spinning, his heart pounding through his veins. He’d wanted that mountain lion, had been looking so hard for it that a part of his brain had assumed that was exactly what she was. Fear blazed into anger. “You’re crazy, walking out here on your own.”
Her shrug dismissed his worry like it meant nothing. “I’ve spent most of my adult life outside, on my own.”
She reminded him of how little he knew her now. And how well he once had.
“I could have shot you,” he blurted out, not in control, not able to decide which of the words, dislodged now and tumbling through his head in a landslide, he should actually say out loud.
He could hear the shaky breath she drew. “Do you wish you had?”
“What?” Aghast, he took a step closer. “No. Never. I’m not a murderer.”
As soon as he’d spoken the word, he froze. Murderer. He’d called Maya that the last time he’d seen her. He’d been called that himself, a few times since. And the irony wasn’t lost on him. She hadn’t been a murderer, hadn’t even been guilty. But he probably was.
Of course the military shrink had told him different. But Caleb had made mistakes in Afghanistan that he couldn’t forgive. He’d hoped to leave them behind now that he was home for good, but he hadn’t known then that regret had no borders. How things you put aside in the daytime ran rampant in your mind at night. Another reason he was out on the trail tonight. It was easier out here, hunting, protecting his livestock, than tossing and turning, desperate for sleep, even while dreading the dreams that sleep might bring.
“I don’t wish you harm, Maya.”
She huffed out a shaky laugh. “Well, seeing as we’re alone out here, and you have a gun, I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m after a mountain lion. It’s been killing my sheep.”
She stilled then—nothing he could see, but something he could sense.
“Really?” She gave a strange little hollow laugh. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”
Her sarcasm baffled him. Then he remembered what she’d said moments before. That she was with the Department of Wildlife.
“I have a permit. A depredation permit. To kill the lion.”
“I’ll need to see it.”
It was like looking into a twisted carnival mirror, where nothing was as it seemed. Maya, on a trail near his ranch, in the middle of the night. Maya, suddenly sounding official and asking for his paperwork. Which, of course, he didn’t have with him.
Not for the first time, Caleb wished he’d reenlisted. Just stayed in the Marine Corps forever and never come back to Shelter Creek. Home, ranching...it was supposed to be simple. But every day brought a new complication. “I left the permit back at the ranch.”
She sighed as if she couldn’t believe his incompetence. “Okay. Well, please don’t shoot anything until I’ve seen that permit.”
It was sinking in now, this bizarre situation they were in. “Let me get this straight. You’re in charge of permits? I have to answer to you if I need to shoot a mountain lion?”
“I’m the temporary field biologist for this area, in charge of wildlife management, among other things. So, yes, you’ll need to clear the use of that permit with me.”
Her words filtered through his denial. “You can’t be serious.”
She sounded resigned. “I’m afraid I am.”
“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words tumbled out, rough and raw. He’d loved her. So damn much.
A pained smile twisted the corner of her mouth. “Don’t worry. Once I know for sure that my grandmother is doing well, I’ll leave. This job is just a temporary position for the summer.”
It was probably rude to feel so much relief. She had every right to be here, and if her grandmother needed her, then she should be here. But it didn’t mean he wanted Maya anywhere near him. All they could do for each other was bring up old hurt and brutal memories. And feelings. So many damn feelings that his throat burned with them, like they wanted to be shared, needed to be shared. But how could he? It was all so long ago. The damage he’d done had solidified into concrete. Had become the foundation on which they’d both built new lives.
He wanted to go, to retreat, to put at least a few miles between them. He took the first steps away. “Well, good luck with your grandmother. And the job.”
“I’ll need it.” Her mouth hinted at a wry smile. “Especially because Grandma is as stubborn as ever. And because I have to try to help ranchers like you with predator management.”
He couldn’t work with her. “I don’t need any help. A mountain lion killed my sheep. I have the right to shoot it. End of story.”
Maya made no sign that his tone bothered her; instead her voice remained steady and calm, like nothing about this meeting or this conflict shook her. “There are new regulations in place. You have to try to manage predators without harming them. Shooting is a last resort now.”
Worry settled cold in Caleb’s stomach. He couldn’t afford to lose one more animal. “What do I have to do?”
“Well, it depends on what you’re already doing. We can talk more about it when I visit your ranch.”
“Visit my ranch?” Caleb ran a hand over the film of sweat that was coating the back of his neck despite the chill night. Maya on his ranch. Maya seeing how run-down and ruined it was, how low he’d ended up. “Why do you need to visit my ranch?”
“To see where attacks have occurred. And to figure out how we can prevent any more of them.”
We? There could be no we here. “What do you know about ranching?” He was being rude, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want a visit. Didn’t want help. Didn’t want anything to do with her. Already he felt the pull, like she emitted some kind of memory-inducing pheromone that allowed him to see their past so clearly. Maya laughing by the swimming hole, water droplets clinging to her tanned skin. Maya riding these hills, next to him, reaching her hand out for his. Each image crystal clear, each memory so good.
Until it had all gone so bad.
She was silent for a moment, as if gathering up her next arguments. She’d always been stubborn, and it seemed like that hadn’t changed.
“Look, Caleb. We both know I’m not a rancher. But I know a lot about wildlife management and predator-prey relationships. So I’ll probably have some useful advice.”
He caught the edge of frustration in her voice. He was being a jerk, but maybe that was okay if it would help keep her from coming out to his property. He didn’t want time with her. Didn’t want to face everything he’d lost when he’d told her to leave. “We shouldn’t even be around each other.”
“Trust me—I was hoping to
