style="font-size:15px;"> “Then prove it. I dare you to spend the next six weeks here.”
“Dare?” Was she joking? This wasn’t kid stuff...it was life or death. And the way Brielle got under his skin, opened him up, was downright dangerous. If he accepted, he’d need to keep his distance. “I’m not going to any group talks.”
She pondered that a moment then sighed. “Fine. Go only if you want to, which I’m betting will be plenty.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am.”
He found himself smiling. When was the last time he’d smiled for no reason? He liked Brielle’s gumption.
“So,” she pressed, looking so flushed and vibrant he wagered touching her would be like grabbing hold of an electric fence. He could feel the spark from where he sat. “Do we have a deal?”
He shoved back his chair and held out his hand. “Dare accepted.”
As he left the facility to meet his sister for a ride home, thoughts ran through Justin’s head. He hadn’t been able to save his brother, but perhaps it wasn’t too late to make some sort of amends and help others, even though he had little faith it’d make a difference with him.
And deep down, he had to admit that the choice between spending the next one-plus month with Brielle Thompson versus Sheriff Travis Loveland wasn’t exactly hard to make.
His lips curved as he pictured her fired-up expression.
Nope.
Not a difficult decision by a long shot.
“HE’S HERE. HE’S HERE!” Doreen stage-whispered, fluttering in Brielle’s office door the following day. Her gravity-defying bangs quivered like antennae.
Brielle cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Him... Justin Cade. He’s filling out his contact and insurance information.” Doreen waved a hand before her scarlet face. “And he’s wearing his dark leather jacket and black cowboy hat with the brim low over those eyes of his and...”
“Decorum, Doreen,” Brielle chided gently, knowing herself to be a flat-out hypocrite considering she craned her neck to glimpse the dark rider just feet away.
Anticipation fired her synapses, lighting her up inside. She’d nearly given up on Justin showing today, given the hour—4:55 p.m. A clear indicator of his reluctance, and his nerves, she suspected, no matter how tough and gruff the grizzly bear of a cowboy appeared.
“Send him in when he’s finished, please.”
“Can I offer him coffee?” Doreen bit her lip and shot a sideways glance over her shoulder. “Tea...some Twizzlers...?”
Brielle tucked back a smile at her smitten secretary. Justin Cade was a tall, dark, dangerous drink of water. No wonder he had Doreen spinning in circles.
“Whatever you like, but don’t stay past five, okay? You’ve put in too many extra hours as it is.” She shot her employee a grateful smile. They’d all been slaving, double time, to get the facility up and running. With her resident cowboy now on location, the final pieces fell into place...
Except community buy-in.
She clamped a hand over her jittering knee. In a few days, she’d face the town members who’d written complaints to the local paper’s editor. They’d air their grievances, and she’d settle their concerns. Simple, right? So why did she feel as though she was preparing to trundle down an IED-riddled road? One wrong move, one careless word, could destroy everything.
Just this morning, a letter had appeared in the paper labeling Fresh Start a “Dangerous Den of Druggies.” She appreciated the alliteration—the sentiment, not so much. She’d defend this facility to her last breath just as she’d stood by her soldiers.
Until she hadn’t...
And look where that got you...
Got them...
The dog tags by her spider plant drew her eye, and she dumped the rest of her water into its dark soil. Mud flowed out the bottom and seeped onto her desk blotter. A yellow frond caught her eye. Was it dying? She scrutinized the rest of the greenery as she pinched it off, dropped it in her wastebasket then sopped up the wet with a tissue clump. Her fumbling hands knocked over her tea, and the scalding liquid shot onto her lap.
“Mary, mother of Jesus!” She hopped in a circle, dabbing at the material. It burned a hole in her flesh—well, her skirt at least. What’d Doreen put in there?
“Is this a bad time?” a man’s low bass voice rumbled.
Her head snapped up, and the heat radiating down her leg paled in comparison to the firestorm of her cheeks. She pressed her hands to them and nodded, her eyes drinking in Justin Cade.
In worn Wranglers, scuffed boots and a black hat that contrasted with his light hazel eyes, he pulled a sigh right out of her. Ragtag as all get-out, he still commanded attention. Hers, at least. He sauntered into her office, lanky, wiry as an apostrophe, his square-shouldered, loose-limbed gait oddly graceful, his dark beard a little menacing. Her heartbeat tripped into double time.
“What gave you that impression?” She swept a hand toward a chair across from her desk, inviting him to sit.
“Thought I interrupted some religious ritual.” He slouched into the chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. With his lids half lowered and the corners of his mouth hidden by his beard and mustache, she couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing. “Any more saints you plan on summoning? Should I be worried about fire and brimstone, preacher?”
“We’ll see how things go,” she replied wryly. “I’ve got ten thousand more to call on if need be.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, slipping a toothpick into his mouth.
“Technically, that’s the Lord’s son, but always a good go-to.”
That drew a sputtering chuckle out of Justin, a rusty sound like an old engine starting up for the first time in years. It did something strange to her chest, expanding it so her lungs drew in more air, thin and heady.
Or was the response Justin’s effect on her?
“If you’ll tell me where I’m bunking, I’ll go on up.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Leave you to your tribal dance.”
She smiled. Beneath Justin’s glower lurked a bit of a comedian. “Once I complete your intake, we’ll get you settled.”
“Intake?” His lids lifted. “Thought I filled out all the paperwork.”
“Some, but we need more information before we can admit you.”
Justin tugged at the collar of his black T-shirt then pulled off
