from her eyes. She saw Kyle’s face crumple. He never could handle her tears.
He swept her into his arms, crushing her, his face buried against her hair. Giving a broken cry, Anna collapsed against him, her arms slipping around him, their hearts beating frantically against one another. He smelled of sweat, of male, of pine, and Anna dragged it into her nostrils, drinking Kyle into her in every possible way. She could feel the tension rise in him, the tightness of his shoulders, holding her close, as if to somehow protect her with his large body. The sensation was exquisite. Exactly what Anna needed.
Tears continued to stream down her face unchecked. She cried for the loss of two babies from her miscarriages; she cried for herself when Tom had beaten her; and she cried for the loss of Kyle she knew was coming. He was going to break her heart once more. A heart that had ever loved only him.
BY THE TIME they reached home with two Scotch pines in the back of the pickup truck, Anna had developed a blinding headache. Kyle worriedly glanced at her from time to time as he drove slowly toward the ranch. She’d become withdrawn and pale, tipping her head against the headrest. Her eyes were closed.
Had it been their blazing kiss, clinging to one another? As if to let go meant they’d never see one another again? Had her crying brought it on? God, he didn’t know what to do when Anna cried. Kyle felt so damned helpless. He was a SEAL. He fixed things. That was his job. But damned if he could fix a woman’s tears. And she’d wept after kissing him. Why?
The questions jammed in his throat like bitter brew, and Kyle knew this wasn’t the time to ask her anything. More than likely, Anna was upset over their unexpected kiss. They eventually had to face the end of this thirty-day emergency leave. He had to return to his SEAL platoon in Afghanistan.
When they arrived at the ranch, Jepson met them with two wranglers. Together, the three men took the trees into the buildings. Kyle had wanted to be with Anna, but she’d slipped out of the truck and gone straight into the house, telling him she was going to go lie down.
When Kyle had gotten the tree ready for decoration in the corner of the room, it was nearly 6:00 p.m. The winter night had closed in quickly, and he’d built a roaring fire that would keep the entire ranch house heated.
He kept his hearing focused in case Anna was awake. He wanted to be with her. Kyle knew if he could hold her, she would feel better. It had always been that way between them. Frustrated, he got rid of his hat and gloves. Hanging his damp jacket on a wooden peg near the front door, he rolled up the sleeves on his chambray shirt and went to work in the kitchen. Kyle made a point of fixing three meals a day for Anna. She was eating better, and he wanted her to regain that lost weight. Looking through the refrigerator and cupboards, he found enough items to make a hearty shepherd’s pie.
It was near 8:00 p.m. when Kyle heard the door to Anna’s room open. He stopped himself from going into the hall to meet her. Sensing she needed some space, Kyle instead set the oak table for dinner.
Anna appeared.
“Hey,” he called softly, setting down the flatware, “how are you feeling?” She looked wan, her eyes dark.
“Better,” she mumbled. Walking slowly, Anna used her hand against the black granite island to steady herself. Motioning wearily toward her head, she said in a quiet tone, “My concussion. The doctors said I could get terrible headaches out of the blue.” She grimaced. “They were right.”
“Have a seat,” Kyle urged, pulling out the chair for her. Anna was clearly unsteady, and he held out his hand toward her. She took it, her fingers feeling cool and clammy.
“Thanks.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Just water.”
“How about some aspirin?”
“No, docs said to stay away from them for now. The pain is pretty much gone, Kyle. I just feel bruised and beaten up, is all.”
Grimacing, Kyle got her a glass of water. “You look pretty pasty.”
Anna took the glass. “I feel pasty.”
Kyle watched her take slow sips of the water. She used both hands to hold the glass. “I had a SEAL buddy of mine get traumatic brain injury when an IED went off too close to him. He had a helluva lot of symptoms like you do. His headaches were so bad they made him cry.”
“Yes,” Anna said, lifting her eyes to him, “that’s about right. I feel for him. Is he better now?”
Shrugging, Kyle shoved on a pair of mitts and opened the oven door. “Chuck is stateside and still doing a lot of physical therapy. I don’t get to email him often because the team and I are usually out on patrols.”
He pulled out the shepherd’s pie and placed it on a metal trivet on the table. Anna lifted her head and sniffed the fragrant meal. There was an appreciative expression on her face.
“Smell good to you?” he asked. Opening the oven again, Kyle retrieved some French bread wrapped in foil. Earlier, he’d sliced and placed garlic salt with butter between each slice.
“Yes, it does.” Anna smiled wanly. “You’re a really good cook, do you know that?”
He grinned and opened the foil up and placed the sliced bread in front of her plate. “I’m no five-star chef, angel, but I’m happy if you eat, that’s all.”
Reaching for the large spoon, Anna placed some of the pie on her plate. Kyle had mashed potatoes, whipped them up and covered the top of the pie with them. The top was a light golden brown, cooked to perfection. She picked up Kyle’s plate and added three heaping scoops onto it. “Funny, but I am hungry. I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
Sitting down next to her, Kyle didn’t want to go into any heavy topics tonight with Anna. She ate quite a bit and he felt heartened. After dinner, he cleared away the dishes.
“I didn’t make dessert,” he said. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” She turned and gazed at the tree. “It looks nice over there, Kyle. Did Jepson get the other tree into the wranglers’ bunkhouse?”
Bringing over coffee, he set a mug in front of her. “Yes. I asked him where the decorations for your tree were and he said he didn’t know.”
“They’re in my closet.” She wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “Do you remember every year how our parents would gather out here at the table? You’d pull out the colored construction paper? Cut it up for our paper loops? And I’d get out the glitter and glue gun?”
He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, lots of good times, good memories.”
“I still do the same thing today.” She gave him a fond look, watching his reaction.
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Why not? I’ve kept all our decorations over the years. And every year I hang them up. I make a bowl of fresh popcorn and string it, plus I make new paper chains.”
His face softened as he reconnected with those times from their mutual past.
