She was silent for a moment. “What if I promise not to submit anything you or the other vets don’t approve?”
“I didn’t think reporters did that.”
“We usually don’t. Practically never, in fact,” she admitted. “But this subject is personally important to me. I want to do it. And I want to do it right.”
He took his eyes off the road and looked at her. She expected him to ask why. He didn’t. His gaze went back to the road.
She waited.
“No one can force you to leave,” he said.
“But I don’t want to run around chasing my tail either. I don’t break confidences or promises. If I did, no one would talk to me again.”
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. She was beginning to think he wouldn’t. He’d obviously been sent to dissuade her. What he didn’t know was how badly she wanted to do the story. She’d been clutching the prospect like a lifeline.
Everything about it intrigued her: warriors ending up in a small town, healing, joining together to help others. It had everything...
But only if she could gain their trust. And the first gatekeeper to get by was the obviously wary man next to her.
THEY WEREN’T MORE than a mile out of Pueblo when Travis realized he was in trouble.
He had been from the first moment he saw her.
He’d tried to avoid glancing at his passenger as he drove the nearly empty two-lane road from Pueblo to Covenant Falls, but his gaze kept wandering from the road to Jenny Talbot.
She was not at all what he’d expected when Josh asked him to pick her up. She looked younger than the black-and-white photo he’d found online. Plus, in the photo her hair had been pulled back and it looked dark. Now it was short and fiery.
Neither had the photo done justice to the green eyes that danced with warmth and curiosity. She was medium height but looked taller, maybe because her body was lean rather than curvy. She radiated energy.
When he agreed to meet her, he’d expected someone like his ex-fiancé—cool and poised.
Jennifer Talbot was definitely not that. She wore worn jeans, a T-shirt and a denim jacket that looked great on her lanky figure. She didn’t try to hide the freckles on her nose. Her mouth was too wide for beauty, and her jaw too stubborn, but when she smiled, it was as if the sun just came out.
But she did have something in common with Dinah. Persistence.
He recalled the first time he’d met Dinah. As a commander in the field, he’d had contact with reporters and perfected the art of saying little and doing it politely.
That talent had been noted, and while he was stationed in Georgia, between deployments, he was often asked to be a spokesman. He’d met Dinah at a news conference. She was beautiful, charming...and persistent.
The memory of their last meeting still stung. It had, no doubt, made him leery of other journalists. But there was something different about this one.
He’d immediately noticed the way she avoided using her right arm and liked the fact that she stated the injury from the start without elaboration or expecting anything because of it. He’d also found, and liked, several of her articles. They demonstrated that she had a real understanding of the places and people she was covering. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though. He was too busy fending off questions after his five-minute moratorium was over. She didn’t hesitate to bore in. She obviously wanted a story. But he sensed the interest went deeper. Although he was usually cautious of civilians, especially reporters, he was attracted to her positive vibes and low-key humor.
But he was also cautious. He didn’t know what his next steps would be after this short—and virtually nonpaying—job. He was in no position to get interested in a woman. Any woman. Particularly one who was obviously consumed by her own career. Been there, done that.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud ahem sound.
She started her questions again, and to his surprise, he enjoyed dueling with her. As the questions continued, the car seemed to heat despite the cool air floating from the air-conditioning. He hadn’t felt it in a long time but he knew it was trouble. Chemistry? Electricity sparking between them? Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of him.
He was pretty sure she felt it, too. A quick glance revealed rosier cheeks than when she’d stepped into the luggage area.
Caution flags started flying. He could probably ignore the physical attraction if he wasn’t equally fascinated by the way her mind worked. Something about her was compelling, and it prompted him to say more than he intended.
He also sensed she knew far more about Covenant Falls than he did. But then, a good reporter would do his or her research. The question was how much.
“Tell me about the veterans who are thinking about developing an equine therapy program.”
“I haven’t been here much longer than you have,” he countered. “It’s probably best if you meet them first.” He didn’t add that they all might go into hiding. Josh had not been enthusiastic about her interest.
“Okay, I’ve met you,” she countered. “I know you’re a Ranger. What’s next for you?”
“I have no idea,” he said honestly. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll keep finding stories.”
“You’re lucky, then. I’m trying to figure it out.” He had no idea why he blurted that out. She had a way of digging into a person without them being aware of how deep she was going.
“Where’s home for you?” she asked.
“The army and wherever they send me.”
“Then why are you here?” she persisted. “I take it the army didn’t send you.”
He shook his head. “Does anything come out of your mouth that’s not a question?”
“Not often,” she replied. “I’m curious. Always have been. I drive some people crazy.”
“Just some?”
“That’s not polite,” she said with a grin. “But probably true.” She hesitated for a moment. Then she continued, “I’m not just here for a story. I know the price you guys pay. I know you don’t like to talk about it. I don’t either. It’s important, though, that your stories be told.”
Her voice had suddenly become determined and serious—the playfulness was completely gone. He also heard pain in it. That intrigued him far more than it should.
“I’ve read some articles you wrote on Syria.” He didn’t add that he thought they were good. Better than good. He didn’t want to give her an opening until he talked to Josh and the others. He suspected Josh had wanted him to pick her up to get a read on her.
She didn’t ask what he thought about them. Instead, she went back to her obvious default position: questions. That second of vulnerability was gone.
“Tell me about the town,” she said. “How did it get so many incoming veterans? I understand what you said about small towns producing a lot of veterans but from what Ms. Hall told me you have a lot of new ones.”
“What else did Ms. Hall tell you?” he asked in return.
“Just that it was home to some veterans who are thinking about starting a Horses for Heroes program,” Jenny said. “The name, I learned, covers a number of equine therapy programs. I’d been reading about them and think it’s