He nodded and sipped more coffee. “Bet it felt good.”
She laughed, feeling as if a spring inside her were uncoiling a bit. “It felt like a triumph. Nobody wanted to see that herd hurt, but the rancher needed the land for his own stock.”
His face shadowed a bit. “Not enough room anymore.”
“Not anymore.” She stifled a sigh. “It’s a constant battle, Kel. You must have figured that out. Not enough open land anymore, not for the way it used to be. We keep migration corridors open, we have feeding areas for the big game because otherwise they’d starve and guess what happens?” And here she was, talking the job again. A one-trick pony.
“What?”
“Brucellosis. Everybody wanted to blame it on the buffalo coming out of Yellowstone, but the truth turned out to be the elk were passing it along at the feeding sites, and when the elk ran into buffalo or free-range cattle...well. Not the buffalo at all, really.”
Then she sat up. “I believe I said I didn’t want to talk about the job tonight.”
“You did. I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who keeps bringing it up like a broken record.” She shook her head.
“Well, it can be a 24/7 job. But right now you’re relaxing, so let me think of something else to talk about. I was trying to do that earlier, and not so successfully it seems.”
It was true, she thought. She gave him points for being helpful in more ways than one. She must sound like a whiner. Or maybe a bore. Either one was bad.
“Got any family?” he asked.
“You mean the deserters?” She smiled. “My parents headed for sunnier climes as soon as they could manage. My mother never liked the cold, and as she got older her dislike grew. My dad swore he couldn’t take the complaining anymore. So off to Texas, where he’s working construction and Mom is selling real estate.”
“Do you go visit them?”
“Christmas, if I can get away for a few days. Mostly in the summer. Yeah, it’s warmer. I don’t like it.”
He laughed outright, drawing an answering laugh from her. “I’m not keen on hot climates. Any delusions I had about that ended in Iraq. I’ll take cool and cold any day.”
“So you weren’t just in Afghanistan?”
“Not always.” He paused, his gaze growing distant. Then he shook his head, as if a gnat were annoying him. “As to family...there’s just me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I was adopted. I don’t remember my real parents, and my adoptive parents were older people, more like grandparents, and childless. I guess I’m weird, but I never had any urge to hunt up my biological mother or father. My adoptive parents were good to me. I loved them and they loved me. That’s all I need to know.”
Never having been adopted, Desi didn’t know how to evaluate that, but she suspected this was a man who was good at compartmentalizing his life. Then it occurred to her that in her own way so was she. The Job. All the time, the Job.
“Didn’t anyone ever sweep you off your feet?” he teased.
Well, there was nothing like a spot of truth, she decided. “One guy tried.”
“And?”
“I kicked him in the nuts.”
His face suddenly went stony, as if he were refusing to react to the range of possibilities inherent in her statement. Good choice, she thought sourly.
“Exactly why?” he asked after a minute.
“What seemed like a date turned into a rape.” There, that was bold. But she didn’t see any reason to pretty it up. It had been ugly and she’d cried for two days afterward. Then she’d vowed to never be a fool again. So how was it possible she could feel attraction to Kel? To any man? Dangerous waters.
He swore, then said, “I’m sorry. I’m surprised you’re lending me a bunk.”
“That’s different. Colleagues use that bunkhouse all the time. Just don’t try to snow me.” With that she stood and went to her own bedroom and locked the door behind her.
God, it was all swimming up again. Why the hell had she ever pulled the cork out of that bottle?
She settled into her rocking chair and just rocked. What else could she do? It’d settle again. It always had before.
* * *
Left to his own devices in her small front room with the remains of a pot of coffee, Kel thought about what she’d just revealed. It had been a stunner, all right. And maybe self-protective.
A few times he’d caught female interest in her gaze, the same kind of attraction he felt for her. Maybe she was afraid of her own feelings. Or maybe she’d sensed his. So she’d put up one great big warning flag.
Just don’t try to snow me. That was a revealing statement. It might explain why she lived for the job, why it was so much of her life that she talked about little else. If so, he felt really sorry for her.
But not just because of her job preoccupation. Because someone had raped her, and the assault had cut so deep that she let nothing else into her life.
If there was one thing he’d learned during his long road of dealing with post-traumatic stress, it was that the world was full of walking wounded, people who’d never been in an official battle zone, but who’d fought their own desperate wars of one kind or another.
So many people. Life didn’t leave many unscathed. Everyone dealt with their scars in their own way, and like a bunch of phoenixes, they tried to rise from the ashes and build on them.
Knowing that, however, didn’t change Desi’s situation one bit. She chose to let her job consume her, and she did a damn fine job to judge by the way she’d risen so rapidly in the service. But she left room for little else, and he’d threatened her just by entering her space.
Maybe he should move back to the motel. But wouldn’t that look odd, and by the size of this town he imagined gossip got around. Checked out, checked in again the same night? That’d make for some speculation, all right.
He sure didn’t want to draw unwanted attention her way. Perhaps that was inevitable now, no matter what he did.
He’d wedged himself into her life and he needed to do some serious thinking about why. Yeah, he’d had to let her know what he was doing here. The point of his operation was not to keep such a low profile that nobody knew where he was. No, he had to draw the bad guys out. Couldn’t do that if he buried himself in a hole, and Desi needed to know what was coming down because he’d be operating in her territory.
But he could have left it at that. Why hadn’t he?
Pouring another coffee, he sat and stared into the places inside him, places he often hated to visit, seeking an answer.
All he found was a deepening concern for Desi. He’d awakened that buried memory in her, brought it out of the dark place she hid it. And then she’d warned him.
Not good. Not good at all. But he didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
It was late, but Desi was in no mood to sleep. When she heard a vehicle pull up out front, she went on immediate alert. Looking out, she saw a sheriff’s car. What now?
She jammed her feet into her boots and headed out to the front room. Kel was still sitting there, mug in hand, but he’d heard the vehicle, too.
“Trouble?” he asked.
“No idea. Sheriff’s vehicle.”