After loading her goodies into the back seat of her older SUV, she drove half a mile outside town to the greenhouse where she worked. Every time she drove into that parking lot and seteyes on all the flowers and green things, Fern felt as giddy as a kid on Christmas.
Though the day wasn’t overly hot, she left the car windows cracked to offer fresh air to the plants she intended to nurture back to health. When she entered the open door of the greenhouse, her boss, Marla, was elbow-deep in a potted palm.
“Find what you needed at the hardware store?” she called out.
Since it was watering time, Fern got straight to work. “Yes, and a few more rescues.”
Marla flashed a grin. “I should have warned you that the hardware store always gets a shipment of houseplants, then they let them wither.”
“I’ll make them green again in no time.” She picked up the hose and paused. “Marla, do you know about the Black Heart Ranch?”
She scooped a cup of soil and sprinkled it around the base of the palm. “Yeah, it’s at the base of the mountain. No one can get in there. They keep the gates locked tight.”
She pursed her lips as she drifted to the first row of geraniums and began to water them. “I ran into a man at the hardware store. I dropped a couple plants, and he picked them up for me. After he left, the clerk told me that he’s from the Black Heart Ranch.”
Marla’s hands stopped. She looked up at Fern.
At her boss’s expression, Fern’s stomach wobbled. “What is it?”
“The Black Heart’s a working ranch with cattle and horses. But there’s also a therapy program, a rehab for military veterans to help them through PTSD.”
Humiliation burned Fern’s face.Oh god.No plant left behind. Thank you for your service.Both statements referred tothe military and she had tossed them out so callously. The poor cowboy probably thought she was a monster.
No wonder he’d looked at her that way.
She chewed on her bottom lip. Being new around town came with a learning curve she hadn’t expected.
Willowbrook was tiny compared to the large suburb she’d moved from. That place had shopping plazas, factories and two school districts.
Thinking of the schools made her stomach ache, so she pushed it out of her mind.
She watered the row of plants before looking at Marla. “Any way to avoid that in the future? Is there any way to know who a veteran is and who just works on the ranch?”
She shook her head. “No. Sorry. The guys who do come into town look like everyone else.”
The image of the cowboy popped into her mind. Tall. Muscular. His sinewy biceps made her think of mountain climbers clinging to rough terrain.
That particular cowboy from the Black Heart Ranch didn’t look like everyone else. He was way hotter than anyone she’d ever seen.
Her pulse kicked, heat sliding low in her belly before shame rushed in to smother it.
Not only had she made a fool of herself, her careless words may have even caused him more trauma.
Chapter Two
Crew had a love-hate relationship with the bulletin board in the therapy lodge. Every time he walked past it, he was uplifted by the success stories of the vets who’d left the program.
And every time he walked past it, his gut clenched with his own worries—when would his next step come…and what would it be?
The therapists on the Black Heart didn’t let anyone leave without a game plan. But that meant knowing what he wanted. Which he didn’t.
In a few cases, the vets left and returned. Some found they just weren’t prepared for a world that didn’t understand them. In the instance of his friend Gabe, he planned to work in his brother-in-law’s auto garage, but soon realized that he was much happier on the Black Heart. Now Gabe had a future with the new Black Heart Tactical Training Facility. Most importantly, Gabe found the love of his life in a woman who matched him like a mirror.
Crew braced himself in front of the bulletin board and scanned the veterans’ photos. He knew a handful of them, but there were some who’d graduated from the program before the day when Crew made the hard choice to check himself in.
His stare landed on a photo of a vet who was known for being serious, but the photographer had captured one of his rare smiles. He’d moved to his hometown of Tulsa and got a job driving truck.
Looking at the board raised the question again in Crew’s mind. Whatwashe supposed to do with his future? He never imagined there would be a day when he wasn’ta Navy pilot.
