It’s understood here that the men of Courage County are obsessed with their women and aren’t afraid to stake their claim in public or in private.
Bree stares at the wax seal for a moment, running her thumb along it before she opens the envelope. Both the envelope and the pages are a faded brown meant to be reminiscent of old-fashioned letters. It was part of the kit. While it felt silly at the time, now I’m glad I went with it because Bree deserves to feel special every single day.
I watch her unfold the paper, her eyes scanning over it, and my gut tightens. I want to burst into the room and tell her exactly how I feel.
I want to confess that the letter was written by me, but the way that she avoids me tells me that she’s not ready for a big profession of my feelings just yet. Instead, I have to be patient and content myself with this love letter.
She pauses when she finishes reading it and wipes a tear away from her face. My heart nearly stops in my chest. I’ve made her sad or scared or said something awful in my words.
I want to barrel in there and apologize for whatever dumbfuckery I committed. But before I can, she clutches the letter to her chest, just like one of those cartoon characters and lets out the smallest, happiest sigh.
She holds the letter for a long time before carefully tucking it back into the envelope and replacing the wax seal.
She places the letter back into a drawer before she’s called away to start seeing patients. I ride the high of having delighted her for the rest of the day. I want to spend my life making her happy and giving her reasons to smile.
After work, I watch her leave and follow her to her apartment. I’ve been doing that every day since she arrived. I always follow her and make sure she gets home safe.
Once I’ve watched her walk up the stairs to her second floor apartment and disappear inside, I put my truck in drive and head toward Bronco’s place.
He and I have a standing dinner date once a week. Most of the guys who know Bronco end up adopted by him.
When he left the Marines, he bought land in Courage County and built a huge farm. Veterans can come and crash between tours of duty or after retirement.
The ranch gives the men a place to return when they come back stateside and are struggling to find their way again. It gives us normalcy and a sense of control. Two things you lose pretty damn fast when you’re in a combat zone.
As soon as I get to the ranch, Max and Rex jump out of my truck. They follow me to the south pasture where I can already smell the burgers and hot dogs cooking over an open grill grate.
The chairs are set up in a circle around the burning embers. Some of the guys are relaxing after a hard day’s work, waiting on dinner. Others are fixing broken down equipment, tending to animals, or clearing pastures.
Bronco knew what he was doing when he set up this place. There’s always something to be done. Always a reason to keep your body in motion. Almost makes a man think he can outwork the demons.
Bronco sees me and nudges the chair next to himself in invitation. I plop down in the camping chair with duct tape on its leg, listening to the way it groans.
“What are you having, the usual?” Ridge asks. He’s a silver-haired veteran who served the longest. He and Bronco always take turns cooking for the men. They’re older and more experienced than a lot of the guys here. They often guide them through the problems that come with reintegrating into society.
“I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” Bronco says.
I shrug and accept the beer he passes me. “Wanted a hot meal.”
“You need a wife,” Flint mutters with a teasing glint in his eyes. He’s always teasing, always trying to get a laugh from people. He’s one of the younger guys here, not quite as grizzled as the rest of us. He works on the lawn crew with me.
Cord, who also works on the crew, nudges him. “Who says she’d like to cook?”
Flint shrugs. “Who says she wouldn’t? Some women like to cook. Hell, I like to cook.”
Cord sends him a glare. “And run your mouth.” Though I suspect he likes Flint’s talkative ways. The younger guy always keeps enough of a conversation going so you can just grunt along.
Flint ignores him and asks out loud, “Did you see the new nurse practitioner?”
Acid burns in my gut as soon as they start talking about Bree. Cord pours an obscene amount of mustard on the grilled hot dog that Ridge passes him.
“Yeah, I saw her,” he says.
“I haven’t caught a look at her, and it’s been two weeks since she started working there. Is she pretty?” Flint asks.
He doesn’t realize that he’s been kept at the far end of the gardens on purpose. He’s younger and funny, and there’s every reason that he would like Bree. I can’t let that happen. Jealousy has me gripping my beer can hard.
I glare down at it as if it’s responsible for my misery. Cord and Flint are oblivious to my possessiveness.
