Texas On My Mind

Oh, if only that were true.

Claire didn’t mention that, though.

“Besides,” Daniel went on, “if he was Ethan’s father, he would have manned up and told me that he’d stabbed me in the back by sleeping with you. Riley’s got a lot of faults, but lying isn’t one of them.”

And he stood there, clearly waiting. Claire didn’t have to guess what he was waiting for. This was the part where he wanted her to tell him who Ethan’s father was. One way or another, it came up every single time they were together. After a dozen or so interrogations in which she hadn’t confessed, Daniel had let her know that he forgave her for being with another man. Since, after all, they’d been in an off phase at the time it’d happened.

Claire didn’t confess today, either.

She wouldn’t.

Because a confession would only lead to a second confession and an admission that Daniel was not going to want to hear.

“I thought you’d have made up your mind about us before now,” Daniel went on. Of course, he smiled, but it was brief and strained. “I mean, you know how I feel about you and know I’d love Ethan as my own. I’m good for you. I know what you need.”

God. Not another proposal, and she didn’t have time to stop it. Daniel took a box from his pocket and dropped it into her hand.

A box just the right size for an engagement ring. And the right color, too, since it was Tiffany blue. She didn’t have to look at it to know that it would be big and budget breaking.

“Don’t say anything right now.” Daniel made sure she didn’t by kissing her again.

“Fudge,” Livvy mumbled.

Trisha squealed.

Claire wanted to throw up. That knot in her stomach was now making its way to her throat, and it didn’t ease up even when Daniel broke the kiss and stepped back.

“I thought you’d have made up your mind by now,” Daniel repeated, “but since you haven’t, I’m giving you one week.”

Daniel waved to Trisha and Ethan and delivered the rest of his proposal from over his shoulder as he walked away. “Or else.”

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_5d6b3b42-2ba2-586c-aa8b-af231d978eb7)

GET THE HELL out now!

The words roared through Riley’s head, but he couldn’t listen to that warning even if he knew gut deep that it was more than just a warning. The only thing that mattered right now was time.

He had one minute left, and those seconds were ticking off.

Riley couldn’t see shit. The wall of sand had rolled in, swallowing him up and had erased everything within view at the rescue site.

Everything but the sounds.

He could hear the thump of the Pave Hawk’s blades behind him. Could hear the cry for help just ahead.

His extractions.

An airman and a kid, injured from an IED. Riley knew why the airman had been there. He’d been doing his job, but Riley didn’t want to guess about the kid. Didn’t want to think about the kid, either.

Focus.

A quick in and out.

Forty-five seconds left.

Riley trudged forward. Fast but cautious steps toward those sounds. His crew was around him, nearby, and every now and then he caught a glimpse of one of them from the corner of his eye before the sand curtained them again.

His heartbeat was drumming in his ears. His pulse too fast like those seconds that were ticking away. He’d done rescues like this nearly a hundred times but never with that warning punching him in the gut.

Get the hell out now!

“I got a visual,” one of the crew said. Not a shout but loud enough for Riley and the others to hear. “McCord, your one o’clock.”

Riley automatically adjusted, moving slightly to the right, and he spotted the extractions. Both down. Both injured. He knew after just a glimpse that the airman wouldn’t make it, not with the blood spurting from his femoral like that. The kid was fifty-fifty.

Sixty-forty if Riley went in even faster and got him back to the Pave Hawk in under thirty seconds.

So that’s what he did.

Riley pushed forward, his boots bogging down in the sand, and made it to the kid. He scooped him up, knowing someone would be right behind him to take the airman. Riley focused on the kid. He would save him and get the rest of his crew and the airman back on the Pave Hawk.

But that didn’t happen.

The sounds stopped. Everything stopped. Like that split second of watching and waiting for a pin to drop onto a tile floor.

This was no pin, though.

The pressure exploded in his head. And the pain came, cutting off the air to his lungs. Strangling him. Riley couldn’t move, couldn’t run, but he could feel the blood, all warm and thick. His blood.

Get the hell out now!

“Riley?”

The sound of someone calling out his name gave him a jolt. Riley’s eyes flew open, but since the nightmare was still with him, it took him a moment to realize this wasn’t one of his extractions.

It was Claire.

And she was leaning over him, her mouth so close to his that he nearly kissed her. She was a welcome sight, all right. A lot more welcome than the flashbacks. But she was sporting a very concerned look on her face.

“You were dreaming,” she said.

Yeah, that was a good word for it. Better than the brain-fuck label that Riley had slapped on it. Because it hadn’t been just a dream. All of that, and more, had happened in the blink of an eye.

Since Claire’s mouth and therefore that kiss was still within striking range, he waited until she backed away a little before Riley sat up in the porch swing. He only grunted once. Only felt the blinding pain twice.

She looked amazing. Since this was Claire, looking amazing was a given. Her face was a little shiny with sweat. Her top, a little clingy—also from the sweat. But she didn’t smell like sweat. She smelled like roses. Except he soon realized that smell wasn’t coming from her. She really did have some roses in her hand.

“I wouldn’t have woken you up,” Claire added, “but you were talking and thrashing around. I was afraid you’d hurt yourself. Do you need your pain meds?”