Her Mountain Sanctuary. Jeannie Watt
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as excuses started tumbling over themselves in her brain. Her schedule had changed...she’d decided not to take on clients...her job was taking up more time than she’d anticipated...
Get a grip.
She really hoped she could. More than once she’d left public places because of people who reminded her of her assailant. But grip or not, she wasn’t going to spend time with this guy. How could she if having him sit across the table from her made her heart race? And the worst part was that he lived relatively close to her.
Debra seemed to think that the fact that they were neighbors was a sign from above or something. It would be so handy for both of you...
Faith had agreed to the meeting and now she was in a situation.
“Are you okay?”
The abrupt question brought her back, and Faith did her best to infuse some warmth into her smile and a look of surprise into her eyes as she squeezed her hands together under the table. “I expected someone younger. Like...midtwenties?”
“Why’s that?” he asked as he eased into the booth.
“From the way your sister spoke of you, I guess.”
She certainly hadn’t expected a guy in his mid-to late-thirties who looked as if he was in command of everything around him. But she wasn’t a trained psychologist—just a woman who had helped run an equine therapy program as part of her former job. A program that Debra thought might help her brother.
Now it was his turn to fake a smile. “My sister...yes.” The smile faded. “I’m curious as to how Debra described me.”
Time to pick words carefully. Hard to do when her brain was shouting at her to leave the café. Now. “She said that you were ex-military. That you’d just moved back into the area and that you were interested in horseback riding.” Not the total truth, but tactful.
He snorted through his nose. “Did she tell you I was a basket case?”
“Uh...”
He cocked his head, no longer bothering with the smile. “Or a hermit with post-traumatic stress disorder?”
Faith swallowed. “The second.”
He gave a nod and dropped his gaze to regard his hands. “I guess that’s something I’ll have to put up with if I plan to stay in the area.”
“Do you?” According to Debra, he lived on the mountain a couple of miles from Faith’s house. Now that she knew how she reacted to him, she’d feel better if he didn’t stay.
He raised those icy-blue eyes. “I was raised here. What’s left of my family is here. So yes.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Faith took hold of her cup with both hands again, more for something to do than because she was going to drink the rapidly cooling contents. Drew Miller looked up again, those amazing eyes zeroing in on her.
His saving grace, those eyes. The reason she wasn’t already gone. The man who’d slammed her to the ground, put a knee on her back and cut off her ponytail with one slice of a very sharp knife had green eyes. Black hair, green eyes. A striking combination that she’d noticed at the bar an hour or so before he’d assaulted her in the rodeo ground parking lot as she’d walked back to her truck. His attack had been stopped short by a couple of men driving by, so she could only imagine what might have ensued had he not been caught...and sometimes her imagination could be brutal.
She shook off the thoughts as best she could, made a heroic attempt to sound normal as she said, “Do you want coffee or something?” He shook his head and once again the ball was in her court. “Debra said you might be interested in...” She trailed off before saying the words equine therapy. Something to do with him knowing that Debra had described him as a hermit with PTSD.
“Horseback riding?” He spoke ironically, telling Faith that he wasn’t fooled by her attempts at tact.
“Equine therapy.” There. Now the record was set straight and he wouldn’t think that she was a woman who pussyfooted around the truth. Not that it mattered, but she had her pride.
He settled back in the red upholstered seat and regarded her for a long moment. Faith made a conscious effort to meet his gaze, hold it. The guy let off an aura of power, coupled with something Faith couldn’t quite put her finger on. She didn’t want to put her finger on it. She wanted to end this uncomfortable meeting and be on her way.
Drew shifted in his seat then, making her jump. Inwardly cursing, Faith met his gaze dead-on, silently challenging him to say something.
He did.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“No.” It wasn’t him, per se. All guys like him made her nervous...although again, she’d thought she’d moved on. Her reaction to him proved otherwise. Faith let go of her cup, dropping her hands back into her lap so he couldn’t see her twisting her fingers—a habit she hated.
He didn’t believe her. It was more than obvious from the way one corner of his mouth tightened and his eyebrows lifted. His reaction stirred something in Faith. She would hold her own. She had nothing to fear from this guy. He wasn’t her assailant and they were in a public place. She squared her shoulders.
“Before we go any further, I need to tell you that I’m not actually a certified therapist.”
“I know. You worked under a therapist. Debra briefed me.”
“What else did Debra tell you?” Because she didn’t feel comfortable having total strangers being briefed on her, although, to be fair, Deb had given her a lot of information about Drew. Information he probably would prefer his sister didn’t give to a perfect stranger.
“I know that you’re new at the college, new to the Eagle Valley. I pass your house when I drive to town.” Her heart kicked at his last statement. Even though she’d known that he lived near her, she hadn’t realized until this meeting that he was a walking trigger-fest. “And...I know that Deb hopes you’ll make me ‘normal’ again. Not much else.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up, but there was no humor in his expression. His eyes were cool, watchful, giving Faith the feeling that he noticed everything.
“Do you have PTSD?” Asking the point-blank question made her feel a little more like her old self—a woman who had control of her life.
“I have grief.” A flat statement of fact, spoken without any sign of self-consciousness, but Faith felt his withdrawal. She took it to mean, yes, he had PTSD and no, he wasn’t going to talk about it.
“Are you in therapy?”
“I was. I deal with it on my own now.”
Which was why Debra was concerned. Her brother had lost his wife, survived some kind of military disaster and was now living alone in an isolated cabin, dealing with his symptoms on his own. So she had urged Faith to meet with him after discovering Faith’s equine therapy background.
Faith had been torn about meeting Drew Miller, but had agreed because she believed in the healing power of contact with animals. If he hadn’t shared the same body type as her assailant, if he’d been smaller or blonder or geekier, she might have encouraged him to try “riding horses.” He wasn’t any of those things. He was tall and muscular and powerful and Faith was allergic to masculine power. She didn’t want to risk having to spend more time with this guy.
She gave up trying to fake things. “I don’t think this is a good fit.”
“Because I make you nervous.”
“I said—”
“I heard you. I don’t believe you.”
“That’s blunt.”
“And truthful.”
Anger sparked deep within, giving her a dose of courage. “It’s not