Heart of a Soldier. Belle Calhoune
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reality she, along with Cassidy’s cousin, Regina Blake, and their childhood friend, Jenna Keegan, all shared in the responsibility. They’d all participated in the reckless-driving game, although Cassidy had taken the fall since she’d been at the wheel when the car had slid off the road. One could make the argument that she, in fact, owed Cassidy everything for having single-handedly shouldered the blame for eight long years.
Before she could apologize, a knock sounded at the door. Holly jerked her head in the direction of the front door, then looked over at Cassidy. Her friend’s eyes were wide with alarm, and she was shaking her head back and forth.
“Please, Cassidy. Just pretend to be me. Tell him you started seeing someone, that you’re really sorry but it’s over,” Holly whispered. She felt weak begging Cassidy to do something she knew was wrong, but a part of her didn’t care. Right now all she cared about was making sure Dylan didn’t figure out his pen pal was confined to a wheelchair.
“Tell the truth, Holly. Before this whole thing spirals out of control,” Cassidy said, her eyes full of disappointment.
Feeling defiant, Holly wheeled over to the door and yanked it open. All of the air rushed out of her lungs the moment she saw Dylan. He was wearing a black cowboy hat, but he quickly took it off and placed it by his side. She noticed he’d switched up his clothes and taken a shower. His hair was still slightly damp, and he was wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. His arms were heavily muscled and toned. Once again, she was hit with the full impact of Dylan’s physicality. He looked as if he belonged on the cover of a men’s fitness magazine or on television as the star of a healthy-living commercial. All at once it hit her smack on the head. There was no way she belonged in his world. For the past year she’d been living in a world of denial, clinging to a kernel of hope about a possible future with this impossibly perfect man. In his arms was a bouquet of yellow roses and white stargazer lilies, her favorite flowers. Somehow he’d remembered from her letters. She felt a pang run through her at his thoughtfulness. How she wanted to reach out and accept his offering and press her nose against the fragrant blooms.
“Is she back yet?” Dylan asked, his expressive eyes radiating enthusiasm.
With a lump in her throat, all she could do was nod and gesture toward the inside of the house. His handsome face lit up with a wide grin. She smiled at him, feeling light-headed at the sight of his tall, muscular frame. But he wasn’t smiling at her. He was looking past her, straight at Cassidy. And he was beaming so widely it almost overtook his whole face. She felt her chest tighten painfully. Loss—sharp and swift—flooded her. How could it be this painful to lose something she’d never truly had in the first place? Sucking in a ragged breath, she invited him inside, then watched as he walked across the threshold and beat a fast path toward her best friend.
“Holly! Is it you?” Dylan made his way across the foyer in two quick strides. Cassidy nodded her head in acknowledgment. Holly watched as Dylan wrapped his arms around Cassidy in a warm embrace. She felt her insides lurch as she observed Dylan’s intimate gesture. He was so full of life, so enthusiastic and joyful. Watching him was like seeing a force of nature in motion. Her best friend, on the other hand, was acting standoffish. She wasn’t hugging Dylan back, and her body language was as stiff as a board. Her expressive face was giving away too much. Maybe it was simply because she knew her so well that she could tell Cassidy looked conflicted and ill at ease. Her pulse started beating at a rapid pace. If Cassidy couldn’t pull this off, she’d be forced to explain it all to Dylan. The very thought of it made her palms sweat.
A part of her couldn’t help but feel cheated as she watched Dylan’s interaction with her best friend. This embrace should have been hers. His gorgeous smile, which lit the room up like sunshine, should have been directed at her. And maybe it would have been, she thought. If only she had been honest with him from the beginning. Perhaps things could have been different.
Cassidy stepped away from the hug, her face paler than usual, her eyes drifting nervously away from Dylan and toward Holly. She seemed as if she was in pain. Guilt speared through her at the agony on her best friend’s face. She looked as if she’d rather go swimming with sharks than follow through with this meeting.
“This has been a long time coming.” Dylan’s voice was infused with sweetness. To Holly it sounded like the sweet sound of rain after a long drought. For a moment she let it wash over her, rejoicing in the rich timbre of it. He held out the bouquet of flowers, saying, “These are for you,” as he handed them over.
“Thank you. They’re gorgeous,” Cassidy said stiffly, reaching out and accepting the stunning flowers.
Dylan grinned, showcasing a pair of dazzling dimples. “I hope you’re not upset with me for showing up here in West Falls. I’m not usually a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants guy, but I couldn’t help myself. The way you described your hometown made me want to see it for myself.”
“It’s definitely unexpected,” Cassidy answered, shooting Holly a meaningful look.
Holly tried to nod discreetly in Cassidy’s direction, wanting to encourage her to act normal, but she felt Dylan’s gaze land on her. He seemed to have the instincts of a hawk, paying close attention to everything around him. As a soldier, he’d probably honed those skills as a means of survival.
Dylan frowned. “Did I interrupt y’all in the middle of something?”
“No, of course not,” Holly said smoothly, her eyes now focused on Dylan’s face.
“It’s fine. We were just shooting the breeze,” Cassidy added. “Would you like something to drink? Some sweet tea or lemonade?”
“I’d love some sweet tea,” he answered, looking grateful for the offer.
“Sure thing. It’ll give me a chance to put these flowers in a vase.” Cassidy scurried off toward the kitchen, as if she couldn’t wait to escape, leaving the two of them all by themselves.
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the living room.” Holly gestured toward the doorway leading to the foyer. Following behind him, she quickly maneuvered her wheelchair into the room. As Dylan folded his tall, rugged body into a leather armchair, her gaze was drawn to the dog tags hanging around his neck.
Filled with curiosity, she blurted, “Are those your tags?”
Dylan reached up and lightly fingered the tags, his face contemplative as he answered. “Just one of ’em is mine. The other one belonged to one of my buddies who died over in Afghanistan.”
Died? He must be referring to Benji, the soldier he’d written about in one of his letters. At only eighteen years old, he’d been among the youngest soldiers in the unit. From what she remembered, he’d been killed instantly when their Humvee had been blown up by a roadside bomb. Dylan had been seriously injured as well, but thankfully had rebounded from those injuries. The attack had occurred before they’d started writing each other, and Dylan was very close lipped about it and his subsequent hospitalization and recovery.
Cassidy returned with a tray of drinks and some slices of homemade pumpkin bread. Like a perfect hostess, she served the refreshments, then plopped down onto the sofa directly across from Dylan. Holly discreetly watched him as he thirstily downed the contents of the glass. It was almost impossible to tear her gaze away from him. She felt like a starving person sitting down at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Dylan, in all his cowboy/soldier glory was a sight for sore eyes.
“Horseshoe Bend Ranch is spectacular,” he raved, his eyes wide with admiration. “I can’t say as I’ve ever seen a finer spread.” His tone was filled with awe.
“It’s the largest and most profitable horse-and-cattle-breeding operation in this part of the state.” The words rolled off Holly’s tongue like quicksilver. She wanted to clap her hands over her mouth to stop herself from inserting herself into the conversation. It wasn’t her place to crow about the family ranch. That might raise a red flag in Dylan’s eyes.
Dylan