Read Online No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) by Amanda McIntyre - Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda McIntyre
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floor and add more blankets to make a more comfortable pallet for you.”
He opened his eyes and met Sally’s gaze peering down at him from over the camelback couch. “I’m good, really. Just grateful that you chose not to kick me out in this.” He offered her a friendly smile.
She walked around the end of the couch and knelt to stir the waning fire, bringing it back to a roaring blaze and radiating heat in the small room.
He sat up as Sally nestled in her overstuffed reading chair and pulled an afghan around her.
“I want to make this a piano room. Give lessons,” she said as she stared into the fire.
Curious, he nudged more conversation from her. “I thought you were sleepy?” It seemed clear to him that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him being in her house, or she had a lot on her mind.
“I am.” She stifled a yawn. “But I can’t sleep.”
Clay chuckled. “I’d offer to trade you spots, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well.” He cleared his throat and smiled when he heard her quiet laugh. She sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring into the fire.
“Hey, as long as you’re here, I wanted to clear the air and apologize for some of the things I said that first day on the ranch.” Clay took a deep breath and waited, leaving it open-ended in hopes that she would respond in kind.
She didn’t.
He pushed on, feeling it was better to clear the air between them, especially if he became involved with the auction. “That day…well, I was going through a really bad time.” He hated the way it sounded as though he was making excuses for his behavior. Life here had helped him—through self-study, some visits with a doc in Billings, and the work and people at the ranch, he was better able now to understand the triggers to some of his anger issues. His survivor’s guilt still taunted him from time to time, but some of the nightmares had subsided to where he could go one or two nights without a sleep aid.
“I understand,” she replied, glancing at him. “You don’t need to explain.”
That particular response was, in fact, one of his triggers. He swiped his hand over his mouth. That was the thing. Folks back here, most don’t really understand having to look at what was left of your team, your buddies—in pieces—strewn over the sand. Clay swallowed and rubbed his hand over the top of his thigh. He’d forgotten to take some meds to ease the muscle strain of his new leg. “You don’t really understand, Sally. I’m sorry, but not many do, not unless you’ve been there.”
She looked at him then, with a steady gaze that he couldn’t read.
“You know I can’t even remember very well what triggered that exchange,” she said, her brows furrowed in thought as she peered at him.
“You probably didn’t say or do anything out of the ordinary, Sally.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, my dad used to say I could be as prickly as a cactus some days.”
Clay studied her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all have our moments. God knows I’ve had my share.”
She shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” She sighed, stood, and dropped her afghan on the chair. She walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, careful, he noted, not to sit too close. “So, let’s just say, that we were both having a bad day and neither one of us meant anything we said.”
Clay grinned. “You really didn’t mean it when you called me a spoiled brat and I needed to cowboy up?”
She grinned sheepishly “Damn, I’d hoped you’d forgotten.”
“I have a good memory. It’s a blessing and a curse,” Clay said. At least they’d made some headway into chipping away at the frozen wall between them. “Honestly, I arrived here carrying a whole lot of self-pity. Everybody was just being friendly, trying to make me feel welcome that first day, and I shut it all out. I didn’t want to feel good. I mistook everyone’s kindness for pity, like I was a charity case.”
She nodded.
He opened his eyes and met Sally’s gaze peering down at him from over the camelback couch. “I’m good, really. Just grateful that you chose not to kick me out in this.” He offered her a friendly smile.
She walked around the end of the couch and knelt to stir the waning fire, bringing it back to a roaring blaze and radiating heat in the small room.
He sat up as Sally nestled in her overstuffed reading chair and pulled an afghan around her.
“I want to make this a piano room. Give lessons,” she said as she stared into the fire.
Curious, he nudged more conversation from her. “I thought you were sleepy?” It seemed clear to him that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him being in her house, or she had a lot on her mind.
“I am.” She stifled a yawn. “But I can’t sleep.”
Clay chuckled. “I’d offer to trade you spots, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well.” He cleared his throat and smiled when he heard her quiet laugh. She sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring into the fire.
“Hey, as long as you’re here, I wanted to clear the air and apologize for some of the things I said that first day on the ranch.” Clay took a deep breath and waited, leaving it open-ended in hopes that she would respond in kind.
She didn’t.
He pushed on, feeling it was better to clear the air between them, especially if he became involved with the auction. “That day…well, I was going through a really bad time.” He hated the way it sounded as though he was making excuses for his behavior. Life here had helped him—through self-study, some visits with a doc in Billings, and the work and people at the ranch, he was better able now to understand the triggers to some of his anger issues. His survivor’s guilt still taunted him from time to time, but some of the nightmares had subsided to where he could go one or two nights without a sleep aid.
“I understand,” she replied, glancing at him. “You don’t need to explain.”
That particular response was, in fact, one of his triggers. He swiped his hand over his mouth. That was the thing. Folks back here, most don’t really understand having to look at what was left of your team, your buddies—in pieces—strewn over the sand. Clay swallowed and rubbed his hand over the top of his thigh. He’d forgotten to take some meds to ease the muscle strain of his new leg. “You don’t really understand, Sally. I’m sorry, but not many do, not unless you’ve been there.”
She looked at him then, with a steady gaze that he couldn’t read.
“You know I can’t even remember very well what triggered that exchange,” she said, her brows furrowed in thought as she peered at him.
“You probably didn’t say or do anything out of the ordinary, Sally.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, my dad used to say I could be as prickly as a cactus some days.”
Clay studied her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all have our moments. God knows I’ve had my share.”
She shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” She sighed, stood, and dropped her afghan on the chair. She walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, careful, he noted, not to sit too close. “So, let’s just say, that we were both having a bad day and neither one of us meant anything we said.”
Clay grinned. “You really didn’t mean it when you called me a spoiled brat and I needed to cowboy up?”
She grinned sheepishly “Damn, I’d hoped you’d forgotten.”
“I have a good memory. It’s a blessing and a curse,” Clay said. At least they’d made some headway into chipping away at the frozen wall between them. “Honestly, I arrived here carrying a whole lot of self-pity. Everybody was just being friendly, trying to make me feel welcome that first day, and I shut it all out. I didn’t want to feel good. I mistook everyone’s kindness for pity, like I was a charity case.”
She nodded.
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