Chapter Twelve

Caitie strode through the mansion early Sunday morning. She found Hastings near the front door. “I need to speak to Glorie or Bryce.”

Hastings bowed his head. “Wait here.”

Caitlin paced until the butler returned.

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Olsen.”

She followed him down a long hall to a set of double doors. He swept his white-gloved hand out, indicating she should enter.

Caitie stepped inside and found herself in a richly appointed office. Gleaming wood gave it an old world feel, but she noted the high tech equipment. Bryce Langston sat behind his desk. Glorie, the queen, sat in a chair to one side. Caitie realized she’d interrupted an intense meeting. Bryce didn’t look as though he’d slept—that was probably true of most of the participants—but he didn’t have the look of a happy, well-sated man.

“Yes, Ms. Olsen? Do you have a problem?” Bryce regarded her with fingers twined and steepled.

God, the man had a killer voice. She’d thought that the first time she met him, but it didn’t make her insides turn to goo. Damon, on the other hand, could do that with a single, hot look.

“I’m worried about Damon. He never came back after the ball.” She moved closer, hands clasped behind her.

Glorie leaned forward. “He returned home. The event ended with the ball.”

Caitie brushed that off. “Yeah, clock strikes midnight, and poof, the fairytale is over. I get that. But Damon needs help. Hell, he shouldn’t even be driving. He had a bad nightmare Thursday night and refused to sleep Friday night because of his dreams.” They’d spent the entire night talking about favorite books, music, politics, and movies and TV shows. But not about his past, as a boy or his time as a SEAL. She was worried about him. He’d been like an injured animal who’d run off to lick its wounds. He needed help.

“Why are you here, Caitlin?”

Boldly, Caitie seated herself. “I want to know why he blames himself for his men getting killed. He told me some but there’s more.”

Bryce lifted a brow. “What gives you the right to ask?”

“Love.” God, there it was. She couldn’t deny it to herself or to them. She’d fallen in love with Damon. She’d never believed in love at first sight, and maybe it had taken more than that first encounter, but she was hip deep.

“Are you sure it’s not just lust? You’ve only known this man a couple days.”

Caitie leaned forward, arms on the desk. “Judging from the look of you and your partner, I’d say the two of you were feeling more than lust for each other. From what I overheard between Cinderella and Red in the ladies room, she had no idea who you were. Can you truthfully tell me you don’t love her? Or want the chance to see if what you feel is love?”

Glorie laid a hand on Bryce’s arm. “She’s got you there, pet.” She stared intently at Caitlin for a few moments. “Damon needs to tell you whatever he wishes when he wishes, but you are right. He needs help, and I think you might be the one. What is your plan?”

“My horses and the men on my ranch can help him come to terms with what happened. I’ve seen it happen and want to give him that chance.” Not to mention the fact that she loved the man and wanted the chance to prove to him that he deserved to be happy and at peace, that they deserved their shot at a happily-ever-after ending.

“You think a horse is going to save Damon from himself?” Skepticism and disbelief laced Bryce’s voice.

Caitie stood and paced. “He doesn’t believe he deserves to live. He thinks he should have died with his men. He needs to get out of his head and see that he has so much to offer and experience.”

“In other words, you plan to give him a kick in the ass.” Glorie leaned back in her chair, a glint in her eyes.

Tipping her chin, Caitie met the Domme’s glance. “If need be. If that’s what it takes to get him back to the land of the living, then I’ll gladly kick his ass to hell and back.” Never mind he was already in his own private hell.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Bring him to the ranch.”

“And if he refuses?”

Caitie firmed her lips. “Intervention. I’m sure you two can figure out a way to get him out there.” To me.

Glorie laughed low in her throat. “I’m in.” She stood. “I’ll bring him to you. The rest is up to you.”

Caitie nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to go.

Glorie’s voice stopped her. “Did the weekend live up to your expectations, Caitlin?”

Laughing softly, Caitie met the Domme’s amused eyes. “I think I got a lot more than I bargained for,” she replied, thinking of that spanking session. “I’m in your debt. It was wonderful.”

“Pull off whatever you have planned, and I’ll consider us even.”

Minutes later, seated in the back of a limo, Caitie pulled out her tablet and started making notes and plans. Not once did she allow herself to think that her Dom would not come to her ranch. She couldn’t.

****

Damon brooded in the dim light of his studio apartment. Curtains closed, lights off, just him, the darkness, and his demons. His bedding lay in twisted tangles on the couch, testimony of his bad night. Twice he’d woken up, arms searching for Caitlin, but his night angel wasn’t there to ease his pain and bring sunshine into his life.

Shoving aside a pizza box, several empty beer bottles, and a smushed bag of chips, he picked up the remote to the TV. He flipped it on and pressed play. The movie depicting a shaggy beast and a village maid flashed across the screen. He hit fast forward until he reached one of his favorite parts. “You’re so messed up, buddy. Watching a kid’s vid.”

But he felt close to Caitlin every time he watched it. He turned up the volume when the castle objects came to life and broke into song. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch.

She made him feel almost human again.

For three days, Caitlin had tamed the beast inside him. She had captivated him with her humor, trusted him even when she was afraid, and earned his respect for being a strong, determined woman. It hadn’t taken him long to realize the weekend of role-play was more intense and demanding than she’d been prepared for.

Yet, she’d risen to the challenge, accepted his rules, and participated with a willingness he had to admire. Even the spanking scene. She could have used her safeword and ended everything, but he’d seen the pride in her eyes, along with a bit of fear.

Yes, he admired her. And loved her. But the night of the ball had brought home the reality and painful fact that he wasn’t a prince who’d won the heart of his princess. He wasn’t whole and healthy with the rest of his life spread out before him, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve a fairy tale ending. No, he truly was the beast, doomed to a life alone.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Many called him a war hero. Hell, he had a medal that said so, but the only heroic action he’d committed was leaving Caitlin. He loved her over his own needs and flat out refused to become a burden. She’d taken care of her mother, raised her brother and sister. He would not be another obligation. She was better off without him.

The doorbell rang. He ignored it. The bell sang through the studio again. And again. And again.

Swearing, he got stiffly to his feet and shouted, “What the fuck do you want?”

He yanked the door open to the jarring peal. His jaw dropped and then snapped shut at the sight of Glorie Amadori standing with her red-tipped nail pressed to the button. She wore a red silk tunic and black slacks, her two favorite colors.

He glared at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She smiled. “My, did you wake on the wrong side of the bed.” She strode in, glanced around. “Or should I say wrong side of the couch?”

“Not in the mood.” As usual, her hair was pulled back in a bun of sorts. The severe style a perfect fit for her dominant personality.

“No, you’d rather brood, mope, and feel sorry for yourself.” She proceeded to open his curtains.

Light spilled in, blinding Damon. He blinked, held up his hand. “Dammit, Glorie. Have your say, then get the hell out.”

“And leave you to your fun and games?” She paused in front of the TV.

Embarrassed, he grabbed the remote and flipped off the DVD player. “What do you want?”

“Besides seeing you walking among the living again instead wallowing in the darkness?” She leaned against the window frame. “Sit and get off that leg.”

At the command in her voice, he rolled his eyes. “Not one of your subs, Mistress.”

“Then do it because you’re in pain, unless you don’t mind falling flat on your face in front of me.”

He knew Glorie wouldn’t leave until she was good and ready so he plopped down and rested his foot on the coffee table. He rubbed his thigh. “Fine. Sitting. Now what?”

“Bryce and I are worried. You left the event early.”

Damon wanted her to leave. He wanted to be alone. No crime in that. His choice. “Is there a question in here?”

“You’ve never left an event early. So yeah, why this time?” She paced.

“None of your business,” Damon said.

“Making it my business. It’s time someone took you in hand so you’re coming with me. I have something to show you.”

With her hands on her hips, chin jutting, he half expected her to pull out a whip and snap it. Too bad she didn’t do anything for him, or he might try to use sex to get the feel, scent, and image of Caitie from his mind. “Not interested.”

“Tough shit. Now get your ass off that couch and take a shower. And make it fast.” She lifted a brow. “Unless you want me to join you and wash your back.”

Two hours later, he was still stewing. Glorie had badgered, threatened, and refused to leave until he escaped into the bathroom, locking the door. He wouldn’t put anything past the sneaky, wily Domme, who could, would, and often did change her sexual preferences to suit her mood and the needs of those around them. He’d participated in one of her threesome scenes and had to admit, the woman was good, but the only woman he wanted was out of his reach.

“Where the hell are you taking me, Glorie?”

“You’ll see.”

As that was the fourth time he’d asked and received the same answer, he fell back into a sullen silence.

Another thirty minutes passed before she spoke. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Damon.”

“So.” He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what was coming.

“So, as your friend, I’m worried about you.”

“Leave it, Glorie. This isn’t something you can fix.” The woman was a born matchmaker. If a relationship was broken or faltering, she just had to stick her arrogant nose in and fix it. He went cold inside.

“You wouldn’t?” He eyed the passing landscape as they sped down a two-lane highway in her BMW. Fields of wheat with an occasional house, farm, or ranch. Cows, sheep, and even horses were seen grazing.

Horses. Ranch.

“Fuck!” He suddenly knew where they were headed. “Turn around, Glorie. I’m not going to Caitlin’s ranch.

She smiled grimly. “Too late.”

She slowed and turned onto a drive. A sign hanging over an arch welcomed them to For the Love of Horses.

“Stop.”

He stared out at pastures with horses grazing. A small herd ran alongside the car as though they were the welcoming committee. “What are you doing, Glorie?”

She stopped the car. “Saving you. Or rather, bringing you here for Caitie to do that job.” She chuckled. “She’d correct me and say only you can save yourself. And she’s right.” She put a hand on his injured thigh. The tight muscle jumped. “Give her a chance, Damon. Give yourself a chance. She wanted you to come and see her ranch. I know you care for her. You’ve never left an event before the end, and the state of your apartment tells me you’re in pain, and not just physical.”

“Doesn’t matter what I feel. Reality’s a bitch.” God, he longed to be her man, her hero. Her prince.

Before he could order her to take him home, a loud honk had Gloria moving forward. Glancing back, he saw a truck and horse trailer following, making turning around impossible. “Fine. We’ll look, and then we’re gone.”

She drove into the yard. An old, grizzled ranch hand hurried to her window. “Got a trailer kissin’ yer ass. Don’t want that beamer to get hit. Park over there.” He pointed to an area where several pickups were parked.

Glorie and Damon stepped out into utter chaos. A group of men came on the run to deal with the horse trailer while others rode across the yard. There was movement everywhere he looked. The noise level was astounding—yelling, shouting, horses calling, adding their voices to the din.

“Name’s Dusty,” the old ranch hand shouted in order to be heard.

“Damon.” He shook the man’s hand, surprised to find the grip strong and firm.

“Welcome, Damon. I’m guessing you be the new one.”

“New what?” He felt as though he’d stepped back in time to the wild, wild west. Men in boots, hats, and plaid shirts went about their business. Some rode, others led their mounts.

“Let’s go meet your buddy.”

Glancing at Glorie, the woman shrugged. He had to hurry to address Dusty. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m just here for a quick visit. Where is Caitlin?”

“Oh, she’ll be here soon enough. Never misses greeting new arrivals, be they men or horses. Now move that ass. Need your help over here.”

Damon followed as four horses were offloaded. He frowned. Two were in bad shape. Rib and hipbones protruding and dull, dirty coats. Three of the animals kept trying to shy away from the men. Then Caitlin arrived. She didn’t glance at him, didn’t acknowledge his presence. Instead, her focus was on the horses. She spoke softly and gently to each one, then gave instructions.

“Damon, could you come over here?” She held the reins of the two in bad shape.

He joined her. “Caitlin—”

“Look at them. Mistreated, abused, and abandoned. Now they’ll find hope, contentment, and happiness. They’ll never go hungry or be alone. They’ll learn to trust and love. Their lives start here. And they’ll live to be old and die here.”

“I’m not a horse to be saved, Caitlin. I’m not abused or mistreated or starved.” He shoved aside the abandonment he’d felt as a child. He’d gotten over his childhood a long time ago but knew he’d never forgive himself for abandoning his men.

She met his gaze, her whiskey-dark eyes churning with emotion and the sheen of tears. “You abuse yourself, Damon. You mistreat you, and you are as starved as any of these horses. Not of food but of acceptance and forgiveness. Like each of these animals, you’ve lost hope. These animals were helpless to change their situations. They couldn’t fight for happiness. But you can.” Her gaze turned intense. “And you will.”

She cupped the side of his face with one hand. “I’m not asking you to stay for me, not even asking for you to give us a chance. I want to help you heal and find your way back.”

He lowered his forehead to hers. “Caitlin…”

His throat closed off, stopping him from telling her he didn’t deserve what she offered. He closed his eyes. He was better off alone, but her touch, her scent, her voice arrowed deep into his being. Some long-denied part of him screamed for what she offered.

A hard nudge to his shoulder threw him off balance, and he landed on his ass. Blinking, he glared at the black horse with sad eyes staring down at him. She lowered her head and snorted, her breath fanning his face. “What the hell?”

Caitie laughed gently. “I think you’ve been claimed.” She reached down and helped Damon to his feet. She handed him the reins. “She’s yours.”

“What?” This time when the animal butted against him, he was braced and ready.

“While you’re here, you are responsible for her care. You’ll feed her, clean her stall, exercise her, groom her, make her feel safe, and teach her to trust and love.”

“That’s a tall order for a couple hours.” He eyed the mare and swore he felt a connection as he stared into her large, soft, brown eyes.

Caitlin patted his shoulder. “Oh, I think you’ll be here longer.”

The sound of wheels crunching gravel had him whipping around. “Dammit.” Glorie rolled down her window. “I packed what I could for you while you were in the shower.” She wrinkled her nose. “Might need to wash most of them first.” She waggled her fingers, then she and her car shot down the drive toward the highway.

Dusty joined them, holding a large duffel bag. “Yer with me, young man. Let’s get the two of you settled.”

Getting him and his horse settled meant taking him into the barn and teaching him to groom the horse, then feed her, and a rundown of the daily schedule and his assigned duties. He’d listened, done as ordered, and planned to tell Caitlin Olsen just what she could do with her plan to save him.

But after his chores, he’d been shown to a dormitory-style room with eight double beds spaced along two sides. Each section had a dresser, smaller table, and lamp.

“You’ll sleep here. Yo, Gunny.” Dusty’s raspy voice rose to a holler.

A large man with skin of dark caramel ambled over. He had his shirt slung over his shoulder. The words Semper Fi were tattooed across his damp chest. “Yo back, Dusty.” He eyed Damon from dark eyes.

“Got us a new guy. Ex-Navy SEAL Damon Steele meet ex-Gunnery Sergeant Javon Washington.

“SEAL, huh? Don’t got us one of them around here. Welcome to CCOB.”

Damon frowned. “What is CCOB?”

“Caitie’s Club of Boys.” Javon grinned broadly, his teeth starkly white against his dark skin.

Damon started to tell the man he was mistaken, that he was only here for the night, that tomorrow he’d hike out of here if that was his only way out, Dusty slapped him on the back. “Give this tadpole the tour. Show him the laundry room and showers. You’ll find a schedule and a list of duties in the drawer beside your bed, and Gunny here will add you to the chore roster. Dinner in an hour.”

Before Damon could protest to being called a tadpole, which is what a SEAL hopeful was when entering BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL—training, and to being handed over to yet another stranger, Dusty was gone and Javon was striding down the middle of the room.

He turned and cocked one brow. “You coming? No shower, no food. No chores, no food. Let’s go. I be starved.”

Sighing, Damon followed. What the hell for, he didn’t know. If Caitlin Olsen thought she could trap him out here, toss him into the barracks, and avoid him, she was mistaken. He’d have it out with her before the night was over.

The large locker-style room—minus the lockers—held a wall of sinks, showers, and toilets that resembled tiny closets with barely enough room to turn around in. The laundry room boasted four sets of washers and dryers, and finally, the dining room had one long table. By the time he’d showered, got his laundry done, was handed his weekly list of chores, and had eaten and been introduced to half a dozen other men, he was exhausted, yet restless.

Outside, dark had fallen. He stared at the house in the distance. Caitlin’s house. Why the hell had she dumped him in the bunkhouse instead of having him stay with her? What the fuck? Bad enough to gang up on him with Glorie and Bryce and take away his choice, but to then dump him out here like a hired hand?

Nope. Not going to happen. He strode down the path, intending to have it out with her. As he neared the barn, he heard the high whinny of a horse. Frowning, he stopped. The mare he was in charge of was in there. He detoured inside and found her stomping and agitated in her stall. The moment she spotted him, she tossed her head and slammed against the stall door.

“What’s with you? Don’t like strange places?” He rubbed her nose, relieved when she calmed. She butted her head against him. “Don’t blame you.”

Anger burned in his gut. He didn’t like feeling as if he’d been dumped and abandoned.

Leaning against the stall door, he realized he felt abandoned all over again. Not just by his friends but by the woman he’d come to care about. Maybe it had been all about the sex on her part. But why bring him here? And if she wanted to help him, why wasn’t he with her?

“Going to go find out.” He took two steps away and stopped when the mare let out a shrill cry. He returned to her. “Look, I can’t hang out here all god-damned night.”

Yet it became clear she wasn’t going to allow him to leave.

Swearing, he entered her stall, piled up some straw in one corner, and slid down. “Only for a while.”

The mare nuzzled his shoulder and exhaled, a deep fluttering breath as man and beast fell into exhausted slumber.

****

Caitie rode in from doing her rounds, checking on the horses out in the various pastures. The day was warmer than normal, and she was already hot and sweaty. She slowed her horse as they rode past one of the smaller, round pens. In the center, Damon, stripped to the waist, his chest gleaming a golden brown in the sun, worked with his mare on a long lead. Javon, wearing a tank, his huge arms bulging, took the lead to demonstrate longeing, a training technique, in this case for both horse and man. The horse reared and fought the line.

Damon stepped forward, grabbed the lead, and walked toward the horse, talking softly. When she calmed, he resumed his place beside the ex-marine and, using his body to signal the mare, got her trotting in a circle around him.

Smiling, Caitie was pleased to see that horse and man had bonded and that Damon seemed to be a natural. She listened as Javon called out instructions, corrected Damon when needed, and grunted his approval.

She wanted more than anything to be the one in the ring teaching Damon how to put his horse through her paces and be the one to teach him to ride and even take him out and show him her ranch. But she kept her distance.

It had been tempting to have him stay with her in her house where she could take care of him, be there during the night when his nightmares claimed him, or help ease the pain in his thigh, but having him here wasn’t about sex or fulfilling her needs or wishes. Her focus was on giving the man she loved what he needed to find himself, and he wouldn’t have done that with her hovering.

She learned from Dusty he’d spent his first few nights in the stall with the mare and, in the two weeks he’d been here, had settled into the bunkhouse. Her instincts had been spot on. The other vets who’d arrived just as damaged had taken him in hand. Damon worked from sun up to sun down with no time left to wallow or feel sorry for himself.

And when he had nightmares, he found support. Or as Dusty said, the men formed their own therapy group. They gave him what she couldn’t. Understanding and a comradery only another military man could feel and give. She smiled. He might not know it, but he’d taken the first step to healing.

Putting another life, even that of an animal, first, above his own problems would help him accept the past and move on. And being around others who had their own demons would make him feel less alone or broken.

When Javon called a halt, Damon led the mare out of the pen. His gaze met hers and clashed. His were filled with resentment and heat. She wanted to go to him, cup his face in her hands, kiss him, and tell him he was doing great, but she didn’t dare, so she yanked on the reins and rode away.

****

Damon watched Caitlin ride off, his temper rising. Every time he tried to go to her, to have it out with her, give her a piece of his mind, someone was giving him an order or asking him a question, or he had some stupid-ass chore to do. If he neared the barn, his mare seemed to know it was him and called. And like a doomed man under a witch’s spell, he went to her.

“What the hell is it with you females,” he muttered. One needed him close, the other was pushing him away. He narrowed his eyes. He’d be damned if she kept ignoring him and treating him like the rest of the men who were proud to be Caitie’s Boys.

Fuck. He wasn’t a boy thrilled to be in some secret boys-only club. Only clubs he belonged to were ones where he was a Dom and in charge. It was about time Caitie remembered he was a Dom. Her Dom, dammit. He should march into her office tonight and order her to bend over her desk. His dick stirred at the thought of taking her from behind, seeing her wet, pink pussy begging for his cock.

Fuck. Now he was hard as a rock. He’d been on edge since arriving, his body taut with need for Caitlin. That need grew more urgent with each passing day until he thought he might just snap like the string of a violin. Only by falling into an exhausted sleep was he able to keep his needs under tight control. A nudge to his shoulder reminded him he needed to groom Bella.

He did a mental eye roll. His horse, his name choice, Dusty had informed him. He’d had no idea what to call the horse. He’d never had a pet of his own. So he chose Belle, or Bella.

“Stupid sap,” he muttered, leading the way to the barn. The motions of grooming soothed and calmed him. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t felt as at peace with himself or the world as he did while working with his mare.

His. No one had ever given him a pet, and he didn’t think of Bella as a pet but as a friend. Two needy creatures shoved together. And it was time he had a few words with another woman he’d viewed as a friend. And more.

So when the sun lowered in the sky and all his chores were done, he slipped out of the bunkhouse and headed toward the house, and yes, detoured into the barn and grabbed a carrot from the bin in the fridge and gave Bella her treat. “Now, behave for a while. I’ve got another woman to see.”

Reaching the door to her house, he entered through the kitchen. He knew from watching her she spent her evenings in her office, often working long into the night. Yet, she was up before the crack of dawn. He recalled the tired droop to her shoulders earlier and the dark circles beneath her eyes.

He shook his head. She ran this ranch with the skill and training of a commanding officer. There wasn’t a single aspect of the ranch she didn’t know or handle. Dusty was her second in command, but she was very much in charge. Her need to take on a submissive role during sex made so much sense, as did her natural inclination to fight that need. It was time to remind her of that little fact.

Reaching her office, he leaned against the door jam. “We need to talk, Caitlin.” He kept his tone cool and formal, even though in his mind, she’d become Caitie.

She glanced up from her ledger. “Damon. What are you doing here?”

“Having a long-overdue conversation.” He noted she looked even more tired than earlier, as though she hadn’t been sleeping well or had been putting in too many hours. Both, he’d guess.

“Um, you shouldn’t be here. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, the Caitie Club rules. But I’m not part of that club. You may have finagled a way to get me here, and I’ll admit, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, but I’m not one of your hired hands. Am I, Caitlin?”

She leaned back in her chair. “No, Damon, you’re not,” she said softly.

“Then why are you avoiding me. Why am I over there, with the Caitie Club guys, and not here with you, sharing your bed?”

She stood, went to her window, and glanced out. “You need time to heal.”

“Bullshit.” He crossed the room and turned her around to face him. “You don’t think I can heal around you? That’s it better for me to be there instead of here? Are you sure it’s not because you’re tired of me? Or maybe you really didn’t like what we did during that three-day weekend.”

Caitie lifted one brow. “You know very well I loved everything we did. For your information, you are the one who walked out on me. You left the ball and didn’t come back. You never even said good-bye, Damon. What was I supposed to think?”

The stark truth hit him hard. It was true. He’d left without a backward glance. How could he explain he’d been thinking of her? He paced away from her, then back.

“You’re right.” He felt ashamed and a bit helpless. How could he fix this? And fix it he would. He needed this woman and everything she had to offer.

“Why, Damon?” She leaned against the windowsill.

“Because I couldn’t tango with you.”

She blinked.

He held up his hand. “Because you made me realize I wanted what I couldn’t have, couldn’t give you what you deserve. I can barely take care of myself, let alone be responsible for someone like you.”

He strode back and forth, barely aware of his limp, which was always worse at night, at least until Dusty got his hands on it with that god-awful smelling horse crap. But he had to admit, the scar lesions were breaking up, and the pain had already lessened.

“I vowed never to put myself in the position where someone else’s happiness or life could be screwed up by my actions or lack of actions.” And that meant living in a vacuum. His short time at the ranch, talking with others who had eerily the same issues, had taught him he was simply sinking deeper into his own dark pit.

“And now?

Seeing the pain in her eyes, and yes, the longing, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, be her Dom, and take some of the responsibilities from her. But he was afraid of her rejection. Him, a Navy SEAL known for his cool detachment under fire. “I’m dealing. For the first time since I was injured, I’m dealing with it.”

He stepped closer to her, reached out, and cupped her face in his hands. “I was so angry, so damn resentful, and even felt betrayed.” Abandoned.

“You could have left. Had you really not wanted to stay, Dusty or one of the men would have taken you home.” Her eyes searched his.

“Or I could have hiked to the road and found my way back.” He grimaced. “Planned on doing just that.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted you. Wanted to become the man you needed me to be. So I stayed, told myself you were full of crap and I’d prove it to you, but, instead, I’m ready to admit you were right.”

She smiled and tears tracked down the side of her face. “That’s a start.”

He swiped the tears away. He could actually smile and feel the knots and tension easing from his shoulders. “Does this mean we can spend some time together?”

“I think we can arrange to go riding together.”

“Just riding?” He pulled her closer.”

“Hmm, what did you have in mind?”

God, his mind was suddenly in overdrive. He could take her on her desk, on the floor, have her kneel and take his cock in her mouth. His blood pooled between his legs and set off fresh waves of need. Three weeks felt like three months.

“Know any good Doms?” Her voice was low and throaty.

He lifted a brow. If that wasn’t an invitation, he didn’t know his women. His subs. On the verge of stepping back and taking control, he hesitated. She was willing to take him now, start building that relationship. But as much as he wanted to claim her and fuck her until they were both yelling and screaming, he wanted something more. He wanted her friendship and her respect.

He bent his head, kissed her long and hard, drew her taste and scent deep into his soul. His body and mind were relieved at her passionate response, and his dick grew hard and ready for what was to come.

Instead, he lifted his head, smoothed his thumbs over her cheekbones, then stepped back, dropping his hands.

“I know just the Dom for you. He knows what you need, and he wants to give it to you. But when he comes to you, he wants to be a whole man. He wants to be your Dom and your man. The man got lost, forgot how to live, but he’s coming back. Can you give him time, give him a chance? Maybe let the man and woman catch up to the Dom and sub?”

Caitlin laughed low in her throat and eased close. She stood on her toes and kissed him gently on the lips, then stepped back. “The woman would love to get to know the man.”

Damon returned to the bunkhouse. For the first time since being injured, he had a reason to heal and live.

****

Caitlin leaned on the rail and watched as Dusty and Damon put a gelding through his paces. Like the mare, Damon had bonded with this animal as well, and so far, he was the only one who the horse would allow on his back. She sighed with contentment and studied the man she loved. Her plan had been a success. He’d been here just over three months, and the transformation was miraculous.

She missed him, yearned to have him with her every day and night. The occasional meal and their rides were good. Better than good. She enjoyed exploring his mind, his intellect during what she thought of as their date time. They discussed horses, the ranch, his childhood and hers, and he even shared some of his stories as a SEAL, at least the non-classified ones. But neither made the move to a more intimate relationship. If and when, it would be up to him.

When he felt he was a whole man.

An hour later, Damon trotted over.

“He’s ready to take out.” He yanked his hat off and blotted the sweat from his face.

“You sure he’s reliable. I’d hate for you to get thrown.” She grinned. “Again.”

He laughed. “We’re pals. He won’t even think about bucking me, will you, pal?” He stroked the chestnut.

“All right. Where to?” She treasured their jaunts and outings together.

“How about our little oasis? It’s not far.” His glance slid from her face down her body, then back up to her mouth.

She felt that delicious shiver trip down her spine. The stand of pines near a small, natural spring was one of her favorite places, and the center of many fantasies between her and this man. The sexual tension growing between them was like a snarling K-9 nipping at the heels of a perp. Need and pure lust hummed through her, but she kept it tightly reined. When he’s ready. She just hoped he didn’t take too long.

“It’s close enough to walk.” The stand of trees started at her house and ended at the spring.

“Yeah, but I’m lazy. Let the horses carry the picnic stuff.”

Caitie laughed. “Fine. I’ll meet you in ten.”

“No need. Had Josh saddle your mare.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, Damon Steele.”

He waggled his brows. “Nope. Pretty sure you wouldn’t say no, Caitlin Olsen.”

Shaking her head, she opened the gate to the large corral, large enough to hold riding lessons or work more than one animal at a time, let him and the horse through, then latched it. He rode off toward the barn, leaving her to follow.

****

Damon was nervous as teen on his first date. “Got everything, Javon?”

He slid down, pleased when his thigh didn’t protest. Dusty’s nightly tortures with that smelly horse ligament and rough but firm massages had done more than all the PT he’d tried. Better than going back under a knife to remove scar tissue adhered to bone as his last doctor had suggested.

“Yo. And here’s your pack.”

Working quickly, Damon attached a quilt, basket, and the small bag he’d dropped off earlier that morning to his saddle. He put up with the good-natured teasing from those in the Caitie Club. Everyone knew he was more than just one of Caitie’s Boys, and it amazed him that no one minded. When Caitie, as he now thought of her, arrived, all teasing and crude remarks were zipped. There wasn’t a man on the ranch who didn’t love this woman in some fashion.

He grabbed the reins of her mare and handed them to her, then helped her into the saddle. Again, with an ease that never failed to astound him, he mounted, and together, they headed toward the back of the sprawling ranch house, then followed the trail that ran down the center of the groove of pines. They discussed the condition of the horses, the repair schedule, and Damon’s recommendations for more repairs. As a contractor, he’d found himself quickly put in charge of the buildings.

“Got a crew starting next week on raising a new barn. It’s bigger, with more storage.”

“That’s great news. The one on the property when I bought it is about to fall down.”

“It’s gone now. Had the men take it down. Saved what we could to reuse.” He liked the idea of incorporating old and new. Old history and new tomorrows. He eyed Caitie. Was he old history or did they have new tomorrows? He’d soon find out.

When they reached a small clearing surrounded by Douglas Firs and Ponderosa pines, she dismounted. He followed suit and handed her the quilt and basket. “Talked Martha into frying up some of her fried chicken.”

Caitie spread the blanket. “You didn’t have to talk her into anything. All you did was grin and say please. I swear she’d walk over fire for you.” It was nice to be away from the noise and what she often thought of as organized chaos and heavenly to be alone with Damon.

Damon’s hands came down on her shoulders, and he pulled her against him. This woman had given so much. Because of her, he felt alive. And at home. “And you, Caitie? Would you walk on fire for me?” He turned her and stared down into her eyes

She cupped his face. “You know I would.”

“I was so angry for the first few weeks I was here.”

She smiled. “I know.”

He leaned his head against hers and wrapped his arms around her. “You were right. You have an amazing gift, Caitie. You saved me.”

“No, you saved yourself. I just gave you the tools.” Two tears fell.

He wiped the moisture and held her chin. “I was too damaged to find help.”

“And now?” Her gaze searched his.

“On the mend. Still have a ways to go, but for the first time since I came home, I’ve found peace.”

Tears ran in a steady stream. “You’ve forgiven yourself.”

“Yeah. Dusty and the others have beat it into me that I wasn’t to blame, that war is fucked, and good men die. Bad shit happens. I did my duty, have no guilt there anymore. The enemy who ambushed us is to blame. Not me.”

Caitlin threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad, Damon.”

“There’s something I’ve never told anyone, not my commanding officers, not even the men here. I want to tell you.” Needed to come clean with her.

“Okay. I’m a good—”

“Listener.” He chucked, pulled her around so he could see her, so she could see him. “That last mission didn’t go quite as planned. We had three teams, plus troops and support staff. Command wanted to hold my team in reserve, as back up. I convinced them, instead, to let me take point.” He drew in a deep breath. “Had I not wanted to get in and be in the center of the action, my team would be alive. All because I countered command.

Caitie rose onto her knees. “And this is why you blamed yourself. Not just because they died, but because they didn’t have to die.”

“Yes.” He pulled her back into his arms as the last of the weight fell from his shoulders. He held the woman he loved, breathed in her scent, and allowed himself to feel, to hope and to dream. “I still have issues and nightmares, will always deal with them, and probably some pain as well, but I hope the regrets I hold will eventually fade. Though I never want to forget those men or their families. They shouldn’t be forgotten, and I’ll remember the good times. But I no longer blame myself. Had it not been me and my team, it would have been another. The mission was doomed from the beginning. I could never wish that pain of loss on anyone else.”

He drew back. “If you’ll have me, I want to stay with you. Be part of your life. With you, I’m alive. And I feel like I’ve come home.”

“Oh, Damon.” She hugged him tight. She’d known there was more and was honored he’d shared it with her. No wonder he’d been so tormented and lost.

Holding her close, he nuzzled her hair. “I love you. Can you accept me as both your beast and your forever prince?”

Caitie tipped her head back and stared at him. “Only if you’ll also be my Dom and my man and move into my house with me. I love you, Damon.”

He feathered his lips across hers. “This Dom doesn’t care who’s in charge at the moment. He just wants to kiss you and make love to you right now, right here. In our bedroom.”

“Bedroom?”

Grinning, he picked up his pack and removed a roll of paper. He pulled her down and spread the large sheet. “I figure our bedroom is about here. But up a good thirty feet.”

Caitie’s jaw dropped as she stared at the plans for an elaborate tree house. “Our very own tree house?” Her gaze tracked platforms, rope bridges, and a multilevel house. The entire project took up a good portion of the stand of pines, and the color printout showed that it blended perfectly, looked as though it had been planted with the trees and grown naturally with them.

“Yep. Notice the bridge that leads to the tree right outside your bedroom window. Going to add a balcony so we can sneak out and go to our own special place.”

She was impressed. And amazed. “You can really build this?”

“Had the trees checked out by an arborist. A couple are too weak and diseased and will have to come down, and we’ll have to do some trimming of deadwood, but otherwise, that’s a very healthy stand of pines, Ms. Olsen.” He rolled up the plans.

“You know I have a business. On hold for the time being, but I want to specialize in designing and building tree houses if you don’t mind me taking on outside jobs here and there.” He shrugged. “Even had a couple of local ranch owners ask for quotes and advice. But if you don’t want me to continue with my business and want me to just work here, I’m good with that. You have a great place here, Caitie. I’m grateful to you, Glorie, and Bryce.”

“Damon, I love the idea of you doing tree houses and whatever contract work you choose. I think it’s healthy for you to have your own interests and business. We’ll work it out. Now, Sir. I believe you’re talking far too much and not doing enough kissing.” She stood, kicked off her boots, and quickly undressed, then lay back.

Grinning, Damon followed suit and glided his naked body over hers. He pulled her arms over her head. “Guess I’d best take care of my duties. Want to go trick or treating?”

“Only if there’s lots of candy.” She let out a long, satisfied moan when his fingers slid through the curls of her mound and settled on her clit.

“How much candy can you handle, Ms. Olsen?

“Got an incurable sweet tooth, Mr. Steele.”

She sighed when Damon’s mouth closed over hers and hoped the first house he took her to was a duplex. Or even better, a triplex.