Free The Soldier's Holiday Vow by Jillian Hart Page B

it’s been. You fit at that stable. You can be the woman you were meant to be.”
    â€œYes. How did you know?” She felt her jaw drop. She stared at him, astonished.
    â€œIt fits with your beliefs. You wear your causes on your T-shirts.”
    â€œI am a fan of the ride and walkathons.” She looked down at her blue shirt; the white lettering read Race for Childhood Diabetes. “Comanche and I like to do our part. Next week there’s a ride for the local food bank. It’s not ice climbing, but it might be fun.”
    â€œI’ll do it, but I don’t have a horse.”
    â€œNo worries. I can find you a mount.”
    â€œI knew you were going to say that. I guess there’s no way out now.” He didn’t look too broken up by it.
    His gentle friendliness was hard to resist. Through the permanent layers of ice she had been buried in, hereached her. She was helpless to stop his gentle breach of her defenses. His grin, his dimples, his friendliness, his understanding, his willingness to ride along touched her deeply. A true caring took root within her, and she could not stop it.
    â€œCount me in.” He pulled into her driveway. The sun broke, piercing ragged gray clouds as if in victory. He cut the engine.
    Like the sun, her feelings were too intense. She blinked against the brightness and unlatched her seat belt before he could do it. Overwhelmed, she struggled to keep him at a distance, but her emotions weren’t cooperating. She had to stop the caring from taking firmer root in her heart.
    â€œThere you are.” Her sister stormed down the walkway, mouth pursed, and anger flashing. “I’ve been worried about you. No note. Nothing. Your car in the garage. What was I supposed to think?”
    â€œI didn’t know you were coming over.” She hopped down from the seat and spotted Chessie’s sedan in the nearby guest parking spot. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
    â€œToo late.” Chessie sent an accusing glance Hawk’s way. “You. I should have known you had something to do with this. I suppose you let her talk you into going to the stables?”
    â€œGuilty. She’s hard to say no to.” Hawk did look guilty as he unlatched the tailgate. “I didn’t keep her out long.”
    â€œShe has a concussion. She’s had surgery. She can’t be out running around with the likes of you.” Chessie stopped herself, just in time. “I’m sorry. I’mgrateful to you for finding her. I always will be. But she’s fine now. She doesn’t need another soldier messing up her life.”
    â€œFrancesca.” September’s face burned. She took a step toward her sister, then realized how alone Hawk looked as he hauled the tree out of the truck bed. How miserable as he wrapped his arms around the planter and lifted. Tendons strained in his neck—it had to be heavy. “Hawk, let me get the door for you.”
    â€œYou might want to find something to put under this. You don’t want this on your pretty wood floor.” He sounded strained, and the branches hid him effectively. It was hard to read the emotion on his face.
    She didn’t need to see him to know he’d been hurt. “Chessie, will you find something?”
    Her sister gave her a long look, as if she were about to refuse, but decided better of it. She meant well, September thought as she followed her sister onto the porch, but Chessie’s strong opinions had a way of always hurting someone. She was too much like their dad—a good soul, but so sure her way was the only one.
    â€œYou’ve done me a world of good today.” September held the door for him and her perfectly imperfect Christmas tree. “Don’t forget that. I’m grateful, Hawk.”
    â€œYou did me a world of good, too.” He ambled in on a ray of sunshine. He didn’t meet her gaze. Something had changed. Maybe it was what