“Because?”
She moved uncomfortably in the seat beneath his benign inspection. He was a good-looking man, vital, filled with a powerful life force, even though right now, he was nowhere near what she imagined he’d been as an officer in charge of a Marine company. “Because I care.” She said it in such a way that it was all she was going to tell him. Shay could see his eyes change, darken a little, consideration and respect in them . . .
“Well,” Reese murmured, giving her a look of admiration, “we need more people like you in this world. There’s a lot of vets out there who are hurting. The VA doesn’t give a damn about us, making us wait up to a year or more to get an appointment in order to get help.”
“I know,” Shay said sadly. Wiping her mouth with the paper napkin, she added, “I went through the same process and never got an appointment because the VA hospital was so backlogged. It’s a national disgrace if you ask me. Our men and women returning from combat desperately need medical attention, psychological support as soon as they step onto our country’s soil. But it’s not there for any of them.”
“No,” Reese agreed, his voice growing quiet, “it’s not.”
Wincing, Shay heard the pain in his tone. “I know . . . I hope that you find the Bar C a place where you can heal, Mr. Lockhart. You’ll work hard, but you will be with a military family of sorts. That will help a lot. I know it has the other three men. They’ve blossomed since coming to the ranch.” She felt the full warmth of his look and it gently enclosed her heart, surprising her.
“Thanks to you. To your vision. Or maybe, I should say, your passion? You can’t do something like this if your heart isn’t invested in it.”
His understanding and praise enveloped Shay and she secretly relished it. There was something different about this vet, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe Reese was just very savvy about human nature; it was a part of who he was. If that was so, then Shay could only imagine how his PTSD symptoms were tearing him up inwardly. It was hell on everyone, but a man of his intelligence and training, a consummate Marine Corps officer, it would be a hundred times worse. To fall from grace? To lose his entire career? She was sure he would have been a twenty-or thirty-year Marine, making military service his life.
“My heart is invested in this,” she said, her voice determined. “For as long as I breathe, the Bar C is going to be a haven of healing for our men and women who have served. They deserve no less.”
“Can you tell me about the other vets?”
Glad the spotlight was off her, Shay quickly finished her grilled cheese sandwich and ate half the French fries. “Harper Sutton is ex-Navy. He was a combat medic. He was my first hire nine months ago. And a week later, Garret Fleming, Army Special Forces, showed up on Charlie’s doorstep. Then, a month after that, Noah Mabry, ex-Army dog handler, applied for a job. They’re all between twenty-seven and thirty years old. Good men. Hard workers. They’re invested in the Bar C and I’m sure as time goes on and you make friends with them, they’ll each tell you their story.”
“Yeah,” Reese murmured, “we all have a story, don’t we?” He studied her.
Squirming inwardly, Shay realized with trepidation that she had no defense against this man’s ability to see through her. Did he realize she had PTSD just as badly as he and the other vets did? Most likely, from the way he was assessing her with those clear, dark green eyes of his, he was aware of her plight, too. She noticed as they sat and talked, the cloudiness had left his eyes, and in their place, a hawk-like expression of deep intelligence molded with a lot of human experience was in his gaze. This was a man, Shay guessed, who could tell if someone was bullshitting him or not. He saw a lot, said little, kept his feelings well hidden. But he’d been an officer, and in her experience, most of them were like that. After all, they had the responsibility to manage people. That was their job.
Shay decided not to answer him. Instead, she picked up her purse and put the money along with the bill at the end of the table. “We have a small bunkhouse,” she said apologetically as Julie came over and took the payment. “It’s only got three rooms. Do you mind, for a while, staying at the main ranch house with me? I’ve got two spare bedrooms and you can have your pick. I’m hoping to shift Noah, who is doing the grunt work on the indoor arena, to building more rooms in the bunkhouse after that project is completed.”
Shrugging, Reese said, “I don’t mind, but I’ll be underfoot all the time.”
She stood and slipped her purse over her left shoulder, pulling on her leather gloves and settling the black baseball cap on her head. “Oh, I think you’re intelligent enough to pick up the rhythm of a household and flow with it. I’m not worried.”