The Cowboy's Texas Sky (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 2)

He could only hope that spark was still there. He wanted to fan it into a flame but didn’t know how. He couldn’t toss her on Cimarron’s back and blaze into the sunset anymore, couldn’t whisk her away dancing.

Now was not the time to linger on it, and yet he couldn’t shake the morning’s revelations, all before nine a.m. Helluva lot more potent than coffee as a pick-me-up.

He whistled to Yoda, who jumped into the truck as he opened the door and sat on his haunches to watch the strange animal whining in the bed.

“What do I owe you?” he turned to Lydia, pulling his wallet free.

“Don’t worry about it. I saw the Go Army sticker on your window, and well, thank you for your service—”

That old, peeling, desiccated sticker he’d put on Red Lightning just to piss off his dad?

“Here.”

He shoved a twenty into her hands. Why did people always have to do that? Why couldn’t she just take his damn money? Why did they have to see the crippled army vet limp around and start thanking him like he was some red-carpet celebrity to whom they ought to bow down? Why couldn’t people treat him like he was normal instead of reminding him all the time that he wasn’t?

He dropped into the driver’s seat and fired up his engine, anxious to keep Skylar’s truck in sight, brooding on the revelations as his left hand steered and his right hand scratched Yoda’s floppy ear. He couldn’t bear to consider the blow he’d dealt Skylar. God, if he could take it all back, return to that moment when she’d collapsed and simply hold her instead, bask in her body against his, in his arms, where he was realizing it had always belonged. He couldn’t figure out why she’d never gone home to his parents. But he was determined to find out. Because while he felt like shit about what he’d done, she, too, had never come home. Never stayed in touch. Never thought to find his grave to put flowers on.

Would he have seen her had she done so? Reversed his—in hindsight—stupid decision to let her go? Hell if he knew—“Past Travis” hadn’t been thinking right. But what he did know now was that he didn’t want to leave the past in the rearview mirror anymore. And quite suddenly, he knew what he did want. He wanted to chase the future and see how Skylar fit into it. He flipped on his blinker five minutes later, pulling into the gravel lot where the freestanding general store was that looked like it had once been the mercantile for the cattle town that used to stand here and was now her clinic. He parked Red Lightning, watched that long-legged desert beauty queen jump down from her seat, landing squarely on her ropers, and pulled out his phone.

Opening his messages, conviction gripped him. He always achieved whatever goal he put in his scope. Toby’s message from last night sat at the top, still unanswered. He tapped it open.

Toby:You gonna chicken out or go for her?

His fingers tapped the letters, flying over the screen. He nodded to himself and smiled. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. But that impulsive streak that had gotten him into trouble all his life, that he’d shoved into a box after Afghanistan, broke free and compelled him forward.

Travis:Gonna go for her.

His thumb hit Send, but he kept typing, a floodgate opening.

Travis:It’s Skylar Rivers. And I ain’t making the same mistake again.

He cranked open his door, stepping out. A text buzzed. Another. Another. Toby was lighting up his phone like a Christmas tree. A grin stretched his mouth wide, and he jammed the blowing-up phone into his pocket. If Toby had made a ripple in the family pond by settling down with Rose, Travis had just landed a cannonball.