Page 4 of Ranger Devotion

He left the bathroom and retraced his steps to the large kitchen. The house was old-fashioned, with simple furniture and dated fixtures. He pulled a bag of corn from the well-stocked freezer and wrapped it in paper towels.

Annie appeared in the doorway, holding a first-aid kit in one hand. She’d removed her jacket, revealing a long gash on her arm. The sight of the injury against her pale skin sent a wave of anger through him. “How did you get that?”

“He had a knife.” She collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. “It looks worse than it is, thankfully. I don’t think I need stitches.”

“You should still be seen by a doctor.” Tate handed her the bag of frozen corn.

Annie pressed it to her temple and winced. “I’m already feeling better. I called the police department and they’re sending someone out. Might take a while though. There’s only one patrol at night.”

Tate wasn’t surprised. Unlike the neighboring town of Raven Hills, where he and Annie had attended high school, Oakwood was barely a speck on the map. It had one main road with a pharmacy, a feed store, a tiny grocer, and a couple of fast-food places. The rest of the town was farmland and ranches.

He popped open the first-aid kit. Her stare was heavy on him as he dug through the supplies. Nerves coiled in his stomach. He’d come to the reunion, in large part, to see Annie. To apologize for the horrible way he’d treated her. He’d practiced what he would say a dozen times, but face-to-face with her, the words seemed weak and useless.

Rain pattered gently against the window. Thank goodness his duffel was waterproof. He’d left it in the parking lot.

“Texas Ranger, huh?” Annie’s expression was neutral, but her gaze was speculative. Curious. A little surprised, maybe, and not quite willing to believe what she was seeing.

He nodded. “Apparently they’ll take anyone who can shoot decently and show up on time.”

“You show up on time? If memory serves, you nearly failed senior year because you had too many tardies.”

That made him laugh. “I’ve changed.”

Annie hummed in reply. The years had softened the curve of her cheekbones and added faint lines near the corners of her eyes. The changes enhanced her natural beauty. She had that approachable, girl-next-door look. But a sharpness lurked behind those stunning green eyes, one that hadn’t been there in high school. It spoke of heartache and hard life lessons.

Tate didn’t like knowing he’d helped put it there. He ripped open a disinfectant wipe to clean the cut on Annie’s arm. It was far easier to focus on the crime than on his complicated relationship with her. “What happened out there?”

“The attacker snuck up on me as I was getting the laptop bag and cell phone. Came swinging at me with his knife. I was able to fight him off until I hit my head on the SUV.”

Cold settled in Tate’s bones. A thief after a quick score didn’t usually didn’t kill in the process. “Did he say anything?”

“No.”

“Did he try to grab the laptop bag? Or cell phone?”

“Not that I recall, but everything happened so fast…” She blew out a breath. “I’ve been in some sticky situations before, but that was always while in uniform. It’s different when you don’t expect it. Or maybe I’ve just been a civilian for too long.”

“Grandma kept me updated on everyone until she passed. Last I heard, you were with the Houston Police Department.”

“Not anymore. I quit two years ago to open Haven Ranch.” She set the ice pack on the table and gestured for the wipe. “I’ll do it.”

Tate had the sense that she didn’t want him touching her. Fair enough. They were practically strangers. He handed over the wipe and settled in the seat across from Annie.

She dabbed at the cut, her shoulders stiff. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did I. At least, not until yesterday. My work schedule isn’t predictable, and that makes planning difficult. But Brooke called yesterday to say they had an extra room, and I was still welcome. It seemed like a good opportunity to catch up with everyone.”

A half-truth. He’d come for her. Tate had practiced everything he’d say to Annie, but face-to-face with her, the words felt weak.

“Do you keep in touch with a lot of our classmates?” She reached for a bandage.

“No.” He’d only lived in Oakwood for a short time, and the person he’d become during his senior year wasn’t someone he liked to remember.

“Preston and the others will be happy you’re here.”

Her tone was caustic. With good reason. Preston and the other popular kids had been instrumental in that humiliating display during senior prom. Tate could still hear the jeers and the laughter. His own recorded voice playing over the loudspeaker system.

I only asked her to the dance because my grandmother forced me to. Obviously. She’s sad and lonely. It was a pity ask.