LITMIR.BIZ

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paused, narrowed her eyes.

      Boone kept walking.

      Tara hurried to catch up. “You can run but you can’t hide.”

      “Watch me,” he called over his shoulder.

      “I’m not letting you off the hook.”

      He had to slow down because his knee was throbbing.

      “What are you so scared of Boone?”

      You. No one had ever turned him upside down the way Tara did. “Not one damn thing.”

      “It’s okay to be afraid.”

      No it wasn’t. Not for him. Didn’t she get that? He was the strong one. The protector. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt. If he wasn’t a soldier, then who the hell was he?

      He stopped walking, turned to her on the quiet street of a small town he’d never been in before and would likely never be in again.

      Tara stopped abruptly, mere inches from him. She titled her chin up and met his hard-edged stare without blinking. The way she looked at him made him feel…well, like the past was truly gone and all that mattered was the present. How did she do it? How did she live in the moment? He was envious of her skill and resented it at the same time.

      “Boone,” she said, reading his mind. “You can set your own course in life. Be whoever or whatever you want to be.”

      “I can’t be a soldier.”

      “Not anymore, but you’ve already been there, done that. You’re beyond that. It’s time to move on.”

      “How?”

      “By understanding that it’s okay to be in transition. You don’t have to have all the answers all the time.”

      “What if I can’t change?”

      “You can. You are already changing. Two weeks ago would you have possibly imagined you’d be on a car trip with me?”

      “No.”

      “See there. You’re on the road to change.”

      “Not willingly.”

      “Reluctantly or not, you went along for the ride. You did it. You’re giving life a chance even if it feels like you’re still mired in the mud. You’ll get there.”

      “How can you be so sure?”

      “Because every day is a journey. We’re all a work in progress.”

      “Are you afraid?” he asked.

      “All the time,” she admitted. “But I don’t let it stand in my way.”

      He didn’t believe it. She was one of the bravest people he knew. “What are you afraid of?”

      “You,” she whispered. “This.”

      The next thing he knew, she reached up, captured his face between her palms and kissed him on the lips, light and quick like a butterfly landing on a flower. Then she scurried, head down, into the mechanic shop, leaving Boone staring after her in amazement.

      IF SOMEONE HAD asked Tara why she’d kissed Boone, she could have come up with only one answer that adequately explained her impulse.

      He looked like he needed it.

      The minute her lips had touched his, she’d felt his taut muscles soften. Heard his ragged intake of breath. Then, for the span of two heartbeats, he’d done nothing and she’d panicked. Right. He wasn’t interested in kissing her. She’d made a gigantic fool of herself.

      Why, oh why, had she kissed him? She should have learned something from the previous night. Thankfully, she’d had the sense to pull the plug and run away. Yet she couldn’t help wondering. Would he have kissed her back if she hadn’t?

      She sneaked a glance over at Boone as he paid the mechanic and she was surprised to see a pleasant expression on his face. Well, apparently she’d cheered him up at least. That was good.

      Absentmindedly, she put a finger up to touch her lips and grinned slowly. Little by little, she was getting through to him.

      He was a good guy who’d served his country. He deserved all the happiness in the world. He’d just lost his way and she was the one lucky enough to hold the light for him.

      Remember that, Tara. Don’t get hung up on him. You can’t keep him. He’s not yours for the long haul.

      That was okay. She could deal with it. If she could be an instrument in his healing, that was enough for her.

      Or it would be if she just kept reminding herself of that.

      “Heads up, Duvall.” Boone tossed her the keys.

      She grabbed them with a one-handed catch.

      He grinned. “Great reflexes.”

      “Thanks.”

      He turned to climb into the passenger seat and, as she went around to the driver’s side, she swore she heard him happily humming “Everyday Is a Winding Road.”

      She was finally starting to get through to him. What more could a girl ask for?

      THEY DROVE FOR four and a half hours.

      The car should have been packed with tension after she’d kissed him, but instead, it seemed as if the kiss had actually knocked a big chunk of mortar from the emotional wall surrounding Boone.

      The time flew by as they discussed everything under the sun. They talked about the best meals they’d ever eaten. For Boone, it was lobster in Maine when he’d spent a summer with his sister, Jackie, working onboard Jack Birchard’s ship, the Sea Anemone. For Tara, it was her mother’s homemade pizza.

      They mused about religious beliefs and discovered that while they were both spiritual, neither was dogmatic. They were equally like-minded on politics, both holding moderate views. They talked about their favorite movies and discovered they both loved the National Lampoon vacation movies.

      Boone was good company when he relaxed and they were having so much fun that Tara was startled to see the sign proclaiming Welcome to Tennessee. Wow, they were making good progress.

      “I’ve got ancestors from Tennessee,” she said.

      “No kidding? Me, too. My mother’s parents were originally from Knoxville.”

      “You’re kidding? This is getting downright spooky that we have so much in common and never knew it. My kin were from Nashville.”

      “Anyone in your family musical?” he asked.

      “Other than singing bad karaoke? Nope.”

      A few miles later, they drove past a mile marker that said Nashville 33 Miles and a billboard advertising the Civil War reenactment of the Battle of Shiloh for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend caught her eye.

      “Ah, man,” she muttered under her breath.

      “What is it?” Boone asked.

      “I can’t believe that tomorrow is the first day of the Shiloh battlefield reenactment.” She waved a hand at the billboard. “We’ll be so near and I can’t go.”

      “You’re interested in battlefield reenactments?”

      “My maternal great-great-great-grandfather was killed at Shiloh and I’ve always wanted to visit.”

      “It’s a shame you can’t go.”

      “So close and yet so far,” she said glibly, trying to keep the wistfulness from her voice. Seeing the reenactment of the battle her ancestor had died in was on her own personal bucket list. She’d heard stories about the bravery of great-great-great-grandfather Sykes for years. His sacrifice stirred patriotism inside her. His blood traveled in hers and it made her feel

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