Jenna's Cowboy by Sharon Gillenwater Page B

to work their way through the crowd. At the street, they spotted Nate running full out toward the other end of the high school. Not an easy task in boots. He slowed to a jog, then a walk.
    Jenna mentally kicked herself. She should have considered the possibility that the bonfire might bring back bad memories. No one forced him to come with them, but Nate was like most of the men she knew, macho to the core. He would never have admitted that the fire might bother him.
    When they caught up with him, he was leaning forward against Will’s truck, his hands on the hood, back curved, head down. Jenna and Will hung back, letting Chance take the lead.
    “Are you all right?” Chance stopped beside Nate but didn’t touch him.
    “Yeah.” He straightened and turned around to face them. Enough light shone from the streetlight on the corner to see that his hands were shaking. “I think so.” He glanced at Jenna. “I thought I could handle the fire, but guess I was wrong.”
    “It’s okay.” She smiled, trying to reassure him. “You didn’t knock anybody down.”
    He frowned. “What do you mean?”
    Oops. “You were in a big hurry to get out of there.”
    He rubbed the back of his neck and slumped against the pickup. “So I was a jerk.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” said Will. “It didn’t seem to bother anybody for more than a minute. They probably figured you got a spark down your shirt. Or were getting even for all the people who bumped you as they moved back from the fire.”
    Confusion clouded Nate’s face, and he shook his head. “I don’t remember any of that.”
    “I think you were caught up in some bad memories,” Jenna said gently. She pretended to yawn. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to head home. I want to see my little guy before he falls asleep.”
    “Don’t you mean before you fall asleep?” teased Will, playing along.
    “Well, that too.” She slipped her hand around Nate’s upper arm. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s hit the trail.”
    He straightened with a smile, though it looked strained. “Gettin’ a little corny, aren’t you?”
    She gave him a cheeky grin and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Being true to my roots.”
    They walked around to the passenger side of the truck. Nate paused and made a show of studying her ear.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Looking for corn silk.”
    “No silk. And my ears aren’t long, green, and pointed, either.”
    “Are you sure?”
    She made a face. Nate smiled, thankful that she was still speaking to him. He’d heard guys talk about flashbacks, but he’d never experienced one before. At least not one when he was awake. Dreams were another matter. Opening the back door, he waited as she tucked her tiny purse in the backseat pocket.
    Ka-boom!
    “Incoming!” Nate grabbed Jenna and dove for the pavement, holding her so he absorbed part of the impact. He instantly rolled, covering her body with his, shielding her.
    “Nate!”
    He flinched as Jenna’s shout rang in his ear. Smoke lingered in the air, but he hadn’t seen where the bomb landed.
    “Stay down. There might be another rocket.”
    “Rocket? What are you talking about? Get off me.” Jenna tugged her arms out from between them and shoved against his shoulders. Not that a pipsqueak like her could move him an inch.
    “Stay still.” His order, spoken in his most commanding sergeant’s voice, quieted her for all of two seconds.
    “Nate, let me up.”
    Nate tipped his head, searching the darkness. Where had it come from? He noted Chance standing about five feet away. Beyond him, since his line of sight was at ground level, were two other pairs of boots along with several tennis shoes and a pair of purple flip-flops.
    “Uh, amigo, a car backfired.” Chance spoke cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure what Nate might do next.
    There was no debris. No rocket-propelled grenade. Nothing had blown up. The smoke was from the bonfire. He was on Walnut Street in Callahan