A Cowboy for the CEO

Chapter 37: Sharp Dressed Man

By the time the final notes rang out, Hank's arm encircled her waist and her head rested against his cheek. She hadn't even noticed how they'd gotten there. It just felt right.

"Thank you," he whispered before letting go.

As the tempo picked up again and other couples returned, Hank led her out onto the back patio. The cool night air carried the scent of evergreens mixed with a distant campfire. He leaned against a railing and crossed his arms.

"I know I should have been open with you about everything from the beginning, but I thought telling you the whole truth would be even more misleading," he said.

Ali shook her head. "How is that possible?"

"Yes, I'm in the Air Force, and yes, I was a pilot, but everything has changed, thanks to a classified technical malfunction over Jordan last year, so that's not my life anymore," he said before turning toward the mountain vistas. "Being an instructor at the Academy-theory is all I can do now, by the way-doesn't compare to flying actual missions above enemy territory. And no matter how much I want to delude myself with possible cures for my vertigo, I'm probably never going to get a chance to get back into a fighter jet."

"Do you think I would have liked you any less knowing all that?" she asked, taking a few cautious steps toward him.

He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. "The real question is: would you have liked me more if we'd met a year earlier?"

His despair was distressing, but Hank had chosen to hide his own vulnerabilities even when he'd used Ali's trauma to get close to her. Hell, he'd criticized her for not being able to manage change. And look who was having a problem with losing control now.

"Why does the past matter?" she asked.

He scoffed. "You'd be surprised at the reactions I get in the uniform versus out of it."

Ali balled her fists at her side in frustration at the quip. "Oh my god, can you focus? Who cares about the damn uniform?"

"I care, Ali! I care!" he exclaimed as he spun around. "That was my life. This uniform was my life. And now . . . it's just a costume. It's not who I am any more."

Her heart broke seeing him in so much pain. "Who are you then? Tell me."

He held out his hand, plastering on a fake smile. "Captain Henry Mathis Jr., former squad leader, veteran of two combat tours, and current assistant professor of military history and tactical combat skills. But you can call me Hank," he said.

Ali took his hand, gently squeezing his fingers. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"It's not too late to start over," he said, grazing her jaw with his thumb.

"Yes, it is." She pulled away, terrified by the hope, desire, and joy his touch sent through her. But even if she could forgive his betrayal, it was clear that neither of them was emotionally ready for all the baggage that came with this relationship.

"I'll accept that if you tell me that you think the last few weeks have been a waste." He moved closer and gently held her by the elbows. "That you regret ever meeting me. Or better yet, tell me that I don't make you happy."

"I can't," she quietly admitted. "But it doesn't matter because we have our own lives. I don't expect-or even want-you to give up yours for me. And I hope you feel the same way."

"Of course I do, but there has to be some sort of compromise, right?" he asked, searching her face. "I know it's not ideal, but we could try the long-distance thing."

The thought had also crossed her mind, but she hadn't reached such an enthusiastic conclusion. "I don't know if I could bear seeing you only when one of us can travel across the country for a few days."