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In a fluid motion, he rolled vertical, then turned back to her. With an easy movement, he lifted her to her feet with minimal pain to her ribs. “You okay?”
“I’m good, thank you. I miss being able to move easily,” she admitted.
“I don’t blame you. I bet it took a while for you to get used to your leg, as well.”
The question kind of came out of left field, and it threw her for a minute. “Yes, it did, actually.”
They were walking back to the midway, but he paused to look down at her. “Did you lose it in the Army?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice curt. “In Afghanistan.”
He seemed to sense that she didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m sorry if it bothers you, my asking about it.”
Olivia shook her head, feeling tired. “It’s okay. I just forget about it most of the time, until something reminds me of it.”
“I’m sorry I reminded you,” he said, frowning. “I won’t bring it up again.”
She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but the loss of her leg was a serious ego killer. Yes, she was one of thousands now. She’d seen another amputee walking the midway. He’d been a little older than her and wore a Grunt Style t-shirt, and something about his demeanor spoke military. She wondered if he’d lost his leg, same side as her own, in the war as well. She wasn’t curious enough to go up and ask him, though. Because that would mean sharing a story, and she didn’t like to do that.
Baylee was very open with what had happened to her over there, and she’d been to countless counselors to give her that ease. Olivia had been to counselors as well, but she didn’t have the same ability to let history go.
“It’s just one of those things…” she said, making a face at him.
“I get it,” he said simply. “I don’t like to talk about my brother’s death, either, but it’s there in front of me every day.”
Olivia stopped in the middle of the stream of people and pulled him to a stop beside her. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I didn’t know.”
He smiled down at her, but sadness lingered in his eyes. “It’s okay, Olivia. It was years ago, but the pain feels just as fresh today as it did ten years ago.”
“It doesn’t just go away, does it?” she whispered, and he shook his head.
“What are you doing, Chief,” someone called out, laughing.
Connor grinned and waved a hand, pulling back from her, and turned to wade back into the traffic. He held her hand, though, tugging her along with him.
There were depths to him, Olivia realized, feeling a little ashamed of the realization. It was so easy to sink into her own head, her own issues, as to block out those around her. And she’d been constantly distracted by his prettiness. It was so unlike her.
The massive white judging tent was nestled in the grass behind the rodeo ring. Each competitor, Connor explained, had to bring a plate of whatever meat was being judged to the tables in one partitioned corner, and they were assigned numbers. The judges tasted the samples and graded the meat blind, covering several different aspects of the meat’s flavor, consistency and tenderness.
Courtney Michaels pounced as soon as he walked in the door, and Olivia could understand why she grated on Connor’s nerves. The woman was on the younger side, beautiful in a careless, natural way that took a lot of makeup and skill to apply. She wore a dress that flattered her trim shape, and carried a tablet, her hand through a grip on the back of the device. A glittery Kate Spade bag hung over her other elbow.
“Oh, Connor, my WIFI has gone out, and I can’t find my maintenance man. I caught him drinking a beer earlier, and I think he’s abandoned me.”
Olivia would have laughed at the woman’s outraged look, but it wasn’t the time. Obviously, it was important to her.
“I don’t know if I can help with that, Courtney,” he said slowly. “Where’s your router?”
She gave him a doe in the headlight look. “I have no idea,” she whispered. “Is that the thing with the…” she put two fingers up near her head, jostling the tablet and almost hitting herself in the face with her bag.
Olivia looked at Connor, impressed that he was holding it in. She was about to die from restrained laughter.
“Yes, Courtney, the thing with antennae.”
The young woman nodded her head and looked toward one corner of the tent, batting her false eyelashes. “You know about everything, Connor. I’m so glad to have you here.”
She spared Olivia a glance, but apparently didn’t read her as a threat. “I think it’s over here.”
She led the way to what was obviously a management corner, sectioned off with tent flaps, and waved toward the black box.
