Дон Жуан. Эдуард Францевич Направник

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      “The cowboys are coming today.”

      “Cowboys?” Three days off and she no longer knew what was going on. She did know that after being outside in the June sunshine, the air-conditioning felt good and the kids all seemed to have spring fever. “Are we having a rodeo on the unit? Or football?”

      She glanced at one of the other nurses. The woman shrugged as she headed into a room with a toddler on her hip. The Braswell hospital, just a short distance from Samantha’s home in Martin’s Crossing, was small but efficient. And the staff cared. It was a great place to begin her career as an RN.

      At the moment she didn’t have a lot of time to reflect on her job, not with Parker, a dark-haired rascal, talking ninety miles an hour. She must have missed half of what the little boy said because he was glancing back at her as if she didn’t have a clue.

      “I’m sorry, Parker. So...cowboys are coming today. ”

      “One of them is my cousin. And they’re bringing a real, live horse!”

      That got her attention. “They can’t bring a horse into the hospital.”

      An aid stuck her head out of the door to the room next to Parker’s. “Miniature horse. It’s approved.”

      Seriously? “Okay, they’re bringing a horse. That should be interesting.”

      “You think it’ll go to the bathroom, don’t you?” Parker asked.

      “Well, it is a horse. They aren’t typically house-trained.” She lifted him from his chair and placed him in bed. “Stay.”

      “I got myself out earlier.”

      She gave him a serious look. “Not without supervision, buddy.”

      The nine-year-old nodded. “Okay, not without supervision. But Danny was in here.”

      “Danny is ten. He doesn’t count.”

      She gave him one last warning look and headed back to the nurse’s station. “We have to move Parker closer to the nurse’s station. He escaped his bed again.”

      “You can’t stop determination.” Dr. Jackson grinned as he entered something in the computer. He was older and liked to remind them he’d seen it all.

      “No, but I can stop him from falling and getting hurt.”

      “Good luck,” the doctor said as he pulled on glasses and meandered back down the hall. He said after thirty years of practicing, he no longer got too excited about anything.

      But nurses did. That was their job. And right about now, all the nurses seemed a little too excited. It must have something to do with cowboys. If they’d grown up with her brothers, they wouldn’t be excited about a bunch of domineering, take-charge men in chaps.

      “So what are the cowboys doing here today?” she asked as she picked up a chart.

      “Rope tricks, the pony of course and just looking pretty stinking good,” Laura Struthers said, her voice ending on a whisper as she looked past Sam toward the door. “Wow. Those are some cowboys. Not the stinky, been-on-the-range-too-long kind, but the dressed-up, rugged, could-be-in-a-commercial kind.”

      “No thanks.” Sam studied the chart. “I need to get Patricia down to X-Ray.”

      “Doc said not until after the cowboys.”

      “She needs...”

      “Doc said.”

      “Fine,” Sam caved. “I guess we won’t do anything until the cowboys leave. But I’m going to check on Parker and make sure he’s still in his bed.”

      She headed down the hall, back to Parker’s room. When she stepped in, she froze. Not because of the miniature horse the boy was petting, but because of the cowboy standing at his side. There was something about the man standing next to the little boy’s bed. It was in his build, in the way he stood, controlled yet relaxed. It was his dark hair, the hand that rested on the boy’s arm and the way her traitor heart reacted, even without seeing his face.

      “Your granny says they’re letting you out of here real soon.” The cowboy spoke in a low voice that vibrated through Sam.

      “Yeah. And we’re moving to Martin’s Crossing.” That was news to Sam, but she couldn’t dwell on it. She had to escape. She backed away from the door.

      “Nurse Sam!” Parker yelled.

      She stopped in the doorway and peeked back into the room. The cowboy at Parker’s side had turned. It was him. Remington Jenkins in the flesh. And none too happy to see her. The feeling was mutual.

      But Parker had his blue eyes pinned on her and she had to respond. “Yes, Parker?”

      “This is my cousin. He’s a cowboy. I told you he was.”

      “Yes, you did tell me. And your cousin brought a pony to the hospital,” she accused.

      “He’s housebroke,” that same low, husky voice replied. She moved her gaze from the little black horse that came just above his knees to his face. His very familiar face.

      At seventeen he’d been the cutest thing she’d ever seen. At twenty-seven he proved that age could be a good thing. Drat the man for his steel-gray eyes in a suntanned face, dark hair and five-o’clock shadow that covered the smooth planes of his face.

      She swallowed. “Hi, Remington.”

      “Sam, it’s been a long time.”

      Yes, it had. He’d never rescued her the way she’d dreamed he would do when her brothers had sent her away. She’d pictured him arriving in his old truck, radio blaring. He’d open the door, she’d jump in and in her sixteen-year-old mind they’d drive off into the sunset, broke and homeless but happy.

      He hadn’t even written.

      “I didn’t know you worked here. Parker has talked about his favorite nurse at rehab, but I had no idea she would be my favorite nurse, too.” He gave her that easy, familiar smile of his, as if the past didn’t exist. Maybe for him it didn’t. Maybe walking away had been easy for Remington Jenkins.

      He wasn’t the first person who had no problem walking away from her.

      She breathed through the pain and managed what she hoped was a carefree look. For Parker’s sake, not his. “Yes, well, I have to get back to work. It was good seeing you.”

      It took everything in her to ignore the questions in Remington’s eyes. It took more to ignore the questions in her heart. Why now? When she’d come home and rebuilt her life, why was he here now?

      She hurried down the hall to the sanctuary of a linen closet. Inside that quiet space she closed the door and leaned her back against it. Alone and safe with her emotions, she closed her eyes and cried. She cried for little boys who would never walk again. She cried for everything she’d lost. Everything that ached inside her came out in hot, angry tears.

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