Time For Love. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ in and out of rehab twice since June. My wife, Becca, and I have been helping, but it’s not enough.” Flynn’s words slowed. “Kathy used to laugh. I never hear her laugh anymore. She needs a sober companion and we hear you’re doing great things with alcoholics at your ranch. Please.”

      “Sober companions are usually with their client 24/7.” Dylan bit back a definitive turndown. He always had trouble walking away from those in need—horse or human. He’d admired Kathy’s honesty and her guts. But the colt... “I can only get up for an hour or two each day. I won’t be much help if I’m not with Kathy when she’s hit with her biggest stress inducers. And as for the colt...”

      “You’re afraid,” Gage said baldly. “I’d heard...”

      “If you’ve heard about Phantom—” and what horse person in Sonoma County hadn’t, since he’d almost killed a vet technician under Dylan’s watch? “—you know that horses are dangerous.” Dylan’s hands fisted in his jacket pockets. “But I’ve heard of you, too.” The young vet had built a reputation for working with high-strung pregnant mares. “And you know that some horses are redeemable and others...”

      A smile took hold of Gage’s features, one that mocked the possibility that Phantom could be redeemed. “How’s that knee of yours?”

      “About the same as your ribs.” Dylan’s volley unhinged Gage’s expression. Gossip worked both ways. Recently, a nasty mare had sent Gage flying into a wall. Too many similar hard knocks must have scrambled the vet’s brain for him to agree to this cockamamy plan of Flynn’s.

      Their verbal jabs, uncomfortable and unkind, echoed between them like a bell ending a fight. Silence fell on the hill. Or maybe it was the bell starting another round, because Gage came back swinging. “Chance didn’t let you near him, did he?”

      Flynn stepped between the two men. “That’s enough. We’re here to help one another.”

      The vet rubbed a hand through the tuft of black hair already askew on his forehead. “Yeah, Flynn’s right. We need one another. Chance is still young enough to save.” The unspoken comment being Phantom wasn’t.

      Dylan’s fisted hands pressed deeper into his pockets. Both men scrutinized him, asking without verbalizing, Are you the one? The one who can make things right? Dylan had once believed his own hype—that he was a miracle worker when it came to horses.

      Oh, yeah. Dylan’s father was having a good laugh in whatever part of the afterlife he’d been sent to.

      Flynn sighed, gazing back over the valley. “So Kathy showed no warning signs? Not even a hint of weakness that she’s in danger of relapsing?”

      Dylan didn’t immediately respond. A red-tailed hawk flew overhead, its mournful cry an echo of Kathy’s shocking sentiment—some people considered her a lost cause. Why?

      Flynn pounced on Dylan’s hesitation. “You did sense something.” He went into older-brother protective mode. His chest thrust out and his voice railed at the clouds. “Don’t toy with me. Name your terms.”

      “You can’t keep her from backsliding.” Dylan was far too experienced with trying exactly that to pretend different. “Only Kathy can do that.”

      Flynn took a step toward him, eyes narrowing. “But you can make sure she gets the support she needs.”

      “Under what pretext? A horse trainer? She doesn’t own any of the horses at the clinic. There’s no legitimate reason for me to spend time with her.” Dylan resettled his baseball cap and his standards. “I don’t deceive my clients. That’s why they trust me. I give it to them straight up.”

      “You can’t tell Kathy who you are. She hates it when I meddle in her personal life.” Flynn ran his fingers through his short hair. “That’s why having Gage hire you to work with the colt is a perfect alibi for you to interact with her.”

      “For the record,” Gage said, “I’d prefer Kathy knew what you do, Dylan, and why you’re here.” Maybe the vet hadn’t been knocked around so much, after all.

      Flynn fisted his key fob. “I’ll double your normal fee in exchange for your silence.” His offer was so unexpected, so overwhelming, so blatantly ensnaring, that it sucked the air from the mountain.

       Take the money.

      Dylan’s mouth hung open, his principles leaking like drool from a Saint Bernard’s jowls. Such a paycheck would go a long way toward making everything all better. And yet Kathy’s clear blue eyes came to mind, along with her gut-wrenching honesty. A shaft of guilt, barbed and sharp, lodged itself in his chest. She’d hate Dylan for being a man who could be bought.

       Take the money.

      “A simple search online and she’ll know the truth,” Dylan said, mouth dry.

      “I’m betting she won’t look you up.” Flynn’s eyes reflected the guilt Dylan was feeling. “She asked about a sober companion, but then talked herself out of it. Addiction runs in our family. Our mom.” His voice didn’t trail off; it shut off. And it took Flynn a moment to get it working again. “That’s why I don’t want Kathy to do this on her own.”

      The sour taste was back, along with the crimping knots in his gut. Children of alcoholics had a higher probability of having emotional problems. Add in an addiction of their own, and their risk of relapsing was higher than average.

      “Do we have a deal, O’Brien?” Flynn extended his hand. “If not for me, then for her young son. If Kathy relapses, Truman may never open up to her again.”

      The money. Kathy’s opinion of herself. The risks she took with the colt. An image of his own young son’s face, hopeful and trusting, came to mind.

      “Please help me help her,” Flynn added. “In secret. At least through the holidays.” A handful of weeks away.

       Take the money.

      Dylan knew he’d regret this. The lies. The deception. The unanswered questions. He accepted the assignment anyway, with a handshake and a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

CHAPTER TWO

      “I’M HOME.” KATHY entered the front door, shedding her pink jacket.

      No one greeted her. The house smelled of savory pot roast steeped in bittersweet memories.

      Her grandfather had passed away four months ago, but memorabilia from his military career still hung on the living room wall—medals, pictures, certificates of service—along with black-and-white wedding photos and baby pictures. Add in the 1970s furniture and color scheme, and everything looked the same as when he’d been alive, except there was no dust, no newspaper piles, no faint smell of hair tonic. Flynn said he’d update the place once he was done grieving. Until then, the house looked the same as it had twenty years ago.

      It’d been almost two decades since their mother left them here, since Kathy had sat in Grandpa Ed’s lap while he braided her hair (a skill he’d learned in the military for making horses presentable). He’d told her she was going to be just like all the other girls in Harmony Valley. But she was different.

      She СКАЧАТЬ