Cowboy Vet. Pamela Britton

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      Again he looked pained. “Tomorrow.”

      “Why not today?”

      He shook his head.

      Probably he needed to get his wandering eyes under control.

      “Call me if you need me,” she said.

      All he did was nod.

      Dr. Sheppard found her attractive.

      Miracles would never cease.

      IT’D BEEN A MOMENT of insanity. An act of desperation brought on by a long night spent keeping a colicky horse alive, followed by the emergency C-section.

      At least that’s what he told himself the next morning, because there was no other reason he’d invite Jessie to work for him.

      It’s just temporary, he told himself as he slipped into the warm clinic.

      “Morning, Doctor,” Pauline said, shooting him a jowly smile that never failed to make him smile back.

      “Mornin’, Pauline.”

      Rand flipped through the mail he’d forgotten yesterday, thanks to back-to-back emergency calls. He’d sunk into bed exhausted, and praying that nobody’s horse would founder or get colic or need emergency sutures.

      “You’ve got three small-animal appointments, two need shots and one has a foxtail down his ear—or so the owner thinks. The foxtail is coming in first thing,” Pauline said, peering over the eye-level counter that surrounded her like a corral. “I’ve scheduled your large-animal clients for this afternoon.”

      “Thanks,” Rand said, tapping the edges of the envelopes on the Formica counter where they kept the patient sign-in sheet on a clipboard.

      “And Jessie Monroe is waiting for you in your office.”

      The look Pauline gave him suggested he’d invited her least favorite politician to join him.

      “I didn’t know what to do with her, so I put her in there.”

      “Thanks,” he said again. He’d deal with the censure he saw in the receptionist’s eyes later.

      His office was at the corner of the main clinic. It was a comfortable room that he’d paneled with real oak. Various western-themed items hung on the wall, from the skull of a cow to the horns of a watusi. Pictures of cowboys rounding up cattle hung on three walls; the fourth wall had windows that overlooked the front parking lot.

      Jessie sat in one of the leather armchairs, the deep rust of the tanned hide matching the streaks in her red hair. She shot up when she saw him.

      “Sleep in?”

      “No,” he said tersely, although that’s exactly what he’d done.

      She smiled. He ignored her, flipping through the mail stacked on his desk.

      “I wasn’t sure what time I was supposed to be here this morning.”

      “When we open is fine.”

      “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

      He had, at least a hundred times. Seeing her in front of him only reinforced his misgivings.

      “Haven’t changed my mind,” he said, setting the mail down and moving behind his desk. He felt a lot better with something between them. “Not yet.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

      “Just that you should remember you’re here on a trial basis.”

      “Oh, I remember.”

      “Good, because I just got three résumés in today’s mail. If any of them look promising I’ll have Pauline arrange an interview.”

      “I wonder what the odds are of that happening,” he thought he heard her mutter.

      “Excuse me?”

      “Nothing,” she said, sitting up straighter. “So, then, since you’re not going to run me off with a shotgun, what do you want me to do?” Her smile was a little too bright.

      “I’ve got clients coming in this morning. I’ll expect you to do the pre-exam. This afternoon we’ll go out on a few calls. You’ll ride along. In between, help Brandy clean the kennels and the stalls.”

      “Terrific,” Jessie said with another gamine smile.

      “You won’t think it’s terrific when you see some of the animals we’re treating. Colitis is going around.”

      She winced. The bacterial disorder caused horses about as much discomfort as it did humans, and it wasn’t pretty.

      “I’m sure Brandy will be happy to have your help.”

      “I’m sure she will,” Jessie said.

      “But our first order of business will be checking the mare and foal you helped deliver yesterday. I glanced in on them a few times last night and I’m concerned the foal isn’t nursing properly.”

      She nodded. “Will do. Boss.”

      Rand narrowed his eyes. It was the damnedest thing. Every time he met her gaze he felt almost itchy.

      It was a feeling that followed him all the way out of the clinic. Rand scratched at the back of his neck and wondered if he’d picked up poison oak from one of the animals he’d treated.

      “I can look in on them on my own,” she said, walking beside him. “You know, if you’ve got better things to do.”

      She was peering up at him, and he noticed she had freckles sprinkled across her petite nose and high cheeks. But it was her lips that caught his attention. Their fullness specifically.

      “No,” he said. “I want to check the foal’s motor skills this morning.”

      She nodded and the two of them padded down the rubber-matted aisle. It was his favorite time of day, when all the horses were munching their food, their teeth grinding against the alfalfa a rhythmic sound accompanied by the rustling of hooves in shavings.

      “You know, Rand,” she said. “You’re very lucky.”

      He glanced down at her and wondered if her hair was naturally that red or if she dyed it. “What do you mean?”

      “You have all this,” she said, splaying her arms. “Every morning.”

      “Yeah?”

      “I would give anything to surround myself with horses.”

      Something about the way she said it made him stop. Some people came to horses late in life. Some people never came to them at all. Jessie had grown up in a trailer park on the outside of town—a single-wide her СКАЧАТЬ