Marrying Dr Maverick. Karen Smith Rose

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      Chapter Two

      Two days later, Brooks pulled his truck to a stop in front of Strickland’s Boarding House, a four-story ramshackle Victorian. Its once-purple paint had faded to a lavender-gray. Cowboys on the rodeo circuit had bunked here over the years, but right now, many of the folks from Thunder Canyon who had come to help were staying here. Melba and Old Gene Strickland cared about their guests in an old-fashioned family way.

      He switched off his ignition, thinking he must have been crazy to ask Jazzy Cates to work for him. He really knew nothing about her except what she’d told him. He’d followed his gut instinct as he often did in his work. But that didn’t mean he was right. After all, he’d been all wrong about Lynnette. He’d thought she was the type of woman who understood fidelity and loyalty and standing by her man. But he’d been so wrong.

      He knew, however, he was right about opening the local practice and taking some of the workload from his father. After all, it was for the older man’s best interests. Still...asking Jazzy to become involved in that undertaking—

      She was so pretty with that blond hair and those blue eyes. When he’d looked into those eyes, he’d felt a stirring that had practically startled him. It had been a very long time since a woman caused that reaction. However, if he hired her on, he’d have to forget about her natural prettiness and any attraction zinging between them. He’d be her employer and he’d have to fix his mind on the fact that she was just a Girl Friday who was going to help him, maybe only temporarily. She might hightail it back to Thunder Canyon sooner than he expected. After all, Lynnette hadn’t wanted to live in a small town like Rust Creek Falls. How many women did?

      The wooden steps leading to the rambling porch creaked under his boots. He opened the front door with its glass panel and lace curtain and caught the scent of something sweet baking. Forgetting all about Melba’s well-deserved reputation as a terrific baker, he’d picked up donuts and coffee at Daisy’s Donuts, never thinking Jazzy might have had breakfast already.

      Jazzy had told him the number of her room—2D, on the second floor. He climbed the steps to the second floor and strode down the hall to her room. He gave a double knock on her door and waited. Maybe she’d forgotten all about going with him today. Maybe she wasn’t an early riser. Maybe she was down at breakfast. Maybe she’d decided going along with him today was tantamount to calf-roping!

      She opened the door before he could push aside the flap of his denim jacket and stuff one hand in his jeans’ pocket. She was wearing an outfit similar to what she’d had on the other night, a snap-button, long-sleeve blouse and skinny blue jeans that molded to her legs. He quickly brought his gaze up to her face.

      “I was running a little late,” she said breathlessly, “but I’m ready.”

      She’d tied her wavy blond hair in a ponytail. Her bangs straggled over her brow. Forgetting she was pretty might be a little hard to do. “I brought donuts and coffee from Daisy’s if you’re interested.”

      “Oh, I’m interested.”

      They couldn’t seem to look away from each other and her words seemed to have an underlying meaning. No. No underlying meaning. He just hadn’t dated a woman in a very long time. He was reading too much into cornflower-blue eyes that could make a man lose his focus.

      Brooks never lost his focus. Not since his mother had died. Not during his years at Colorado State. Not during his engagement. His focus was the reason his engagement had gone south.

      “Let’s get going, then. I have an appointment with Sam Findley at his ranch at seven-thirty to check on a couple of horses that almost drowned in the flood. One of them has PTSD and gets spooked real easy now.”

      “Were they hurt physically?” Jazzy closed and locked the door to her room, slipping the key into her hobo bag that hung from her shoulder.

      “Sparky had a few deep cuts that have taken their good time healing. I want to make sure he hasn’t opened them up again.”

      “Is most of your work with horses?”

      “Lots of it is with horses and cattle because of all the ranches around here. But I do my stint in the clinic, too. Or at least I did.”

      At the end of Jazzy’s hall, Brooks motioned for her to precede him down the steps. When she passed him, he caught a whiff of something flowery. Could be shampoo. Could be lotion. He didn’t think she’d wear perfume for this little jaunt, but what did he know? Women mystified him most of the time.

      Jazzy clambered down the steps in a way that told him she was high-energy. She went outside to the porch railing and stared up at the sky that was almost the same color as her eyes. She pointed up to the white clouds scuttling across the vista, hanging so low they looked as if a person could reach them.

      “Isn’t that beautiful? I never appreciated a day without rain as I do now.”

      She wasn’t just pretty. She was gorgeous. Not in a highfalutin-model kind of way, but in a prettiest-gal-in-town way. He crossed the distance between them and stood at the railing with her.

      “I know what you mean. I’ve never seen so much devastation. Half the town was affected. Thank God for our hills. The General СКАЧАТЬ