Untamed Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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      She always felt weird in dresses, owing that to her stick figure and excessive height. She’d had to be tough from an early age. With parents who ultimately ended up ignoring her existence, she’d had to be self-sufficient.

      It had suited her to be a tomboy because spending time outdoors, running around barefoot and climbing trees, far away from the fight scenes her parents continually staged in their house, was better than sitting at home.

      Better to pretend she didn’t like lace and frills, since her bedroom consisted of a twin mattress on the floor and a threadbare afghan.

      She’d had a friend when she was little, way before they’d moved to Gold Valley, who’d had the prettiest princess room on earth. Lace bedding, a canopy. Pink walls with flower stencils. She’d been so envious of it. She’d felt nearly sick with it.

      But she’d just said she hated girly things. And never invited that friend over ever.

      And hey, she’d been built for it. Broad shoulders and stuff.

      Sadly, she wasn’t built for pretty dresses.

      But she needed strength more anyway.

      She was thankful she had driven her own truck, which was parked not far down the street against the curb. First date rule for her. Drive your own vehicle. In case you had to make a hasty getaway.

      And apparently she had needed to make a hasty getaway, just not because Michael was a weirdo or anything.

      No, he had been distressingly nice.

      She mused on that as she got into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. She pulled away from the curb and headed out of town. Yes, he had been perfectly nice. Really, there had been nothing wrong with him. And she was a professional at finding things wrong with the men she went on dates with. A professional at finding excuses for why a second date couldn’t possibly happen.

      She was ashamed to realize now that she was hoping he would consider this an excuse not to make a second date with her.

      That she had taken a phone call in the middle of dinner, and then had run off.

      A lot of people had trouble dating. But often it was for deep reasons they had trouble identifying.

      Kaylee knew exactly why she had trouble dating.

      She was in love with her best friend. Bennett Dodge. And he was not in love with her.

      She gritted her teeth.

      She wasn’t in love with Bennett. No. She wouldn’t allow that. She had lustful feelings for Bennett, and she cared deeply about him. But she wasn’t in love with him. She refused to let it be that. Not anymore.

      That thought carried her over the gravel drive that led to the ranch, back behind the house, just as Bennett had instructed. The doors to the barn were flung open, the lights on inside, and she recognized Bennett’s truck parked right outside.

      She killed the engine and got out, moving into the barn as quickly as possible.

      “What’s going on?” she asked.

      Dave Miller was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, standing back against the wall. Bennett had his hand on the cow’s back. He turned to look at her, the overhead light in the barn seeming to shine a halo around his cowboy hat. That chiseled face that she knew so well but never failed to make her stomach go tight. He stroked the cow, his large capable hands drawing her attention, as well as the muscles in his forearm. He was wearing a tight T-shirt that showed off the play of those muscles to perfection, his large biceps, and the scars on his skin from various on-the-job injuries, and he had a stethoscope draped over his shoulders. Something about that combination—rough-and-ready cowboy meshed with concerned veterinarian—was her very particular catnip.

      “I need to get the calf out as quickly as possible, and I need to do it at the right moment. Too quickly and we’re likely to crush baby’s ribs.” She had a feeling he said that part for the benefit of the nervous-looking rancher standing off to the side.

      Dave Miller was relatively new to town, moving up from California a couple of years ago with fantasies of rural living. A small ranch for his and his wife’s retirement had grown to a medium-sized one over the past year or so. And while the older man had a reputation for taking great care of his animals, he wasn’t experienced at this.

      “Where do you want me?” she asked, moving over to where Bennett was standing.

      “I’m going to need you to suction the hell out of this thing as soon as I get her out.” He appraised her. “Where were you?”

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      “You’re wearing a dress.”

      She shrugged. “I wasn’t at home.”

      He frowned. “Were you out?”

      This was not the time for Bennett to go overly concerned big brother on her. It wasn’t charming on a normal day, but it was even less charming when she’d just abandoned her date to help deliver a calf. “If I wasn’t at home I was out. Better put your hand up the cow, Bennett,” she said, feeling testy.

      Bennett did just that, checking to see that the cow was dilated enough for him to extract the calf. Delivering a breech animal like this was tricky business. They were going to have to pull the baby out, likely with the aid of a chain or a winch, but not too soon, which would injure the mother. And not too quickly, which would injure them both.

      But if they went too slow, the baby cow would end up completely cut off from its oxygen supply. If that happened it was likely to never recover.

      “Ready,” he said. “I need chains.”

      She spotted the chains lying on the ground, picked them up and handed them over. He grunted and pulled, producing the first hint of the calf’s hooves. Then he lashed the chain around them. He began to pull, his muscles straining against the fabric of his black T-shirt, flexing as he tugged hard.

      She had been a vet long enough that she was inured to things like this, from a gross-out perspective. But still, checking a guy out in the midst of all of this was probably a little imbalanced. Of course, that was the nature of how things were with Bennett.

      They’d met when she’d moved to Gold Valley at thirteen—all long limbs, anger and adolescent awkwardness. And somehow, they’d fit. He’d lost his mother when he was young, and his family was limping along. Her own home life was hard, and she’d been desperate for escape from her parents’ neglect and drunken rages at each other.

      She never had him over. She didn’t want to be at her house. She never wanted him, or any other friend, to see the way her family lived.

      To see her sad mattress on the floor and her peeling nightstand.

      Instead, they’d spent time at the Dodge ranch. His family had become hers, in many ways. They weren’t perfect, but there was more love in their broken pieces than Kaylee’s home had ever had.

      He taught her to ride horses, let her play with the barn cats and the dogs that lived on the ranch. Together, the two of them saved СКАЧАТЬ