Montana Mistletoe Baby. Patricia Johns

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      He didn’t answer. She sighed and hitched her bag up on her shoulder.

      “Fine,” she said. “Thanks for the warning.”

      Since when had Curtis been stable, anyway? This had always been the problem—Curtis was always on the move. Leasing from his uncle had seemed safe enough, but when he died of a heart attack last year and left the building to Curtis, she’d had a sinking suspicion that her comfortably predictable days were limited. She paid her monthly lease to a management company, and she’d hoped that arrangement could continue for a while.

      “You don’t know that Palmer will kick you out,” Curtis said.

      “Really?” she snapped. “Because I know Palmer pretty well. I worked under him for three years after I got my doctorate degree. He was furious when I started my own practice. He hates competition. I’m still under water on my student loans, I owe a good amount for supplies and renovating my clinic... I’ve only been running my own practice for four years! If you need help with that math, I’m nowhere near financially stable enough to ride this out.”

      Plus, there was the baby, which complicated everything further. She’d been wondering how she’d run a veterinary practice with a newborn. If her mom were still with them, she’d have a solution, but Mom was gone, and Barrie would have to sort this out on her own. Vets were on call 24/7. That was the way things worked in this field, and she wouldn’t be able to afford to take a decent maternity leave. She ran a hand over her belly and the baby squirmed in response. Emotion rose in her chest, and she swallowed against it.

      “What am I supposed to do?” Curtis’s tone softened. “I own the building, but I can’t do a thing unless I sell it. I’m sorry, Barrie. I mean it when I say selling the building isn’t personal. I’ve put off the sale for a year, and there isn’t any other way. I can’t do the circuit anymore, and I have a chance for a fresh start. I either sell and invest in a business, or I’m washed up. It’s as simple as that.”

      “It’s you or me,” she said wryly. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”

      Curtis took off his cowboy hat and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We always did want different things.”

      “Yeah.” The baby poked out a foot—maybe a hand? She put her own hand over the spot. Would she be forced to give up her dream of running her own practice and work under Palmer Berton again? The very thought put a sour taste in her mouth.

      “Barrie, I’m sorry.”

      “You keep saying that.” She shot him a chilly smile. “But let’s keep things professional. I’m here as your vet, not as your ex-wife. If you notice any more cattle with hanging heads, lethargy or nasal discharge, call me and we’ll treat them right away. We can get this under control if we’re careful.”

      Curtis blinked, then nodded. Had he expected her not to be professional? He’d been gone a long time, and life hadn’t just stopped in his absence. He might have wasted his time on the circuit, but she’d made good use of hers. Ironically, he could still pulverize her plans—that had been Curtis’s greatest talent.

      “Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out and give you a call. Unless you’d rather we call Palmer so you don’t have to deal with me.”

      And give Palmer the job? No, she didn’t want that in the least. She still had a practice to run, and she’d need all the money she could squirrel away.

      “Curtis, I’m a professional,” she replied. “And I’m good at what I do. Call me.”

      He nodded. “Will do.”

      Curtis—or at least, her feelings for him—had been at the center of all of Barrie’s biggest mistakes in life, starting with marrying him and ending with a very unplanned pregnancy. This baby wasn’t his, obviously, but he’d been unwittingly connected.

      As she headed back to her truck, Barrie let out a wavering sigh.

      Professional. In and out. She’d managed it, hadn’t she?

      One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to let Curtis close enough to mess with her heart again. He’d already done enough damage for a lifetime.

       Chapter Two

      That evening, Curtis sank into a kitchen chair while Aunt Betty dished up a big plate of shepherd’s pie and placed it in front of him. She wore a walking cast—cumbersome and awkward, but she still got from place to place. Heaven help her if she tried to get onto a horse, though.

      It was only dinnertime, but outside the kitchen window the sky was black. Curtis had more work to finish up before he was done for the day; this was just a food break. He’d forgotten how much work a ranch was. Bull riding came with training and practice, but running a ranch was the kind of work that never ended—there was no night off.

      “Barrie says the virus is containable,” Betty said, flipping her gray braid back over her shoulder. “That’s a relief. I should have kept a closer eye on those calves myself.”

      “Now we know,” Curtis replied. “I’ve got the other ranch hands keeping an eye out, too, so we should be able to keep it from spreading.”

      Betty dished herself up a plate of shepherd’s pie, as well, then deposited it on the table with a clunk. His aunt’s shepherd’s pie was amazing—spicy meat, creamy potatoes and a perfectly cooked layer of green peas.

      “You didn’t tell me Barrie was pregnant,” Curtis added. He’d been thinking about Barrie all day after seeing her in the barn. He’d known he’d run into her eventually, but he’d halfway hoped he’d have some control over that. Might have made it easier, too, if his aunt had given him more than a minute’s warning.

      Betty pulled her chair out with a scrape and sat down. “Any chance the baby is yours?”

      Curtis shot her an incredulous look. “Of course not.”

      “Then it was hardly your concern,” Betty retorted.

      That sounded real familiar, and he shot his aunt a wry smile. “Fine. Point made.”

      They both started to eat, and for a few moments, Curtis thought the conversation might be over, but then his aunt said, “This town has been gossiping something fierce, and I wasn’t about to be part of that. Everyone has a theory on who the father is, and Barrie isn’t saying.”

      “I noticed that. I asked her about it, and she pretty much told me to mind my own business.” He reached for the pitcher of milk and poured them each a glass.

      Betty’s expression softened. “She’s not yours to worry over anymore, Curtis.”

      “I know that.” He took another bite and glanced out the window again. Snow swirled against the glass.

      “Do you?” Betty asked.

      He sighed. “I’m not here for Barrie, Aunty. I’m here to take care of my business, help you out and be on my way.”

      Betty didn’t answer, but she got that look on her face that СКАЧАТЬ