The Surgeon's Christmas Baby. Marin Thomas

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СКАЧАТЬ in November hovered near sixty-five degrees.

      “Why are you so mean?” Luke’s accusation drifted through the open window.

      “What are you talking about?” Hannah asked.

      “Making Alonso sit in the truck bed because you think he’s some psycho.”

      Alonso thought Hannah should be suspicious of him. Not only didn’t she know much about him, but he carried a handgun in his duffel bag.

      “Leave it be, Luke. I don’t want to argue with you.”

      Luke tapped his shoulder. “Alonso.”

      “What?”

      “You ever rodeo?”

      “No, but I’ve ridden a bucking bronc before.” In high school he and his friends, Cruz Rivera and Victor Vicario, had spent time at the Gateway Ranch, where several cowboys had taught them how to bust broncs. It took only a few short seconds in the saddle for Alonso to figure out rodeo wasn’t his sport. He’d spent the remainder of his stay at the ranch taking care of the livestock.

      “I want to learn how to ride broncs,” Luke said.

      “Bronc riding can be tricky.”

      “But rodeo is so cool.”

      Alonso sensed a wild streak in the teen—no wonder his sister appeared stressed out. “Some high schools have rodeo teams.”

      “School sucks.” Luke lowered his voice. “I’m gonna drop out.”

      “I doubt your parents would approve of you quitting school.”

      “My mom and dad are dead.” That Luke said it so matter-of-factly left Alonso speechless.

      The truck slowed, then turned onto a dirt road and drove beneath a wooden arch with the words Blue Bison Ranch painted in white across it. He should remind Hannah to stop and let him out, but the words never came.

      She drove a quarter mile before he saw a house, barn and corral. The place could use a little TLC. The adobe-style home needed a fresh coat of beige paint, and the red barn had faded to pink and was missing a few boards. A flatbed trailer half-loaded with hay bales sat beneath the open barn loft. No ranch hand appeared to greet them—maybe the hired help was out with the cattle.

      Hannah parked in front of the barn and as soon as she and her brother opened their doors, they started in on each other.

      “Finish loading the hay, Luke.”

      “You load it. I’m going to bed.”

      Hannah grabbed Luke’s shirtsleeve. “If you think you’re old enough to stay up all night drinking, then you can do a man’s work the next day.”

      “I’m sick of you bossing me around. Go to hell.” Luke stormed into the house.

      Alonso waited for Hannah’s next move, then his chest tightened when she dabbed her eyes with her fingertips. He couldn’t stand to see her cry.

      “I’ll load the hay.” He hopped out of the truck bed.

      She slapped a hand against her heart and stared at him wide-eyed—yep, she’d forgotten about him. A first for Alonso. He was quiet by nature but a decent-looking man, according to the ER nurses, who repeatedly reminded him of their single status.

      “I was supposed to let you off by the road.”

      “Not a big deal. It isn’t that far of a walk.” He nodded to the trailer. “Loading hay bales is the least I can do to thank you for the lift.”

      After a second’s hesitation she said, “I need twenty-five more.”

      “Twenty-five bales it is.” He waited for Hannah to enter the house, then went into the barn and climbed the ladder to the loft. As he dropped the bales to the ground below, he wondered if the siblings fought like this every day.

      Did it matter? As soon as he finished the chore, he’d hit the road again.

Chapter Two

      Hannah stood at her bedroom window and watched hay bales sail out of the barn loft. She was grateful that Alonso had offered to help and embarrassed that he’d witnessed the drama between her and Luke.

      True to his word, her brother had crawled into bed as soon as he’d gone into the house. Luke was a spoiled brat and she accepted much of the blame for his self-centeredness. She’d always felt sorry for him, because Ruth had neglected him. Then, when Luke was old enough to do guy things with their father, Joe had chosen to spend his free time with a can of beer rather than his son. So Hannah had babied Luke and now she was paying the price.

      The tears she’d held back all day dripped down her cheeks. She wiped the moisture away, assuming her weepiness was the result of exhaustion and worry. She returned downstairs, grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and, ignoring the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, she went out to the barn. Halfway there she froze when she caught a glimpse of Alonso’s bare chest. He’d taken his shirt off and his skin glistened with sweat, the muscles rippling when he heaved a bale over his head. The sight of all that masculinity set off an explosion of feminine twinges—erotic little aches that she hadn’t experienced in a long, long while.

      He disappeared from the hayloft window, then a moment later walked out of the barn, his T-shirt hanging from his jeans pocket. “Almost done.” He began picking the bales up off the ground and placing them on the flatbed. The words US Army were tattooed above an image of eagle wings and a snake coiled around a rod. He hadn’t lied about being a military doctor.

      She held out the water bottle.

      “Thanks.” He guzzled the drink, then sucked in a deep breath.

      It was none of her business, but she asked, “How long were you in the Army?”

      “I did one tour in Afghanistan before I returned to civilian life.”

      “Are you originally from New Mexico?”

      “Born and raised in Albuquerque.” He lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. “What about you?”

      “Born and raised in Paradise.” Four generations of Bucks had lived on the ranch outside the small town—population just a little over two thousand. “My great-grandfather bought this land.” But it was Hannah’s grandfather who had made most of the improvements—digging the water wells and starting up a bison herd. Sadly her father had run it into the ground.

      “Anything else I can help with before I take off?”

      “No.” She motioned to the flatbed. “You’ve done plenty, thanks.”

      His eyes shifted to the house. “Is your brother okay?”

      She refused to make excuses for Luke. “He’s sleeping off his hangover.”

      “Does he drink often?”

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