The Surgeon and the Cowgirl
The Surgeon and the Cowgirl
Heidi Hormel
EX MARKS THE SPOTRetired rodeo rider Jessie Leigh has one more trick to pull off: partnering with ex-husband Payson MacCormack to save her ranch. Hope's Ride offers horse therapy for children, and Payson is a pediatric surgeon at the hospital set to certify the program. Their split wasn't exactly amicable, but Jessie's determined to make it work…even if Payson's presence sends her heart racing.With a promotion on the line and a passel of kids in desperate need of Hope's Ride, Payson should be focused on prepping the program for the hospital's review. But he can't concentrate on anything but Jessie. Payson's career and Jessie's ranch are depending on each other, but will working together bring the surgeon and the cowgirl closer together, or drive them apart for good?
EX MARKS THE SPOT
Retired rodeo rider Jessie Leigh has one more trick to pull off: partnering with ex-husband Payson MacCormack to save her ranch. Hope’s Ride offers horse therapy for children, and Payson is a pediatric surgeon at the hospital set to certify the program. Their split wasn’t exactly amicable, but Jessie’s determined to make it work...even if Payson’s presence sends her heart racing.
With a promotion on the line and a passel of kids in desperate need of Hope’s Ride, Payson should be focused on prepping the program for the hospital’s review. But he can’t concentrate on anything but Jessie. Payson’s career and Jessie’s ranch are depending on each other, but will working together bring the surgeon and the cowgirl closer together, or drive them apart for good?
“Maybe if we kissed we’d realize that it’s not that special anymore.”
Jessie felt like an idiot for suggesting it. Payson still said nothing, so she stammered, “I-it would prove that all of that is behind us.”
“You need to kiss me to prove to yourself...what exactly?” he asked. He shifted in the chair and rolled his shoulders, something he did when he was tense.
“I’m looking at this the way you would—scientifically. We were married. We’re not anymore, but we’re working together. We’re both remembering how it was, and it probably wasn’t like we remember anyway. We need to prove to ourselves that there’s nothing there.”
“The theory that you’d like to test is that if we kiss, we’ll discover that what we had was pretty ordinary?”
“Something like that. I’m just trying to be honest here. I know you feel the tension. I’ve seen those looks and I know what they mean. If we just kiss and get it out of the way, we’ll be good to go.”
“When would you like to conduct this experiment?”
“What about now?”
Dear Reader (#ulink_ecc76697-bb9b-57a3-b94e-352bacac9cb7),
The first time I visited Arizona as a teen, I fell in love with the desert, cowboys and fry bread (yum!). I fell in love with writing and storytelling even earlier than that and have been a reporter, PR flunky and now a full-fledged romance author. In fact, my reporting led directly to Jessie and Payson’s reunion love story.
I was assigned to write a magazine article about a former rodeo trick rider who started a therapeutic horsemanship program. Her amazing dedication sparked an idea that became The Surgeon and the Cowgirl.
Of course, I didn’t realize how stubborn Cowgirl Jessie and Surgeon Payson would be. After all, they’d fallen in love in high school and were obviously still in love, despite divorce and soul-deep hurts. Getting them to admit that their love had endured and that they had changed required the help of a diva pony, endearing kids and meddling family.
Jessie and Payson’s happily-ever-after inspired another story. Spencer, Payson’s brother, will do anything—even enter into a marriage of convenience to a cowgirl with rodeo dreams—to get back his son in my next book, The Convenient Cowboy, coming in August from Mills & Boon American Romance.
I’ve loved writing about these strong cowgirls who lasso their men into forever with humor, heart and a sexy wiggle or two.
If you want to know more about my inspirations and musings or drop me a note, check out my website and blog at heidihormel.net (http://heidihormel.net/), where you also can sign up for my newsletter, or connect with me at facebook.com/authorheidihormel (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHeidiHormel), twitter.com/heidihormel (https://twitter.com/heidihormel) or pinterest.com/hhormel (https://www.pinterest.com/hhormel/).
Yee-haw,
Heidi Hormel
The Surgeon and the Cowgirl
Heidi Hormel
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With stints as an innkeeper, radio talk show host and craft store manager, HEIDI HORMEL settled into her true calling as a writer. She spent years as a reporter (covering the story of the rampaging elephants Debbie and Tina) and as a PR flunky (staying calm in the face of Cookiegate) before settling into penning romances with a wink and a wiggle.
A small-town girl from a place that’s been called the Snack Food Capital of the World, Heidi has trotted over a good portion of the globe, from Volcano National Park in Hawaii to Loch Ness in Scotland to the depths of Death Valley. She has also spent large chunks of time in Arizona, where she fell in love with the desert and fry bread, and in Great Britain, where she developed an unnatural obsession with jacket potatoes and toasties.
Heidi is on the web at heidihormel.net (http://www.heidihormel.net) as well as socially out there at facebook.com/authorheidihormel (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHeidiHormel), twitter.com/heidihormel (https://twitter.com/heidihormel) and pinterest.com/hhormel (https://www.pinterest.com/hhormel/).
For my patient family, friends and Mills & Boon author-mentors who have cheered me on and commiserated with me over the past five years and more, this book’s for you.
Contents
Cover (#u87e0ea36-5dcd-5874-967c-dfd64abbf349)
Back Cover Text (#ueeca6fa1-4899-5b14-be9f-27523d557a89)
Introduction (#ubb4022db-0181-5b78-880e-00f0d94f53fe)
Dear Reader (#uc0f30c44-201b-596b-94c0-279e24f629fa)
Title Page (#uff23b4d3-e0ec-5d09-a1d0-6c3b0bdbf860)
About the Author (#ufff40eb9-1adc-5b66-901f-970e6ca6394c)
Dedication (#u445d226a-4e3c-5959-b85d-11df8a2c0683)
Chapter One (#u62057f29-7a5d-5f29-a20d-a045a4fdf9e8)
Chapter Two (#u05e28551-bfa8-5495-896e-d4d5c18c078d)
Chapter Three (#u8107fe45-c562-5826-a3ba-7454c6074cdd)
Chapter Four (#ufbb67919-3a3d-54a8-91a7-412d93fe38ab)
Chapter Five (#u3a5150f7-74e7-5710-a2a5-e6dec8e391f9)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_0fa65b05-1ca8-5838-92d7-3d69a0212858)
Jessie saw the little boy slip into the corral before anyone else did. For cripes’ sake, Jessie said silently, adding a litany of choice words as she raced after him, her knee throbbing with every pounding step. The corral was home to two geldings and a mare pacing nervously.
“Alex!” the little boy’s mother screamed when the gelding trotted by him. Jessie couldn’t waste her time or her breath to tell the silly woman to keep quiet. Instead, she focused on Alex as he stumbled through the uneven dirt, agitating the horses into snorting, then lashing the air with their hooves way too close to Alex’s head.
He could have been her son; others had said so when he first came to the program. Her heart clenched every time she heard it. Alex’s warm caramel curls were streaked blond from the sun, and his eyes tilted just a little at the corners, like hers.
The horses’ hooves pounded faster as she made her way across the dusty corral. She had to get him out. Now.
“Alex, sweetie,” Jessie said softly but firmly once she was beside him. She knew her height could be overwhelming for a little guy, so she squatted next to him. Her knee popped and cracked. Years of rodeo trick riding had left her two legacies: enough money to open Hope’s Ride and battered joints. “Come on, Alex. Let’s go see Mommy.”
“No,” the little boy said with a shake of his head.
“I know you want to ride the horses, sweetie, but it’s time for you to go home. The horses need a nap,” Jessie said.
The scuffling of hooves and the wet snorts increased in pace. Even with her experience, Jessie wouldn’t be able to stop them if they got themselves into a full-out panic. She considered just grabbing Alex and running. Problem—she and running had parted ways years ago, exactly when her knee had been torn up to heck and back.
But, then, Alex suddenly took a few unsteady steps and fell. Small for his age from years of surgeries and his disease, he was at Hope’s Ride to strengthen his muscles and build his confidence. Jessie scooted forward while he righted himself to sit in the dirt, tears streaking his dusty face. She wanted to pick him up, but she knew that his manly pride-in-the-making had been bruised from his fall. Coddling from her or anyone else would lead to a full-out kicking, screaming fit. The horses paced faster, tossing their heads with agitation.
“You can give Molly her treat if you come with me now,” Jessie said, keeping her voice gentle, despite every instinct that told her to get moving. “Molly likes you best, you know. I bet she’s hoping right now that you’re the one bringing her the apple today.” Molly, Jessie’s childhood pony, had two speeds—slow and slower—making her a perfect introduction to riding for children who were reluctant to approach the large horses.
“Okay. I like Molly,” Alex said. “She gives me kisses.” He got up but didn’t move. This meant that he was willing to have help. Jessie stood, too, ignoring her protesting knee.
“Great. How about I carry you back to the fence? That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Jessie asked as she leaned down. He reached up.
She heard an increase in the snorts and pounding of hooves as the threesome rushed by. She knew that they’d stampede in seconds. The corral fence was fifteen or twenty feet away. Even if she could run, moving like that would just add to the horses’ agitation. With the big animals taking their cues from the humans around them, Jessie saw the disastrous day taking a ninety-degree turn for the worse when Alex’s mom crawled between the rails of the fence.
The woman started running, yelling and waving her arms. The idiot, Jessie thought, just as she heard the thunder of hooves coming closer and caught the glimpse of a tall man moving smoothly and surely through the fence.
The horses went into a galloping panic. Jessie stood still to create a patch of calm.
“Mommy,” Alex yelled. He wiggled against her side where he clung, drumming his dangling feet hard enough against her thigh that she loosened her grip for a moment. He broke away. She saw the gelding, Dickie, bearing down on them, his hooves huge and his eyes rimmed in white. Jessie reached out—thank God she was close enough to nab Alex. In the same motion, she folded him under her as the gelding raced over them. The large horse instinctively lifted himself to jump over the obstacle in his path. Jessie braced herself for the smack of a hoof, but Dickie had cleared them. She didn’t move. She had to protect the boy.
“Jessie, get the hell out of here,” said a familiar deep voice from behind her, followed by a strong grip on her forearm lifting her up. She scrambled to curl over and protect the little boy. Payson, her ex-husband, kept his grip on her, while Alex’s mother, who’d been pulled to the other side of the fence, was being held in place by program volunteers.
“Alex,” she said, working to break free, as panicked as the horses. She had to keep him safe. It was her job. Her responsibility.
“I’ve got him,” Payson said, easily lifting the child with his other hand. He tucked Alex under his arm. Dickie passed by again, but this time he gave them plenty of space, and the other horses were now being calmed by ranch hands.
Taller than her by a hand span, Payson moved quickly as he carried Alex and dragged her behind him, toward Alex’s mother, who openly cried. He had them out of the corral before Jessie could catch her breath. He ignored her as he turned to Alex, running his strong, lean surgeon’s hands expertly over him. It’d always amazed Jessie that Payson never intimidated children with his height. Could be his controlled calmness made them feel safe. When he was younger, his buttoned-up veneer had screamed prep school, but she’d always loved the dark intensity of his gaze, even when it reminded her of a big bad wolf eying a juicy jackrabbit.
Back in their day, when she’d see that look, she had to fight the urge to rip off her clothes and get him belly to belly in bed. And whenever she’d given in, once those starched and pressed clothes were off, she’d explored every inch of his tautly muscled body, one that always surprised her by being more cowboy than egghead. But that was back when she was young and didn’t know the difference between lust and love. A few years of living with Payson had finally taught her the yawning gap between the two.
Alex would be fine with him. Payson’s talent for healing children was the only reason he was here. Jessie would suck it up and court him to gain his hospital’s stamp of approval for her program. Once she had that, then she’d get a steady stream of patients who would make Hope’s Ride a paying operation. Right now, her dream of helping youngsters drained her savings account more and more each month.
Jessie turned away from the man and the memories. She needed to check on the horses and the other children. She also needed a few minutes to give her heart a chance to stop racing and to find a private place to have a cry.
* * *
USUALLY PAYSON STAYED focused when he was working with patients but not today. Not with Jessie limping away from him. She wore her usual jeans and a Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her cowboy boots were battered and broken in. Before the divorce—not now, of course—her casual outfit would get him hot under his suddenly tight collar. Physical closeness and sexual intensity had never been the problems in their marriage. It had been just about everything else, especially her devotion to the rodeo and her horses. He’d been amazed to hear that she’d retired from trick riding and wondered what had happened. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t his problem. She’d made that clear when she’d walked out and never looked back.
“Dr. MacCormack, are you sure he’s okay? He looks a little flushed,” Alex’s mom said, finally getting Payson’s attention by touching his arm.
“You’re just fine, aren’t you, buddy?” Payson asked the little boy standing next to him. “Bring him in tomorrow, so I can check that ligament in his arm. I’ve been meaning to do that anyway, right?”
He was sure the boy had not been hurt, but with a child like Alex, he couldn’t leave anything to chance. Since Alex’s birth, Payson had overseen the boy’s care, including the multiple surgeries he’d endured in his short life. The geneticists insisted that he was affected by an unnamed syndrome. For Alex, the vague diagnosis meant that he had fragile tendons and ligaments that tore easily and stretched so that his bones became misaligned.
Payson had been annoyed that Karin, Alex’s mom, had put him in the riding program, especially one run by his ex-wife. There were too many things that could go wrong. And he should know. He’d seen Jessie with bruises and broken bones. He knew intellectually that the therapy program had little or nothing in common with the trick riding that Jessie loved. Still, his gut insisted that the chances for recovery equaled the chances for injury. Not that his gut mattered. Evidence. Scientific evidence was all that was relevant. Jessie might run on gut and feeling, but not him.
He looked over his shoulder at his ex-wife, who hadn’t gone very far before one of the program’s volunteers stopped her. She didn’t look all that different from when they had married ten years ago—when she’d been nineteen and he twenty—in a ceremony that had given his Chanel-wearing mother heart palpitations.
Jessie’s blond-streaked hair was still long enough to pull through the back opening of her ball cap and trail down her back. She might have been a native Arizonan, but she only wore a Stetson when she was riding in the rodeo parade. He didn’t need to be close to know that her eyes remained the smoky green of sagebrush. She might be tall and thin, but muscles, earned every day by riding, cleaning stalls and moving hay bales, gave her a shape that filled out her jeans and her pearl-buttoned shirt.
Not that those curves affected him anymore. Obviously. When he had the time and interest to start dating, he’d choose a woman who moved in the same circles as his family, a woman who wore stilettos and never dusty, scarred boots. He might not be close to his parents, the way Jessie was with hers, but finding an “appropriate” woman might help him find common ground with his mother and father.
“Molly,” Alex said. “I want to give Molly her apple. Miss Jessie promised.”
Payson could hear the rising hysteria in Alex’s voice. Why wasn’t the boy’s mother calming him? Instead, Karin fluttered around and looked at Payson to intervene.
“Next time, Alex,” Jessie said as she neared them. “Molly understands that you need to go home today. How about you wave goodbye?”
“No,” Alex said and shook his head. “I want to give Molly her apple.”
With more fluttering from Karin, Alex’s face got redder. Payson picked up the boy, thinking briefly that he could’ve had a child around Alex’s age. His and Jessie’s child. “Which one?” he asked shortly.
Jessie didn’t say a word but moved off slowly. He followed, refusing to notice how her Wrangler jeans outlined the shift and roll of her muscles. Alex chattered and Payson nodded absently during the mercifully short walk.
“Wave goodbye, Alex,” Jessie said. The little boy waved his arm and a fat Shetland pony that looked vaguely familiar raised her head and gave a long friendly whinny on cue, followed by a bouncing jog to the fence.
Alex wanted more, though, and wiggled and squirmed until Payson finally put him on his own feet. The boy, holding tight to Payson’s hand, walked to where the pony had its nose forced between the slats of the fence.
“She wants to give me a kiss,” Alex explained as they neared. The boy put his cheek to the pony’s lips, and Molly nibbled gently, making the boy squeal in delight. Payson braced himself for the animal to bite Alex or lash out with a hoof. Instead, the pony looked as though she was smiling as she pulled away and shook her mane into place. Her head came back through the fence and Alex tugged on Payson’s arm. “She wants to kiss you now.”
“It’s time to go,” Payson said.
“No. Molly wants to kiss you.”
“Yes, Payson,” Jessie said, laughter clear in her voice. “Molly likes giving kisses.”
“No. She only likes to kiss little boys, and I’m not a little boy,” he answered. No way was he letting that pony near him with its mouth or any other body part. Molly’s lips smacked together, and Alex tugged on him again. “Fine. I’ll let her give me a kiss if Miss Jessie gives me a kiss, too.”
He knew it was a challenge. One he was sure that Jessie would decline. Instead, she snapped, “No problem.” Her surprisingly soft lips curled into an evil grin.
Payson leaned over so the pony could touch her lips to his cheek. The smell of oats and molasses wafted over him as the little animal chuffed a breath across his face. He pulled back quickly. Jessie grinned. He reached up his hand to check his face. Slimy pony slobber. He strode forward before Jessie could move and wiped his cheek on hers. She laughed, and he covered her mouth with his to wipe that smirk off her face. Their lips met, and hers parted and softened. Damn. His hand moved down her back, and he pulled her close.
“Dr. Mac, Dr. Mac, I want to go now.”
Saved by the kid, Payson thought. No way he resented that. He and Jessie were over long ago. Having his heart ripped out once was more than enough. “Sure, Alex. Let’s go.” He easily swung the boy up into his arms and carried him to his mother’s car.
He knew what—if he went with his knee-jerk reaction—he’d tell the hospital administration about the program: therapy riding posed an imminent danger to patients. He’d seen a youngster miss being trampled by inches. He would not talk about what had happened to his brain when he saw Jessie go into that corral. Time had stopped. That usually only happened during surgery, when everything went away except the small field of skin exposed by draped hospital fabric. When the seconds stretched out, making each of his movements deliberate and slow. Often after surgery, he was surprised by the amount of time that had passed.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Jessie asked as they watched the boy and his mom drive away.
“Yes,” he said tightly, not willing to argue with her about safety right now. “What about you? What’s up with your knee?”
“Nothing.” She shifted, and the silence stretched between them, tense and heated. “I want to invite you to come back another day. Alex is doing really well out here. In fact, so well that he’s starting to misbehave because he has the strength and confidence.”
Jessie’s gaze didn’t waver as she looked at him. Double damn. It was as hard saying no to her as to Alex, which was exactly why he’d been reluctant to evaluate this program. On the other hand, when the administration “asked” a doctor to do something, it was never good for his career to refuse. Now that he was involved, he needed to step back and act like the scientist he was. Could he formulate any conclusions after only one visit? He really hadn’t had a chance to assess the program before Alex’s great escape. Spending more time with Jessie and her program was strictly in the interest of research.
“My schedule is full for the next week,” he said in his professional voice. “Call me at the hospital and talk with my office manager. Maybe she can find time in two or three weeks.”
Payson watched Jessie’s face change from resolute to angry. “Two or three weeks? This is important, Payson.”
“I know, but so are my patients. I have operations back-to-back, and then clinic and—”
“You don’t have to tell me. I know.”
He could see she was both upset and disappointed. “Before I go, I want to check that knee.”
“I’m fine.”
“Who’s the doctor here?” It was a familiar argument and one that could almost make him smile. They had teased each other often like that early in their marriage, until those teasing comments had become angry barbs. He stepped toward her, and she didn’t back up. He could smell Jessie’s seductive scent, a mix of hay, desert mesquite and Ivory soap. He’d discovered on their third or fourth date that just a brief whiff aroused him. If he’d thought the kiss had gotten him hot, it was nothing compared to her fragrance. He looked at her and saw a flush on her face that wasn’t from the sun.
He made himself step back. They were divorced. “You should use ice followed by heat. Take a double dose of ibuprofen today and tomorrow morning and that should keep the swelling down and help with the pain.”
“Thanks, Doc,” she said. “I’ll call the office.”
“You do that. I’ve got to go.”
She put her hand on his arm to stop him from turning. “He really is a great kid, Payson. He’s been doing so well. At first he was weak and scared, but now he’s walking more often and his balance is thirty percent improved. The therapy works.”
“I said I’d come back,” he answered, not wanting to argue with her, rail at her that he’d also seen Alex almost get trampled to death. He’d learned a few things in their years apart, including how to keep his temper in check. What he hadn’t learned was how to erase the memory of her curled against him when they were alone and in their big old-fashioned sleigh bed—the bed he still slept in. There were nights when the dreams were so real he’d wake up and reach for her. When he felt the coolness of the empty sheets, he wanted to cry or punch the wall.
He needed to sell that bed.
Chapter Two (#ulink_3e1c494d-c34d-5e25-a305-477035ccb537)
Jessie glared at Payson, who was sitting across from her three weeks after his disastrous visit in his version of cowboy casual—a pressed and starched shirt tucked into equally stiff, dark denims. It was wrong to iron jeans, as she had told him more than once, and it was wrong for her to think he looked sexy.
They were in her small office that was crammed into the corner of one of the barns. Usually the scents of hay and horse kept her calm and focused. Not today. Three years divorced, and he could still make her mad enough to see red. What did she tell the kids to do when they were angry? Walk away. Well, she didn’t have a choice about that this time. Payson had just announced that if she wanted the hospital to endorse her program, then he was sticking around.
“Your neck is red and not from the sun,” he said softly, his mouth curling a little as his coffee-colored eyes gleamed with a wry humor. “Are you upset?”
She waited for him to laugh. One snort. One chortle and she was taking him down. She regularly wrestled with a half ton of horse. “I am surprised. A barn is the last place I expected you to want to hang out,” she said.
“Times change.”
“You mean it’s snowing in hell.”
“I would think you’d watch your language with all of these children around.”
She didn’t want to fight with him, but he definitely knew which buttons to push. “Do you have any ideas on how you would like to carry out your observations?”
“You mean besides stand and watch?” he asked and grinned.
She worked not to smile back at that smart-ass answer. Those sorts of comments had gotten him into trouble on a regular basis when they were younger. Of course, there were times when the verbal battle that followed such remarks would lead directly to a horizontal two-step, but she was not going there today...or any other day, she told her racing heart. She calmly said, “We’re using the indoor ring. That would probably be the best place to start.”
Payson had told her that he would observe again today. After that, he and the team from the hospital would be at the ranch nearly full-time to see how the program aligned with medical standards. Jessie had never expected that the hospital would take such a hands-on approach, but if she wanted to keep Hope’s Ride operating, she had to accept the invasion. She’d try to cooperate. She really would. It was just tough with Payson as the one coordinating the study by the hospital.
He stood and waited. She got up and limped off through the barn. It had been weeks since her tussle with Alex and the horse, but her knee refused to stop aching. Being short-handed at the ranch hadn’t helped her condition. She’d been doing more than usual, and going to the doctor was out of the question. Until Hope’s Ride made money, Jessie had only the most basic insurance.
Payson followed her, making her even more self-conscious about her gait. In the past, when he’d walked behind her, he’d said it was so he could enjoy how she filled out a pair of jeans. She doubted that was what he felt right now.
“Here’s the indoor ring,” Jessie said. She would pretend he was a donor who was thinking about supporting Hope’s Ride. That would give her the right attitude. “The afternoon sessions are for the younger children who aren’t in school yet.”
He looked at his watch. “I have a consultation at three, so that gives us an hour.”
Jessie almost made a snarky comment. Paste on a smile and be polite, she firmly told herself. She could do that for the next hour. She could do that for however long it was going to take to save Hope’s Ride.
She explained briefly what the volunteers were doing and each child’s therapy plan. Payson asked questions, but his gaze was intent on the children. They stood side by side for a few moments. She could smell the tartness of the starch from his shirt and clearly remembered what that innocent-looking cotton hid. She would not think about how that scent had invaded her senses when Alex made them kiss.
She refused to remember how he had touched her in their big comfortable bed—a whimsical monstrosity that Payson had bought for her because she’d refused to have a diamond ring. During the divorce, she’d told him nastily that she didn’t want anything from their marriage, especially that “stupid” bed. Less than a year later, a stumble by Candy Cane, her Appaloosa, had changed her life as much as marrying Payson at nineteen had. While her damaged knee functioned pretty well, it wasn’t 100 percent and never would be. She’d had to retire from the rodeo.
After a month of sitting at her folks’ house in Tucson and feeling sorry for herself, her parents placed a firm, but kindly, foot on her butt, encouraging her to open Hope’s Ride. The program had been in her someday plans after seeing riding therapy in action at a farm in Ohio. So, after paying her medical bills, she’d used a chunk of her savings along with a little bit of help from her parents and their friends in the rodeo “family” to get started.
Now, every month had become a balancing act of draining her savings as she tried to put off creditors until the payments came in. The problem was that the payments weren’t covering all of the expenses now, and her savings were nearly gone.
“Each of the volunteers and paid staff go through extensive training,” she told Payson. “The mounts have all been donated. We test each one before any child is allowed on. You can see that each rider has a helmet and helpers. It’s very safe. The movement of the horse forces them to—”
“What conditions do you treat?” he asked, interrupting her.
He was a “donor” she reminded herself, and explained the current program and her hopes for expansion. After another five minutes of observation, he suggested that they move on. She took him to the outdoor facilities and to a small room where the children and their caregivers regularly met to speak with the two other therapeutic riding instructors, both of whom were certified. She had help from a couple of part-timers to care for the stock and everyone else volunteered their time and expertise to help the children. She took him into the horse barn. It was empty except for a cat and flies that buzzed lazily in the air.
“The older riders are expected to help care for the horses,” Jessie said.
“Free labor, huh?”
“No, Payson, the children, especially the teens, need that kind of responsibility. They don’t have a lot of confidence in their own abilities. Caring for the horses shows them that they have a lot more going on than they think.”
“Plus a rider always takes care of her own horse,” he said, nodding a little as he repeated the words she’d told him often enough.
“Yep. There’s that, too. It’s also a chance for the kids to really bond with the horses. It’s an important part of the therapy.”
The tour was over, and they were standing in the aisle of the barn. Even with the sun streaming in through the stalls, it was dim, the concrete floor keeping the space cool. Jessie couldn’t see Payson’s expression, but his stance was taut. She shifted to give her knee a rest.
He took her arm and said, “That’s it. You’re going to let me look at that knee.”
She started to pull away but his fingers tightened. Her arm tingled where he touched her skin. “It’s fine, Payson.”
“It is not fine. You were limping the last time I was here, and you’re still limping.”
“I have an appointment for next week.”
“No, you don’t. You’re lying. You turned your head,” he said.
Darn it. How could she have forgotten that he knew her better than anyone else?
“You’re a kid doctor. I’m an adult,” she said.
“A knee is a knee. Do we have to go through this again? I wanted to look at it the last time I was here.”
“I said no then, too. You don’t owe me anything, Payson.”
“Who said anything about owing you?” he asked. “I’m trying to fulfill my duty as a physician.”
* * *
PAYSON GRITTED HIS TEETH. Why did Jessie have to make things so hard? She had this idea that if she didn’t do things herself, people would never respect her. So, here they were glaring at each other. The way she favored her leg, it must be excruciating.
When they’d been married, she’d often ridden with something pulled or strained. Jessie was used to being hurt and not showing it. He remembered her eyes shining with tears more than once and her fighting to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. The code of the rodeo, she’d told him. “You don’t let people see you cry no matter how much you hurt.” It was all about respect. That was what was driving her to limp around on a knee that needed rest and attention.
He glanced at his watch. He was already late for his consult, and he tried to ignore the hitch in his stomach from the same tug of war that had strained their marriage: patients or Jessie. With more heat than he intended, he said, “You need to have that checked out.”
“I will if it doesn’t get any better.”
He followed her from the barn, his concern as a physician fighting with his intense arousal as he watched her tall, lithe body shift under her just-tight-enough clothing. In the old days, even when he’d been exhausted during his surgical residency, following her around like this would have made him hot enough to not care about schedules or exams. He would have dragged her into one of the stalls and...
Why would he remember any of their marriage fondly? Sure, it had been amazing when their problems could be solved by a little time together in bed. When they had to deal with the real problems, grown-up problems, everything fell apart.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. I’ll be done with rounds by then,” he said as he got into his Range Rover.
“I’ll have the releases you requested ready and the therapy plans, too. ’Bye,” she said and turned without another word.
He jammed the SUV into Drive and gravel spit from his tires.
* * *
AS HELEN, HIS office manager, laid out the medication and instruments he requested, she said, “A doctor who makes house calls? Wait till I tell your other patients, they’ll be lining up.”
“Thank you,” Payson said, giving her an aggravated look.
“Oooh, the Dr. Mac evil eye. I’m so scared,” she said and laughed. “Based on what’s being said in the halls, I’m guessing this has to do with Jessie?” Her voice had gone from joking to aggravated.
“The grapevine is pretty quick,” Payson said. He was irked that he and Jessie were being discussed, but it was a hospital. There was no way to stop the rumors. He needed to stay focused on his final goal: becoming director of pediatrics. It had been made clear to him that moving up at the hospital now depended on the success of the program. He and his team were expected to bring Hope’s Ride into compliance with the hospital’s goals and policies.
“It’s a practical thing,” he explained to Helen. “She’s got to be at a hundred percent if I want to get her program integrated with ours.” He saw Helen start to open her mouth and he looked at her from beneath slightly lowered brows. That one gesture had been known to quiet children in a full tantrum. “She injured her knee saving Alex Suarez. Even you have to agree that examining her is the least I can do as a doctor. I’m sure she doesn’t have very good insurance. Plus, I need to speak with her about the hospital’s requirements.”
“I would guess that there are hundreds of doctors in the greater Phoenix area who would treat her,” Helen said. She straightened the stacks of paper on his desk, her mouth tight and disapproving. Payson imagined it was how a mother would look when her child had acted up. His own mother had always let the nanny or school take care of it when Payson or his brother misbehaved.
“I’ve got to finish up,” Helen said. “My son has a lacrosse game this afternoon.”
When she left, Payson focused on the consult he’d just had and the endless paperwork for his other patients. He knew that, as director of pediatrics, most of his day would be filled with paperwork like this. That was the downside. As he’d told Helen again and again, he could be more effective in helping care for children as director. What he would never admit was that by becoming an administrator and sacrificing what he really loved—performing surgery—he might finally make up for not being able to save the one small life that had mattered more to him than any other.
* * *
JESSIE SAT STIFFLY in her office chair as Payson pressed and poked her knee. She’d only agreed to let him check the joint after he’d refused to continue the evaluation of Hope’s Ride until she let him examine her. She wanted to squirm away but felt stupid because he didn’t seem affected by nearly lying in her lap as he prodded the knee. Her skin prickled with awareness and she ground her teeth against the moan...of pain. Definitely pain.
“When are you going to have this knee replaced?” he asked as he sat back on his heels.
She relaxed a little. “I’m not. At least, not until I’m ninety.”
“You’re dreaming. I’m sure the surgeon told you that this reconstruction was temporary at best. That knee will need to be replaced. Probably sooner rather than later,” Payson said as he put away his instruments and kept his back to her.
“It works fine for what I do now. I just tweaked it helping Alex. Now, can we get started? The kids are waiting for us,” she said. She went to the door, trying hard not to limp.
Payson followed her outdoors, where children were preparing to mount up. The pony, Molly, trotted around the ring, herding stragglers toward the volunteers and caregivers. The hospital observers stood clear of all the commotion. It took a good fifteen minutes to get the children settled and the therapy started. Even so, there were stops for tears and more than one potty break.
“Is this how the program usually operates? I don’t remember observing this sort of chaos previously,” Payson asked.
“More or less. We’re careful to not push the children too hard. They are fairly new to riding. We don’t want to make them hate it before they discover the joy,” Jessie said.
“There definitely needs to be more structure,” he said as he made a notation.
“I understand why you may think that, but I am trained, you know. I’ve found that—”
“I understand that you took, what, a one-year course?” Payson asked without looking up.
He made it sound as if she didn’t know what she was doing, just like when they’d been married.
He went on as he closed his notebook and looked her in the eye. “I wanted to let you know that I had a meeting this morning before I came out here. There are additional concerns about the program and the affiliation.”
“You mean concerns that you brought up. I should have known there was no way you would give the program a fair evaluation.”
“I’m not any more thrilled about this situation than you are. It has been made completely clear to me that to become director of pediatrics, I’ve got to work with you to get this program ready for an affiliation with the hospital.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Jessie, language.”
“I only swear when you’re around.”
“I doubt that,” he said and looked out over the ring. The youngsters rode slowly with big grins on their faces. “I gave a brief report this morning to the committee, and they decided that their involvement needs to be more extensive.”
“Than what? You’re here with who knows how many others. I lost count,” Jessie said.
“I’m going to bottom-line it. The hospital will be overseeing the program while all of the departments do their evaluations and make their recommendations for changes and upgrades to increase efficiency and effectiveness.”
“Payson, please follow me,” Jessie said tightly. She could not have this conversation anywhere near the children because she was going to be yelling and possibly committing murder. When they were fifty feet from the corral, she turned to him. “This is my program. I know I contacted you, but just to ask who I should talk to at the hospital. I never asked for you to take over. You always have to be the one in control, don’t you? You can’t let me do this on my own. It’s just like when we were married. You were always trying to improve things—like telling me I should go to college and diagramming the most economical way to do laundry.”
“Jessie, if I want to be named the director I’ve got to make this program work for the hospital. It’ll be good for you, too. There are a number of departments that are chomping at the bit—pardon the pun—to use your program. It doesn’t hurt that, according to the public relations guy, Hope’s Ride will make the hospital look ‘progressive and forward thinking.’”
“So the children don’t matter? It’s all about image and your promotion? I’m the one in charge here. It’s my program,” she said, hoping she sounded stronger than she felt. Had she hoped he’d come back for her? Not to climb up the hospital rungs?
“Jessie, if you don’t work with me and the others, the hospital will cut off any association. I know a few doctors have given the program a try. They will take away their patients and no one else will refer children to you. It won’t take long for word to get around that there must be something wrong since Desert Valley Hospital won’t refer anyone.”
If she wanted her program to continue, she had to give in. If she were a millionaire, like the members of the hospital’s board, she could tell them to take a flying leap.
“By the way, I did convince the hospital to give you a stipend out of my budget while I run the program.”
“Excuse me. Back up. You’re going to be doing what?”
“I’ll be in charge of Hope’s Ride while the hospital staff is here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re going to be my boss?”
Chapter Three (#ulink_256f595a-6fff-58b7-acc0-e1acd47976b5)
“I won’t exactly be your boss,” Payson said.
“You’re paying me. You’re telling me what to do. Seems like that’s exactly what a boss does,” Jessie fired back.
He was wary because when she was upset, she sometimes acted before she thought. “If you want the hospital to list you as an endorsed program, you’re going to have to accept this condition for now.”
“Fine. I’m sure you’re happy, Dr. Control Freak.”
“If I were your boss, comments like that would get you fired,” he said, only half-joking.
“Good thing that you’re not ‘exactly’ my boss then.”
“Maybe setting some ground rules would help. I’ll give you a written list of the protocols that will need to be followed. That’s not my choice. It’s the hospital’s rules.” He saw her lips go from full to thin and waited for the explosion.
“I understand,” she finally said, not looking any less annoyed but sounding...resigned.
“Great. That’s a start,” he said.
Her capitulation didn’t make him feel like they were on better footing. He didn’t want her program to fail. He’d never wished that anything bad would happen to Jessie—at least, not anymore. The first few months after the divorce, he might have hoped that she’d have to ride rodeo in Siberia.
They talked for a few more minutes. By the end of the conversation, Payson thought there was a good chance that the two of them could work together with minimal conflict. He hoped so, because his future had been firmly tied to Jessie’s by the hospital. “Tomorrow, we’ll plan for the team from physical therapy to observe. They talked about wanting to stay for two weeks, then they’ll make recommendations. At that point, we’ll discuss how to assess the success of those improvements.”
“Improvements? Yeah, I can already see the improvements, like making sure that you don’t let the kids actually near the horses, or filling out useless forms because you want to have documentation.”
“Jessie, there are certain standards that must be met, but I’m sure we can find compromises. That’s why we’re here—to determine the best way to proceed and benefit both of us,” Payson said, wondering if that sounded as pompous as it did in his head.
“Save the bullsh—you know what. I know there’s no use arguing with you. I’ll save it for the therapists. I have a feeling they’ll be more reasonable anyway,” she said and went on before he could protest. “I’d like to set up an orientation for all of your staff. I know they know their jobs but most won’t have worked around horses. Even my volunteers who are horse people have to go through orientation. It keeps everyone safe. Why don’t you join the first group—that’ll let everyone know how important it is.”
Was she suggesting that he wasn’t taking the collaboration seriously? “Absolutely,” he said. “Administration 101—lead by example.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, looking at him oddly.
In the spirit of working together, he didn’t comment. He didn’t have the time anyway. They were largely silent as they headed to his Range Rover, when Jessie said tentatively, “Alex’s next therapy session might be a good chance for you to observe.”
He paused and wondered if this was a Jessie-style olive branch. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Great. See you at orientation,” she said.
“See you then,” he said. They stood by his SUV. Jessie scuffed the dirt with her boot. Should he shake her hand? No. Even that small contact would stay with him the rest of the day, making him aware that his physical desire for her—and that’s all it was, he assured himself—hadn’t gotten the memo about the divorce and the three years apart. He did wave as he bumped down the lane.
* * *
“EVERYTHING’S FINE, MAMA,” Jessie said patiently into her cell. “The hospital is really happy with the program. It won’t take long for them to give me the okay.”
“If you need money, you let Daddy and me know,” her mother said.
Jessie would only accept more money if the horses were going hungry. Her parents and everyone else had already helped her so much—she couldn’t ask them for anything more. “I’m good, Mama.”
“Are you sure? I know it’s gotta be tough working with Payson. I know how badly he hurt you,” her mother said, a tsk in her voice. Her mother had been equally disappointed with Jessie and Payson when the marriage had ended.
Jessie didn’t want to talk about what had happened. She’d let go of the sadness and the resentment—she’d been sure—or she’d never have called Payson about Hope’s Ride. Since he’d shown up, she’d been replaying their marriage, both good and bad. It all got on her last nerve. “Mama, Payson and I are doing fine. This is about Hope’s Ride and him moving up at the hospital. It’s just business.”
“Mm-hmm,” her mother said. “I’m not too partial to those TV advice doctors, but you know they’re always asking people, ‘How will that work for you?’ So, how do you think that’s going to work?”
“I told you, it’s business.”
“That’s what you said. But, really, darlin’, how can it ever be strictly business between the two of you?”
“We’re divorced, Mama. That’s all there is.”
“You know how I feel about that divorce,” her mama said, “but that horse left the barn years ago. Do you think this is your chance to settle things between you? You know, talk about—”
“We are not talking about the past. That’s over. This is about Hope’s Ride.”
“Is it in the past? Why did you call Payson in the first place?”
Jessie knew this answer. “Because he works at the best pediatric hospital in the valley.”
“Mmm-hmm. What about that teaching hospital that was looking for programs that use alternative therapies? I remember Daddy tellin’ you about it. He saw it on the news.”
“Desert Valley is better,” Jessie said stubbornly.
“Darlin’, that may be true, too, but that’s not why you called Payson.”
“It’s the only reason, Mama. Hope’s Ride needs to be endorsed by and affiliated with only the best hospital. Plus a lot of my kids have doctors there.”
“And at every other hospital in the valley. You are a very smart girl. Even you should be able to figure out why you called on Payson when you were in trouble.”
“It’s business, Mama,” Jessie said, and even she could hear the desperation in her voice. Business was the only reason. She was over Payson. She was the one who’d filed for the divorce, for goodness’ sake. “Having Desert Valley’s stamp of approval will give me a cushion and let me expand in a few years, branch out to help more children.”
“Any hospital could have given you that cushion.”
“Mama, I have to go. I have orientation for the hospital staff today, and then we’ve got a full day of therapy,” Jessie broke in.
Her mother gave a gusty sigh. “Baby girl, you know I love you no matter what. But I swear you and Payson need your heads knocked together. Just business. Not likely. Now, you go and get to work.”
It was hard to get her mother’s voice out of her thoughts. In the dark days when Jessie had been considering divorce, Mama had counseled against it. Instead, she said that Jessie and Payson needed to talk and maybe see a professional. Jessie had tried to follow that advice, but it didn’t help that when they could actually find time to talk, one of them was always tired and distracted. Their discussions quickly broke down into hurtful fights.
Then Jessie stopped asking her mama for advice and went to visit a divorce lawyer. She had just wanted the pain to end. Perhaps now she could admit that, as she signed her name to the papers, Jessie had known that she and Payson still had unfinished business.
* * *
“I THINK THAT went well,” Jessie said to Payson as they ended the orientation later in the day. “Even you seemed comfortable around the horses.”
“Why are you so surprised? It wasn’t like it was the first time I was ever around a horse,” he said, giving her a lowered-brow look that was supposed to intimidate her.
“Dr. Mac.” Alex’s little-boy voice carried easily from where he was getting out of his mother’s car and into his wheelchair, which was a sure sign that Alex was having a bad day. “Dr. Mac. You came to see me ride.” He bounced in his seat and a grin stretched across his face. His brush with near disaster hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm for the horses.
“Sure thing, buddy,” Payson said.
Jessie was surprised. He’d told her that he was leaving right after the orientation session because he had a stack of paperwork back at the hospital. She’d been relieved. Without him around, she didn’t have to think of the interrupted conversations that she knew they needed to continue. Even in the face of Alex’s excitement, a part of her wanted to tell Payson to go—the part that recalled vividly every caress they had ever shared and the part that still got disconcertingly hot and bothered when their arms accidentally brushed or he stood near enough for her to catch the fresh scent of his shaving cream. She said nothing.
“I get to feed Molly her apple today. Miss Jessie promised. ’Member I didn’t get to before when you were here and then Mommy wouldn’t let me come and now Mommy said this is the last time I’m coming to see Molly, so I gotta give her the apple.”
“Your last time?” Payson asked quietly.
Alex pulled on Payson’s arm to get him to lean closer and whispered in a voice that still carried to Jessie. “Mommy said that I couldn’t come anymore ’cause they said that there wasn’t no more money for riding.”
Jessie looked at the little boy’s mother and saw her eyes swimming in tears. “Come on, Alex,” Jessie said, getting behind his wheelchair. “We’ve been waiting for you. You ready to ride?”
“Yep,” Alex said.
“Are you sure? You got your boots?”
He stretched out a foot. “Yep,” he said. This was a game that he and Jessie sometimes played.
“What about jeans? You got your riding jeans on?”
“Yep. Mommy forgot to wash them, but they don’t stink too bad.”
Jessie leaned over and took a deep sniff. “I don’t know. You smell like...road apples,” she said with a grin.
“Miss Jessie, what’s that? Is that the kind of apple that Molly likes?” Alex asked.
Jessie hesitated, looking back at Payson to see if he’d heard the exchange. He was in deep conversation with Alex’s mother. It didn’t really matter if he’d heard, she told herself, because Payson wouldn’t remember her teasing him about road apples and how it had led to their first date. She was the only one who kept being blindsided by memories of their time together.
Jessie couldn’t stop her smile as she explained to Alex that “road apples” was a different way to say horse poop.
He giggled. “Horse doody don’t look like apples.”
“I guess to whoever made that up, it did,” she said. “Time to get riding.” She could see his brain continuing to work on the mystery. As she helped Alex onto his mount, she wondered if this would be his last time. Maybe not. Kids often said things that weren’t true because they didn’t understand what the adults around them were really saying. She tried not to play favorites, but there was something about Alex that tugged at her heart. She couldn’t view him as just another patient. How did Payson do this on a regular basis? How did he work with these children and not get his heart ripped out when he couldn’t help them or, heaven forbid, they died?
* * *
PAYSON WATCHED ALEX find his body’s center as Jessie placed him on a small horse for his therapy session. He was beaming. Obviously, sitting on a horse was better than anything that even Santa could’ve brought him. Payson had spoken with Karin about Alex’s comments and discovered the foundation that had been covering the cost of the therapy had to make some tough decisions about what they would fund. Alex and his riding hadn’t made the cut.
While Payson may not have been completely convinced of riding’s therapeutic outcomes, he could see that there was a psychological benefit in Alex’s case. Recently, the little boy had been more positive about his limitations and even more willing to do his conventional therapy. Payson needed actual research before formally agreeing that Hope’s Ride made a difference for patients’ physical recovery and progress, but in some very specific cases, he could see that the therapy did influence outlook and attitude. The question was whether that improvement made the program worthy of affiliation with a hospital like Desert Valley. If it did, money situations such as Alex’s would likely go away.
“Let me give the foundation a call,” Payson had finally told Karin as tears streaked down her face. “I’m not promising anything, but maybe I can give them the assurance they need.”
“Dr. MacCormack, if you call them, I know they won’t say no.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’ll certainly see what I can do,” he said, and then asked her questions about Alex’s recent regression to the wheelchair. He hadn’t seen anything on the X-rays after the boy’s fall and nearly getting run over by the horse, but Payson worried there was something that had not shown up immediately. Karin explained that Alex had insisted on the chair because he wanted to save all of his strength for the riding and for feeding Molly. Payson had to smile at Alex’s determination to figure out how to work around his illness with as little fuss as possible. Once again, he had to admit that his patient’s improved attitude could be attributed to Hope’s Ride.
When the session ended, Alex broke into a song that he’d made up on the spot about feeding Molly her apples and getting pony kisses. Payson went to him, while Karin stayed in the arena talking with one of the therapists and another mother.
“Dr. Mac,” Alex said. “Are you going to kiss Miss Jessie again?”
“Not this time. And no kisses from Molly, either,” he said, hoping that would quiet the boy. He was pretty sure he heard Jessie chuckle.
At the fence, the pony jammed her head between the rails, her lips smacking in anticipation of the apple in Alex’s hand. The adults stood a few steps away as Alex fed the pony and talked with her. He told her that he wouldn’t be back, but that she shouldn’t be sad. “There are other little boys and girls who will give you apples,” Alex told her, his voice quavering just a little. “Mommy said that someday we’ll come out to visit but that might not be for a little while.”
Payson had learned not to react to emotion from his patients and their parents. With Alex, he felt his heart wrench with every tear. He desperately wanted to tell his young patient that everything would be fine and that he’d be coming to Hope’s Ride as usual. But Payson shouldn’t make that promise. If he were director of pediatrics, then he would have leverage to get a “yes” to this and a lot of other options for his patients.
“Don’t worry, Alex,” he said, squatting beside the boy. “Mommy and I are working to see to it that you’ll be back soon. You can work hard on your therapy at the hospital, and I bet you’ll do even better the next time you’re here.”
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“Yep. No need for you to worry,” Payson said, avoiding looking at Jessie. He also didn’t think about the fact that he might just be lying to the boy, and what would happen if he couldn’t convince the foundation to pay for the treatment. “Do you think Molly’s done with her apple? Your mommy’s waiting for you.”
“See you, Molly,” Alex said, and patted the pony. His smile reached ear to ear. “’Bye, Miss Jessie.” He raised his arms for a hug. Payson saw her eyes close as she lifted the boy off the ground and squeezed him tight. When she put him down, Payson was stunned by the pain on her face.
As Alex made his way toward his mother, Payson stepped up to Jessie. “The foundation that helps pay for Alex’s therapy is withholding funds, according to Karin. I’ll give them a call. I’m sure that something can be worked out.”
Turning from him, Jessie said, “He’s not the first child who’s had to stop coming. Unfortunately, I’m sure he won’t be the last. That’s why Desert Valley is so important. More places would help out if the hospital gave us its Good Doctoring Seal of Approval.”
“I’m making the call to the foundation, Jessie.” His time at Hope’s Ride had totally messed with his schedule and now his brain was sorting through what he would face when he finally got back to his office. Helen had left six messages and sent him ten texts. The last said, Get your @ss in here.
“You’ll make the call today. You won’t forgot once you get back to the hospital,” Jessie said when she caught him at his vehicle.
“I said I’d do it,” he snapped, a little tired of her acting as if he was the bad guy around here.
“Make sure that you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you don’t believe in this program, and you’re just here so that you can get some meaningless title,” she said.
“Meaningless? It will mean control over how the children at this hospital are treated. It will mean being able to help more children, being able to offer newer, more effective treatments. And, to do it, I’ve been scaling back on surgery, which I—” He shook his head before going on. “I’ve taken on more administrative roles at the hospital. Your program...has changed my plan.”
“Of course. Can’t mess with the great doctor’s plans. Pushing papers is much more important than actually helping the kids.”
What the hell? Didn’t she understand what it had been like for him to have to say no to children and their parents as he’d started to make the transition to administration? “I was told that this was a ‘good trial’ to see how I would do as a director because I’ll be more or less coordinating the different staffs coming out to the program. If I get this right, I’ll have control over all care in pediatrics.”
“Now we get to the meat of it. You want to be in control, like always. Haven’t you learned anything? These are children, not science experiments.”
“I won’t apologize for looking for empirical evidence that your program and therapies make a difference. And I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for being a scientist.”
“Exactly how are you going to measure happiness, huh?” Jessie said.
“By how well the children are doing on their physical tests and evaluations. The hospital can’t base treatments on unicorns and rainbows. There has to be hard data. Do you think that I can tell parents that this is a treatment that will make their child smile? We don’t know if it will help him walk again, but isn’t it more important that he’s smiling? Yes, that’s exactly what parents want to hear from their doctor.” She was really starting to tick him off.
“You told me that medicine is as much an art as a science. When did you change your mind about that?”
Of all of the things that she would remember from his time as a student, why was that it? He’d thought that way early in his studies, when he’d been full of himself. “I was wrong. It’s only about science. I’ve got to go. We can have this discussion another day when I have data to show you.”
“I’ll hold you to that and I’ll expect an apology when you find out that I’m right. That the smiles are just as important as the positive MRIs.”
“It’s a bet.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_5a883116-22b5-57c6-8da1-94a75d3bedf5)
Two weeks into the “collaboration” with Desert Valley, Jessie wanted to give everyone the boot, from Payson to his team of experts—experts at being a pain in Jessie’s backside. She should have known that the orientation had gone too smoothly to be true. So far, the physical therapists had insisted that they needed another two weeks of observations, and the occupational therapists were still determining how they would “implement the use of adaptive devices.” The hospital’s risk-management adviser had had the vapors when he’d seen the horses and the carts that they used for the children who couldn’t walk. The man had actually had to sit down when the dogs and assorted barn cats rubbed against his pressed khakis.
Of course, the bank called and asked when they could expect the next payment on the line of credit that she’d taken out to buy supplies. Jessie was only a few days past due, but the bank didn’t care. She owed. She had to pay. This would have been simple enough if the money hadn’t been coming in at a trickle and going out like a fire hose. Jessie had also hoped to borrow a little more money until things turned around. The bank had said clearly and with no hesitation: No.
She’d tried talking with each of the team leaders from the hospital with the goal of getting a commitment to end the observation ASAP and get the hospital’s endorsement within weeks instead of months. With the hospital on board, Jessie was sure she could go back to the bank to get more credit, which would allow her to take care of her $10,000 balloon payment. Each hospital staffer had succinctly laid out a timeline and emphasized that there was no way to cut one observation or one data collection. Hope’s Ride was something totally new to them. They had to be completely sure of its validity and safety. There were no shortcuts.
“What evil idea are you hatching?” Payson asked. They were sitting in the arena watching the children ride, including the recently reinstated Alex.
“No evil idea,” she said absently. Could she ask the hospital’s therapists to do chores? Like clean the stables? That would mean fewer hours for her paid staff. She hated to cut their wages, but the situation was dire.
“If it involves road apples, it’s evil.”
Jessie startled herself with her own laughter. “It wasn’t my fault you were a city boy and didn’t know that road apples had nothing to do with trees.”
“My mother had the cook go to six grocery stores looking for them. You told me they were an ancient Native American ‘growth enhancer.’ And I heard you telling Alex about them. Still teasing us city kids, huh?”
Jessie couldn’t keep from grinning. She and Payson had known each other since high school, when more often than not they’d needled each other. “You got me back.”
“I did?”
“Sure. In biology lab, you convinced me that, according to my blood type, there was no way that my mama and daddy were my parents. Mrs. Lakewood gave me detention for yelling ‘You’re a damned liar’ at you.”
“That doesn’t count. You punched me after school. I fell and got a bloody nose. I ended up spending a week getting tested for all kinds of diseases because I refused to tell my mother that the bloody nose was the result of a girl punching me,” Payson said, smiling and shaking his head. “And I had to bribe my brother to keep his big mouth shut. It cost me two rookie cards and my Grand Theft Auto time for a week.”
“She knew. She told me a couple of years after we married. Remember when that patient in the ER clocked you a good one? Your eye looked horrible. She told me that if you had any more bruises, she was taking me to court for spousal abuse.”
“She said what?”
“That she was keeping her eye on me,” Jessie said with little emotion...now. She could almost laugh about his mother’s comments. But there had been a bit of guilt that went along with it. She and Payson hadn’t fought well. She certainly never hit him during their marriage, although the punch in high school had led to their first date because she’d felt so bad about giving him a bloody nose. That didn’t mean that they didn’t end up bruised and bloody when they argued during their marriage, it was just that no one could see the wounds.
“That explains the third degree when I saw her. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It doesn’t matter, Payson,” Jessie said, wanting to steer away from their past. “Do you think you could talk with the physical therapists about the extra time? I don’t understand why they don’t have the material they need.”
Payson didn’t answer for a moment, and then said, “I really didn’t know my mother thought that. If I had, I would have talked to her.”
Their eyes caught. His gaze was direct and darkly intense. She could see that he was upset and wanted to make things right. It didn’t matter now, Jessie told herself, and looked away. “About the physical therapists?”
“I’ll talk with them,” he said. They watched the children in the ring for a few moments.
“Thanks for getting the foundation to help Alex,” she said. “He was so happy when I told him that he could keep coming. He’s blowing the other kids out of the water, a total natural on a horse.” Payson nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s weird, though. Karin gave me a new billing address. I should probably call and confirm. That woman can be a little flaky.”
“Give me the address,” Payson said. “I’ll confirm it. No problem.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
She watched Payson focus again on the arena full of children. Her smile stayed in place despite her worries. Laughing with him had taken her right back to the days when she never questioned his love. The bond between them had made her feel so...secure, but that same feeling of security had always scared her. She had worried that in trying to make him happy, she would lose her independence. She shifted in her seat and Payson turned to her, a question on his lips, then his face tightened.
“What did I do now?” he asked, his brows lowered as he studied her face.
“I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lot to do. I don’t have some cushy job at a hospital where I get a paycheck every week and someone cleans up all of my messes.” She rushed away because she refused to get caught up in leaning on him ever again. He made that too easy.
* * *
JESSIE YAWNED AS she moved the ponies and horses into the corral. She couldn’t wake up this morning, and it was Payson’s fault. She’d woken three times from dreams of testing the strength of the bedsprings during their marriage. Jessie had only gotten a couple of hours of shut-eye. She’d been so sure that the sexual tension between them would disappear as she and Payson worked together and remembered all of the reasons that they weren’t compatible.
Her increasingly erotic dreams showed her that, where Payson was concerned, she’d been wrong again. On edge and cranky, she’d exiled herself to hanging out with the animals after snapping at every single person she’d seen this morning. It had to stop. The problem was that she hadn’t figured out exactly how to do that without kicking Payson off the ranch.
* * *
“IS THERE A reason that these forms have to be filled out tonight?” she asked as she leaned over the back of her office chair, occupied by Payson. He rapidly clicked around his spreadsheet.
“The committee needs a report by the end of the day tomorrow. I’ve got to get the stats together. So, yes, this needs to be done tonight. Could I have some room?” Payson asked as he rolled his shoulders. She could see the muscles shift under his golf shirt.
“I can’t see the screen unless I stand here,” she said to needle him a little.
“It doesn’t make me fill this in any faster with you breathing down my neck.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I am breathing down your neck because that’s not the figure for feed,” she said, and leaned in a little more. Her breast tingled when it contacted his back. God, he smelled good. How could he smell good after a full day of work?
She stood up and moved away while she gave him the correct number. She paced in her small office as he typed. She was sure it wasn’t worry about getting the numbers right that made him pound the keys. Like her, he must feel the arc of awareness that crackled between them.
She knew him well. She certainly recognized the narrow-eyed look he’d gotten when he stared at her breasts. When they were young and in love, that heated gaze would’ve led to the bedroom, where he would’ve tested his theories on how long a human body could stand to be teased. Jessie had begun to think that the current tension between them—left over from their marriage—came from remembering what was and reacting to each other instinctively. She’d been trying to ignore it. The tension hadn’t gone away. It was getting worse, making her snappy and restless.
She knew that acting on the sexual connection, or whatever it was, would be a disaster. They had divorced for a lot of very good reasons. Maybe if they kissed for real, not just because she’d called him on his challenge, they would prove to themselves that what they remembered as amazing was actually ordinary. Before she talked herself out of it, she said, “Payson.”
“Yes,” he said but kept typing.
“Are you listening?” He nodded. “You know how you wait all year to go to the Pike’s Peak Fair for the fry bread, and you keep thinking about it and no other fry bread tastes as good. Then you go to the fair and you eat it, but it doesn’t taste all that good?”
“Let’s just pretend I understand.”
“What I’m saying is that you build something up in your mind as wonderful, as spectacular, but when you finally get it, it’s really just ordinary.” His head tilted, so she knew she had his full attention. “Well, you see, I’ve been thinking that maybe that’s what’s been happening here between us.”
“I’m hungry for fry bread?”
“No,” she said. She’d been an idiot to start this conversation. “You know, the tension, the remembering.” He didn’t say anything. “Maybe, if we kissed, we’d realize that it’s not that special anymore. That all of that is behind us.”
“You need to kiss me to prove to yourself...what?” he asked. He shifted in the chair and rolled his shoulders again, something he did when he was tense.
“I’m looking at this the way you would, like a scientist. We were married. We’re not anymore, but we’re working together. We’re both remembering how it was, and it probably wasn’t like we remember anyway. We need to prove to ourselves that there’s nothing there. Nada.”
“The theory that you’d like to test is that if we kiss, we’ll discover that what we had was pretty ordinary?”
“Something like that. I’m just trying to be honest here. I know you feel the tension. I’ve seen those looks and I know what they mean. If we just kiss and get it out of the way, we’ll be good to go. We’ll have eaten the fry bread.”
“When would you like to conduct this experiment?”
“What about now?”
“That will be fine. Let me input these final numbers and then I’ll be ready,” he said, his voice calm as he twisted to face the computer.
Jessie paced so she wouldn’t stare at Payson and wouldn’t think about what they were going to do.
“Okay. Done,” he said. Had his voice cracked a little?
“Great,” she said, laughing nervously. “I’m glad we’re doing this. It will make working together so much easier.”
When they were standing facing each other, the foot of space between them quickly heated. A barely there tremor started in her feet and quickly reached her breasts. He put his hands around her upper arms, pulling her toward him, but not against him. Her lips parted, anticipating what would come next. He hesitated. She shifted closer, and he finally leaned in, touching his lips to hers, softly, like a first kiss.
Jessie tried to stop the moan, but when her tongue touched his, the heat shot from her mouth into every inch of her body. She wanted more and clutched at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. His hips brushed against hers and the kiss deepened. His hair was soft under her fingers as she held his mouth to hers. Then his lips were on her neck, in the one place that he knew would drive her crazy. She sucked in her breath and pressed herself against him. She didn’t want him to stop. He nuzzled that sweet spot that only he knew. Just when she was going to push him away before she totally melted, he moved back to her lips, nibbling at the edges.
“You taste the same. How could you taste the same?” Payson asked softly, not pulling away.
“Hmm.” She tried to get her brain working again. “The same toothpaste?”
He chuckled low and deep, holding her against him. “That could be.” His mouth covered hers again, exploring her thoroughly. When he finally leaned back, he whispered, “Only you could make toothpaste sexy, Jessie.” His hand roamed to the curve of her waist and the slight flare of her hips. “How can you be so soft? When I watch you walk, all I can think about is touching you. Will touching you now make me forget that?”
“Touch me,” Jessie breathed. She used her mouth to explore his lips and spoke softly against his cheek, so he could feel her breath moving across his skin, “God, Payson, why would we want to forget this?”
“Jessie,” he said, and let her go. She wrapped one long leg around the back of his knees to pull him back to her. He resisted for one second, then his fingers skimmed along her back as his mouth tasted her lips, her neck and her cheek.
When she thought she’d never take a full breath again and knew next they would be getting naked, she made herself take one step backward. They stood looking at each other, and she waited a moment for the space between them to cool.
She hoped when her brain—instead of her other parts—worked again, she’d figure out a way to see Payson every day and not remember this kiss, not remember that he tasted even better than on their long, slow wedding night. Jessie didn’t need to be a genius like Payson to know that the kiss was the stupidest idea she’d ever had. Even worse than asking for Payson’s help in the first place. She already craved his touch again. And, now, for the first time, she wondered why she’d filed for divorce when she still felt this sexual connection. Dang.
“So, what do you think?” Payson asked and then cleared his throat. His voice had been thick and deep. “Did our experiment work?”
She tried to get her thoughts into a coherent string. “It might not seem like it now,” she said, and stepped back to put more distance between them, “but can’t you feel that, um, we didn’t really have the same connection?”
“You’re right,” he said. “It was different.”
“Yep. Totally different,” she continued to lie. “Maybe we should call it a night. We proved our point.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_859c589a-71c4-5611-90d0-e22f04bf4cac)
Jessie savored the quiet of the morning, needing to figure out how to respond to last night’s “experiment.” She’d been pushing back her first impulse to get mean and go on the attack, to hurt Payson before he hurt her. She knew he didn’t deserve getting guff for agreeing to kiss her. She considered pretending that they hadn’t kissed. As tempting as that was, pretending wasn’t going to make the feelings go away. After exhausting every possibility while she tossed and turned, she’d accepted that the two of them needed to sit down and talk.
In the years since the divorce, Jessie had considered picking up the phone and calling Payson every so often. She didn’t want to get back together or anything, but she wanted—needed—to apologize for a passel of nasty comments she’d made in those last months of their marriage. She also wanted to say sorry for blaming him for not coming to her right away at the Vegas hospital and that she forgave him—even if she maybe didn’t completely—for not being with her when she needed him most.
The kiss was different.
She feared the memory of that one kiss would stick stubbornly in her brain forever. So what was she going to do? First, make sure that she and Payson weren’t alone together—except she wanted to apologize and wasn’t going to do that in front of an audience. Dang. She refused to call her mama or sister about this. They would tell her what she didn’t want to hear, that she’d been crazy, stupid, idiotic to think the kiss was a good idea.
Jessie stumbled suddenly as a pony head butted her. She turned and with exasperated affection said, “Hey, Molly, how did you get out? I should have called you Houdini. Never knew a pony who was so good at escaping.”
She took the little animal’s halter and led her back to the pen she shared with Bull, a mean-spirited chestnut gelding that Jessie boarded for her brother. Bull was smitten with Molly but pretty much hated the rest of the world. If he was out, too, Jessie’s morning would be really, really crappy—as if it wasn’t already. She didn’t want to wrestle the big horse back into his stall. Even with Molly around, he could be difficult. She hurried, her knee already aching with the thought of getting the cranky horse to cooperate. Maybe her brother should have named him Payson. She chuckled at that.
“You won’t think it’s funny if I let go of his halter,” Payson said.
She clamped down hard on her tongue to stop a screech and said through clenched teeth, “What are you doing here? How did you catch Bull?”
“I wanted to speak with you before this place filled up with people. When I got to the barn, Molly was standing in front of this big guy. I grabbed him and she trotted off. I wasn’t sure where she’d gone. I figured she’d taken off to find apples.”
Jessie was stunned into speechlessness. First, Payson had shown up looking for her after last night, and second, he’d voluntarily dealt with one of the horses, especially a troublesome one like Bull. “Molly was trying to keep Bull in? I figured she was the one trying to escape. She does it all the time when she’s in the big corrals.”
Payson shrugged and Bull leaned down and snuffled his hair. Payson pushed him away. Jessie waited for the horse to take off a finger. Nothing.
“Let me take him, and I’ll get him and Molly back in their stall.”
Jessie stepped forward and Bull immediately backed up, pulling Payson with him. The whites of the gelding’s eyes showed. Jessie stopped moving before Bull got more upset. The horse immediately settled and stepped closer to Payson. “Let me take him,” he said.
Jessie watched her horse-hating ex-husband lead Bull into his stall with Molly trotting after him like the sheepdog she thought she was. Payson gave each animal a hearty pat before he left them in the stall. Jessie stood and watched, speechless again.
“There are a few items we need to discuss,” Payson said into the silence.
“Wait. What was that about?” Jessie said waving her arm in the direction of the stall. “You hate horses. When Candy Cane got out one night, and I asked you to help, you said that there was no way you were losing sleep over a ‘dumb animal.’”
“Jessie, I was in the middle of my residency and had just come off a forty-eight-hour shift. I was exhausted. Plus Candy Cane always came back by morning. You used to say that she must have had tomcat in her because she liked to roam at night.”
“When we lived out near Carefree that was fine. There weren’t any busy roads and people watched for critters. But then we moved to town so you’d have a shorter drive, which meant we were near a ton of major roads, including the 10. She wasn’t used to that and could have gotten hit.”
Payson didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, stunning her for a second time this morning. “I didn’t even think about that. You had never worried before when she got out. I thought you were trying to punish me for missing your birthday.”
She’d completely forgotten that. The week before Candy Cane went missing Payson and she had planned a nice evening to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday. Then at the last minute he’d been called in to cover an extra shift. “I was upset that we didn’t get to go out that night. It had been weeks since we’d spent any time together, but I understood. It wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s not what you said. You said that if I had loved you, I would have said no to the shift. But I couldn’t. The only time you could say no to shifts was if you were in the hospital yourself—in ICU.”
“I said that? I’m sorry. I was being a real witch with a B, as Mama would say. Really, I barely remember the missed dinner,” Jessie said.
“Amazing what sticks with you. We weren’t as good at talking about our problems as we thought.”
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Heidi Hormel
EX MARKS THE SPOTRetired rodeo rider Jessie Leigh has one more trick to pull off: partnering with ex-husband Payson MacCormack to save her ranch. Hope's Ride offers horse therapy for children, and Payson is a pediatric surgeon at the hospital set to certify the program. Their split wasn't exactly amicable, but Jessie's determined to make it work…even if Payson's presence sends her heart racing.With a promotion on the line and a passel of kids in desperate need of Hope's Ride, Payson should be focused on prepping the program for the hospital's review. But he can't concentrate on anything but Jessie. Payson's career and Jessie's ranch are depending on each other, but will working together bring the surgeon and the cowgirl closer together, or drive them apart for good?
EX MARKS THE SPOT
Retired rodeo rider Jessie Leigh has one more trick to pull off: partnering with ex-husband Payson MacCormack to save her ranch. Hope’s Ride offers horse therapy for children, and Payson is a pediatric surgeon at the hospital set to certify the program. Their split wasn’t exactly amicable, but Jessie’s determined to make it work...even if Payson’s presence sends her heart racing.
With a promotion on the line and a passel of kids in desperate need of Hope’s Ride, Payson should be focused on prepping the program for the hospital’s review. But he can’t concentrate on anything but Jessie. Payson’s career and Jessie’s ranch are depending on each other, but will working together bring the surgeon and the cowgirl closer together, or drive them apart for good?
“Maybe if we kissed we’d realize that it’s not that special anymore.”
Jessie felt like an idiot for suggesting it. Payson still said nothing, so she stammered, “I-it would prove that all of that is behind us.”
“You need to kiss me to prove to yourself...what exactly?” he asked. He shifted in the chair and rolled his shoulders, something he did when he was tense.
“I’m looking at this the way you would—scientifically. We were married. We’re not anymore, but we’re working together. We’re both remembering how it was, and it probably wasn’t like we remember anyway. We need to prove to ourselves that there’s nothing there.”
“The theory that you’d like to test is that if we kiss, we’ll discover that what we had was pretty ordinary?”
“Something like that. I’m just trying to be honest here. I know you feel the tension. I’ve seen those looks and I know what they mean. If we just kiss and get it out of the way, we’ll be good to go.”
“When would you like to conduct this experiment?”
“What about now?”
Dear Reader (#ulink_ecc76697-bb9b-57a3-b94e-352bacac9cb7),
The first time I visited Arizona as a teen, I fell in love with the desert, cowboys and fry bread (yum!). I fell in love with writing and storytelling even earlier than that and have been a reporter, PR flunky and now a full-fledged romance author. In fact, my reporting led directly to Jessie and Payson’s reunion love story.
I was assigned to write a magazine article about a former rodeo trick rider who started a therapeutic horsemanship program. Her amazing dedication sparked an idea that became The Surgeon and the Cowgirl.
Of course, I didn’t realize how stubborn Cowgirl Jessie and Surgeon Payson would be. After all, they’d fallen in love in high school and were obviously still in love, despite divorce and soul-deep hurts. Getting them to admit that their love had endured and that they had changed required the help of a diva pony, endearing kids and meddling family.
Jessie and Payson’s happily-ever-after inspired another story. Spencer, Payson’s brother, will do anything—even enter into a marriage of convenience to a cowgirl with rodeo dreams—to get back his son in my next book, The Convenient Cowboy, coming in August from Mills & Boon American Romance.
I’ve loved writing about these strong cowgirls who lasso their men into forever with humor, heart and a sexy wiggle or two.
If you want to know more about my inspirations and musings or drop me a note, check out my website and blog at heidihormel.net (http://heidihormel.net/), where you also can sign up for my newsletter, or connect with me at facebook.com/authorheidihormel (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHeidiHormel), twitter.com/heidihormel (https://twitter.com/heidihormel) or pinterest.com/hhormel (https://www.pinterest.com/hhormel/).
Yee-haw,
Heidi Hormel
The Surgeon and the Cowgirl
Heidi Hormel
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With stints as an innkeeper, radio talk show host and craft store manager, HEIDI HORMEL settled into her true calling as a writer. She spent years as a reporter (covering the story of the rampaging elephants Debbie and Tina) and as a PR flunky (staying calm in the face of Cookiegate) before settling into penning romances with a wink and a wiggle.
A small-town girl from a place that’s been called the Snack Food Capital of the World, Heidi has trotted over a good portion of the globe, from Volcano National Park in Hawaii to Loch Ness in Scotland to the depths of Death Valley. She has also spent large chunks of time in Arizona, where she fell in love with the desert and fry bread, and in Great Britain, where she developed an unnatural obsession with jacket potatoes and toasties.
Heidi is on the web at heidihormel.net (http://www.heidihormel.net) as well as socially out there at facebook.com/authorheidihormel (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHeidiHormel), twitter.com/heidihormel (https://twitter.com/heidihormel) and pinterest.com/hhormel (https://www.pinterest.com/hhormel/).
For my patient family, friends and Mills & Boon author-mentors who have cheered me on and commiserated with me over the past five years and more, this book’s for you.
Contents
Cover (#u87e0ea36-5dcd-5874-967c-dfd64abbf349)
Back Cover Text (#ueeca6fa1-4899-5b14-be9f-27523d557a89)
Introduction (#ubb4022db-0181-5b78-880e-00f0d94f53fe)
Dear Reader (#uc0f30c44-201b-596b-94c0-279e24f629fa)
Title Page (#uff23b4d3-e0ec-5d09-a1d0-6c3b0bdbf860)
About the Author (#ufff40eb9-1adc-5b66-901f-970e6ca6394c)
Dedication (#u445d226a-4e3c-5959-b85d-11df8a2c0683)
Chapter One (#u62057f29-7a5d-5f29-a20d-a045a4fdf9e8)
Chapter Two (#u05e28551-bfa8-5495-896e-d4d5c18c078d)
Chapter Three (#u8107fe45-c562-5826-a3ba-7454c6074cdd)
Chapter Four (#ufbb67919-3a3d-54a8-91a7-412d93fe38ab)
Chapter Five (#u3a5150f7-74e7-5710-a2a5-e6dec8e391f9)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_0fa65b05-1ca8-5838-92d7-3d69a0212858)
Jessie saw the little boy slip into the corral before anyone else did. For cripes’ sake, Jessie said silently, adding a litany of choice words as she raced after him, her knee throbbing with every pounding step. The corral was home to two geldings and a mare pacing nervously.
“Alex!” the little boy’s mother screamed when the gelding trotted by him. Jessie couldn’t waste her time or her breath to tell the silly woman to keep quiet. Instead, she focused on Alex as he stumbled through the uneven dirt, agitating the horses into snorting, then lashing the air with their hooves way too close to Alex’s head.
He could have been her son; others had said so when he first came to the program. Her heart clenched every time she heard it. Alex’s warm caramel curls were streaked blond from the sun, and his eyes tilted just a little at the corners, like hers.
The horses’ hooves pounded faster as she made her way across the dusty corral. She had to get him out. Now.
“Alex, sweetie,” Jessie said softly but firmly once she was beside him. She knew her height could be overwhelming for a little guy, so she squatted next to him. Her knee popped and cracked. Years of rodeo trick riding had left her two legacies: enough money to open Hope’s Ride and battered joints. “Come on, Alex. Let’s go see Mommy.”
“No,” the little boy said with a shake of his head.
“I know you want to ride the horses, sweetie, but it’s time for you to go home. The horses need a nap,” Jessie said.
The scuffling of hooves and the wet snorts increased in pace. Even with her experience, Jessie wouldn’t be able to stop them if they got themselves into a full-out panic. She considered just grabbing Alex and running. Problem—she and running had parted ways years ago, exactly when her knee had been torn up to heck and back.
But, then, Alex suddenly took a few unsteady steps and fell. Small for his age from years of surgeries and his disease, he was at Hope’s Ride to strengthen his muscles and build his confidence. Jessie scooted forward while he righted himself to sit in the dirt, tears streaking his dusty face. She wanted to pick him up, but she knew that his manly pride-in-the-making had been bruised from his fall. Coddling from her or anyone else would lead to a full-out kicking, screaming fit. The horses paced faster, tossing their heads with agitation.
“You can give Molly her treat if you come with me now,” Jessie said, keeping her voice gentle, despite every instinct that told her to get moving. “Molly likes you best, you know. I bet she’s hoping right now that you’re the one bringing her the apple today.” Molly, Jessie’s childhood pony, had two speeds—slow and slower—making her a perfect introduction to riding for children who were reluctant to approach the large horses.
“Okay. I like Molly,” Alex said. “She gives me kisses.” He got up but didn’t move. This meant that he was willing to have help. Jessie stood, too, ignoring her protesting knee.
“Great. How about I carry you back to the fence? That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Jessie asked as she leaned down. He reached up.
She heard an increase in the snorts and pounding of hooves as the threesome rushed by. She knew that they’d stampede in seconds. The corral fence was fifteen or twenty feet away. Even if she could run, moving like that would just add to the horses’ agitation. With the big animals taking their cues from the humans around them, Jessie saw the disastrous day taking a ninety-degree turn for the worse when Alex’s mom crawled between the rails of the fence.
The woman started running, yelling and waving her arms. The idiot, Jessie thought, just as she heard the thunder of hooves coming closer and caught the glimpse of a tall man moving smoothly and surely through the fence.
The horses went into a galloping panic. Jessie stood still to create a patch of calm.
“Mommy,” Alex yelled. He wiggled against her side where he clung, drumming his dangling feet hard enough against her thigh that she loosened her grip for a moment. He broke away. She saw the gelding, Dickie, bearing down on them, his hooves huge and his eyes rimmed in white. Jessie reached out—thank God she was close enough to nab Alex. In the same motion, she folded him under her as the gelding raced over them. The large horse instinctively lifted himself to jump over the obstacle in his path. Jessie braced herself for the smack of a hoof, but Dickie had cleared them. She didn’t move. She had to protect the boy.
“Jessie, get the hell out of here,” said a familiar deep voice from behind her, followed by a strong grip on her forearm lifting her up. She scrambled to curl over and protect the little boy. Payson, her ex-husband, kept his grip on her, while Alex’s mother, who’d been pulled to the other side of the fence, was being held in place by program volunteers.
“Alex,” she said, working to break free, as panicked as the horses. She had to keep him safe. It was her job. Her responsibility.
“I’ve got him,” Payson said, easily lifting the child with his other hand. He tucked Alex under his arm. Dickie passed by again, but this time he gave them plenty of space, and the other horses were now being calmed by ranch hands.
Taller than her by a hand span, Payson moved quickly as he carried Alex and dragged her behind him, toward Alex’s mother, who openly cried. He had them out of the corral before Jessie could catch her breath. He ignored her as he turned to Alex, running his strong, lean surgeon’s hands expertly over him. It’d always amazed Jessie that Payson never intimidated children with his height. Could be his controlled calmness made them feel safe. When he was younger, his buttoned-up veneer had screamed prep school, but she’d always loved the dark intensity of his gaze, even when it reminded her of a big bad wolf eying a juicy jackrabbit.
Back in their day, when she’d see that look, she had to fight the urge to rip off her clothes and get him belly to belly in bed. And whenever she’d given in, once those starched and pressed clothes were off, she’d explored every inch of his tautly muscled body, one that always surprised her by being more cowboy than egghead. But that was back when she was young and didn’t know the difference between lust and love. A few years of living with Payson had finally taught her the yawning gap between the two.
Alex would be fine with him. Payson’s talent for healing children was the only reason he was here. Jessie would suck it up and court him to gain his hospital’s stamp of approval for her program. Once she had that, then she’d get a steady stream of patients who would make Hope’s Ride a paying operation. Right now, her dream of helping youngsters drained her savings account more and more each month.
Jessie turned away from the man and the memories. She needed to check on the horses and the other children. She also needed a few minutes to give her heart a chance to stop racing and to find a private place to have a cry.
* * *
USUALLY PAYSON STAYED focused when he was working with patients but not today. Not with Jessie limping away from him. She wore her usual jeans and a Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her cowboy boots were battered and broken in. Before the divorce—not now, of course—her casual outfit would get him hot under his suddenly tight collar. Physical closeness and sexual intensity had never been the problems in their marriage. It had been just about everything else, especially her devotion to the rodeo and her horses. He’d been amazed to hear that she’d retired from trick riding and wondered what had happened. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t his problem. She’d made that clear when she’d walked out and never looked back.
“Dr. MacCormack, are you sure he’s okay? He looks a little flushed,” Alex’s mom said, finally getting Payson’s attention by touching his arm.
“You’re just fine, aren’t you, buddy?” Payson asked the little boy standing next to him. “Bring him in tomorrow, so I can check that ligament in his arm. I’ve been meaning to do that anyway, right?”
He was sure the boy had not been hurt, but with a child like Alex, he couldn’t leave anything to chance. Since Alex’s birth, Payson had overseen the boy’s care, including the multiple surgeries he’d endured in his short life. The geneticists insisted that he was affected by an unnamed syndrome. For Alex, the vague diagnosis meant that he had fragile tendons and ligaments that tore easily and stretched so that his bones became misaligned.
Payson had been annoyed that Karin, Alex’s mom, had put him in the riding program, especially one run by his ex-wife. There were too many things that could go wrong. And he should know. He’d seen Jessie with bruises and broken bones. He knew intellectually that the therapy program had little or nothing in common with the trick riding that Jessie loved. Still, his gut insisted that the chances for recovery equaled the chances for injury. Not that his gut mattered. Evidence. Scientific evidence was all that was relevant. Jessie might run on gut and feeling, but not him.
He looked over his shoulder at his ex-wife, who hadn’t gone very far before one of the program’s volunteers stopped her. She didn’t look all that different from when they had married ten years ago—when she’d been nineteen and he twenty—in a ceremony that had given his Chanel-wearing mother heart palpitations.
Jessie’s blond-streaked hair was still long enough to pull through the back opening of her ball cap and trail down her back. She might have been a native Arizonan, but she only wore a Stetson when she was riding in the rodeo parade. He didn’t need to be close to know that her eyes remained the smoky green of sagebrush. She might be tall and thin, but muscles, earned every day by riding, cleaning stalls and moving hay bales, gave her a shape that filled out her jeans and her pearl-buttoned shirt.
Not that those curves affected him anymore. Obviously. When he had the time and interest to start dating, he’d choose a woman who moved in the same circles as his family, a woman who wore stilettos and never dusty, scarred boots. He might not be close to his parents, the way Jessie was with hers, but finding an “appropriate” woman might help him find common ground with his mother and father.
“Molly,” Alex said. “I want to give Molly her apple. Miss Jessie promised.”
Payson could hear the rising hysteria in Alex’s voice. Why wasn’t the boy’s mother calming him? Instead, Karin fluttered around and looked at Payson to intervene.
“Next time, Alex,” Jessie said as she neared them. “Molly understands that you need to go home today. How about you wave goodbye?”
“No,” Alex said and shook his head. “I want to give Molly her apple.”
With more fluttering from Karin, Alex’s face got redder. Payson picked up the boy, thinking briefly that he could’ve had a child around Alex’s age. His and Jessie’s child. “Which one?” he asked shortly.
Jessie didn’t say a word but moved off slowly. He followed, refusing to notice how her Wrangler jeans outlined the shift and roll of her muscles. Alex chattered and Payson nodded absently during the mercifully short walk.
“Wave goodbye, Alex,” Jessie said. The little boy waved his arm and a fat Shetland pony that looked vaguely familiar raised her head and gave a long friendly whinny on cue, followed by a bouncing jog to the fence.
Alex wanted more, though, and wiggled and squirmed until Payson finally put him on his own feet. The boy, holding tight to Payson’s hand, walked to where the pony had its nose forced between the slats of the fence.
“She wants to give me a kiss,” Alex explained as they neared. The boy put his cheek to the pony’s lips, and Molly nibbled gently, making the boy squeal in delight. Payson braced himself for the animal to bite Alex or lash out with a hoof. Instead, the pony looked as though she was smiling as she pulled away and shook her mane into place. Her head came back through the fence and Alex tugged on Payson’s arm. “She wants to kiss you now.”
“It’s time to go,” Payson said.
“No. Molly wants to kiss you.”
“Yes, Payson,” Jessie said, laughter clear in her voice. “Molly likes giving kisses.”
“No. She only likes to kiss little boys, and I’m not a little boy,” he answered. No way was he letting that pony near him with its mouth or any other body part. Molly’s lips smacked together, and Alex tugged on him again. “Fine. I’ll let her give me a kiss if Miss Jessie gives me a kiss, too.”
He knew it was a challenge. One he was sure that Jessie would decline. Instead, she snapped, “No problem.” Her surprisingly soft lips curled into an evil grin.
Payson leaned over so the pony could touch her lips to his cheek. The smell of oats and molasses wafted over him as the little animal chuffed a breath across his face. He pulled back quickly. Jessie grinned. He reached up his hand to check his face. Slimy pony slobber. He strode forward before Jessie could move and wiped his cheek on hers. She laughed, and he covered her mouth with his to wipe that smirk off her face. Their lips met, and hers parted and softened. Damn. His hand moved down her back, and he pulled her close.
“Dr. Mac, Dr. Mac, I want to go now.”
Saved by the kid, Payson thought. No way he resented that. He and Jessie were over long ago. Having his heart ripped out once was more than enough. “Sure, Alex. Let’s go.” He easily swung the boy up into his arms and carried him to his mother’s car.
He knew what—if he went with his knee-jerk reaction—he’d tell the hospital administration about the program: therapy riding posed an imminent danger to patients. He’d seen a youngster miss being trampled by inches. He would not talk about what had happened to his brain when he saw Jessie go into that corral. Time had stopped. That usually only happened during surgery, when everything went away except the small field of skin exposed by draped hospital fabric. When the seconds stretched out, making each of his movements deliberate and slow. Often after surgery, he was surprised by the amount of time that had passed.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Jessie asked as they watched the boy and his mom drive away.
“Yes,” he said tightly, not willing to argue with her about safety right now. “What about you? What’s up with your knee?”
“Nothing.” She shifted, and the silence stretched between them, tense and heated. “I want to invite you to come back another day. Alex is doing really well out here. In fact, so well that he’s starting to misbehave because he has the strength and confidence.”
Jessie’s gaze didn’t waver as she looked at him. Double damn. It was as hard saying no to her as to Alex, which was exactly why he’d been reluctant to evaluate this program. On the other hand, when the administration “asked” a doctor to do something, it was never good for his career to refuse. Now that he was involved, he needed to step back and act like the scientist he was. Could he formulate any conclusions after only one visit? He really hadn’t had a chance to assess the program before Alex’s great escape. Spending more time with Jessie and her program was strictly in the interest of research.
“My schedule is full for the next week,” he said in his professional voice. “Call me at the hospital and talk with my office manager. Maybe she can find time in two or three weeks.”
Payson watched Jessie’s face change from resolute to angry. “Two or three weeks? This is important, Payson.”
“I know, but so are my patients. I have operations back-to-back, and then clinic and—”
“You don’t have to tell me. I know.”
He could see she was both upset and disappointed. “Before I go, I want to check that knee.”
“I’m fine.”
“Who’s the doctor here?” It was a familiar argument and one that could almost make him smile. They had teased each other often like that early in their marriage, until those teasing comments had become angry barbs. He stepped toward her, and she didn’t back up. He could smell Jessie’s seductive scent, a mix of hay, desert mesquite and Ivory soap. He’d discovered on their third or fourth date that just a brief whiff aroused him. If he’d thought the kiss had gotten him hot, it was nothing compared to her fragrance. He looked at her and saw a flush on her face that wasn’t from the sun.
He made himself step back. They were divorced. “You should use ice followed by heat. Take a double dose of ibuprofen today and tomorrow morning and that should keep the swelling down and help with the pain.”
“Thanks, Doc,” she said. “I’ll call the office.”
“You do that. I’ve got to go.”
She put her hand on his arm to stop him from turning. “He really is a great kid, Payson. He’s been doing so well. At first he was weak and scared, but now he’s walking more often and his balance is thirty percent improved. The therapy works.”
“I said I’d come back,” he answered, not wanting to argue with her, rail at her that he’d also seen Alex almost get trampled to death. He’d learned a few things in their years apart, including how to keep his temper in check. What he hadn’t learned was how to erase the memory of her curled against him when they were alone and in their big old-fashioned sleigh bed—the bed he still slept in. There were nights when the dreams were so real he’d wake up and reach for her. When he felt the coolness of the empty sheets, he wanted to cry or punch the wall.
He needed to sell that bed.
Chapter Two (#ulink_3e1c494d-c34d-5e25-a305-477035ccb537)
Jessie glared at Payson, who was sitting across from her three weeks after his disastrous visit in his version of cowboy casual—a pressed and starched shirt tucked into equally stiff, dark denims. It was wrong to iron jeans, as she had told him more than once, and it was wrong for her to think he looked sexy.
They were in her small office that was crammed into the corner of one of the barns. Usually the scents of hay and horse kept her calm and focused. Not today. Three years divorced, and he could still make her mad enough to see red. What did she tell the kids to do when they were angry? Walk away. Well, she didn’t have a choice about that this time. Payson had just announced that if she wanted the hospital to endorse her program, then he was sticking around.
“Your neck is red and not from the sun,” he said softly, his mouth curling a little as his coffee-colored eyes gleamed with a wry humor. “Are you upset?”
She waited for him to laugh. One snort. One chortle and she was taking him down. She regularly wrestled with a half ton of horse. “I am surprised. A barn is the last place I expected you to want to hang out,” she said.
“Times change.”
“You mean it’s snowing in hell.”
“I would think you’d watch your language with all of these children around.”
She didn’t want to fight with him, but he definitely knew which buttons to push. “Do you have any ideas on how you would like to carry out your observations?”
“You mean besides stand and watch?” he asked and grinned.
She worked not to smile back at that smart-ass answer. Those sorts of comments had gotten him into trouble on a regular basis when they were younger. Of course, there were times when the verbal battle that followed such remarks would lead directly to a horizontal two-step, but she was not going there today...or any other day, she told her racing heart. She calmly said, “We’re using the indoor ring. That would probably be the best place to start.”
Payson had told her that he would observe again today. After that, he and the team from the hospital would be at the ranch nearly full-time to see how the program aligned with medical standards. Jessie had never expected that the hospital would take such a hands-on approach, but if she wanted to keep Hope’s Ride operating, she had to accept the invasion. She’d try to cooperate. She really would. It was just tough with Payson as the one coordinating the study by the hospital.
He stood and waited. She got up and limped off through the barn. It had been weeks since her tussle with Alex and the horse, but her knee refused to stop aching. Being short-handed at the ranch hadn’t helped her condition. She’d been doing more than usual, and going to the doctor was out of the question. Until Hope’s Ride made money, Jessie had only the most basic insurance.
Payson followed her, making her even more self-conscious about her gait. In the past, when he’d walked behind her, he’d said it was so he could enjoy how she filled out a pair of jeans. She doubted that was what he felt right now.
“Here’s the indoor ring,” Jessie said. She would pretend he was a donor who was thinking about supporting Hope’s Ride. That would give her the right attitude. “The afternoon sessions are for the younger children who aren’t in school yet.”
He looked at his watch. “I have a consultation at three, so that gives us an hour.”
Jessie almost made a snarky comment. Paste on a smile and be polite, she firmly told herself. She could do that for the next hour. She could do that for however long it was going to take to save Hope’s Ride.
She explained briefly what the volunteers were doing and each child’s therapy plan. Payson asked questions, but his gaze was intent on the children. They stood side by side for a few moments. She could smell the tartness of the starch from his shirt and clearly remembered what that innocent-looking cotton hid. She would not think about how that scent had invaded her senses when Alex made them kiss.
She refused to remember how he had touched her in their big comfortable bed—a whimsical monstrosity that Payson had bought for her because she’d refused to have a diamond ring. During the divorce, she’d told him nastily that she didn’t want anything from their marriage, especially that “stupid” bed. Less than a year later, a stumble by Candy Cane, her Appaloosa, had changed her life as much as marrying Payson at nineteen had. While her damaged knee functioned pretty well, it wasn’t 100 percent and never would be. She’d had to retire from the rodeo.
After a month of sitting at her folks’ house in Tucson and feeling sorry for herself, her parents placed a firm, but kindly, foot on her butt, encouraging her to open Hope’s Ride. The program had been in her someday plans after seeing riding therapy in action at a farm in Ohio. So, after paying her medical bills, she’d used a chunk of her savings along with a little bit of help from her parents and their friends in the rodeo “family” to get started.
Now, every month had become a balancing act of draining her savings as she tried to put off creditors until the payments came in. The problem was that the payments weren’t covering all of the expenses now, and her savings were nearly gone.
“Each of the volunteers and paid staff go through extensive training,” she told Payson. “The mounts have all been donated. We test each one before any child is allowed on. You can see that each rider has a helmet and helpers. It’s very safe. The movement of the horse forces them to—”
“What conditions do you treat?” he asked, interrupting her.
He was a “donor” she reminded herself, and explained the current program and her hopes for expansion. After another five minutes of observation, he suggested that they move on. She took him to the outdoor facilities and to a small room where the children and their caregivers regularly met to speak with the two other therapeutic riding instructors, both of whom were certified. She had help from a couple of part-timers to care for the stock and everyone else volunteered their time and expertise to help the children. She took him into the horse barn. It was empty except for a cat and flies that buzzed lazily in the air.
“The older riders are expected to help care for the horses,” Jessie said.
“Free labor, huh?”
“No, Payson, the children, especially the teens, need that kind of responsibility. They don’t have a lot of confidence in their own abilities. Caring for the horses shows them that they have a lot more going on than they think.”
“Plus a rider always takes care of her own horse,” he said, nodding a little as he repeated the words she’d told him often enough.
“Yep. There’s that, too. It’s also a chance for the kids to really bond with the horses. It’s an important part of the therapy.”
The tour was over, and they were standing in the aisle of the barn. Even with the sun streaming in through the stalls, it was dim, the concrete floor keeping the space cool. Jessie couldn’t see Payson’s expression, but his stance was taut. She shifted to give her knee a rest.
He took her arm and said, “That’s it. You’re going to let me look at that knee.”
She started to pull away but his fingers tightened. Her arm tingled where he touched her skin. “It’s fine, Payson.”
“It is not fine. You were limping the last time I was here, and you’re still limping.”
“I have an appointment for next week.”
“No, you don’t. You’re lying. You turned your head,” he said.
Darn it. How could she have forgotten that he knew her better than anyone else?
“You’re a kid doctor. I’m an adult,” she said.
“A knee is a knee. Do we have to go through this again? I wanted to look at it the last time I was here.”
“I said no then, too. You don’t owe me anything, Payson.”
“Who said anything about owing you?” he asked. “I’m trying to fulfill my duty as a physician.”
* * *
PAYSON GRITTED HIS TEETH. Why did Jessie have to make things so hard? She had this idea that if she didn’t do things herself, people would never respect her. So, here they were glaring at each other. The way she favored her leg, it must be excruciating.
When they’d been married, she’d often ridden with something pulled or strained. Jessie was used to being hurt and not showing it. He remembered her eyes shining with tears more than once and her fighting to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. The code of the rodeo, she’d told him. “You don’t let people see you cry no matter how much you hurt.” It was all about respect. That was what was driving her to limp around on a knee that needed rest and attention.
He glanced at his watch. He was already late for his consult, and he tried to ignore the hitch in his stomach from the same tug of war that had strained their marriage: patients or Jessie. With more heat than he intended, he said, “You need to have that checked out.”
“I will if it doesn’t get any better.”
He followed her from the barn, his concern as a physician fighting with his intense arousal as he watched her tall, lithe body shift under her just-tight-enough clothing. In the old days, even when he’d been exhausted during his surgical residency, following her around like this would have made him hot enough to not care about schedules or exams. He would have dragged her into one of the stalls and...
Why would he remember any of their marriage fondly? Sure, it had been amazing when their problems could be solved by a little time together in bed. When they had to deal with the real problems, grown-up problems, everything fell apart.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. I’ll be done with rounds by then,” he said as he got into his Range Rover.
“I’ll have the releases you requested ready and the therapy plans, too. ’Bye,” she said and turned without another word.
He jammed the SUV into Drive and gravel spit from his tires.
* * *
AS HELEN, HIS office manager, laid out the medication and instruments he requested, she said, “A doctor who makes house calls? Wait till I tell your other patients, they’ll be lining up.”
“Thank you,” Payson said, giving her an aggravated look.
“Oooh, the Dr. Mac evil eye. I’m so scared,” she said and laughed. “Based on what’s being said in the halls, I’m guessing this has to do with Jessie?” Her voice had gone from joking to aggravated.
“The grapevine is pretty quick,” Payson said. He was irked that he and Jessie were being discussed, but it was a hospital. There was no way to stop the rumors. He needed to stay focused on his final goal: becoming director of pediatrics. It had been made clear to him that moving up at the hospital now depended on the success of the program. He and his team were expected to bring Hope’s Ride into compliance with the hospital’s goals and policies.
“It’s a practical thing,” he explained to Helen. “She’s got to be at a hundred percent if I want to get her program integrated with ours.” He saw Helen start to open her mouth and he looked at her from beneath slightly lowered brows. That one gesture had been known to quiet children in a full tantrum. “She injured her knee saving Alex Suarez. Even you have to agree that examining her is the least I can do as a doctor. I’m sure she doesn’t have very good insurance. Plus, I need to speak with her about the hospital’s requirements.”
“I would guess that there are hundreds of doctors in the greater Phoenix area who would treat her,” Helen said. She straightened the stacks of paper on his desk, her mouth tight and disapproving. Payson imagined it was how a mother would look when her child had acted up. His own mother had always let the nanny or school take care of it when Payson or his brother misbehaved.
“I’ve got to finish up,” Helen said. “My son has a lacrosse game this afternoon.”
When she left, Payson focused on the consult he’d just had and the endless paperwork for his other patients. He knew that, as director of pediatrics, most of his day would be filled with paperwork like this. That was the downside. As he’d told Helen again and again, he could be more effective in helping care for children as director. What he would never admit was that by becoming an administrator and sacrificing what he really loved—performing surgery—he might finally make up for not being able to save the one small life that had mattered more to him than any other.
* * *
JESSIE SAT STIFFLY in her office chair as Payson pressed and poked her knee. She’d only agreed to let him check the joint after he’d refused to continue the evaluation of Hope’s Ride until she let him examine her. She wanted to squirm away but felt stupid because he didn’t seem affected by nearly lying in her lap as he prodded the knee. Her skin prickled with awareness and she ground her teeth against the moan...of pain. Definitely pain.
“When are you going to have this knee replaced?” he asked as he sat back on his heels.
She relaxed a little. “I’m not. At least, not until I’m ninety.”
“You’re dreaming. I’m sure the surgeon told you that this reconstruction was temporary at best. That knee will need to be replaced. Probably sooner rather than later,” Payson said as he put away his instruments and kept his back to her.
“It works fine for what I do now. I just tweaked it helping Alex. Now, can we get started? The kids are waiting for us,” she said. She went to the door, trying hard not to limp.
Payson followed her outdoors, where children were preparing to mount up. The pony, Molly, trotted around the ring, herding stragglers toward the volunteers and caregivers. The hospital observers stood clear of all the commotion. It took a good fifteen minutes to get the children settled and the therapy started. Even so, there were stops for tears and more than one potty break.
“Is this how the program usually operates? I don’t remember observing this sort of chaos previously,” Payson asked.
“More or less. We’re careful to not push the children too hard. They are fairly new to riding. We don’t want to make them hate it before they discover the joy,” Jessie said.
“There definitely needs to be more structure,” he said as he made a notation.
“I understand why you may think that, but I am trained, you know. I’ve found that—”
“I understand that you took, what, a one-year course?” Payson asked without looking up.
He made it sound as if she didn’t know what she was doing, just like when they’d been married.
He went on as he closed his notebook and looked her in the eye. “I wanted to let you know that I had a meeting this morning before I came out here. There are additional concerns about the program and the affiliation.”
“You mean concerns that you brought up. I should have known there was no way you would give the program a fair evaluation.”
“I’m not any more thrilled about this situation than you are. It has been made completely clear to me that to become director of pediatrics, I’ve got to work with you to get this program ready for an affiliation with the hospital.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Jessie, language.”
“I only swear when you’re around.”
“I doubt that,” he said and looked out over the ring. The youngsters rode slowly with big grins on their faces. “I gave a brief report this morning to the committee, and they decided that their involvement needs to be more extensive.”
“Than what? You’re here with who knows how many others. I lost count,” Jessie said.
“I’m going to bottom-line it. The hospital will be overseeing the program while all of the departments do their evaluations and make their recommendations for changes and upgrades to increase efficiency and effectiveness.”
“Payson, please follow me,” Jessie said tightly. She could not have this conversation anywhere near the children because she was going to be yelling and possibly committing murder. When they were fifty feet from the corral, she turned to him. “This is my program. I know I contacted you, but just to ask who I should talk to at the hospital. I never asked for you to take over. You always have to be the one in control, don’t you? You can’t let me do this on my own. It’s just like when we were married. You were always trying to improve things—like telling me I should go to college and diagramming the most economical way to do laundry.”
“Jessie, if I want to be named the director I’ve got to make this program work for the hospital. It’ll be good for you, too. There are a number of departments that are chomping at the bit—pardon the pun—to use your program. It doesn’t hurt that, according to the public relations guy, Hope’s Ride will make the hospital look ‘progressive and forward thinking.’”
“So the children don’t matter? It’s all about image and your promotion? I’m the one in charge here. It’s my program,” she said, hoping she sounded stronger than she felt. Had she hoped he’d come back for her? Not to climb up the hospital rungs?
“Jessie, if you don’t work with me and the others, the hospital will cut off any association. I know a few doctors have given the program a try. They will take away their patients and no one else will refer children to you. It won’t take long for word to get around that there must be something wrong since Desert Valley Hospital won’t refer anyone.”
If she wanted her program to continue, she had to give in. If she were a millionaire, like the members of the hospital’s board, she could tell them to take a flying leap.
“By the way, I did convince the hospital to give you a stipend out of my budget while I run the program.”
“Excuse me. Back up. You’re going to be doing what?”
“I’ll be in charge of Hope’s Ride while the hospital staff is here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re going to be my boss?”
Chapter Three (#ulink_256f595a-6fff-58b7-acc0-e1acd47976b5)
“I won’t exactly be your boss,” Payson said.
“You’re paying me. You’re telling me what to do. Seems like that’s exactly what a boss does,” Jessie fired back.
He was wary because when she was upset, she sometimes acted before she thought. “If you want the hospital to list you as an endorsed program, you’re going to have to accept this condition for now.”
“Fine. I’m sure you’re happy, Dr. Control Freak.”
“If I were your boss, comments like that would get you fired,” he said, only half-joking.
“Good thing that you’re not ‘exactly’ my boss then.”
“Maybe setting some ground rules would help. I’ll give you a written list of the protocols that will need to be followed. That’s not my choice. It’s the hospital’s rules.” He saw her lips go from full to thin and waited for the explosion.
“I understand,” she finally said, not looking any less annoyed but sounding...resigned.
“Great. That’s a start,” he said.
Her capitulation didn’t make him feel like they were on better footing. He didn’t want her program to fail. He’d never wished that anything bad would happen to Jessie—at least, not anymore. The first few months after the divorce, he might have hoped that she’d have to ride rodeo in Siberia.
They talked for a few more minutes. By the end of the conversation, Payson thought there was a good chance that the two of them could work together with minimal conflict. He hoped so, because his future had been firmly tied to Jessie’s by the hospital. “Tomorrow, we’ll plan for the team from physical therapy to observe. They talked about wanting to stay for two weeks, then they’ll make recommendations. At that point, we’ll discuss how to assess the success of those improvements.”
“Improvements? Yeah, I can already see the improvements, like making sure that you don’t let the kids actually near the horses, or filling out useless forms because you want to have documentation.”
“Jessie, there are certain standards that must be met, but I’m sure we can find compromises. That’s why we’re here—to determine the best way to proceed and benefit both of us,” Payson said, wondering if that sounded as pompous as it did in his head.
“Save the bullsh—you know what. I know there’s no use arguing with you. I’ll save it for the therapists. I have a feeling they’ll be more reasonable anyway,” she said and went on before he could protest. “I’d like to set up an orientation for all of your staff. I know they know their jobs but most won’t have worked around horses. Even my volunteers who are horse people have to go through orientation. It keeps everyone safe. Why don’t you join the first group—that’ll let everyone know how important it is.”
Was she suggesting that he wasn’t taking the collaboration seriously? “Absolutely,” he said. “Administration 101—lead by example.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, looking at him oddly.
In the spirit of working together, he didn’t comment. He didn’t have the time anyway. They were largely silent as they headed to his Range Rover, when Jessie said tentatively, “Alex’s next therapy session might be a good chance for you to observe.”
He paused and wondered if this was a Jessie-style olive branch. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Great. See you at orientation,” she said.
“See you then,” he said. They stood by his SUV. Jessie scuffed the dirt with her boot. Should he shake her hand? No. Even that small contact would stay with him the rest of the day, making him aware that his physical desire for her—and that’s all it was, he assured himself—hadn’t gotten the memo about the divorce and the three years apart. He did wave as he bumped down the lane.
* * *
“EVERYTHING’S FINE, MAMA,” Jessie said patiently into her cell. “The hospital is really happy with the program. It won’t take long for them to give me the okay.”
“If you need money, you let Daddy and me know,” her mother said.
Jessie would only accept more money if the horses were going hungry. Her parents and everyone else had already helped her so much—she couldn’t ask them for anything more. “I’m good, Mama.”
“Are you sure? I know it’s gotta be tough working with Payson. I know how badly he hurt you,” her mother said, a tsk in her voice. Her mother had been equally disappointed with Jessie and Payson when the marriage had ended.
Jessie didn’t want to talk about what had happened. She’d let go of the sadness and the resentment—she’d been sure—or she’d never have called Payson about Hope’s Ride. Since he’d shown up, she’d been replaying their marriage, both good and bad. It all got on her last nerve. “Mama, Payson and I are doing fine. This is about Hope’s Ride and him moving up at the hospital. It’s just business.”
“Mm-hmm,” her mother said. “I’m not too partial to those TV advice doctors, but you know they’re always asking people, ‘How will that work for you?’ So, how do you think that’s going to work?”
“I told you, it’s business.”
“That’s what you said. But, really, darlin’, how can it ever be strictly business between the two of you?”
“We’re divorced, Mama. That’s all there is.”
“You know how I feel about that divorce,” her mama said, “but that horse left the barn years ago. Do you think this is your chance to settle things between you? You know, talk about—”
“We are not talking about the past. That’s over. This is about Hope’s Ride.”
“Is it in the past? Why did you call Payson in the first place?”
Jessie knew this answer. “Because he works at the best pediatric hospital in the valley.”
“Mmm-hmm. What about that teaching hospital that was looking for programs that use alternative therapies? I remember Daddy tellin’ you about it. He saw it on the news.”
“Desert Valley is better,” Jessie said stubbornly.
“Darlin’, that may be true, too, but that’s not why you called Payson.”
“It’s the only reason, Mama. Hope’s Ride needs to be endorsed by and affiliated with only the best hospital. Plus a lot of my kids have doctors there.”
“And at every other hospital in the valley. You are a very smart girl. Even you should be able to figure out why you called on Payson when you were in trouble.”
“It’s business, Mama,” Jessie said, and even she could hear the desperation in her voice. Business was the only reason. She was over Payson. She was the one who’d filed for the divorce, for goodness’ sake. “Having Desert Valley’s stamp of approval will give me a cushion and let me expand in a few years, branch out to help more children.”
“Any hospital could have given you that cushion.”
“Mama, I have to go. I have orientation for the hospital staff today, and then we’ve got a full day of therapy,” Jessie broke in.
Her mother gave a gusty sigh. “Baby girl, you know I love you no matter what. But I swear you and Payson need your heads knocked together. Just business. Not likely. Now, you go and get to work.”
It was hard to get her mother’s voice out of her thoughts. In the dark days when Jessie had been considering divorce, Mama had counseled against it. Instead, she said that Jessie and Payson needed to talk and maybe see a professional. Jessie had tried to follow that advice, but it didn’t help that when they could actually find time to talk, one of them was always tired and distracted. Their discussions quickly broke down into hurtful fights.
Then Jessie stopped asking her mama for advice and went to visit a divorce lawyer. She had just wanted the pain to end. Perhaps now she could admit that, as she signed her name to the papers, Jessie had known that she and Payson still had unfinished business.
* * *
“I THINK THAT went well,” Jessie said to Payson as they ended the orientation later in the day. “Even you seemed comfortable around the horses.”
“Why are you so surprised? It wasn’t like it was the first time I was ever around a horse,” he said, giving her a lowered-brow look that was supposed to intimidate her.
“Dr. Mac.” Alex’s little-boy voice carried easily from where he was getting out of his mother’s car and into his wheelchair, which was a sure sign that Alex was having a bad day. “Dr. Mac. You came to see me ride.” He bounced in his seat and a grin stretched across his face. His brush with near disaster hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm for the horses.
“Sure thing, buddy,” Payson said.
Jessie was surprised. He’d told her that he was leaving right after the orientation session because he had a stack of paperwork back at the hospital. She’d been relieved. Without him around, she didn’t have to think of the interrupted conversations that she knew they needed to continue. Even in the face of Alex’s excitement, a part of her wanted to tell Payson to go—the part that recalled vividly every caress they had ever shared and the part that still got disconcertingly hot and bothered when their arms accidentally brushed or he stood near enough for her to catch the fresh scent of his shaving cream. She said nothing.
“I get to feed Molly her apple today. Miss Jessie promised. ’Member I didn’t get to before when you were here and then Mommy wouldn’t let me come and now Mommy said this is the last time I’m coming to see Molly, so I gotta give her the apple.”
“Your last time?” Payson asked quietly.
Alex pulled on Payson’s arm to get him to lean closer and whispered in a voice that still carried to Jessie. “Mommy said that I couldn’t come anymore ’cause they said that there wasn’t no more money for riding.”
Jessie looked at the little boy’s mother and saw her eyes swimming in tears. “Come on, Alex,” Jessie said, getting behind his wheelchair. “We’ve been waiting for you. You ready to ride?”
“Yep,” Alex said.
“Are you sure? You got your boots?”
He stretched out a foot. “Yep,” he said. This was a game that he and Jessie sometimes played.
“What about jeans? You got your riding jeans on?”
“Yep. Mommy forgot to wash them, but they don’t stink too bad.”
Jessie leaned over and took a deep sniff. “I don’t know. You smell like...road apples,” she said with a grin.
“Miss Jessie, what’s that? Is that the kind of apple that Molly likes?” Alex asked.
Jessie hesitated, looking back at Payson to see if he’d heard the exchange. He was in deep conversation with Alex’s mother. It didn’t really matter if he’d heard, she told herself, because Payson wouldn’t remember her teasing him about road apples and how it had led to their first date. She was the only one who kept being blindsided by memories of their time together.
Jessie couldn’t stop her smile as she explained to Alex that “road apples” was a different way to say horse poop.
He giggled. “Horse doody don’t look like apples.”
“I guess to whoever made that up, it did,” she said. “Time to get riding.” She could see his brain continuing to work on the mystery. As she helped Alex onto his mount, she wondered if this would be his last time. Maybe not. Kids often said things that weren’t true because they didn’t understand what the adults around them were really saying. She tried not to play favorites, but there was something about Alex that tugged at her heart. She couldn’t view him as just another patient. How did Payson do this on a regular basis? How did he work with these children and not get his heart ripped out when he couldn’t help them or, heaven forbid, they died?
* * *
PAYSON WATCHED ALEX find his body’s center as Jessie placed him on a small horse for his therapy session. He was beaming. Obviously, sitting on a horse was better than anything that even Santa could’ve brought him. Payson had spoken with Karin about Alex’s comments and discovered the foundation that had been covering the cost of the therapy had to make some tough decisions about what they would fund. Alex and his riding hadn’t made the cut.
While Payson may not have been completely convinced of riding’s therapeutic outcomes, he could see that there was a psychological benefit in Alex’s case. Recently, the little boy had been more positive about his limitations and even more willing to do his conventional therapy. Payson needed actual research before formally agreeing that Hope’s Ride made a difference for patients’ physical recovery and progress, but in some very specific cases, he could see that the therapy did influence outlook and attitude. The question was whether that improvement made the program worthy of affiliation with a hospital like Desert Valley. If it did, money situations such as Alex’s would likely go away.
“Let me give the foundation a call,” Payson had finally told Karin as tears streaked down her face. “I’m not promising anything, but maybe I can give them the assurance they need.”
“Dr. MacCormack, if you call them, I know they won’t say no.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’ll certainly see what I can do,” he said, and then asked her questions about Alex’s recent regression to the wheelchair. He hadn’t seen anything on the X-rays after the boy’s fall and nearly getting run over by the horse, but Payson worried there was something that had not shown up immediately. Karin explained that Alex had insisted on the chair because he wanted to save all of his strength for the riding and for feeding Molly. Payson had to smile at Alex’s determination to figure out how to work around his illness with as little fuss as possible. Once again, he had to admit that his patient’s improved attitude could be attributed to Hope’s Ride.
When the session ended, Alex broke into a song that he’d made up on the spot about feeding Molly her apples and getting pony kisses. Payson went to him, while Karin stayed in the arena talking with one of the therapists and another mother.
“Dr. Mac,” Alex said. “Are you going to kiss Miss Jessie again?”
“Not this time. And no kisses from Molly, either,” he said, hoping that would quiet the boy. He was pretty sure he heard Jessie chuckle.
At the fence, the pony jammed her head between the rails, her lips smacking in anticipation of the apple in Alex’s hand. The adults stood a few steps away as Alex fed the pony and talked with her. He told her that he wouldn’t be back, but that she shouldn’t be sad. “There are other little boys and girls who will give you apples,” Alex told her, his voice quavering just a little. “Mommy said that someday we’ll come out to visit but that might not be for a little while.”
Payson had learned not to react to emotion from his patients and their parents. With Alex, he felt his heart wrench with every tear. He desperately wanted to tell his young patient that everything would be fine and that he’d be coming to Hope’s Ride as usual. But Payson shouldn’t make that promise. If he were director of pediatrics, then he would have leverage to get a “yes” to this and a lot of other options for his patients.
“Don’t worry, Alex,” he said, squatting beside the boy. “Mommy and I are working to see to it that you’ll be back soon. You can work hard on your therapy at the hospital, and I bet you’ll do even better the next time you’re here.”
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“Yep. No need for you to worry,” Payson said, avoiding looking at Jessie. He also didn’t think about the fact that he might just be lying to the boy, and what would happen if he couldn’t convince the foundation to pay for the treatment. “Do you think Molly’s done with her apple? Your mommy’s waiting for you.”
“See you, Molly,” Alex said, and patted the pony. His smile reached ear to ear. “’Bye, Miss Jessie.” He raised his arms for a hug. Payson saw her eyes close as she lifted the boy off the ground and squeezed him tight. When she put him down, Payson was stunned by the pain on her face.
As Alex made his way toward his mother, Payson stepped up to Jessie. “The foundation that helps pay for Alex’s therapy is withholding funds, according to Karin. I’ll give them a call. I’m sure that something can be worked out.”
Turning from him, Jessie said, “He’s not the first child who’s had to stop coming. Unfortunately, I’m sure he won’t be the last. That’s why Desert Valley is so important. More places would help out if the hospital gave us its Good Doctoring Seal of Approval.”
“I’m making the call to the foundation, Jessie.” His time at Hope’s Ride had totally messed with his schedule and now his brain was sorting through what he would face when he finally got back to his office. Helen had left six messages and sent him ten texts. The last said, Get your @ss in here.
“You’ll make the call today. You won’t forgot once you get back to the hospital,” Jessie said when she caught him at his vehicle.
“I said I’d do it,” he snapped, a little tired of her acting as if he was the bad guy around here.
“Make sure that you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you don’t believe in this program, and you’re just here so that you can get some meaningless title,” she said.
“Meaningless? It will mean control over how the children at this hospital are treated. It will mean being able to help more children, being able to offer newer, more effective treatments. And, to do it, I’ve been scaling back on surgery, which I—” He shook his head before going on. “I’ve taken on more administrative roles at the hospital. Your program...has changed my plan.”
“Of course. Can’t mess with the great doctor’s plans. Pushing papers is much more important than actually helping the kids.”
What the hell? Didn’t she understand what it had been like for him to have to say no to children and their parents as he’d started to make the transition to administration? “I was told that this was a ‘good trial’ to see how I would do as a director because I’ll be more or less coordinating the different staffs coming out to the program. If I get this right, I’ll have control over all care in pediatrics.”
“Now we get to the meat of it. You want to be in control, like always. Haven’t you learned anything? These are children, not science experiments.”
“I won’t apologize for looking for empirical evidence that your program and therapies make a difference. And I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for being a scientist.”
“Exactly how are you going to measure happiness, huh?” Jessie said.
“By how well the children are doing on their physical tests and evaluations. The hospital can’t base treatments on unicorns and rainbows. There has to be hard data. Do you think that I can tell parents that this is a treatment that will make their child smile? We don’t know if it will help him walk again, but isn’t it more important that he’s smiling? Yes, that’s exactly what parents want to hear from their doctor.” She was really starting to tick him off.
“You told me that medicine is as much an art as a science. When did you change your mind about that?”
Of all of the things that she would remember from his time as a student, why was that it? He’d thought that way early in his studies, when he’d been full of himself. “I was wrong. It’s only about science. I’ve got to go. We can have this discussion another day when I have data to show you.”
“I’ll hold you to that and I’ll expect an apology when you find out that I’m right. That the smiles are just as important as the positive MRIs.”
“It’s a bet.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_5a883116-22b5-57c6-8da1-94a75d3bedf5)
Two weeks into the “collaboration” with Desert Valley, Jessie wanted to give everyone the boot, from Payson to his team of experts—experts at being a pain in Jessie’s backside. She should have known that the orientation had gone too smoothly to be true. So far, the physical therapists had insisted that they needed another two weeks of observations, and the occupational therapists were still determining how they would “implement the use of adaptive devices.” The hospital’s risk-management adviser had had the vapors when he’d seen the horses and the carts that they used for the children who couldn’t walk. The man had actually had to sit down when the dogs and assorted barn cats rubbed against his pressed khakis.
Of course, the bank called and asked when they could expect the next payment on the line of credit that she’d taken out to buy supplies. Jessie was only a few days past due, but the bank didn’t care. She owed. She had to pay. This would have been simple enough if the money hadn’t been coming in at a trickle and going out like a fire hose. Jessie had also hoped to borrow a little more money until things turned around. The bank had said clearly and with no hesitation: No.
She’d tried talking with each of the team leaders from the hospital with the goal of getting a commitment to end the observation ASAP and get the hospital’s endorsement within weeks instead of months. With the hospital on board, Jessie was sure she could go back to the bank to get more credit, which would allow her to take care of her $10,000 balloon payment. Each hospital staffer had succinctly laid out a timeline and emphasized that there was no way to cut one observation or one data collection. Hope’s Ride was something totally new to them. They had to be completely sure of its validity and safety. There were no shortcuts.
“What evil idea are you hatching?” Payson asked. They were sitting in the arena watching the children ride, including the recently reinstated Alex.
“No evil idea,” she said absently. Could she ask the hospital’s therapists to do chores? Like clean the stables? That would mean fewer hours for her paid staff. She hated to cut their wages, but the situation was dire.
“If it involves road apples, it’s evil.”
Jessie startled herself with her own laughter. “It wasn’t my fault you were a city boy and didn’t know that road apples had nothing to do with trees.”
“My mother had the cook go to six grocery stores looking for them. You told me they were an ancient Native American ‘growth enhancer.’ And I heard you telling Alex about them. Still teasing us city kids, huh?”
Jessie couldn’t keep from grinning. She and Payson had known each other since high school, when more often than not they’d needled each other. “You got me back.”
“I did?”
“Sure. In biology lab, you convinced me that, according to my blood type, there was no way that my mama and daddy were my parents. Mrs. Lakewood gave me detention for yelling ‘You’re a damned liar’ at you.”
“That doesn’t count. You punched me after school. I fell and got a bloody nose. I ended up spending a week getting tested for all kinds of diseases because I refused to tell my mother that the bloody nose was the result of a girl punching me,” Payson said, smiling and shaking his head. “And I had to bribe my brother to keep his big mouth shut. It cost me two rookie cards and my Grand Theft Auto time for a week.”
“She knew. She told me a couple of years after we married. Remember when that patient in the ER clocked you a good one? Your eye looked horrible. She told me that if you had any more bruises, she was taking me to court for spousal abuse.”
“She said what?”
“That she was keeping her eye on me,” Jessie said with little emotion...now. She could almost laugh about his mother’s comments. But there had been a bit of guilt that went along with it. She and Payson hadn’t fought well. She certainly never hit him during their marriage, although the punch in high school had led to their first date because she’d felt so bad about giving him a bloody nose. That didn’t mean that they didn’t end up bruised and bloody when they argued during their marriage, it was just that no one could see the wounds.
“That explains the third degree when I saw her. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It doesn’t matter, Payson,” Jessie said, wanting to steer away from their past. “Do you think you could talk with the physical therapists about the extra time? I don’t understand why they don’t have the material they need.”
Payson didn’t answer for a moment, and then said, “I really didn’t know my mother thought that. If I had, I would have talked to her.”
Their eyes caught. His gaze was direct and darkly intense. She could see that he was upset and wanted to make things right. It didn’t matter now, Jessie told herself, and looked away. “About the physical therapists?”
“I’ll talk with them,” he said. They watched the children in the ring for a few moments.
“Thanks for getting the foundation to help Alex,” she said. “He was so happy when I told him that he could keep coming. He’s blowing the other kids out of the water, a total natural on a horse.” Payson nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s weird, though. Karin gave me a new billing address. I should probably call and confirm. That woman can be a little flaky.”
“Give me the address,” Payson said. “I’ll confirm it. No problem.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
She watched Payson focus again on the arena full of children. Her smile stayed in place despite her worries. Laughing with him had taken her right back to the days when she never questioned his love. The bond between them had made her feel so...secure, but that same feeling of security had always scared her. She had worried that in trying to make him happy, she would lose her independence. She shifted in her seat and Payson turned to her, a question on his lips, then his face tightened.
“What did I do now?” he asked, his brows lowered as he studied her face.
“I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lot to do. I don’t have some cushy job at a hospital where I get a paycheck every week and someone cleans up all of my messes.” She rushed away because she refused to get caught up in leaning on him ever again. He made that too easy.
* * *
JESSIE YAWNED AS she moved the ponies and horses into the corral. She couldn’t wake up this morning, and it was Payson’s fault. She’d woken three times from dreams of testing the strength of the bedsprings during their marriage. Jessie had only gotten a couple of hours of shut-eye. She’d been so sure that the sexual tension between them would disappear as she and Payson worked together and remembered all of the reasons that they weren’t compatible.
Her increasingly erotic dreams showed her that, where Payson was concerned, she’d been wrong again. On edge and cranky, she’d exiled herself to hanging out with the animals after snapping at every single person she’d seen this morning. It had to stop. The problem was that she hadn’t figured out exactly how to do that without kicking Payson off the ranch.
* * *
“IS THERE A reason that these forms have to be filled out tonight?” she asked as she leaned over the back of her office chair, occupied by Payson. He rapidly clicked around his spreadsheet.
“The committee needs a report by the end of the day tomorrow. I’ve got to get the stats together. So, yes, this needs to be done tonight. Could I have some room?” Payson asked as he rolled his shoulders. She could see the muscles shift under his golf shirt.
“I can’t see the screen unless I stand here,” she said to needle him a little.
“It doesn’t make me fill this in any faster with you breathing down my neck.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I am breathing down your neck because that’s not the figure for feed,” she said, and leaned in a little more. Her breast tingled when it contacted his back. God, he smelled good. How could he smell good after a full day of work?
She stood up and moved away while she gave him the correct number. She paced in her small office as he typed. She was sure it wasn’t worry about getting the numbers right that made him pound the keys. Like her, he must feel the arc of awareness that crackled between them.
She knew him well. She certainly recognized the narrow-eyed look he’d gotten when he stared at her breasts. When they were young and in love, that heated gaze would’ve led to the bedroom, where he would’ve tested his theories on how long a human body could stand to be teased. Jessie had begun to think that the current tension between them—left over from their marriage—came from remembering what was and reacting to each other instinctively. She’d been trying to ignore it. The tension hadn’t gone away. It was getting worse, making her snappy and restless.
She knew that acting on the sexual connection, or whatever it was, would be a disaster. They had divorced for a lot of very good reasons. Maybe if they kissed for real, not just because she’d called him on his challenge, they would prove to themselves that what they remembered as amazing was actually ordinary. Before she talked herself out of it, she said, “Payson.”
“Yes,” he said but kept typing.
“Are you listening?” He nodded. “You know how you wait all year to go to the Pike’s Peak Fair for the fry bread, and you keep thinking about it and no other fry bread tastes as good. Then you go to the fair and you eat it, but it doesn’t taste all that good?”
“Let’s just pretend I understand.”
“What I’m saying is that you build something up in your mind as wonderful, as spectacular, but when you finally get it, it’s really just ordinary.” His head tilted, so she knew she had his full attention. “Well, you see, I’ve been thinking that maybe that’s what’s been happening here between us.”
“I’m hungry for fry bread?”
“No,” she said. She’d been an idiot to start this conversation. “You know, the tension, the remembering.” He didn’t say anything. “Maybe, if we kissed, we’d realize that it’s not that special anymore. That all of that is behind us.”
“You need to kiss me to prove to yourself...what?” he asked. He shifted in the chair and rolled his shoulders again, something he did when he was tense.
“I’m looking at this the way you would, like a scientist. We were married. We’re not anymore, but we’re working together. We’re both remembering how it was, and it probably wasn’t like we remember anyway. We need to prove to ourselves that there’s nothing there. Nada.”
“The theory that you’d like to test is that if we kiss, we’ll discover that what we had was pretty ordinary?”
“Something like that. I’m just trying to be honest here. I know you feel the tension. I’ve seen those looks and I know what they mean. If we just kiss and get it out of the way, we’ll be good to go. We’ll have eaten the fry bread.”
“When would you like to conduct this experiment?”
“What about now?”
“That will be fine. Let me input these final numbers and then I’ll be ready,” he said, his voice calm as he twisted to face the computer.
Jessie paced so she wouldn’t stare at Payson and wouldn’t think about what they were going to do.
“Okay. Done,” he said. Had his voice cracked a little?
“Great,” she said, laughing nervously. “I’m glad we’re doing this. It will make working together so much easier.”
When they were standing facing each other, the foot of space between them quickly heated. A barely there tremor started in her feet and quickly reached her breasts. He put his hands around her upper arms, pulling her toward him, but not against him. Her lips parted, anticipating what would come next. He hesitated. She shifted closer, and he finally leaned in, touching his lips to hers, softly, like a first kiss.
Jessie tried to stop the moan, but when her tongue touched his, the heat shot from her mouth into every inch of her body. She wanted more and clutched at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. His hips brushed against hers and the kiss deepened. His hair was soft under her fingers as she held his mouth to hers. Then his lips were on her neck, in the one place that he knew would drive her crazy. She sucked in her breath and pressed herself against him. She didn’t want him to stop. He nuzzled that sweet spot that only he knew. Just when she was going to push him away before she totally melted, he moved back to her lips, nibbling at the edges.
“You taste the same. How could you taste the same?” Payson asked softly, not pulling away.
“Hmm.” She tried to get her brain working again. “The same toothpaste?”
He chuckled low and deep, holding her against him. “That could be.” His mouth covered hers again, exploring her thoroughly. When he finally leaned back, he whispered, “Only you could make toothpaste sexy, Jessie.” His hand roamed to the curve of her waist and the slight flare of her hips. “How can you be so soft? When I watch you walk, all I can think about is touching you. Will touching you now make me forget that?”
“Touch me,” Jessie breathed. She used her mouth to explore his lips and spoke softly against his cheek, so he could feel her breath moving across his skin, “God, Payson, why would we want to forget this?”
“Jessie,” he said, and let her go. She wrapped one long leg around the back of his knees to pull him back to her. He resisted for one second, then his fingers skimmed along her back as his mouth tasted her lips, her neck and her cheek.
When she thought she’d never take a full breath again and knew next they would be getting naked, she made herself take one step backward. They stood looking at each other, and she waited a moment for the space between them to cool.
She hoped when her brain—instead of her other parts—worked again, she’d figure out a way to see Payson every day and not remember this kiss, not remember that he tasted even better than on their long, slow wedding night. Jessie didn’t need to be a genius like Payson to know that the kiss was the stupidest idea she’d ever had. Even worse than asking for Payson’s help in the first place. She already craved his touch again. And, now, for the first time, she wondered why she’d filed for divorce when she still felt this sexual connection. Dang.
“So, what do you think?” Payson asked and then cleared his throat. His voice had been thick and deep. “Did our experiment work?”
She tried to get her thoughts into a coherent string. “It might not seem like it now,” she said, and stepped back to put more distance between them, “but can’t you feel that, um, we didn’t really have the same connection?”
“You’re right,” he said. “It was different.”
“Yep. Totally different,” she continued to lie. “Maybe we should call it a night. We proved our point.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_859c589a-71c4-5611-90d0-e22f04bf4cac)
Jessie savored the quiet of the morning, needing to figure out how to respond to last night’s “experiment.” She’d been pushing back her first impulse to get mean and go on the attack, to hurt Payson before he hurt her. She knew he didn’t deserve getting guff for agreeing to kiss her. She considered pretending that they hadn’t kissed. As tempting as that was, pretending wasn’t going to make the feelings go away. After exhausting every possibility while she tossed and turned, she’d accepted that the two of them needed to sit down and talk.
In the years since the divorce, Jessie had considered picking up the phone and calling Payson every so often. She didn’t want to get back together or anything, but she wanted—needed—to apologize for a passel of nasty comments she’d made in those last months of their marriage. She also wanted to say sorry for blaming him for not coming to her right away at the Vegas hospital and that she forgave him—even if she maybe didn’t completely—for not being with her when she needed him most.
The kiss was different.
She feared the memory of that one kiss would stick stubbornly in her brain forever. So what was she going to do? First, make sure that she and Payson weren’t alone together—except she wanted to apologize and wasn’t going to do that in front of an audience. Dang. She refused to call her mama or sister about this. They would tell her what she didn’t want to hear, that she’d been crazy, stupid, idiotic to think the kiss was a good idea.
Jessie stumbled suddenly as a pony head butted her. She turned and with exasperated affection said, “Hey, Molly, how did you get out? I should have called you Houdini. Never knew a pony who was so good at escaping.”
She took the little animal’s halter and led her back to the pen she shared with Bull, a mean-spirited chestnut gelding that Jessie boarded for her brother. Bull was smitten with Molly but pretty much hated the rest of the world. If he was out, too, Jessie’s morning would be really, really crappy—as if it wasn’t already. She didn’t want to wrestle the big horse back into his stall. Even with Molly around, he could be difficult. She hurried, her knee already aching with the thought of getting the cranky horse to cooperate. Maybe her brother should have named him Payson. She chuckled at that.
“You won’t think it’s funny if I let go of his halter,” Payson said.
She clamped down hard on her tongue to stop a screech and said through clenched teeth, “What are you doing here? How did you catch Bull?”
“I wanted to speak with you before this place filled up with people. When I got to the barn, Molly was standing in front of this big guy. I grabbed him and she trotted off. I wasn’t sure where she’d gone. I figured she’d taken off to find apples.”
Jessie was stunned into speechlessness. First, Payson had shown up looking for her after last night, and second, he’d voluntarily dealt with one of the horses, especially a troublesome one like Bull. “Molly was trying to keep Bull in? I figured she was the one trying to escape. She does it all the time when she’s in the big corrals.”
Payson shrugged and Bull leaned down and snuffled his hair. Payson pushed him away. Jessie waited for the horse to take off a finger. Nothing.
“Let me take him, and I’ll get him and Molly back in their stall.”
Jessie stepped forward and Bull immediately backed up, pulling Payson with him. The whites of the gelding’s eyes showed. Jessie stopped moving before Bull got more upset. The horse immediately settled and stepped closer to Payson. “Let me take him,” he said.
Jessie watched her horse-hating ex-husband lead Bull into his stall with Molly trotting after him like the sheepdog she thought she was. Payson gave each animal a hearty pat before he left them in the stall. Jessie stood and watched, speechless again.
“There are a few items we need to discuss,” Payson said into the silence.
“Wait. What was that about?” Jessie said waving her arm in the direction of the stall. “You hate horses. When Candy Cane got out one night, and I asked you to help, you said that there was no way you were losing sleep over a ‘dumb animal.’”
“Jessie, I was in the middle of my residency and had just come off a forty-eight-hour shift. I was exhausted. Plus Candy Cane always came back by morning. You used to say that she must have had tomcat in her because she liked to roam at night.”
“When we lived out near Carefree that was fine. There weren’t any busy roads and people watched for critters. But then we moved to town so you’d have a shorter drive, which meant we were near a ton of major roads, including the 10. She wasn’t used to that and could have gotten hit.”
Payson didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, stunning her for a second time this morning. “I didn’t even think about that. You had never worried before when she got out. I thought you were trying to punish me for missing your birthday.”
She’d completely forgotten that. The week before Candy Cane went missing Payson and she had planned a nice evening to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday. Then at the last minute he’d been called in to cover an extra shift. “I was upset that we didn’t get to go out that night. It had been weeks since we’d spent any time together, but I understood. It wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s not what you said. You said that if I had loved you, I would have said no to the shift. But I couldn’t. The only time you could say no to shifts was if you were in the hospital yourself—in ICU.”
“I said that? I’m sorry. I was being a real witch with a B, as Mama would say. Really, I barely remember the missed dinner,” Jessie said.
“Amazing what sticks with you. We weren’t as good at talking about our problems as we thought.”
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Heidi Hormel
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: EX MARKS THE SPOTRetired rodeo rider Jessie Leigh has one more trick to pull off: partnering with ex-husband Payson MacCormack to save her ranch. Hope′s Ride offers horse therapy for children, and Payson is a pediatric surgeon at the hospital set to certify the program. Their split wasn′t exactly amicable, but Jessie′s determined to make it work…even if Payson′s presence sends her heart racing.With a promotion on the line and a passel of kids in desperate need of Hope′s Ride, Payson should be focused on prepping the program for the hospital′s review. But he can′t concentrate on anything but Jessie. Payson′s career and Jessie′s ranch are depending on each other, but will working together bring the surgeon and the cowgirl closer together, or drive them apart for good?