Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Marrying Dr Maverick

Marrying Dr Maverick
Karen Rose Smith
Vet Dr Brooks Smith, the most confirmed bachelor in all of Montana, is getting married to his new assistant, Jasmine “Jazzy” Cates!Rumours are this “love match” is just a business proposition, but sweet Jazzy is planning to turn her convenient husband’s wedding fever into a lifelong condition.



Jazzy gazed at Brooks in stunned silence. Had he asked her to do what she thought he’d asked her to do?
“I asked you to marry me. I know you think I’m absolutely crazy.”
“No…” she started and didn’t know quite how to finish or where to go from there.
“This isn’t a joke, Jazzy. I’m not out of my mind. Really. But I need to solve this problem with my father. The only way he’s going to let me in on the practice, the only way he’s going to rest and stop wearing himself down, is if I’m really settled. I have to give him what he wants.”
“I don’t understand,” she said very quietly.
“He wants me to have a wife, so I need a wife. The way we’ve worked together the past week, I just know you’d be perfect.”
“So you really do want me to marry you?”
“It wouldn’t be a real marriage.”
When he said those words, she found herself amazingly disappointed. How stupid was that?
* * *
MONTANA MAVERICKS: RUST CREEK COWBOYS Better saddle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride!
Marrying
Dr Maverick
Karen Rose Smith


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Award-winning and bestselling author KAREN ROSE SMITH’s plots are all about emotion. She began writing in her early teens, when she listened to music and created stories to accompany the songs. An only child, she spent a lot of time in her imagination and with books—Nancy Drew, Zane Grey, The Black Stallion and Anne of Green Gables. She dreamed of brothers and sisters and a big family such as the ones her mother and father came from. This is the root of her plotlines, which include small communities and family relationships as part of everyday living. Residing in Pennsylvania with her husband and three cats, she welcomes interaction with readers on Facebook, Twitter @karenrosesmith and through her website, www.karenrosesmith.com, where they can sign up for her newsletter.
To my family and friends who love animals as much as
I do—my husband Steve, my son Ken, Suzanne, Sydney,
Liz, Jane, Ryan, Heather, Abby, Sophie, Chris. Special
thanks to my pet sitter, Barb, whose expertise allows
me to leave home with a free heart.
Contents
Chapter One (#u498caf92-c9db-53f8-8632-905d54e850ff)
Chapter Two (#uc661123b-d724-5114-9060-233df24c1b75)
Chapter Three (#u2a135b62-f640-55af-a87c-e0327c82faff)
Chapter Four (#u43d34c5f-cb9c-5016-9a5b-11b48b2783d9)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Brooks Smith rapped firmly on the ranch-house door, scanning the all-too-familiar property in the dusk.
His dad didn’t answer right away, and Brooks thought about going around back to the veterinary clinic, but then he heard footsteps and waited, bracing himself for this conversation.
After his father opened the door, he looked Brooks over, from the beard stubble that seemed to be ever present since the flood to his mud-covered boots. Tending to large animals required trekking through fields sometimes.
“You don’t usually come calling on a Tuesday night. Run into a problem you need me for?”
Barrett Smith was a barrel-chested man with gray hair and ruddy cheeks. At six-two, Brooks topped him by a couple of inches. The elder Smith had put on another ten pounds over the past year, and Brooks realized he should have been concerned about that before today.
There was challenge in his dad’s tone as there had been since they’d parted ways. But as a doctor with four years of practice under his belt, Brooks didn’t ask for his dad’s advice on animal care or frankly anything else these days.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Brooks entered the living room where he’d played as a child. The Navajo rugs were worn now, the floor scuffed.
“I only have a few minutes,” his father warned him. “I haven’t fed the horses yet.”
“I’ll get straight to the point, then.” Brooks swiped off his Stetson and ran his hand through his hair, knowing this conversation was going to get sticky. “I ran into Charlie Hartzell at the General Store.”
His father avoided his gaze. “So?”
“He told me that when he stopped by over the weekend, you weren’t doing too well.”
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” his dad muttered, not meeting Brooks’s eyes.
“He said you carried a pail of oats to the barn and you were looking winded and pale. You dropped the bucket and almost passed out.”
“Anybody can have an accident. After I drank a little water, I was fine.”
Not so true according to Charlie, Brooks thought. His dad’s longtime friend had stayed another hour to make sure Barrett wasn’t going to keel over.
“You’re working too hard,” Brooks insisted. “If you’d let me take over the practice, you could retire, take care of the horses in the barn and help out as you want.”
“Nothing has changed,” Barrett said angrily. “You still show no sign of settling down.”
This was an old argument, one that had started after Lynnette had broken their engagement right before Brooks had earned his degree in veterinary medicine from Colorado State. That long-ago night, his father had wanted to discuss it with him, but with Brooks’s pride stinging, he’d asked his dad to drop it. Barrett hadn’t. Frustrated, his father had blown his top, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was his warning and threat—he’d never retire and turn his practice over to Brooks until his son found a woman who would stick by him and build a house on the land his grandmother had left him.
Sure enough...
“Your grandmama’s land is still sitting there with no signs of a foundation,” his dad went on. “She wanted you to have roots, too. That’s why she left it to you. Until you get married and at least think about having kids, I can handle my own practice just fine. And you should butt out.”
He could rise to the bait. He could argue with his father as he’d done before. But he didn’t want his dad’s blood pressure to go any higher so he stuck to being reasonable. “You can issue an ultimatum if you want, but this isn’t about me. It’s about you. You can’t keep working the hours you’ve been working since the flood. You’re probably not eating properly, grabbing donuts at Daisy’s and potato chips at the General Store.”
“Are you keeping track of what I buy where?”
“Of course not. I’m worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be. Worry about yourself. Worry about the life you don’t have.”
“I have a life, Dad. I’m living it my way.”
“Yeah, well, twenty years from now you just tell me how that went. I’m going out back. You can see yourself out.”
As his father turned to leave, Brooks knew this conversation had been useless. He knew he probably shouldn’t even have come. He had to find a way to make his father wake up to the reality of his deteriorating health. He would...one way or another.
* * *
Jasmine Cates—“Jazzy” to her friends and family—stood outside the Ace in the Hole, Rust Creek Falls’ lone bar, staring up at the wood-burned sign. She glanced around at the almost deserted street, hoping she’d catch sight of her friend Cecilia, who was tied up at a community meeting. They were supposed to meet here.
On the north side of town, the Ace in the Hole hadn’t been touched by the devastating July flood, but Jazzy didn’t know if she felt comfortable walking into the place alone. It was a rough and rowdy cowboy hangout, a place single guys gathered to relax. But when they relaxed, all hell could break loose. She’d heard about occasional rumbles and bar fights here.
Feeling as if she’d scrubbed herself raw from her shower at Strickland’s Boarding House, attempting to wash off the mud from a disastrous date, she passed the old-fashioned hitching post out front and stared up at the oversize playing card—an ace of hearts—that blinked in red neon over the door. After she climbed two rough-hewn wooden steps, Jazzy opened the old screen door with its rusty hinges and let it slap behind her. A country tune poured from a jukebox. Booths lined the outer walls while wooden tables with ladder-back chairs were scattered across the plank flooring around a small dance floor. Jazzy glimpsed pool tables in the far back. Old West photos as well as those from local ranches hung on the walls. A wooden bar was situated on the right side of the establishment crowded with about a dozen bar stools, and a mirrored wall reflected the rows of glass bottles.
Cowboys and ranch hands filled the tables, and a few gave her glances that said they might be interested in talking...or more. Jazzy quickly glanced toward the bar. There was one bar stool open and it was next to—
Wasn’t that Dr. Brooks Smith? She hadn’t officially met him, but in her volunteer work, helping ranch owners clean up, paint and repair, she’d caught sight of him now and then as he tended to their animals. She’d liked the way he’d handled a horse that’d been injured. He’d been respectful of the animal and downright kind.
Decision made, she crossed to the bar and settled on the stool beside him. Brooks had that sexy, scruffy look tonight. He was tall and lean and broad-shouldered. Usually he wore a smile for anyone he came in contact with, but now his expression was granitelike, and his hands were balled into fists. It didn’t even look like he’d touched his beer.
As if sensing her regard, and maybe her curiosity, he turned toward her. Their gazes met and there was intensity in his brown eyes that told her he’d been thinking about something very serious. His gaze swept over her blond hair, snap-button blouse and jeans, and that intensity shifted into male appreciation.
“You might need a bodyguard tonight,” he drawled. “You’re the only woman in the place.”
He could be her bodyguard anytime. She quickly banished that thought. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that he didn’t date much? Love gone wrong in his romantic history?
“I’m meeting a friend.” She stuck out her hand. “You’re Brooks Smith. I’m Jazzy Cates. I’ve seen you around the ranches.”
He studied her again. “You’re one of the volunteers from Thunder Canyon.”
“I am,” she said with a smile, glad he’d recognized her.
When he took her hand to shake it, she felt tingles up her arm. That couldn’t be, could it? She’d almost been engaged to a man and hadn’t felt tingles like that. Brooks’s grip was strong and firm, his hand warm, and when he took it away, she felt...odd.
“Everyone in town appreciates the help,” he said.
“Rust Creek Falls is a tight-knit community. I heard stories about what happened after the flood. Everyone shared what was in their freezers so no one would go hungry.”
Brooks nodded. “The community spirit was stoked by Collin Traub and the way he pulled everyone together.”
“I heard about his proposal to Willa Christensen on Main Street but I didn’t see it myself.”
Brooks’s eyes darkened at her mention of a proposal, and she wondered why.
“He and Willa seem happy” was all Brooks said.
So the man didn’t gossip. She liked that. She liked a lot about him. Compared to the cowboy she’d been out with earlier tonight—
A high-energy country tune played on the jukebox and snagged their attention for a moment. Jazzy asked, “Do you come here often?”
“Living and mostly working in Kalispell, I don’t usually have the time. But I’ll meet a friend here now and then.”
Kalispell was about twenty miles away, the go-to town for everything anyone in Rust Creek Falls needed and couldn’t find in their small town. “So you have a practice in Kalispell?”
“I work with a group practice there. We were called in to help here because my dad couldn’t handle it all.”
She’d heard Brooks’s father had a practice in Rust Creek Falls and had assumed father and son worked together. Her curiosity was aroused. She certainly knew about family complications. “I guess you’re not needed here as much now since the town’s getting back on its feet.”
“Not as much. But there are still animals recovering from injuries during the flood and afterward. How about you? Are you still cleaning out mud from homes that had water damage?”
“Yep, but I’m working at the elementary school, too.”
“That’s right, I remember now. You came with Dean Pritchett’s group.”
“Dean’s been a friend of our family for years. He was one of the first to volunteer to help.”
“How long can you be away from Thunder Canyon?”
“I’m not sure.” Because Brooks was a stranger, she found herself saying what she couldn’t to those closest to her. “My job was...static. I need a business degree to get a promotion and I’ve been saving for that. I came here to help, but I also came to escape my family. And...I needed a change.”
“I can understand that,” Brooks said with a nod. “But surely they miss you back home, and a woman like you—”
“A woman like me?”
“I’d think you’d have someone special back there.”
She thought about Griff Wellington and the proposal he’d wanted to make and the proposal she’d avoided by breaking off their relationship. Her family had tried to convince her she should marry him, but something inside her had told her she’d known better. Griff had been hurt and she hated that. But she couldn’t tie them both to a relationship she’d known wasn’t right.
Maybe it was Brooks’s easy way; maybe it was the interest in his eyes; maybe it was the way he listened, but she admitted, “No one special. In fact, I had a date tonight before I ended up here.”
“Something about that doesn’t sound right. If you had a date, why isn’t he here with you?”
“He’s a calf roper.”
Brooks leaned a little closer to hear her above the music. His shoulder brushed hers and she felt heat other places besides there. “What does that have to do with your date?”
“That was the date.”
Brooks pushed his Stetson higher on his head with his forefinger. “What?”
“Calf-roping. He thought it would be fun if he showed me how he did it. That would have been fine, but then he wanted me to do it. Yes, I ride. Yes, I love horses. But I’d never calf-roped before and so I tried it. There was mud all over the place and I slipped and fell and I was covered with mud from head to toe.”
Brooks was laughing by then, a deep, hearty laugh that seemed to echo through her. She liked the fact she could make him laugh. Genially, she bumped his arm. “It wasn’t so funny when it was happening.”
He gave her a crooked smile that said he was a little bit sorry he laughed, but not much. “Whatever gave him the impression you’d like to try that out?”
“I have no clue, except I did tell him I like horses. I did try to be interested in what he did, and I asked him questions about it.”
“This was a first date?” Brooks guessed.
“It was the last date,” Jazzy responded.
“Not the last date ever.”
She sighed. “Probably not.”
Was he thinking of asking her out? Or were they just flirting? With that twinkle in his eyes, she imagined he could flirt with the best of them if he really wanted to.
“So you came here to meet a friend and hash out everything that’s happened,” he concluded.
“My gosh, a guy who understands women!”
He laughed again. “No, not so well.”
She wondered what that meant. “When I’m at home, sometimes I talk it all out with my sisters.”
“How many do you have?”
“I have four sisters, a brother and parents who think they know what’s best for me.”
“You’re lucky,” Brooks said.
“Lucky?”
“Yep. I’m the only one. And I lost my mom a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”
But something in his tone said that it wasn’t, so she asked, “Are you close to your dad?”
“He’s the reason I stopped in here tonight.”
“To meet him?”
“Nope.” He hesitated, then added, “We had another argument.”
“Another?”
Brooks paused again before saying, “My dad’s not taking care of himself, and I can’t give him what he wants most.”
In her family, Jazzy usually said what she thought, and most of the time, no one heard her. But now she asked, “And what’s that?”
“He wants me to marry, and I’ll never do that.”
Whoa! She wanted to ask that all-important question—why?—but they’d just officially met and she knew better than to probe too much. She hated when her family did that.
Her questions must have led Brooks to think he could ask some of his own because he leaned toward her again. This time his face was very close to hers as he inquired, “So what was the job you left?”
After a heavy sigh, she admitted, “I was a glorified secretary.”
“A secretary,” he murmured, studying her. “How long are you staying in Rust Creek Falls?”
“I’ve already been in town for a while, so I guess I’ll have to go back soon. I work for Thunder Canyon Resort. I’m in the pool of assistants who handle everything to do about skiing. I had a lot of vacation time built up but that’s gone now. I don’t want to use all my savings because I want to earn my degree. Someday I’m going to own a ranch and run a non-profit organization to rescue horses.”
Brooks leaned away again and really assessed her as if he was trying to read every thought in her head, as if he was trying to decide if what she’d told him was really true. Of course it was true. A rescue ranch had been a burning goal for a while.
“How did you get involved in rescuing horses?”
“I help out a friend who does it.”
Finally, Brooks took a few long swigs of his beer and then set down his glass. He looked at it and then grimaced. “I didn’t even offer to buy you a drink. What would you like?”
“A beer would be fine.”
Brooks waved down the bartender and soon Jazzy was rolling her finger around the foam on the rim of her glass. This felt like a date, though it wasn’t. This felt...nice.
The music on the jukebox had stopped for the moment, and she listened to the chatter of voices, the clink of glasses and bang of a dish as a waitress set a burger in front of a cowboy.
Finally, as if Brooks had come to some conclusion, he swiveled on his stool and faced her. “If you had a job in Rust Creek Falls, would you stay longer?”
She had no idea where this was going since the town had few jobs to spare, but she told him the truth. “I might.”
“How would you like to come work for me as my secretary and assistant?”
“I don’t understand. You said you work for the vet practice in Kalispell.”
“I made a decision tonight. There’s only one way to keep my father from running himself into the ground, and that’s to take some business away from him. If I open an office here in Rust Creek Falls, I can take the load off my father and show him at the same time that he can feel confident handing down his practice to me, whether I marry or not.”
She admired what Brooks wanted to do for his father. Would working for him move her life forward? She could learn a lot from him.
“Can I think about it, at least until tomorrow?”
“Sure. In fact, take a couple of days. Why don’t you come along with me on my appointments to get a feel for my practice day after tomorrow? I’m going to have loose ends to tie up in Kalispell, but then you and I can spend the day together and you can see what my practice will involve.”
When she looked into Brooks’s dark eyes, she felt something deep in her being. In that moment, the world seemed to drop away.
They might have gazed into each other’s eyes like that all night except—
Cecilia Clifton was suddenly standing beside Jazzy saying, “You should have come to the meeting. The town’s making plans for the holidays.” When her gaze fell on Brooks, she stopped and said a breathy “Hi.”
Yes, Brooks could take a woman’s breath away. Jazzy thought again about his offer. “I’d like to shadow you for a day and see what you do.”
Brooks smiled and so did she. She had a feeling the day after tomorrow was going to be a day to remember.
Chapter Two
Two days later, Brooks pulled his truck to a stop in front of Strickland’s Boarding House, a four-story ramshackle Victorian. Its once-purple paint had faded to a lavender-gray. Cowboys on the rodeo circuit had bunked here over the years, but right now, many of the folks from Thunder Canyon who had come to help were staying here. Melba and Old Gene Strickland cared about their guests in an old-fashioned family way.
He switched off his ignition, thinking he must have been crazy to ask Jazzy Cates to work for him. He really knew nothing about her except what she’d told him. He’d followed his gut instinct as he often did in his work. But that didn’t mean he was right. After all, he’d been all wrong about Lynnette. He’d thought she was the type of woman who understood fidelity and loyalty and standing by her man. But he’d been so wrong.
He knew, however, he was right about opening the local practice and taking some of the workload from his father. After all, it was for the older man’s best interests. Still...asking Jazzy to become involved in that undertaking—
She was so pretty with that blond hair and those blue eyes. When he’d looked into those eyes, he’d felt a stirring that had practically startled him. It had been a very long time since a woman caused that reaction. However, if he hired her on, he’d have to forget about her natural prettiness and any attraction zinging between them. He’d be her employer and he’d have to fix his mind on the fact that she was just a Girl Friday who was going to help him, maybe only temporarily. She might hightail it back to Thunder Canyon sooner than he expected. After all, Lynnette hadn’t wanted to live in a small town like Rust Creek Falls. How many women did?
The wooden steps leading to the rambling porch creaked under his boots. He opened the front door with its glass panel and lace curtain and caught the scent of something sweet baking. Forgetting all about Melba’s well-deserved reputation as a terrific baker, he’d picked up donuts and coffee at Daisy’s Donuts, never thinking Jazzy might have had breakfast already.
Jazzy had told him the number of her room—2D, on the second floor. He climbed the steps to the second floor and strode down the hall to her room. He gave a double knock on her door and waited. Maybe she’d forgotten all about going with him today. Maybe she wasn’t an early riser. Maybe she was down at breakfast. Maybe she’d decided going along with him today was tantamount to calf-roping!
She opened the door before he could push aside the flap of his denim jacket and stuff one hand in his jeans’ pocket. She was wearing an outfit similar to what she’d had on the other night, a snap-button, long-sleeve blouse and skinny blue jeans that molded to her legs. He quickly brought his gaze up to her face.
“I was running a little late,” she said breathlessly, “but I’m ready.”
She’d tied her wavy blond hair in a ponytail. Her bangs straggled over her brow. Forgetting she was pretty might be a little hard to do. “I brought donuts and coffee from Daisy’s if you’re interested.”
“Oh, I’m interested.”
They couldn’t seem to look away from each other and her words seemed to have an underlying meaning. No. No underlying meaning. He just hadn’t dated a woman in a very long time. He was reading too much into cornflower-blue eyes that could make a man lose his focus.
Brooks never lost his focus. Not since his mother had died. Not during his years at Colorado State. Not during his engagement. His focus was the reason his engagement had gone south.
“Let’s get going, then. I have an appointment with Sam Findley at his ranch at seven-thirty to check on a couple of horses that almost drowned in the flood. One of them has PTSD and gets spooked real easy now.”
“Were they hurt physically?” Jazzy closed and locked the door to her room, slipping the key into her hobo bag that hung from her shoulder.
“Sparky had a few deep cuts that have taken their good time healing. I want to make sure he hasn’t opened them up again.”
“Is most of your work with horses?”
“Lots of it is with horses and cattle because of all the ranches around here. But I do my stint in the clinic, too. Or at least I did.”
At the end of Jazzy’s hall, Brooks motioned for her to precede him down the steps. When she passed him, he caught a whiff of something flowery. Could be shampoo. Could be lotion. He didn’t think she’d wear perfume for this little jaunt, but what did he know? Women mystified him most of the time.
Jazzy clambered down the steps in a way that told him she was high-energy. She went outside to the porch railing and stared up at the sky that was almost the same color as her eyes. She pointed up to the white clouds scuttling across the vista, hanging so low they looked as if a person could reach them.
“Isn’t that beautiful? I never appreciated a day without rain as I do now.”
She wasn’t just pretty. She was gorgeous. Not in a highfalutin-model kind of way, but in a prettiest-gal-in-town way. He crossed the distance between them and stood at the railing with her.
“I know what you mean. I’ve never seen so much devastation. Half the town was affected. Thank God for our hills. The General Store, Daisy’s and Strickland’s were all on the higher side. The other side of Rust Creek is still recovering, and that’s where we’re headed.” Standing beside her like this, his arm brushing hers, talking about the sky and the flood, seemed a little too intimate somehow. Weird. He had to get his head on straight and do it fast.
Jazzy gave him one of her quick smiles. He’d seen a few of those the other night at the Ace in the Hole. Then she headed for the steps. She was a woman who knew how to move. A woman with purpose.
In his truck, he said, “You didn’t wear a jacket. Even though we’re having a bout of Indian summer, the morning’s a little cool. Want the heat on?”
Glancing over at him, she motioned to the coffee in the holder. “If one of those is mine, that’s all I need.”
“Donut now or later?”
“One now wouldn’t hurt.”
He chuckled and reached for the bag in the back. “Cream and sugar are in there, too.”
He watched as she poured two of the little cream containers into her coffee and then added the whole pack of sugar. She wasn’t a straight caffeine kind of girl, which he supposed was all right.
“Dig around in the bag until you find the one you want.”
She came up with a chocolate glazed, took a bite, and gave him a wink. “Perfect.”
Brooks found his body getting tight, his blood running faster, and he quickly reached for his black coffee. After a few swallows that scalded his tongue and throat, he swiped a cream-filled donut from the bag and bit into it. Halfway through, he noticed Jazzy watching him.
“Daisy’s Donuts are the best,” she said a little breathlessly.
He was feeling a little breathless himself. Enough with the donuts and coffee. Time to get to work. Focus was everything.
Ten minutes later, Jazzy wondered if she’d said something wrong because Brooks had turned off the conversation spigot. He was acting as if the road was an enemy he was going to conquer. She supposed that was just as well. Eating donuts with him had gotten a little...sticky. She’d seen something in his eyes that had, well, excited her...excited her in a way that nothing Griff had ever done or said had. Downright silly. If she was going to be working for Brooks—
She hadn’t decided yet.
Veering to the left, Brooks drove down a rutted lane that had been filled in with gravel. Yet, like on many of the Rust Creek Falls streets, there were still a lot of potholes. Paving crews had been doing their best, but there was only so much money and only so much manpower. Lodgepole pine grew on much of the property. Larch, aspen and live oak were color-laden in October with gold and rust. A couple of early snows had stripped some of the leaves and there were still a bunch fluttering across the ground as they climbed out of the truck and headed for the large, white barn.
“Does Mr. Findley run cattle?” Jazzy asked to soothe the awkwardness and start conversation between them once more.
Brooks responded without hesitation. “No. No cattle. Sam’s livelihood didn’t get affected like some. He’s a wilderness guide. Hunters and tourists stay at the farmhouse, and he has two cabins out back. He stays out there if he has women guests who would rather be alone in the house.”
“Sounds like a gentleman.”
Brooks shrugged. “It’s good business. A reputation goes a long way out here. But then you should know that. I imagine Thunder Canyon is the same.”
“It is.”
A tall, good-looking man with black hair and gray eyes came to meet them at the barn door. Brooks introduced Jazzy. “She’s one of the volunteers from Thunder Canyon, but she’s hanging with me today.”
As Sam opened the barn door for Jazzy, he said, “Brooks has some kind of magic touch that I haven’t had with Sparky ever since the flood.” Sam shook his head. “I was the one who rescued him along with a couple of others, and maybe I hurt him without knowing it.”
“Or maybe you just remind him of what happened,” Brooks said easily. “Horses remember, just like cats and dogs. It’s why a visit to the vet is so traumatic for some of them.”
“He lets me feed him, but he won’t take a carrot or sugar cube like he used to,” Sam added regretfully. “And getting into his stall is a major undertaking. Are you used to being around horses?” Sam asked Jazzy, looking worried.
“Yes, I am. A friend rescues them and I help her out. I promise I won’t go near Sparky if he doesn’t want me near him.”
“Do you want me to stay?” Sam asked Brooks.
“If you have things to do, and I’m sure you do, there’s no need. We’ll be fine.”
Sam nodded, tipped his Stetson to Jazzy and headed back toward the house.
She watched him thoughtfully. “For a small town filled with gossip, I never heard anything about his tours while I’ve been here.”
“Sam keeps a low profile, mostly advertises on the internet, attracts a lot of tourists from back East.”
“Is he from here?”
“Nope, and nobody knows where he came from. He doesn’t talk about himself much.”
“Are you friends?”
Brooks thought about it. “We’re something between acquaintances and friends.”
“So that means you talk about sports and livestock.”
Brooks chuckled. “I guess you could say that. You can add the goings-on in Rust Creek Falls, which is a topic of conversation for everyone. Come on, let’s see Sparky. Sam has it rigged up so the stall doors open to the outside corral. He can come and go as he pleases.”
“That’s smart. Freedom’s important to an animal that’s been traumatized.”
Brooks eyed her again as if trying to figure out who she was. Good luck, she thought. She was still trying to figure that out herself. Coming to Rust Creek Falls had changed her in some elemental way. Sure, in Thunder Canyon she had her family and her job. But she didn’t want to live vicariously through her sisters and brother. She didn’t want her family to be her world, and she certainly wanted her job to be more exciting than the one she had, or at least promise a better future. She couldn’t get promoted without a degree, so she was going to get that degree.
“Let’s take a look at Mirabelle first. Sparky will hear us and get used to us being around.”
Jazzy had made a quick judgment about Brooks when she’d met him at the Ace in the Hole. The more she learned about him, the more she realized she’d been right. She’d been able to tell he cared about his dad. Now she could see he felt deeply about the animals he cared for. Just why did this man never intend to marry?
Mirabelle, a bay, was cavorting in the corral beside Sparky’s. When she saw Brooks, she neighed.
Jazzy smiled. “She likes you.”
“What’s not to like?” He almost said it with a flirting tease, but then he sobered. “I’ve been treating her for a few years. One weekend, Sam had an emergency and couldn’t reach my dad, so he rang up our practice. I was on call. Since then, I’ve been taking care of his horses. Gage Christensen’s, too.”
“The sheriff,” Jazzy said, knowing Gage a little. They’d had a dinner date, but things never went any further.
“Yes.”
“While I was at the elementary school working, I heard that he and Lissa Roarke are engaged.” When she and Gage had dined at his office, his mind had definitely been elsewhere. Probably on Lissa, who’d flown in from the East to organize volunteers in Rust Creek Falls on behalf of an East Coast relief organization.
“So that’s all around town, too?” Brooks asked.
“Lissa has been doing so much to get help for Rust Creek Falls that her name pops up often, especially with the volunteers.”
“Gage went through a tough time after the flood, but he sure seems happy now.”
“We had dinner,” Jazzy said.
“Dinner? With Gage?”
“I stopped in at the sheriff’s office to ask for directions. He and I started talking and one thing led to another. But his mind was elsewhere—I think it was on Lissa. That was soon after she arrived.”
“You mean he asked you out because he didn’t want to think about her?”
“Something like that, though I don’t think he realized it at the time.”
Brooks looked pensive as Mirabelle trotted toward him. He glanced at Jazzy. “Do you feel comfortable being out here with her?”
“Sure. Is there anything special you want me to do?”
“I’m just going to check her overall fitness, and make sure nothing insidious is going on. After a flood, all kinds of things can develop.”
When Mirabelle came up to Brooks, Jazzy let the horse snuffle her fingers. That ritual completed, she petted her neck and threaded her fingers through the bay’s mane. She talked to her while Brooks examined her. He checked one hoof after another, then pulled a treat from his back pocket and let her snatch it from his palm.
“She’s the easy one,” he remarked. “Now let’s go check out Sparky.”
Jazzy could easily see Sparky eyeing them warily, his tail swishing. “How do you want to do this?” she asked.
“We’re going to sit on the fence and let him come to us.”
“Do you think I should be sitting there with you, or should I go inside?”
“Let’s give it a try. You can’t force a horse to communicate with you. If I’m patient with Sparky, he usually comes around.”
“He hasn’t for Sam?”
“Sam was on a guiding tour when the rain started, but he got back in the nick of time. Sparky’s tolerating Sam. But I think that has to do with the flood and the rescue, maybe a sense of abandonment. Animals have it, too.”
Had Brooks felt abandoned when his mother died? Had his father been there for him? Maybe that was at the root of their discord.
Brooks opened the gate at the rear of Mirabelle’s corral, and they walked out.
“Sparky was watching us while we were tending to Mirabelle, so he knows we’re here.” Brooks went along the fence a little ways then climbed the first rung and held his hand out to Jazzy. She thought a man’s hands told a lot about his character. Brooks’s hand was large, his fingers long. Staring at it, she felt a little quiver in her stomach.
“Jazzy?” he asked, and she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze.
Zing.
Something happened when she looked into those deep, brown eyes. She took his hand and felt an even stronger buzz vibrate through her body. She could feel the calluses on his fingers that had come from hard work. She was curious about him and his life and she was afraid it showed.
They were both sitting on the top rung when Sparky froze midtrot and eyed them warily. He was a paint pony with dark brown swaths on his cream-colored coat.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“You’ll see.”
The horse did nothing for at least five minutes. He just stared at them. When Jazzy glanced at Brooks, she saw he wasn’t the least bit impatient. Wasn’t that a novelty. She shivered suddenly. The morning air was cool and she rubbed her arms.
“Are you cold?”
“The sun’s warm.”
“Not what I asked you.” Brooks was wearing a denim jacket that fit his broad shoulders way too well. It was loose at his waist. She concentrated on the brass buttons on his jacket instead of contemplating other things about him.
He started to shrug out of the jacket and she clasped his arm, saying in a low voice, “No, really. I’m fine.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to whisper around Sparky. He’s not afraid of our voices, just of us getting too close when he doesn’t want us to.”
She felt herself blush, but she still held his arm because her hand seemed fascinated by the muscles underneath. Ignoring the fact that she said she was fine, he removed his jacket and hung it around her shoulders.
“You can give it back once the day warms up.”
So he was protective, and...thought he knew best. What man didn’t?
Although she protested, his jacket held his warmth and his scent. It felt good around her. She snuggled into it and watched Sparky eyeing them.
It happened slowly, Sparky’s acceptance of them into his world. The horse tossed his head and blew out breaths. He lifted his tail and ran in the other direction, made a circle and then another that was a little closer to them. After about ten circles, he was only about five feet from them.
Brooks took a treat from his back pocket and held it out to the horse, palm up.
“Sam said he wouldn’t take treats from him anymore.”
“That’s Sam. Sparky and I have an understanding. I don’t try to do anything he doesn’t want me to do when he takes the treat.”
“Rescue horses are often skittish like this,” she said. “I mean, horses rescued from abuse, not floods.”
“Trauma in whatever form has to be treated with kindness most of all, as well as a gentle hand and a firm determination to overcome whatever happened.”
She’d seen that, working with the horses at Darlene’s place.
It took Sparky a while but he finally came within a foot of Brooks’s hand.
Jazzy didn’t move or even take a breath.
Sparky snatched the piece of biscuit and danced away then looked back at Brooks to see if he had more.
With a smile, Brooks took another piece from his back pocket. “These get crushed by the end of the day, so you might as well eat them,” he said in a conversational tone to the horse.
Sparky must have understood because he made another circle, but didn’t dawdle this time. He snatched the biscuit and didn’t dance away.
“How many times have you done this before?” Jazzy asked, completely aware of Brooks’s tall, fit body beside her.
“Too many to count,” he said, shifting on the fence but not moving away. “He and I go through this routine every time I come over. I’m hoping someday he’ll see me and just trot right on up. I thought about buying him from Sam, but I don’t think it’s advisable to move him to another place right now.
“Can I look at you a little bit?” Brooks asked the horse.
Sparky blew out a few breaths but didn’t move.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Brooks slowly slid down off the fence, taking care not to jump too heavily onto the ground. The sleeves of his snap-button shirt blew in the wind, the chambray looking soft.
Jazzy was fascinated by man and horse.
Brooks found another crumb of the treat in his pocket and offered it to Sparky. The horse snuffled it up and Brooks patted his neck, running his hand under the horse’s mane. He slowly separated the hair there and Jazzy could see a series of scratches and a five-inch long swatch that looked as if it had been stitched.
Although he pawed the ground, Sparky stayed in Brooks’s vicinity.
“Come on down,” Brooks said to Jazzy. “Slowly.”
She eased herself off the fence.
“Stay there,” Brooks warned her. “Let him catch more of your scent. Let him get used to you.”
Rescued horses mostly needed to be cared for gently, then regularly watered and brushed when they’d let you do it. She’d never become involved with one quite this way before.
Brooks kept talking to Sparky and then gave her the okay to come closer. She did, feeling she was getting closer to Brooks, too.
Brooks gave her the last little bit of treat and she held it in her fingers. When she extended her palm, Sparky took it from her.
By then, Brooks was studying the horse’s flanks. “He’s looking good. Soon we can put him in the corral with Mirabelle and see how it goes.”
“I think he’d like some company. Wouldn’t you?” she crooned softly to the horse.
When she glanced at Brooks, he was watching her, listening to her, and her pulse raced.
At the end of the day, would he still believe he should hire her?
* * *
As Brooks drove to other ranches, Jazzy could see they were all recovering from the flood. In some fields, alfalfa had survived. Many ranchers had been soil-testing to find out what nutrients the flood had depleted. Some reseeded with fast-growing grasses, while others planted soybeans. All were trying their best to recover. Most were making headway.
She watched Brooks work with calves, with goats, with cattle. She helped however she could and realized she liked assisting him. They grabbed a quick lunch at the diner, talked about Rust Creek Falls and Thunder Canyon. Whenever their fingers brushed or their eyes met, Jazzy felt energized in a way she never had before.
At the end of the day when they were driving back to Strickland’s, Brooks said, “I know I’m doing the right thing opening this practice. Dad’s going to be angry about it, but in the end I think he’ll thank me.”
“You’re doing something for his best interests, even if he doesn’t see it that way. I guess roles reverse as parents age.”
“And as children grow wiser.”
She thought about that and all the advice her parents had given her. But she particularly remembered one thing her brother Brody had told her. He’d said, “You have to find the life you want to live, rather than settling for the life you’ve fallen into.”
What life did she want to live?
Brooks drew up in front of the boarding house, braked and switched off the ignition. Leaning toward her, he explained, “If you’re my assistant, you wouldn’t spend all your time in the field with me. Mostly what I need in the beginning is somebody to set up the office, make appointments, get the word out about the practice.”
He paused for a moment, then honestly admitted, “At first I thought I’d been impulsive about asking you to work for me, but today I realized it really was good instinct that made me ask. You’re great with the animals, Jazzy, and with the clients. You seem to be able to talk to almost anybody. That’s a gift, and a great one in a receptionist. So if you take this job, you’ll be a little bit of a lot of things—a receptionist, an assistant, a tech. What do you think? Do you want to work with me?”
Brooks was leaning toward her and she was leaning toward him. She felt a pull toward him and thought she saw an answering pull toward her in the darkening of his eyes. But if she accepted, they’d be boss and employee.
“Sure. I’d like that a lot.”
Brooks extended his hand to seal the deal. When his hand gripped hers, she found herself leaning even closer to him. Whether he was aware of it or not, his thumb gently stroked the top of her hand, just for a moment.
Then he pulled away. “I’ll wait until you get inside,” he said gruffly. “Tomorrow I’d like to take you to the practice in Kalispell and let you talk to the office manager. Is that okay with you?”
“That’s fine with me.”
Looking into Brooks Smith’s eyes, Jazzy realized their association was going to be more than fine. The thing was—he was a confirmed bachelor. So she’d better keep her head.
They’d both keep their heads because that’s what bosses and employees should do.
Chapter Three
Jazzy had no sooner hopped into Brooks’s truck Friday morning—he’d waited outside today—when she fastened her seat belt and turned to him. “I have a favor to ask.”
Brooks cocked his head and his face said he was ready for almost anything. “I’d guess but I’ll probably guess wrong.”
“What makes you think you’d guess wrong?” she joked.
“Because I cannot read a woman’s mind. What’s the favor?”
“I’ve been helping Dean at the elementary school when I’m not needed somewhere else, even though my carpentry skills are at a minimum. Still, I don’t want to let him down. Can we stop over there on the way to Kalispell? I tried to call last night and kept getting his voice mail.”
“He’s engaged now, isn’t he?” Brooks asked, obviously tuned in to the local chatter.
“He is. He bought a place with some land and he’s just moved in with Shelby and her daughter Caitlin.”
“Shelby works at the Ace in the Hole, right?”
“Yes, but for not much longer, she hopes. She’s going to reapply for a job as an elementary school teacher once the school’s up and running again.”
“That could be a while.”
“It might be, but that’s what she wants to do. Anyway, he doesn’t always answer his phone in the evenings. So I thought it might be just as well if we could stop at the school. I’ll explain I’ll be working with you, but I’ll still help out around the school on weekends.”
“You want his blessing?” Brooks didn’t sound judgmental. He actually sounded as if he understood.
“Something like that.”
“We can pick up donuts on the way and bribe him.”
“Brooks!”
“I’m kidding. I often pick up donuts and drop off a couple of boxes for people who are volunteering. We all do what we can to say thank you.”
After a stop at Daisy’s, they drove to the elementary school property in a drizzling rain that had begun to fall. The low-hanging gray clouds predicted more of the same. Just what Rust Creek Falls didn’t need.
At the school, the building crew had made progress, but it was slow going without money for materials, and work often had to stop while they waited for supplies. Today, however, Dean was there with a crew. They found him easily in the school library, building shelves. He looked up when he saw Jazzy and did a double-take as he spotted Brooks.
After Jazzy explained why they were there, Dean gave her an odd look. “You’re not going back to Thunder Canyon?”
“I don’t know when. For now working with Brooks will give me experience to open that horse rescue ranch I want to open someday.”
“She’s good with animals,” Brooks assured Dean. To Jazzy he said, “If you’re going to be a few minutes, I’ll look around.”
Perceptively Brooks probably sensed that she needed to convince Dean this was the best move for her. She nodded.
When Brooks left the library, Dean frowned. “What kind of relationship do you have with Brooks? I didn’t even know you knew him.”
“I didn’t before the other night. But we hit it off.”
“Hit it off as in—”
She knew she shouldn’t get impatient with Dean. He cared as an older brother would. But his attitude was much like her family’s when they second-guessed the decisions she made. “I know you think you have to look out for me while I’m here. But I’m thirty years old and old enough to know what I’m doing.”
Assessing her with a penetrating glare, he asked bluntly, “Did you hook up with him?”
“No, I didn’t hook up with him!” Her voice had risen and she lowered it. “He’s going to be my boss, so don’t get any ideas you shouldn’t.”
With a glance in the direction Brooks had taken, Dean offered, “Maybe he’ll get some ideas he shouldn’t.”
Jazzy vehemently shook her head. “He’s not like that.”
Dean sighed. “I guess you’d know after a couple of days?”
“My radar’s good, Dean. I know if I’m ‘safe’ around a man.”
“Woman’s intuition?” he asked with a cynical arched brow.
“Scoff if you want, but I believe in mine.”
It was probably woman’s intuition that had made her break off the relationship with Griff. Her instincts had told her he simply wasn’t the one. There hadn’t been enough passion, enough of those I-can’t-live-without-you feelings. Something important had been missing.
“Okay,” Dean conceded. “But be careful. I heard he’s a confirmed bachelor with good reason. If you fall for him, you’ll only get hurt.”
She couldn’t let this opportunity to find out information about Brooks pass her by. “Why is he a confirmed bachelor?”
After an assessing look that said he was telling her this for her own good, he kept his voice low. “He has a broken engagement in his history that cut him pretty deep. A wounded man is the worst kind to fall for. Watch your step, Jazzy, or you will get hurt. I don’t want to see that happen. Not on my watch.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” she said, frustrated, and stalked out.
Ten minutes later with rain pouring down faster now, she and Brooks sat in his truck again, headed toward Kalispell. Dean’s words still rang in her head. A wounded man is the worst kind to fall for. She wouldn’t fall for Brooks. She couldn’t. Besides, she didn’t fall easily. Her relationship with Griff was proof of that.
Still, as she surreptitiously eyed his strong profile, her stomach did a little somersault. To counteract the unsettling sensation, she remarked casually, “Progress is being made on the school, but it’s going so slow.”
“A ton of funds and a larger crew could fix that. But the way it is now, the elementary school teachers are going to be holding classes in their homes for a long while.”
“The town has come a long way since I first arrived, though.”
He nodded. “Yes, it has. The mayoral election next month should be interesting.”
“Collin Traub against Nate Crawford.”
“Yep. They butted heads trying to get the town back on its feet. Their families have a history of butting heads.”
“A feud?”
“Some people say so. I don’t know how it started. I don’t know if anybody remembers. But because of it, the election is even more heated.”
She wouldn’t ask him who he was voting for. That was really none of her business. But other things were. “How did your clinic in Kalispell take the news you’d be leaving?”
He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he looked troubled. “I don’t want to leave them in the lurch, and I won’t. The other two vets in the practice understand why I have to do this. Family has to come first.”
Her parents had always instilled that belief in their children, too.
Two hours later, Jazzy was still thinking about Brooks’s broken engagement as well as everything she’d learned from the clinic’s office manager about the computer programs they used, advertising and a multitude of other elements she’d have to coordinate to set up his practice. The rain had continued to pour as Brooks and the office manager had filled Jazzy in on what her job would entail.
Jazzy had worn a windbreaker this morning in deference to the weather and now flipped up the red hood as she and Brooks ran to his truck. He’d gone to her side with her to give her a hand up to climb in, but that meant he’d gotten even damper from the rain.
Inside his truck, he took off his Stetson and brushed the raindrops outside before he closed the door. Then he tossed it into the backseat.
“Where’s your jacket today?” she asked.
“The same place yours was yesterday.”
His crooked half smile and the curve of his lips had her thinking of other things than setting up his office. An unbidden thought popped into her head. What would it feel like to be kissed by Brooks Smith?
No! She was not going there.
Brooks looked away and she was glad because she was afraid he might read her thoughts. As he started up the truck, she said, “You need a name for the practice.” It was the first thing that she could think of to say.
“I guess I can’t call it Smith’s Veterinary Practice, can I? That’s what my father uses. Any suggestions?”
“Not off the top of my head. Once you pick a location, we might choose something geared to that.”
“I like your ideas,” he said simply, and she felt a blush coming on because there was admiration in his voice. When was the last time someone told her they liked her ideas? At work, she just did what was pushed in front of her. Sure, she offered suggestions now and then, but nothing that really mattered. Brooks seemed to make everything matter.
The rain poured down in front of them like sheets that they could hardly see through. Brooks didn’t seem to be anxious about it, though. He drove as if he drove in this weather all the time, keeping a safe distance from whatever taillights blinked in front of them, making sure he didn’t drive through puddles that were growing deep.
They were well out of Kalispell when he asked, “So you think you can handle setting up the office? The printing for flyers and business cards and that type of thing will have to be done in Kalispell, but we can accomplish a lot of it through email. I know this is a big job—”
Was he having second thoughts about her abilities? “I can handle it,” she said with more assurance than she felt.
She must have sounded a little vehement because he cut her another glance. “I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. There’s a lot to think about. We can farm out the website design.”
“I can do it. I know I can, Brooks. I’ve taken night courses that I thought might be useful at the resort, and I’ve never gotten a chance to use a lot of what I learned, including web design and graphics. I even took a course in setting up a small business in case I ever get the chance to start up my rescue ranch. I’ve put my life on hold for too long. By helping you, I finally feel as if I’m moving forward.”
He was silent for a few moments, then asked, “Did you have other things on hold, other than your job?”
Was he fishing about her personal life? She could tell him about Griff—
And maybe she would have. But the water was moving fast along both shoulders of the road. As she thought about Brooks’s broken engagement, how she’d told Griff she couldn’t see a future for them, the truck suddenly dipped into a hole hidden under a puddle. The jarring jolt would have been bad enough, but a loud pop like a gun going off accompanied it.
Brooks swore and muttered, “I know that sound.”
Their blow-out caused the truck to spin on the back tire until they faced the wrong direction. The vehicle hydroplaned on another puddle and they ended up near the guard rail on the opposite side of the road.
It had all happened so fast, Jazzy almost felt stunned, like she’d been on some amusement-park ride that had gone amuck. Her brain was scrambled for a few seconds until she got her bearings and realized they were half on and half off the highway.
Brooks unsnapped his seat belt and moved closer to her. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Without conscious thought, she rubbed her shoulder. “We blew a tire?”
He nodded. “I’m going to have to change it.”
“Oh, Brooks. In this rain? I can call Cecelia or Dean.”
“There’s no need for that. I’ve changed tires before. I’ve gotten wet before. It won’t take long, Jazzy, once I get us set up right. Trust me.”
Trust him. Could she? She didn’t know if she could or not...yet. She’d be foolish if she trusted him on this short acquaintance. Yet she had seen enough to trust in his abilities, to trust that he’d do what he said he was going to do.
His gaze ran over her again. “Let me get us over to the shoulder on the right side of the road so I can take care of the tire.”
“I can help.”
“Jazzy—”
“We can argue about it or we can change the tire,” she said adamantly, not accepting a macho attitude from him any more than she would from Dean, her brother or her dad.
“Are you going to tell me stubbornness is one of your virtues?” he asked warily.
“Possibly. Apparently we both have the same virtue.”
He shook his head. “Let’s get this done.”
Jazzy was more shaken than she was letting on, and her shoulder did hurt. But she wouldn’t be telling Brooks about it. Testing it, she realized she could move it, and she wasn’t in excruciating pain. Those were both good signs. She could help Brooks and worry about her shoulder later.
Brooks managed to steer the truck around and with the thump-thump-thump of the blown tire, they made it to the right side of the highway over to the paved shoulder. Thank goodness the shoulder was wide enough that they wouldn’t be in any danger as other vehicles passed.
Brooks touched her arm. “Stay here. I’ve got this.”
But she, of course, wouldn’t listen. She hopped out of the truck and met him at the rear of the vehicle.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re going to get soaked.”
“So we’ll be soaked together. I’ve helped my brother and dad change tires. I’m not inept at this.”
He lowered the rear truck panel. “I didn’t think you were. Let me grab the spare and we’ll get this done quick.”
“Quick” was a relative term, too, when changing a tire in the rain. Jazzy had tied her hood tightly around her face and she felt bad for Brooks when his shirt became plastered to his skin. But he didn’t complain and she didn’t, either, though she was cold and shivery. That was so much the better for her shoulder because it was aching some. The cuffs of her jeans were protected by her boots, but from thighs to below her knees, she was getting soaked.
Twenty minutes later they were back in the truck with rain still sluicing down the front windshield.
Brooks reached in the back and took a duffel from the seat. “I carry a spare set of duds in case a calf or a horse drags me into a muddy field. It has happened. How are you under that jacket?”
Actually, the waterproof fabric had kept her fairly dry. “I’m good. Just my jeans are wet.”
He switched on the ignition and the heater. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Numb right now from the cold and damp.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt.
At first she just stared at the tan skin and brown curly hair he revealed as he unfastened one button and then the next. For some insane reason, she suddenly had the urge to move closer...and touch him.
When his gaze met hers, her breath almost stopped. She quickly looked away.
She could hear the rustle of fabric...hear him reach into the duffel bag.
“Jazzy, take this.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was offering her a hand towel.
“You need it more than I do,” she managed to say, her eyes skittering over his bare chest.
“Wipe your face,” he suggested. “Then I’ll use it.”
She took the towel and dabbed at her rain-splattered cheeks, the ends of her hair that had slipped out from under the hood. After she handed it back to him, her gaze went again to his completely bare chest, broad shoulders, muscled arms. Wow!
“Do you work out?” she asked inanely, knowing he’d noticed she’d noticed, and there was nothing she could do about that.
“No need to work out when I wrestle with calves, chop wood for my stove and repair fencing on my dad’s property when he lets me.”
“Do you have a house in Kalispell?”
“No. Because I fully intended to move back to Rust Creek Falls someday. I’m in one of those double condos on one floor. It’s got everything I need.”
She handed him the towel and watched as he dried his hair with it. It was sticking up all over. She wanted to run her fingers through it and brush it down, but he quickly did that and swiped the towel over his torso.
“Getting warmer?” he asked, with the heater running full blast.
“Yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe you’re not shivering.”
“Hot-blooded,” he said with a grin that urged her once again to touch him, test the texture of his skin, and see if there really was heat there.
Before she had the chance to act foolishly, he pulled a T-shirt from the duffel, slipped it over his head, maneuvered his arms inside and pulled it down over his chest. She could see denim protruding from the duffel.
“Is that another pair of jeans?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You should change.”
“I’m fine. Let’s get you back to Strickland’s and look at that shoulder.”
“You’re a veterinarian,” she protested.
“I had some EMT training, too. Out here, you never know what you’re going to run into. If you’d rather I take you back into Kalispell to the hospital—”
“No! I don’t need a hospital or a doctor.”
“Great. Then I’m perfect for the job.”
After that, every time Jazzy glanced at Brooks, she envisioned his bare chest, his triceps and biceps and deltoids and whatever else she’d seen. He had tan lines from shirtsleeves on his upper arms. He had dark brown hair arrowing down to his belt buckle. He had a flat stomach and a slim waist and—
Okay, heating up her body wasn’t helping her shoulder. In fact, it was starting to hurt a little more.
They didn’t talk as he concentrated on driving and she tried not to concentrate on him. She thought about her sisters and brother and parents, and considered phoning them. She hadn’t checked in for a while and they’d want to know what she was doing. However, should she tell them about her job with Brooks? She almost had to, because Dean probably would. Besides that, the news would soon get around to the other volunteers and some of them would be going back to Thunder Canyon. It was difficult to hide anything in a small town.
When Brooks pulled up in front of Strickland’s, Jazzy said, “You don’t have to see me in.”
“I don’t have to, but I’m going to. I told you, I want to check your shoulder.”
“You’re still wet. You’ll catch cold.”
He laughed. “Everyone knows you don’t catch cold from the cold. I promise, this will be almost painless, Jazzy. I just want to make sure you’re not really hurt.”
Okay, so they were going to have to get this over with because he was persistent and stubborn. In a family as large as hers, she’d learned there was no point in arguing.
Once inside Strickland’s, they climbed the stairs. Jazzy took out her key and opened her door. She’d already told Dean that Brooks was “safe,” so why was she hesitating in letting him into her room?
Simple. He was half dry, half wet, and all imposing male.
Her room was small and the nice thing about it was it had a bathroom of its own. Standing by the single bed, Jazzy was very aware of it as Brooks came into the room and stood before her.
“I left the door open,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I have an ulterior motive.”
He had left it open about six inches, and she realized how thoughtful it was of him to do that. She simply had to think about him as a doctor right now.
“Take your jacket off,” he said gently.
At first her fingers fumbled with the zipper. Her nervousness was stupid. She had nothing to be nervous about. But unzipping her jacket, she felt as if she were letting him into her life in a different way. She shrugged out of it and hung it over the bed post. He took a step closer to her, and she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Her gaze locked to his for a few seconds, but then he directed his focus to her shoulder and reached out to touch it.
She thought she’d prepared herself. She thought this would be clinical.
The exam was clinical on his part as he kneaded around the joint and asked, “Does that hurt?”
“Some,” she managed to say.
“Don’t soft pedal it if it does.”
“It’s not that bad. Really.”
As he felt along the back of her shoulder, she winced. His fingertips massaged the spot and she found that didn’t hurt but felt good.
“You got bumped around and might have black-and-blue marks tomorrow. Put some ice on it for the first twenty-four hours, ten minutes on, half hour off.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she said with a slight smile.
His fingers stopped moving. His eyes found hers. The room seemed to spin.
No, not really. Couldn’t be. But gazing into Brooks’s eyes was like getting lost in forever. His hand was on her back now as he leaned a little closer. She felt herself swaying toward him.
But then he straightened. “Take it easy for the rest of the day.”
Feeling reality hitting her straight in the face, she asked, “When do I officially start work for you?”
“Let’s consider tomorrow the starting date. I’ve been talking to a real-estate agent and she’ll have a list of places for me to look at. Would you like to go along to do that?”
“You bet.”
“Unless you don’t feel well.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Famous last words.” He went to the door. “Ice the shoulder.”
As he opened the door and went into the hall, she called after him, “Get out of those wet jeans.”
She thought she heard a chuckle as he strode away from her room. She remembered his shirtless upper body. She remembered the feel of his fingers on her shoulder. She remembered the way his smile made her feel.
Working for Brooks Smith could be the biggest mistake she’d made...lately.
Chapter Four
The sun shone brightly in the brilliant turquoise sky as Brooks let himself into Strickland’s Saturday morning, coffee and donuts in his hands. He’d found a property he wanted to show to Jazzy. She’d said yesterday she’d be ready anytime he was, but he hadn’t wanted to waste her time, so he’d taken a look at three properties early this morning. He was confident one of them would work, but he wanted to see what she thought.
At the front desk, he greeted Melba who was shuffling papers into a file folder. She eyed the bag from Daisy’s Donuts. “Jazzy didn’t come down to breakfast,” she told him. “Maybe she’ll eat some of what you brought her.”
He supposed Melba had seen him with Jazzy the past two days. The older woman watched over her guests with an eagle eye.
He climbed the stairs, glad he’d put lids on the coffee cups or he’d have sloshed it all over the box and donuts. He was just eager to show Jazzy the property, that was all.
But deep down, he knew the reason for his eagerness was more than that. When he brought Jazzy back here yesterday and examined her shoulder, he’d had to remind himself over and over again that it was a clinical examination. But he could vividly remember how she’d felt under his fingertips, the look in her eyes. They were attracted to each other and fighting it. Just how difficult was it going to be to work together?
Not too difficult, he hoped. They wouldn’t have time for attraction, not if they were going to get a clinic up and running. So the sooner they looked at the property and got started, the better. It was silly, really, but he couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Jazzy was so positive and upbeat, so excited about new things. She understood the dedication it took to take care of animals, and she even admired it. Unlike Lynnette. She was so different from Lynnette. Jazzy wouldn’t do anything half-measure. Dating Jazzy could be an unrivaled experience. More than dating her could be...
He thought about his dad’s ultimatum. Marriage would be a solution. Yet after his experience with Lynnette, he couldn’t even think about it.
It was a shame he couldn’t erase the shadows of the past from his memory bank.
When he reached Jazzy’s door, he shuffled the box into one arm and rapped. She didn’t answer. Could she have gone out? Was that why she hadn’t appeared at breakfast?
He rapped again. “Jazzy?” he called. “Are you in there?”
To his relief, he heard movement inside. Then Jazzy was opening the door, looking as if she’d just awakened from a deep sleep. Her blond hair was mussed around her face and she’d pushed her bangs to one side. She was wearing a raspberry-colored nightgown and robe over it, but she hadn’t belted the robe and the lapels lay provocatively over her breasts.
He quickly raised his gaze to hers. “Are you okay?”
She seemed to come fully awake. Now she belted her robe, cinching it at her very slim waist. That wasn’t a whole lot better, but she didn’t know that. He’d just have to package his lusty thoughts away in mothballs. He was concerned about her and that concern must have shown.
“Tell me the truth, Jazzy.” He didn’t want some varnished description of how she was feeling.
“Can I tell you over donuts and coffee?” she asked. “That really smells good.”
If she wanted coffee and was hungry, she had to be okay, right?
Without a second thought, he stepped inside the room. She moved over to the nightstand, clearing it of books and lotion. She set them on the small dresser.
After he settled the box on the nightstand, he pulled over the ladder-back chair while she curled up cross-legged on the bed. She was so natural...so unaffected...so pretty.
He opened the box of donuts, pulled out a chocolate-glazed one and handed it to her. “Tell me.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “As the day went on yesterday, I got more sore. Last night I couldn’t get to sleep. It must have been about 4 a.m. when I finally did, and I guess I was in a deep sleep until you knocked. You should have called to warn me you were coming.”
“You need a warning?”
She shrugged. “A girl doesn’t like to be caught with her hair all messed up.” She flipped a hank of it over her shoulder.
He laughed. “You look—”
She held her hand up to stop him. “Do not say fine. No woman wants to hear she looks fine.”
“Then how about you look morning-fresh and pretty.”
She’d been about to take a bite of the donut but she stopped and her eyes widened.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“I have sisters who look beautiful in the morning. They don’t even get sheet wrinkles on their faces.”
“You don’t have any sheet wrinkles. Or any wrinkles at all.”
Her skin was so creamy, he wanted to reach out and touch it. That was the problem. “You do have a few freckles, though. But I like those, too.”
She blinked.
He could see he’d definitely surprised her, maybe even embarrassed her a little. He popped the lid off the coffee. “Sugar and cream, just like you like it.” As he handed it to her, he asked, “So how sore are you this morning?”
“Just a little, really. I think some of it’s from the seat belt.”
That made sense.
“Do you feel like looking at a property I found? If you don’t, we can do it another time.”
“No, I want to go.” She was about to lay down her donut, when he said, “Take your time. I told the real-estate agent I’d buzz her when we were on our way.”
Jazzy suddenly got a determined look on her face, and Brooks knew he was probably in for trouble. She pointed her donut at him. “Just because you’re tall and strong and seem to know what you want in life, doesn’t mean you can look at me as...fragile.”
Now where had that come from? Honest to goodness, he just didn’t understand women. “I don’t.”
She pointed her donut at him again. “You do. Maybe it’s because you take care of animals, but you have some kind of protective streak. It’s the same streak that argued with me about help with changing your tire, and being out in the rain and thinking I had to rest today. You were in the accident, too. You’re not resting.”
“I didn’t bump my shoulder.”
She lifted a finger and stroked the air. “Okay, point taken. Still, I’m not some damsel in distress. Got it?”
She was sitting there cross-legged on the bed—with mussed hair and a just-awakened look. Baser urges nudged him to move closer, to climb into bed with her...
As if he needed more proof she wasn’t fragile, she said, “And I iced my shoulder yesterday like you told me to. I can take good care of myself.”
Whether she could or couldn’t remained to be seen, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. After all, she’d left her home and her family and her job to come to Rust Creek Falls to help.
“You’ve been fighting having somebody look after you all your life, haven’t you?” he asked perceptively.
She finished the rest of the donut and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “With a family as big as mine, it can’t be helped. Everyone thinks they know best for everyone else. We do take care of each other, but sometimes it just gets very smothering.” She licked one finger then picked up her coffee, took a couple of sips, then asked, “Do I have time for a quick shower? I can be ready in ten minutes.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/karen-smith-rose/marrying-dr-maverick/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.