by L. A. Fiore
Enjoying the feel of the alcohol in my blood, I rested my head on my hand and just took in my surroundings. Most of the male patrons were dressed in flannel shirts, jeans and cowboy boots. I thought it was just for pictures, the cowboy look of the west, but it really was how they dressed around here. I liked it. There was something very sexy about a man in jeans and cowboy boots, especially with the body many of them had. Muscles toned not from the gym, but hard labor. I realized I had been out of the game for a while and I didn’t put out the ‘I’m available’ vibe, but I liked to believe I was still observant. And it appeared a few of the men in the place were looking in my direction with interest, but none of them approached. Rylee had been right about my wedding rings. Maybe it was time to put them away.
“Hey, Doc.”
A shiver of awareness moved through me hearing that voice and then he came into view when he settled on the stool next to me. My rings clearly had no effect on him. What had Rylee said? The good guys wouldn’t approach because of my rings. She was right again because this guy, so not good. My stomach felt all funny looking at him and since my brain was soaked in alcohol none of my mental roadblocks went up. The man really was something else even being rude and cocky. My fingers itched to touch his beard and to trace his lips.
“How’s the arm?”
“Ten stitches.”
“Jesus Christ.” That quickly his demeanor changed to one of incredulity and, I’m pretty sure, disgust. “You’re drunk.”
“Tipsy.”
“What the fuck? You’re a doctor and you’re mixing pain meds and alcohol?”
I snorted, an unattractive sound yes, but it couldn’t be helped. “You’re an ass. You know that, right?”
Surprise, it was quick, but I definitely saw it rolling over his face. “And you’re an idiot. What kind of VMD are you?”
Even drunk, my blood boiled. Prick. “What makes you think I’m mixing drugs and alcohol?”
He glanced at my arm. “Ten stitches.”
“Not that it is any of your business, but I’m not on pain meds. Thank you so much for your concern though. It’s nice to know someone cares and vocalizes that concern in such a constructive and compassionate way.”
It wasn’t surprise this time, but something else flashed in those unusual eyes before he asked, “Are you here alone?”
“No. My friend is getting the car.”
“Stag again. Your poor husband.”
“You have an unnatural interest in my husband.”
He had a reaction to that, but I was too drunk to figure it out or really to care.
“I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“You don’t need to do that, figure me out. Every time I’m near you I want to run away screaming.” Or jump you and kiss that damn smirk off your face. “I irritate you just as much, so focus your energies on the countless women in town who actually want your company.”
“See, now that just sounds like a challenge.”
“Seriously. Did you bang your head recently? You might be suffering from brain trauma.”
He had the oddest expression on his face and then that head dipped back and he roared with laughter. “You have a sense of humor too.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
This only made him laugh harder.
My phone buzzed. Rylee was out front. “I’ve got to go.”
“See you around, Doc.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, babe, a promise.”
“Fabulous.”
He was still laughing when the door closed behind me.
The Roberts’ farm was very small. They had six horses out to stud, along with four others for riding. Both Mr. and Mrs. Roberts were pushing seventy and still they maintained much of the farm on their own. Their house was a white farmhouse that was meticulously maintained with the mountains rising up behind it and lush landscape surrounding it for as far as the eye could see.
“This is beautiful. Is this all yours?”
“Yeah. The farm has been in my family a long time. We’ve about two hundred acres. Just in those woods where that footpath is are the old out buildings of the original farm. They’re in disrepair now, in need of being torn down. We had hoped to expand, removing some of the trees and those buildings to accommodate that growth, but it didn’t work out. I like our size, but I know my son, Keith, had hoped for more. He’s here somewhere, so hopefully you’ll meet him before you leave. The horses are in the barn.”
A large red barn with an attached silver silo completed the picture perfect scene.
Mr. Roberts stayed with me as I examined his horses.
“They’re all very healthy and beautiful.”
“They have champion Thoroughbred sire lines, which is why they’re so sought after to stud.”
“Have any of them run the circuit?”
“Little Prince before we owned him. He won the Preakness twice.”
Little Prince was eighteen hands, not little at all, a pitch black Thoroughbred. He was magnificent.
“When I get back to the clinic, I’ll update their records.” Doc Cassidy’s files were all hardcopy, so I couldn’t update the records online. It was going to take days to convert the files to electronic, but once done it would make maintaining the records so much easier.
“How are you finding Wyoming?”
“The landscape is breathtaking, the people are extremely friendly and I adore the work.”
“That’s what we want to hear. The Mrs. has lemonade for us.”
It was hot; a cold glass of lemonade would hit the spot. “Sounds great.”
While walking to the house, a man appeared on horseback coming in the direction of the mountains. He was attractive—light brown hair, dark eyes and dressed in flannel, jeans, cowboy boots and hat. For just a moment, I took in the scene because I was staring at an honest to God cowboy on horseback and I had to say it was a really nice sight.
“There’s Keith. He’s the one who manages the place now, keeping the schedules and training the few grooms we have.”
Keith’s focus was on me and stayed on me as he dismounted. He was obviously trying to figure out who I was. Confirmed when he asked, “Who’s this?”
“Sidney Stephens. She’s taking over for Doc Cassidy. Came all the way from New Jersey.”
“I heard he was retiring. Nice to meet you, Sidney.”
“And you.” We shook hands, his focus shifting to my ring-less finger since I didn’t wear them when I did examinations. I’d seen that same move on countless television shows and movies, but I had never had it done to me. It felt kind of nice being on the receiving end of that subtle show of interest.
“Are you settling in? I imagine Sheridan is a bit different from what you’re used to.”
“It is, but a good change and the landscape couldn’t be more beautiful.”
“You’re not wrong about that. I need to rub down Solomon, but we should set something up so I can go over the farm and animals with you.”
“I’ll call you.”
“We could even make it a dinner meeting if you’re so inclined.”
It had been a while since a handsome man flirted with me; it felt nice. Sure, on first meeting he didn’t make my blood burn, but he also didn’t make me want to strangle the life from him either. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” he said with a smile before he led Solomon to the barn. Mr. Roberts watched him for a beat or two before saying, “He’s a good boy. Come, let’s get that lemonade.”
We stepped up onto the covered porch; the pitcher of lemonade dripped with condensation. “That looks delicious.”
Mrs. Roberts smiled before looking over at her husband. “Why don’t you take Sidney inside so she can clean up and I’ll pour us a glass?”
After two glasses of lemonade and several homemade cookies, I was pulling down their drive being careful to avoid the potholes since I really had no desire to get another flat. Halfway back to town, I came upon a woman wa
lking along the side of the road...the same one I had seen with him. It was the manner in which she was walking that brought on the wicked flashback of Connor because I’d seen that stagger from my brother more times than I could count. She was clearly on something and I had firsthand knowledge that people under the influence could be very unpredictable, but I couldn’t get myself to drive past her. Maybe if someone had stopped to offer help to Connor it would have turned out differently for him. And there was a small part of me—a very small part—that took into consideration him in my decision to offer aid. Pulling over, I climbed from the car. She was entirely too thin and had the complexion of a drug user. Her stringy hair was in dire need of a good washing. She didn’t notice me until she was practically on top of me.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Sidney. I’m the new vet taking over for Doc Cassidy.”
“And you’re here now why?”
“It’s awfully hot today, would you like a ride?”
“Why?”
“It’s kind of new to me, the whole small town everyone knows everyone thing, but offering you a ride on a hot day seems like the Sheridan thing to do.”
“Where are you from?”
“New Jersey, Princeton area. It’s a different world there. People would step over your dehydrated body, but when in Rome.”
She turned, her gaze shifting to something behind her though I suspected she wanted the ride but was having trouble accepting it. She surprised me when she said, “Okay.”
Once in the car I asked, “Where am I going?”
“Just keep following this road.”
We drove for a few miles before she had me pulling off the main road to a little dirt one. A cabin appeared, very similar to Rylee’s and my place.
I had followed her out of the car, but I didn’t follow her to the door. I was worried about leaving her alone because she was clearly coming down from something, but then the door opened and he filled the space. I could admit I had hoped to see him. What that said about me was not something I really wanted to spend a lot of time figuring out. He hadn’t seen me, his glower was directed solely on the woman.
“Where the fuck have you been?” There was comfort in the knowledge that he was an ass to everyone.
“Out.”
I wasn’t needed here; she was in good, if not pissed, hands so I made my retreat. I didn’t get far.
“You.”
Accusation dripped from that single word. My shoulders slumped as I turned to face him. He’d taken a few steps from the house, closer to me. Not good.
“How is it you’re here?”
The other night he’d been a dick, but he had been flirting too and now he treated me like an unwanted solicitor. I had thought he might be bipolar, with his drastic mood swings. Maybe he wasn’t bipolar, maybe he suffered from multiple personalities. I was tempted to ask him which of his personalities I was talking to now. This was definitely the angry one.
“I found your friend walking along the side of the road. I offered her a ride.”
His hands balled into fists, but he managed through his clenched teeth, “Thanks.”
“Do you have any idea what she’s on?”
“No.”
“Would you like help? I’ve a bit of experience with people in her condition.”
“No.” He practically spat that as he turned his back on me and headed inside.
I prided myself on being both tolerant and patient, but around this man I was neither of those things. “Are you a dick to everyone or is it just me?”
He stopped, his head twisting and those pale eyes froze me where I stood. “This ain’t me being a dick. When I’m a dick, you’ll know it.”
Reasoning with a lunatic was a lesson in futility. I turned away from him because it was either that or wait for my head to spin off my neck like Linda Blair. I had actually wanted to see him. I needed my head examined.
“Doc?”
Now what?
“I get where your head was at offering Carly a ride, but putting yourself in danger to offer that aid is fucking stupid.”
“Danger?”
“She’s high.”
It had been a risk, but one I’d do again. I didn’t say as much to him. “You’re right.”
I’d surprised him again. His head shaking was proof of that. “I don’t fucking get you.”
“And you don’t have to.” I climbed into the car before he could comment. And as I drove off, I caught sight of him in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t moved; he was still staring after me.
The woman had a death wish. Honest to God, I was tempted to hunt down her husband and beat some sense into him. She just ran around the countryside without a care in the world. Offering a ride to a drug addict? Was she insane? Carly could have overpowered her, taken her purse, her ride. Carly fucking shot me and she’s known me since we were kids. And why the fuck I cared about the new doc I hadn’t a fucking clue. She was married. Maybe I was suffering from blood poisoning from the gunshot wound.
Slamming into the house, I went in search of Carly. She was in her room eating chips and watching television.
“Why am I here?”
Her eyes moved from the set to me. “Cause you love me.”
“Seriously, I’m wasting my fucking time. I have a life. You aren’t trying. You aren’t making any effort at all to get better and frankly I’m done with this.”
Her face paled, her hand stopped midway to her mouth. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m not doing this anymore. I’m going home.”
“No.”
“If you aren’t willing to help yourself then why the hell am I trying so hard? Jayce only left here fifteen minutes before I showed up and I get here and you’re gone—off to get high.”
Panic entered her expression. “I’ll try harder.”
“You’ve said that before. If you don’t want to talk to me, okay. But you need to talk to someone.”
Her lower lip started to quiver and I hated seeing her look so broken, but she needed to do something to break the cycle.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay, what?”
“I’ll talk to someone.”
We’d been here before too. “If I go to the trouble of finding you someone to talk to, you aren’t going to change your mind?”
“No. I’ll talk to them.”
“You fuck this up, I’m gone.”
“I won’t.”
I climbed onto the bed and reached for the bowl of chips. “What are we watching?”
“Sleepy Hollow.”
“Fucking Christ.”
She giggled and rested her head on my shoulder and for that moment I let myself believe she was finally ready to accept the help being offered.
Pulling up the drive to the Hellars’ farm, I took a minute to appreciate how well the family was doing. As a kid, this place had been like home to me. Back then they were doing well, but now they were dominating. They were good people and hard workers, so their success wasn’t a surprise. Climbing from my bike, I headed to the front door. I’d called earlier, knew Marnie wasn’t a fan of people just stopping over. The reason for that was she liked to have refreshments for her guests. Giving her a heads up meant she’d been baking. Her cookies were the fucking bomb.
I hadn’t even knocked and she was there pulling the door open. “Abel. It’s so good to see you. Come in.”
As soon as I stepped into the house, she wrapped me in a hug. She’d been the only mother figure I’d ever known.
“You look well. How’s the business?” She asked as she stepped back and gestured for me to take a seat.
“Busy, growing a little too fast.”
“Growing too fast is better than too slow.”
That was true enough. Garrett walked in at that moment and like when I was a kid, I stood just a little bit taller. Garrett Hellar was a no nonsense man, a shrewd businessman and good father. I envied Jayce and Duncan that they had a father like him, sin
ce my own was a worthless piece of shit.
“Abel, son, so good to see you.”
“And you, sir.”
Jayce and Duncan walked into the room, joking about something, but as soon as they saw their dad they both quieted. Jayce settled on the sofa opposite me, reached for a cookie and grinned but Duncan stayed on the far side of the room. He and his dad had been tight growing up, but there was definitely some kind of odd dynamic going on between them now. What the hell was that all about?
Garrett leaned up against the fireplace, his arms crossing over his chest. “So you’re here about Carly?”
“Yeah. She’s ready to talk to someone.”
Marnie stopped pouring the lemonade, her eyes zeroing in on me. “She is?”
“We talked last night, she’s ready.”
“Are you sure? She’s done this before?” Garrett asked.
“I’m not sure, but she needs more than any of us can give her.”
“I agree. My sister knows some wonderful therapists,” Marnie said.
“I have to get back to my job, my life, but I’m really hoping I can do that knowing she’s getting the help she needs.”
“Whatever she needs, therapy, rehab, we’ll do it,” Garrett said then added, “She’s a good kid, she’ll find her way and we’ll be there to help.”
“I’ve got this. Why don’t you get us some lunch? There’s that sandwich place down the street.” Rylee asked as she felt Sandbar’s stomach, a large orange tabby that looked as if he was contemplating shredding her to pieces.
“Are you sure you’ve got him?”
“Yeah, he’s all bluster.”
“Where’s his owner?”
That question was directed at Doc Cassidy. He looked up from the chart he studied. “Don’t know, found him sniffing around the back door one day. He didn’t have a collar, so I took him in. I can’t take him to the kennel since he’s not very friendly. They’d likely put him down.”
Not very friendly was an understatement, but maybe he just needed a home. “We should take him, Rylee.”
