by Julie Benson
Olivia’s face flashed in his mind. Oval and delicate, framed with long blonde hair and big blue eyes. Giving, and sweet as ripe Texas peaches in July, she’d had so much to offer him and the world.
They’d had their lives planned. After a small, intimate wedding and a quick honeymoon, they’d return to College Station. She’d get the SeizureReader into production and run the budding company. Then they’d focus on saving the money for his practice where he could offer reasonably priced vet care to rescues and those who couldn’t afford it. They’d both be doing what they loved. They’d have each other, and eventually a family of their own.
But life hadn’t gone as planned. Two years, and yet at times, it felt as if they’d been together yesterday.
“You’ll get through this, Penny.” Cooper hooked the leash to Penny’s collar, slid his arms under her middle, and scooped her up. “Let’s go home.”
*
When Cooper pulled up to his rental house, an older ranch-style place, he smiled. Most people would say it wasn’t much—definitely different from what he’d known in Houston’s River Oaks neighborhood—but the small, two-bedroom farmhouse on a decent plot of land suited him. Not too big, but not so small he constantly tripped over Rowdy. But then, the house hadn’t been his main concern. The land had been. It wasn’t easy to find a place that wasn’t an actual farm, with an owner willing to rent to a man, his rambunctious mix mutt, and his pet steer.
He turned to Penny, finding her curled up in a tight ball, her nose tucked under her paws on the passenger seat, the way she’d been since he placed her in his truck. “I better warn you this is an all-male household. Sorry to say, you’re stuck with me and Rowdy until a better deal comes along.”
He cracked the driver’s side window a couple inches before he got out and headed for his house. When he unlocked the door, Rowdy bounded outside. The tri-colored dog jumped up to greet him, his tail wagging fast enough to create a strong breeze as Cooper scratched the animal behind the ears. With Rowdy accustomed to the stream of dogs, cats, horses and occasional cows coming and going from the property, Cooper didn’t worry about his dog accepting Penny. He was more concerned his dog, who’d never met a two or four-legged stranger, would overwhelm Penny.
“You got to give this lady a wide berth, boy, until she settles in.”
Rowdy barked in response. Cooper instructed the dog to stay and returned to his truck. When he opened the door, Penny gazed up at him with sad brown eyes as if to ask what now?
Cooper grabbed her leash and gently tugged. “Come on, girl.”
The dog refused to move. He stood there for a moment, talking in a soft, coaxing voice, hoping she’d budge. Rowdy barked his displeasure but remained where Coop left him. Knowing sometimes another dog made a skittish one more secure, Cooper called for Rowdy.
The dog raced over to sit beside Cooper. Penny’s eyes cracked open. Her nose lifted and she sniffed. Then she slowly crawled out of the truck.
First hurdle conquered.
“Good job, Rowdy. Head to the house.”
Once there, Penny scurried to the living room and crawled under the end table between the sofa and recliner, while Cooper and Rowdy headed for the kitchen. After feeding his dog, Cooper retrieved two spare bowls, filled one with food, the other with water and placed them near Penny’s hiding spot and returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he sank into his recliner, boxed mac and cheese in a bowl for dinner, and turned on the TV. He’d only eaten a couple bites when his phone rang with a call from Olivia’s, now his, business partner, Tucker McCallan.
“I just got off the phone with Ron Parsons,” Tucker said.
“From your tone, I’m guessing it’s not good news.”
“Damn, I wish he’d move to his ranch. If he had fences to fix and cows to chase, he wouldn’t have time to cause us problems.”
“What’s the burr stuck to his pants this time?”
After Tucker’s explanation, Cooper surmised the problem revolved around Parson’s fearing their targeted market was too small, and thus, not lucrative enough.
“Parson is missing the whole point.” The SeizureReader was intended for individuals who couldn’t identify triggers, weren’t receiving results with medication, couldn’t tolerate side effects, or weren’t candidates for surgery.
“He insists our largest market is with newly diagnosed seizure patients.”
“Did you explain the problems with his theory?”
“I did. I also mentioned how pairing our product with an app and service dogs makes it different from other medical alert systems. What it comes down to is he believes our targeted market is too small and the cost too high to make SeizureReader as lucrative as he’d like. No one’s said it, but my guess is he’s stirred up other investors saying if we expand the market, we’ll make a killing.”
“Refund his investment.”
“First, we can’t afford to, and second, it won’t solve our problem. If we lose Parsons, one of his board pals will pick up the cause. That or we’ll lose other investors.”
Losing additional investors would put the project at further risk. Cooper couldn’t allow that when he was close to realizing Olivia’s dream, and being free to pursue his own.
“The investors want more data on recently diagnosed patients before going into production.”
“Damn. I was afraid that was where you were headed.” Cooper’s hand tightened around his phone. “Call a meeting to point out a few realities. For example, how it’ll be nearly impossible to find recently diagnosed patients with service dogs, considering the waiting lists to receive one.”
“He wants us to offer the device without the service dog component.”
“What? That would mean completely retooling the device and changing the focus from what Olivia initially envisioned.”
“I got the impression it’s a deal breaker.”
“No.” He had to stay true to Olivia’s vision.
“We need to stall the investors and buy time,” Tucker said. “But the only thing I see doing that is testing the current product on a newly diagnosed patient. While that’s going on, I can work on a less expensive variation that isn’t service dog activated to expand our customer market.”
“That sounds great in theory, but there’s still one major problem. How do we find even one newly diagnosed seizure patient with a service dog? Where do we find that needle in a hay stack?”
Cooper concentrated on his breathing until his heart rate slowed. Don’t get emotional. Remain logical and in control. Every problem has a solution. All he had to do was find it, and he would because he refused to let this fall apart when he was close to fulfilling his promise.
*
As Cheyenne and Aubrey drove on state highway nineteen, Cheyenne glanced at the dashboard clock. Seven fifteen. Her sweaty hand clutched her cell phone. Her mother would be expecting her home any time. If she didn’t contact her soon, her mother would call, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to deal with this on her terms.
“What’s wrong with me? I’ve never been afraid to stand up to Mom before. Since the seizures started, sometimes I don’t feel like I’m the same person.”
“You’ve had a lot to deal with. Seizures and all the tests and decisions that go with it. Moving back to Wishing. Career changes. Your mother.”
Cheyenne straightened in her seat. “It’s not a career change. I’m going back to the rodeo, and I could’ve done without the laundry list.”
Aubrey flinched. “Sorry. Guess I should’ve stopped with you’ve dealt with a lot, huh?”
“No, I’m sorry. After being cooped up in a car with Mom to and from Dallas today, I’m a bit snippy, and I took it out on you.” Cheyenne picked at the seam of her jeans. “When you listed everything, it sounded so awful. That’s why I focus on one thing, rather than the total disaster currently known as my life.”
“Smart strategy, and right now we’re focused on getting you a service dog, so your mom won’t panic when yo
u move out.”
“That is if I can find a job that will pay the rent. After what happened at The Horseshoe—”
“Remember, one thing at a time—service dog to deal with your mother’s smothering behavior.”
Cheyenne nodded, and concentrated on her breathing until her fear eased. Getting overwhelmed and panicked would only make her situation worse.
“For the record, why I said all those things was because each takes physical and emotional energy, leaving you less to handle your mother. Cut yourself some slack. The fact that you’re not curled up in a ball crying over everything you have to cope with says a lot about your strength.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” Cheyenne smiled. Aubrey was right. She had to remember how strong she was. “Speaking of Mom, I should contact her before she starts worrying.”
Screwing up her courage, Cheyenne typed a message. “Spending the night with Aubrey. See you in the morning.” Then she hit send, told Aubrey what she’d done, and prayed. That wasn’t so bad. Then she noticed her hands shaking.
A few seconds later, instead of receiving a text in response, Cheyenne’s phone blasted out Stewie’s voice from Family Guy calling out mom repeatedly.
“Cute ringtone.”
“I should’ve guessed she wouldn’t text me.” Cheyenne silenced the ringer. “Just because she calls doesn’t mean I have to answer. Right?”
“What’s she going to do? Forbid her adult daughter from having a sleepover at a friend’s house?”
“It’s a given she’ll say that. My question is what do I say when she does?”
“Sorry, I forgot who we were talking about. Remind her you’re over eighteen, and it’s not a school night.”
“Sure, that’ll get her to back off.”
When her phone quit buzzing, Cheyenne listened to her mother’s voice mail which basically said she didn’t think being away from home was a good idea and then listed her reasons, ranging from concerns she didn’t have her medicine to her certainty Cheyenne would have a seizure, fall, and end up DOA in the hospital.
“I know dealing with this dredges up issues for her, but you have to confront her,” Aubrey said.
“It’s hard to be forceful but not hurt her. Things are still so awkward with us.”
“You can do this.” Aubrey’s voice rang with a confidence Cheyenne wished she felt. Then her friend nodded toward Cheyenne’s phone. “Start with addressing her concerns. Tell me what they were again.”
After discussing each of her mother’s concerns, Cheyenne composed a text ending with, “Not feeling stressed. Having fun. See you tomorrow. Am shutting off my phone. Love you.” Then she flashed what she hoped passed for a bright, optimistic grin at Aubrey and said, “Here goes me being my old assertive self.”
“How’s it feel wearing big-girl panties again?”
“It feels mighty fine.” Cheyenne stared at her phone, waiting for her message to finish sending and then turned off her phone. The small act of defiance sent a rush of control through her.
She blamed herself as much as her mom for the pattern they’d settled into. “I told myself it was easier to overlook her overprotectiveness than fight it, but that gave her permission to keep acting that way.”
“Ty and I’ve struggled with the same thing. All I can say is, if you don’t like the way someone treats you, change it. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”
“Speaking of Ty, how long has he known Cooper?”
“They’ve been friends since they were in the same squadron at A&M. Cooper, AJ, and Zane come to the ranch a couple times a year. Cooper is the quiet, thoughtful one. Oh, and Ty says he’s super intelligent. I guess his whole family is.” Aubrey glanced at Cheyenne. “I saw that flinch, and I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh? When did you realize you have ESP?”
“I don’t. I know you, and you’re nervous about talking to Cooper because he’s intelligent, but he’s not a snooty brainiac. He’s down-to-earth, relatable smart.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s not a know-it-all. You’ll be fine. Just establish a connection over something you have in common.”
And what would that be when the man couldn’t be more opposite from her? For a while, she’d dreamed of going to college, but then high school hit, and she couldn’t keep up. Her studies went downhill until she failed algebra and learned she wouldn’t graduate. Discouraged and wanting to move on, she’d poured her heart and soul into the only thing she’d ever been good at, barrel racing. How could she keep from sounding like a country bumpkin to a “super” intelligent man when she had struggled to get her GED?
Then there was the fact he was quiet and thoughtful. Two characteristics never used in the same sentence with her name. She was a go-with-her-gut-and-tell-everyone-exactly-what-she-thought-and-why person. “What’ll he think of a woman who hops in a car and drives a hundred and forty miles to ask for a favor when she isn’t sure he can help? He’s going to think I’m a nut, that’s what.”
“Start with talking about horses since you have that in common. Then tell him Ty gave us his info and ease into what the seizures have done to your life. According to Ty, family, tradition, and honor are important to Aggies. Play on that and Cooper’s sympathy—he’s a vet so surely he’s a softie.”
The thought of barfing up her troubles left Cheyenne as queasy as when she’d gotten food poisoning after eating a sandwich out of a truck stop vending machine. Not to mention that using her condition to twist Cooper’s arm bristled her pride. “That sounds so calculating.”
“I see it as laying out your case to the best advantage. If you could produce tears, that would help, too.”
Tears? No way in hell. Pulling a cheap, feminine trick turned Cheyenne’s stomach again. “That definitely qualifies as manipulation. I won’t cry and I won’t beg. About all I’ve got left is my self-respect and my pride.”
“Neither of which will get you a service dog.”
Good point, but surely, she didn’t have to resort to feminine wiles. She’d strongly plead her case but refused to be pathetic. A girl had to draw the line somewhere.
When Aubrey and Cheyenne drove into College Station on University Drive, they drove past hotels, the Home Depot with the corporate approved maroon awning, and restaurants, their neon signs fighting for attention, leading up to A&M. After they drove past the massive campus, the distance between houses grew, until small barns and livestock appeared. “I thought you said Cooper lived in College Station.”
Aubrey glanced at her dashboard GPS. “Cooper may be within the city limits, but he sure doesn’t live in town.”
“No kidding. These places have cows and horses in the front yards.”
A minute later, they pulled into a long driveway leading to a modest ranch house on a small parcel of land. A tall, lean, but muscled cowboy stood silhouetted against the rose-and-purple sky. Cheyenne’s breath hitched, the image reminding her of a birthday card Aubrey gave her with a similar picture and the words I got you something special for your birthday on the front. Inside was a shirtless cowboy dressed in tight jeans with a big red bow around his neck. His arms crossed over his broad chest emphasized his incredible abs.
They parked beside the corral holding a steer. A steer? Pretty much in his front yard. A horse she could understand, but a steer? Cheyenne stared at Cooper wearing similar form-fitting jeans as her card cowboy. If he peeled off his maroon T-shirt, would he possess tantalizing abs, too? Her stomach fluttered.
What was the deal with that?
Nerves, most likely. Right, and what other lies are you going to tell yourself?
When Aubrey and Cheyenne joined Cooper, he turned toward them, and confusion washed over his handsome features. “Aubrey? What’re you doing here? Is Ty okay?”
Finding herself facing Cooper, Cheyenne’s stomach felt before-a-competition queasy. If only she were in a rodeo arena instead of a stranger’s house to ask for a huge favor. Lord, she hated being beho
lden to anyone almost as much as she hated people pitying her. The urge to bolt overwhelmed her.
Too late for that, so cowgirl up and deal with it.
“Don’t worry,” Aubrey said, a big smile on her face. “Ty’s fine.”
“Then what brings you here?” Cooper asked as his intelligent gaze moved from Aubrey to zero in on Cheyenne. Then he blinked, and his brows knit together. “Cheyenne, right? I met you at The Horseshoe before Ty’s wedding. You were our waitress.”
The fact that Cooper recalled her name, not just that she’d waited on them, sent ripples of feminine pride gushing through her. Most men didn’t remember redheads. They remembered blondes, or women with great curves or big boobs, but not short, athletic redheads. “I thought you’d remember me.”
“It’s hard to forget a woman whose actions resulted in busting a forgery ring.”
So much for her feminine pride and him remembering her because of… well, her.
Heat flooded up her neck and into her face. Great. Now she was probably tomato red.
Deciding to laugh off the awkwardness, she said, “Everyone dreams of being memorable. Lucky me. I succeeded.”
“You sure did.”
His intense gaze locked on her, as his soft drawl floated around her. No doubt about it this time. He wasn’t joking, and that was male appreciation in his eyes. Her ability to form a coherent thought evaporated.
Pair those dreamy turquoise eyes with his sexy bedroom voice, and the man could make a fortune selling steamed broccoli at the Texas State Fair. Not to mention what his body did for faded Wrangler jeans should be illegal. Her heart pitter-pattered in decidedly female fashion. Oh, dear. This wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned.
Chapter Three
Cheyenne stood there stunned. Had aliens taken over her body? This wasn’t like her to go all gushy female over a man. While she’d never been in love, she’d had her share of relationships, and no man had ever lit her up like this.
Get it together. Remember you’re here to ask for help getting a service dog, not to get a date.
