Mail Order Cowboy
Page 10
But she’d just said she hated girlie things. And never invited that friend over ever.
And hey, she’d been built for it. Broad shoulders and stuff.
Sadly, she wasn’t built for pretty dresses.
But she needed strength more, anyway.
She was thankful she had driven her own truck, which was parked not far down the street against the curb. First-date rule for her. Drive your own vehicle. In case you had to make a hasty getaway.
And apparently she had needed to make a hasty getaway, just not because Michael was a weirdo or anything.
No, he had been distressingly nice.
She mused on that as she got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She pulled away from the curb and headed out of town. Yes, he had been perfectly nice. Really, there had been nothing wrong with him. And she was a professional at finding things wrong with the men she went on dates with. A professional at finding excuses for why a second date couldn’t possibly happen.
She was ashamed to realize now that she was hoping he would consider this an excuse not to make a second date with her.
That she had taken a phone call in the middle of dinner and then had run off.
A lot of people had trouble dating. But often it was for deep reasons they had trouble identifying.
Kaylee knew exactly why she had trouble dating.
It was because she was in love with her best friend, Bennett Dodge. And he was not in love with her.
She gritted her teeth.
She wasn’t in love with Bennett. No. She wouldn’t allow that. She had lustful feelings for Bennett, and she cared deeply about him. But she wasn’t in love with him. She refused to let it be that. Not anymore.
That thought carried her over the gravel drive that led to the ranch, back behind the house, just as Bennett had instructed. The doors to the barn were flung open, the lights on inside, and she recognized Bennett’s truck parked right outside.
She killed the engine and got out, then moved into the barn as quickly as possible.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Dave Miller was there, his arms crossed over his chest, standing back against the wall. Bennett had his hand on the cow’s back. He turned to look at her, the overhead light in the barn seeming to shine a halo around his cowboy hat. That chiseled face that she knew so well but never failed to make her stomach go tight. He stroked the cow, his large, capable hands drawing her attention, as well as the muscles in his forearm. He was wearing a tight T-shirt that showed off the play of those muscles to perfection. His large biceps and the scars on his skin from various on-the-job injuries. He had a stethoscope draped over his shoulders, and something about that combination—rough-and-ready cowboy meshed with concerned veterinarian—was her very particular catnip.
“I need to get the calf out as quickly as possible, and I need to do it at the right moment. Too quickly and we’re likely to crush the baby’s ribs.” She had a feeling he said that part for the benefit of the nervous-looking rancher standing off to the side.
Dave Miller was relatively new to town, having moved up from California a couple of years ago with fantasies of rural living. A small ranch for him and his wife’s retirement had grown to a medium-sized one over the past year or so. And while the older man had a reputation for taking great care of his animals, he wasn’t experienced at this.
“Where do you want me?” she asked, moving over to where Bennett was standing.
“I’m going to need you to suction the hell out of this thing as soon as I get her out.” He appraised her. “Where were you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re wearing a dress.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t at home.”
He frowned. “Were you out?”
This was not the time for Bennett to go overly concerned big brother on her. It wasn’t charming on a normal day, but it was even less charming when she’d just abandoned her date to help deliver a calf. “If I wasn’t at home, I was out. Better put your hand up the cow, Bennett,” she said, feeling testy.
Bennett did just that, checking to see that the cow was dilated enough for him to extract the calf. Delivering a breech animal like this was tricky business. They were going to have to pull the baby out, likely with the aid of a chain or a winch, but not too soon, which would injure the mother. And not too quickly, which would injure them both.
But if they went too slow, the baby cow would end up completely cut off from its oxygen supply. If that happened, it was likely to never recover.
“Ready,” he said. “I need chains.”
She looked around and saw the chains lying on the ground, then she picked them up and handed them over. He grunted and pulled, producing the first hint of the calf’s hooves. Then he lashed the chain around them. He began to pull again, his muscles straining against the fabric of his black T-shirt, flexing as he tugged hard.
She had been a vet long enough that she was inured to things like this, from a gross-out-factor perspective. But still, checking out a guy in the midst of all of this was probably a little imbalanced. Of course, that was the nature of how things were with her and Bennett.
They’d met when she’d moved to Gold Valley at thirteen—all long limbs, anger and adolescent awkwardness. And somehow, they’d fit. He’d lost his mother when he was young, and his family was limping along. Her own home life was hard, and she’d been desperate for escape from her parents’ neglect and drunken rages at each other.
She never had him over. She didn’t want to be at her house. She never wanted him, or any other friend, to see the way her family lived.
To see her sad mattress on the floor and her peeling nightstand.
Instead, they’d spent time at the Dodge ranch. His family had become hers, in many ways. They weren’t perfect, but there was more love in their broken pieces than Kaylee’s home had ever had.
He’d taught her to ride horses, let her play with the barn cats and the dogs that lived on the ranch. Together, the two of them had saved a baby squirrel that had been thrown out of his nest, nursing him back to health slowly in a little shoebox.
She’d blossomed because of him. Had discovered her love of animals. And had discovered she had the power to fix some of the broken things in the world.
The two of them had decided to become veterinarians together after they’d successfully saved the squirrel. And Bennett had never wavered.
He was a constant. A sure and steady port in the storm of life.
And when her feelings for him had started to shift and turn into more, she’d done her best to push them down because he was her whole world, and she didn’t want to risk that by introducing anything as volatile as romance.
She’d seen how that went. Her parents’ marriage was a reminder of just how badly all that could sour. It wasn’t enough to make her swear off men, but it was enough to make her want to keep her relationship with Bennett as it was.
But that didn’t stop the attraction.
If it were as simple as deciding not to want him, she would have done it a long time ago. And if it were as simple as being with another man, that would have worked back in high school when she had committed to finding herself a prom date and losing her virginity so she could get over Bennett Dodge already.
It had not worked. And the sex had been disappointing.
So here she was, fixating on his muscles while he helped an animal give birth.
Maybe there wasn’t a direct line between those two things, but sometimes it felt like it. If all other men could just...not be so disappointing in comparison to Bennett Dodge, things would be much easier.
She looked away from him, making herself useful, gathering syringes and anything she would need to clear the calf of mucus that might be blocking its airway. Bennett hadn’t said anything, likely for Dave’s benefit, but she had a
feeling he was worried about the health of the heifer. That was why he needed her to see to the calf as quickly as possible, because he was afraid he would be giving treatment to its mother.
She spread a blanket out that was balled up and stuffed in the corner—unnecessary, but it was something to do. Bennett strained and gave one final pull and brought the calf down as gently as possible onto the barn floor.
“There he is,” Bennett said, breathing heavily. “There he is.”
His voice was filled with that rush of adrenaline that always came when they worked jobs like this.
She and Bennett ran the practice together, but she typically held down the fort at the clinic and treated smaller domestic animals like birds, dogs, cats and the occasional ferret.
Bennett worked with large animals, cows, horses, goats and sometimes llamas. They had a mobile unit for things like this.
But when push came to shove, they helped each other out.
And when push came to pulling a calf out of its mother, they definitely helped each other.
Bennett took care of the cord and then turned his focus back to the mother.
Kaylee moved to the calf, who was glassy-eyed and not looking very good. But she knew from her limited experience with this kind of delivery that just because they came out like this didn’t mean they wouldn’t pull through.
She checked his airway, brushing away any remaining mucus that was in the way. She put her hand back over his midsection and tried to get a feel on his heartbeat. “Bennett,” she said, “stethoscope?”
“Here,” he said, taking it from around his neck and tossing it her direction. She caught it and slipped the ear tips in, then pressed the diaphragm against the calf, trying to get a sense of what was happening in there.
His heartbeat sounded strong, which gave her hope.
His breathing was still weak. She looked around at the various tools, trying to see something she might be able to use. “Dave,” she said to the man standing back against the wall. “I need a straw.”
“A straw?”
“Yes. I’ve never tried this before, but I hear it works.”
She had read that sticking a straw up a calf’s nose irritated the system enough that it jolted them into breathing. And she hoped that was the case.
Dave returned quickly with the item that she had requested, and Kaylee moved the straw into position. Not gently, since that would defeat the purpose.
You had to love animals to be in her line of work. And unfortunately, loving them sometimes meant hurting them.
The calf startled, then heaved, his chest rising and falling deeply before he started to breathe quickly.
Kaylee pulled the straw out and lifted her hands. “Thank God.”
Bennett turned around, shifting his focus to the calf and away from the mother. “Breathing?”
“Breathing.”
He nodded, wiping his forearm over his forehead. “Good.” His chest pitched upward sharply. “I think Mom is going to be okay, too.”
UNTAMED COWBOY
by New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates,
available July 2018 wherever
HQN Books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
Copyright © 2018 by Maisey Yates
ISBN-13: 9781488034152
Mail Order Cowboy
Copyright © 2018 by Maisey Yates
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