James shoveled a forkful of stew in his mouth. A moment before, the aroma had been mouth-watering, the flavors delectable. Now it was no better than a lump of dog food. The black Lab sprawled over by the door didn’t know how close he was to a plateful of people food, but Brody wouldn’t need more than one invitation.
“I ran into Gloria in town this morning.” Mom took a sip of iced tea. “They excavated the foundation of Kade and Cheri’s house yesterday.”
“Are they back from their honeymoon?” Tori sighed. “That was the most romantic wedding ever.”
“The kids are flying in tomorrow, she said.”
Things would never be the same with his best friend remarried. James was happy for Kade. He was. Really. It just made him feel more like a loser himself. What guy staring down the barrel at thirty had only dated a handful of times? One with a plan, he reminded himself. A plan with as many holes in it as the targets he and Kade had practiced shooting their .22s at as kids.
“I’ve been thinking, son.”
James pulled his attention over to his dad. “Yes, sir?” Probably some new idea for the guest ranch. They needed constant innovation to keep their edge as a prime tourist destination.
“Have you thought of building your own place? That little meadow near Meg and Eli’s on the other side of the lake would be a great building site. Not too far from utility hookups.”
James stared at Dad and snapped his gaping mouth shut. “Uh, no. I hadn’t given it any thought.” Why now? “Are we turning away too many guests because I have one of the guest cabins? Maybe we should invest in several more of those rather than an actual house.” A house for one guy.
Dad waved a hand. “No, no. I mean, that’s not a bad idea, but it isn’t the reason.” He glanced at Mom, who smiled at James.
Great. This wasn’t some off-hand suggestion.
“Your mother reminded me that you’re soon to be thirty. I’d somehow thought you might bring home a great girl sometime and we’d hear wedding bells. The guest cabin was supposed to be a stop-gap measure for a young man who didn’t need parental supervision, not something long-term.”
“Ooh! If Jamie builds a house, can I have his cabin?”
Trust Tori to seek an advantage. But then, what twenty-five-year-old wanted to live with her parents? He couldn’t blame her. Still, the cabin was a great size for a single guy who rarely cooked. He often ate with his folks or, during the busy season, in the ranch dining room.
“Gloria was saying they’d hired Timber Framing Plus out of Coeur d’Alene,” Mom went on. “They have a great reputation in the Inland Northwest for custom homes with quality work.”
“Yes, Kade showed me their website, and I went with him to see a couple of their houses up near Libby one day.” That wasn’t the shock. The surprise was his parents’ thoughts that he should do the same... but without a wife. Kade had lived in the apartment above his parents’ garage until his marriage to Cheri. James had figured he’d do the same. Keep doing what he was doing until something changed. At least he wasn’t saddled with a baby like Kade had been.
Did he actually have the nerve to follow through? He’d spent over a decade being one of Lauren’s best friends while hiding his feelings for her since she didn’t seem to reciprocate. How many evenings had they leaned against the corral rails talking into the wee hours? Sat on bales in the stable, sharing their thoughts? Or out by a bonfire?
It was comfortable. At least, when he was able to ignore the deep longing for more. She wasn’t ready. He knew that. But would she ever be?
Or was it him just being chicken?
* * *
“You work too hard.”
Nothing like coming home after a long day to discover her mother in her kitchen with a bag of takeout. The chicken at least was welcome. Even Felix-the-cat sat at attention, drooling.
Lauren pushed out a tired smile. “Just doing my job. I knew being a veterinarian wouldn’t be like a nine-to-five office job. I saw Dad’s crazy hours when I was growing up.”
Mom’s lips pursed. “At least there is no such thing as an emergency haircut.”
And here they were again. Yeah, her mom made a decent living as owner of Shear Inspirations in downtown Saddle Springs, but the thought of becoming a hair stylist working for her mother had fled screaming out of Lauren’s head almost before it had entered. She’d been a daddy’s girl, hanging around the vet clinic and going out on calls with him as often as he’d let her... much to her mother’s dismay. If only Dad hadn’t died before Lauren could take her place beside him in the practice he and his best friend, Wyatt Torrington, had built from the ground up.
“I love my job, Mom. Let me grab a quick shower and be right with you. Thanks for bringing dinner.”
Mom glared at the clock on the back of the stove. “It will be cold by then.”
It was probably cold already, if Mom had been here since five o’clock. Lena Yang had brought her kids’ puppy in at quarter to after a tangle with barbed wire. “I won’t be long. Besides, that’s why God invented microwaves.”
“Don’t be heretical.”
Lauren grinned and fluttered her fingers as she left the tiny kitchen.
Behind her, Mom muttered something about being a better example to the children she taught in Sunday school.
No going back to argue the point. Also, no hoping Mom would have gone home by the time Lauren had sluiced the day’s grime off her body, no matter how long Lauren stayed under the scalding spray.
A few minutes later she wandered back into the kitchen in gray sweats.
Mom narrowed her gaze as she examined her daughter. “If that’s your idea of evening attire, no wonder you can’t catch a man.”
“Evening attire? Let’s call it comfy casual. I’m not looking for a man.” Lauren opened the bag of takeout, taking a deep whiff of fried chicken as she plated it.
“Being alone all your life isn’t any way to live.”
She popped the plate into the microwave and dished out the coleslaw. “Don’t bother, Mom.”
Her mother huffed. “Don’t bother what? Caring about my only child? The only person I have left on the planet?”
“I’m sorry I don’t meet your expectations, but I’m honestly happy the way I am. I love my work, and I have lots of friends.” The microwave beeped. Lauren lifted out the plate and carried it to the table, nearly tripping over Felix, then dipped her head and said grace aloud while there was still a lull.
Hmm. How to divert attention from herself? “Did I tell you Denae Archibald is going to be renting the other half of the duplex from me?”
“You told me.” Mom pursed her lips. “That family has too much money.”
Ahh. Mom took the bait. Perfect. “Her dad’s a lawyer and her stepmom’s a high-profile IT consultant. They earned their wealth the old-fashioned way.”
“Denae’s spoiled.”
Lauren dug into her chicken. Despite the unwelcome sight of her mom, not having to think about dinner was a pleasant relief.
Mom picked the skin off a piece of poultry and set it aside. “She’s too skinny. Do you think she’s anorexic?”
“No, I doubt it. She simply has a very revved metabolism.” Lauren reached for a second piece of chicken but hesitated. Did she eat too much? Was that why her clothes fit more snugly than they had last year? Not that the coleslaw was likely a better option, doused with enough dressing to drown a cat. Sorry, Felix. You can have the skin off Mom’s drum. She pushed her plate away.
Mom frowned. “You need to keep up your energy. Eat.”
Maybe a second piece would at least keep the tummy rumbles at bay. She really needed to get better at planning ahead with healthy options. Not that the internet — or her friends — agreed what those were. Low fat? Low carb? Weight Watchers? Whole30? Trim Healthy Mama? At least the days of the cabbage cleanse were over.
That meant the coleslaw was definitely out.
“So, did you have any calls out today?”
�
��A couple,” mumbled Lauren around the meat.
“Tell me.”
Her mom had been practiced at conversation with a veterinarian. “A calf with an abscessed leg up at Eaglecrest, but she’ll be okay.” She should give Russ Delgado a call and make sure. “And then I checked in at the Flying Horseshoe. They have a mare about to foal for the first time, so I’ve been keeping an eye on her.”
Mom narrowed her gaze at Lauren.
Great. Here came the other barrel.
“I wonder why James has never married. Or even Victoria, though she’s much younger than her brother.”
“Guess neither of them has met the right person yet.” Lauren gathered the dishes from the table, rinsed them, and slotted them in the dishwasher. By Friday it might be worth running the load.
“Kids these days, living at home until they’re thirty. Does no one want to grow up?”
Lauren forced a chuckle. “Maybe being an adult is overrated.” Not that James wasn’t a mature, grown man. The way he filled out his denim shirt, the short, trimmed beard... everything about him screamed testosterone. “Besides, he doesn’t exactly live at home. He has his own cabin. It’s just that he works for his parents. Why should he commute from town every day?”
Mom harrumphed.
How much longer would she stay? These random drop-ins had become more frequent. More stressful. Lauren could use a bit of time to decompress before bed. She had a romance novel with her name on it. Sadly, it didn’t have her name in it.
“I thought maybe the two of you would fall in love one day.”
So had Lauren. They’d both been wrong. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint you.” And even more sorry to disappoint herself, but what could she do about it? She’d tried to drop a hint or two a few years ago, but he either hadn’t caught it, or ignoring it was his preferred option. Above all, she didn’t want to lose his friendship, the easy camaraderie they shared.
So, her best bet was to get him married off. Then she could relax and see what came next for her. Until James Carmichael was tied up in matrimonial knots, her desperate heart could keep pining. James needed to fall in love. That was all there was to it.
She scooped up Felix and turned back to her mother. “Have you been down to the Branding Iron lately?”
Mom frowned. “I have not, and you shouldn’t, either. It’s a pub.”
“Bar and grill,” corrected Lauren. “It’s not the only restaurant in town that serves liquor along with food. Really good food, I might add.”
Silence.
Alrighty then. “I only wondered if you knew who the new waitress is. She’s very pretty and seems friendly.”
“Working at a place like that, you have to know what friendly means.”
“Oh, good grief, Mom. Don’t even start. I meant friendly in the normal way. Someone with a happy smile and a cheery voice. It was busy the night I was in there, so I didn’t get a chance to find out more about her.”
“Why do you care?”
“Why not? I know everyone in Saddle Springs. I don’t know her. So, if she’s new, she probably doesn’t have many friends here. No one should be alone unless they want to be.”
Mom shook her head. “If you spent half as much time considering your own future as you do everyone else’s...”
Enough. “It’s only seven thirty. I might pop by there for a little while and see if she’s working.” Her book and bed could wait.
“Well, I know when I’m not wanted.” Mom pulled to her feet. “Mark my words, you need to think a little about life balance. Thirty is just around the corner.”
Lauren managed a smile. “I know. It’s kind of an exciting prospect. Don’t you think?”
Yep, that was enough to get her mother pointed at the door. “Get out of your pajamas before you go in public.”
Pajamas? Lauren looked down. She was wearing sweats, not pjs. She was fine.
Chapter Three
A flicker of unease poked at James in the wee hours a few nights later. Hadn’t he checked Snowball not two hours earlier to find her resting comfortably? But he couldn’t get the approaching birth out of his mind. Best thing to do was yank on some clothes and check her again. And again, if need be. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lost sleep over a horse, and it wouldn’t be the last.
He stifled a yawn as he jammed his feet into boots and plopped his hat on his head. Brody perked up in the corner and followed him outside, game for an excursion at any time of day or night, no matter how cold. Stars glittered in the night sky, but the moon wasn’t visible.
James tugged open the stable door to the familiar aroma of horses and hay, and soft sounds as several of the animals moved around their roomy stalls. He turned on low-level lights. Swishing his tail, Brody led the way to Snowball’s stall.
The horse faced the gate but ignored his arrival. She panted slightly then strained.
The vestiges of sleep fled. James opened the gate and slipped inside the stall, circling to the filly’s other end. With that amount of pushing, a hoof or two should be visible, but no.
Not good. Sure, Snowball could be in the earliest stage of labor, but then she shouldn’t sound so tired. James fumbled in his pocket, yanked out his phone, and tapped Lauren’s number. He hated to wake her, but morning could be too late.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Snowball’s in labor and not progressing.”
Lauren’s voice snapped awake. “Be there in ten.”
“Thanks.” Should he wake his father? Before the accident, he would have. Now Dad was a well of information, but little physical help. No. Lauren had way more training and would be here in no time. No need to interrupt anyone else’s sleep. He shoved the phone back in his pocket.
This time when Snowball strained, the tip of one hoof peeked out for a few seconds.
Maybe he’d called prematurely. Maybe Lauren would come in just in time to greet the foal. At least she wouldn’t be angry at the wasted call. She’d bill him — as she should — but she wouldn’t be mad.
The hoof retreated.
Good thing Lauren was coming, but he should prepare for the worst. He left the stall and stripped off his shirt. The chill would soon be forgotten… he hoped. Meanwhile, he scrubbed his upper body, arms, and hands with disinfectant. If Lauren needed an assistant, he’d be ready.
* * *
Donny Jones knew better than to stop a speeding veterinarian at two in the morning. The state patroller waved as Lauren zipped past. She roared the Wrangler up beside the Flying Horseshoe’s stable and cut the engine.
Eight minutes.
Some kind of record, even for her. She grabbed her coveralls and medical bag out of the back and jogged for the stable.
The door swung open, revealing James’s silhouette against the low light inside. He’d be a good person to have on her side if things went south in the next little while. Steady. Patient. Intuitive. She wouldn’t need the other veterinarian in her practice.
Hopefully.
Oh, man. The guy wasn’t wearing a shirt. No matter how much she wanted to stare at the rippling muscles in his torso and arms, she couldn’t. “How is she?” She brushed past. At least he smelled more of disinfectant than of his usual manly scent.
“One hoof protruding. I’m guessing the other leg is folded back, but I haven’t dug in to look.” He followed her down the passageway as he spoke. “I was about to do that.”
“I’ve got it.” Lauren stepped into her coveralls then rolled a long disposable glove-and-sleeve combo up her arm. “Disinfectant?”
He dribbled the liquid down her right arm, swabbing the entire area.
She closed her eyes and held still, trying not to react to his proximity. Nearly impossible. Then she turned to the wide-eyed horse. “Hey, Snowball. You’re not even going to notice this…”
James let out a short chuckle as he rubbed his hands over the horse’s head. So much for the disinfectant, but the touch seemed to comfort Snowball. It ought to. It would certainly have that ef
fect on every other red-blooded female on the planet, Lauren included.
No time for that, though. She reached past the hoof in the birth canal, searching for the other one. Instead, her fingers met the foal’s nose. A little more groping, and she found the bent knee.
“You’re right. Incomplete elbow extension. I need to repel the fetal trunk to give room for repositioning.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Keep her calm. And pray.”
“You’ve got it.”
His soft prayers over Snowball soothed Lauren, too. She hadn’t done this maneuver without Wyatt watching over her before. The other vet had been her dad’s partner and had nearly forty years’ experience. Maybe she should have called him as she jumped in the Jeep. But, no, she had the training. She knew what to do, and her hands were smaller than Wyatt’s. She could do this, but if there was any client she didn’t want to let down, it was James.
Lord, help me.
She waited until the contraction eased before reaching in once again and applying persistent pressure to the shoulder. Push, push. She wouldn’t have long before nature worked against her. She held steady, gritting her teeth, through the next contraction, then pushed further down the birth canal until the foal lay back in the uterus.
Time stood still. Snowball whimpered. James sang Rock of Ages in a low, steady voice. Lauren groped for the other hoof, found it, and drew it forward. Double checked the foal’s nose was in place. Withdrew her arm.
And waited, holding her breath, for the next contraction.
A hoof protruded, then the second one, then the nose.
Lauren sagged against the board-and-batten wall of the stall, gaze pinned to the action.
“All is well?” James leaned beside her, arms crossed over his chest.
The Cowboy’s Mixed-Up Matchmaker Page 2
