Her Forever Cowboy

by Marie Ferrarella

  Finn and Liam got out on either side at the same time. Neither one looked thrilled about being dragged out to view the deserted ranch.

  “I thought you wanted me to finish that bathroom,” Finn reminded his older brother.

  “I do,” Brett responded, “but this isn’t going to take long.”

  He took a long look around. It had been a while since he’d been up here. Nothing seemed to have changed, he noted. There was still a cool breeze here, despite the fact that the temperature was climbing.

  “I have that practice with the band,” Liam spoke up.

  “I know. Like I just said,” Brett repeated patiently, “this isn’t going to take long.”

  “Don’t see why you need us out here anyway. It’s not like we know anything about ranching,” Finn pointed out. He had his interests and his strengths, neither of which included overseeing a spread or having anything to do with horses.

  “Well, neither do I,” Brett replied.

  He surveyed the field they were in. It was green and lush and perfect for cattle to graze on. In the five years since Robertson had okayed the sale of his herd, the land had had time to recover and flourish—not that he knew very much about ranching beyond that. But he knew potential when he saw it.

  “So this is yours, huh?” Liam asked, scanning the area and actually taking it in for the first time. “Not too shabby.”

  “Ours,” Brett corrected. Both brothers looked at him quizzically. “This is ours,” he emphasized in case his brothers had somehow missed his meaning.

  Finn looked at him uncertainly. “I thought you told us that Olivia said old man Robertson had left this land to you.”

  “He did,” Brett confirmed. Then, before either brother could ask more questions, he said, “What’s mine is yours.” Brett looked from one brother to the other. “You know that.”

  Finn flashed him a wide grin. The family resemblance was always strongest when they smiled like that, Brett thought.

  “Does that sharing principle apply to that cute lady doc, as well?” Finn asked.

  Brett’s tone was one of tolerance. It had taken him a while to develop that particular quality, but it had evolved out of necessity. He wouldn’t have been able to survive rearing his brothers without it.

  “She’s not mine,” he informed Finn.

  Finn, apparently, thought he knew better.

  “Yet,” Finn corrected. “She’s not yours yet. But I saw the way you were looking at her the other morning when she came in while we were working on the bathroom—the one you decided she needed,” he underscored, his meaning clear: Brett was not as indifferent to the woman as he was pretending. “Hell, brother, it’s just a matter of time before that woman is another notch on your belt.”

  “Or your bedpost,” Liam, not to be left out, added.

  Brett shook his head. “When are you two going to grow up?” he asked in exasperation.

  Finn gave him a knowing look. “Probably around the same time you hang your hat on one bedpost—for good,” he replied.

  He didn’t have the kind of time that a relationship like the one Finn was alluding to required. There were still too many things left for him to do.

  “Not going to happen for a long time,” Brett promised a shade too quickly, as if he wasn’t at ease allowing the suggestion to hang there between them.

  Finn exchanged looks with Liam and grinned broadly. “Then I guess little brother and I are going to stay young like this for a long time to come.”

  Brett snorted as he walked around the field, stopping to check out the soil at random. “Since when does your action depend on what I do or don’t do?”

  “Since you became our idol and role model, big brother,” Finn told him with a very straight face, under the circumstances.

  “Maybe I should have come out here alone after all,” Brett said. “It’s not often that I get the chance to find peace and quiet away from you two lunkheads.”

  Finn turned to Liam, feigning seriousness. “I think he hurt my feelings.”

  Liam nodded with feeling, getting into the spirit of the thing. “I know he hurt mine.”

  “Ha! You two don’t have any feelings,” Brett countered. “You both have hides like rhinos.” He gestured toward his car and began walking back to it. “Now shut up and get back into the car.”

  Liam appeared all too ready to comply and quickly turned back, picking up his pace, changing it from sluggish to fast. “We’re going back?” It was a rhetorical question.

  The next moment, Liam was shot down.

  “No, not yet,” Brett told him. The news was met with less-than-overwhelming enthusiasm. “We’re going to drive around for a bit, get the lay of the land the way it is now and then go see how much repair the main house is going to need.”

  Reaching the car, Finn pulled open the door and got in. “In other words, more work.”

  “In any words, more work—eventually,” Brett replied, getting in himself.

  Maybe inheriting this property was going to turn out to be a good thing, he mused. It would certainly bring them closer together as a family, the way things used to be when they were younger—as long as he succeeded in getting his brothers in gear.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re next, Millie,” Holly Rodriguez announced through the large rectangular opening that looked out onto the medical clinic’s waiting room. “Dr. Davenport will see you now.”

  Millie Edwards, the woman whose name had just been called, rose from her seat. But rather than head toward the door that would lead her to the rear of the clinic, where the examination rooms were located, the middle-aged homemaker approached the desk where Holly was seated. The nurse was inputting information into the clinic’s brand-new computer, purchased just for this very function.

  Millie stood there quietly, waiting for Holly to finish what she was typing.

  Sensing her presence, Holly paused. Her fingers rested lightly on the keyboard as she looked at the older woman.

  “Is something wrong, Millie?” she asked, seeing the somewhat hesitant expression on Millie’s almost wrinkle-free, round face.

  Millie stood with her back to the rest of the occupants in the waiting room. Lowering her voice to almost a hoarse whisper, she said, “No, but, um, would it be all right if I just wait for the other one? The lady doctor?” Millie asked hopefully.

  “Sure,” Holly told her, taking care to keep the smile from her lips.

  She glanced at the list and called out the name of the next person on it, a big, burly man by the name of Jake Horn, who had just taken over running the local feed store for his uncle.

  Jake shuffled past Millie, nodding a general greeting toward her.

  “It’s not that I don’t like Dr. Davenport. I do,” Millie said nervously to the doctor’s nurse once Jake had gone through the door. “But, um, this is a lady problem and, um...” Embarrassed to even be mentioning what had finally brought the harried mother of three over to the clinic, Millie’s voice slowly trailed off on a helpless note.

  “It’s all right, Millie,” Holly assured the woman. “Dr. Dan wants you to be comfortable when you come to the clinic.”

  “But I don’t want to hurt his feelings—or insult him,” the woman added, her eyes widening as the last thought suddenly occurred to her.

  “Don’t worry about it, Millie. Dr. Dan doesn’t take offense easily. You’re just exercising a patient’s right to pick and choose their primary physician,” Holly told the woman diplomatically.

  Millie still looked unconvinced. “You’re sure he won’t be insulted?” she asked uncertainly.

  “I’m very sure,” Holly told her with gentle finality. “Now take a seat, and as soon as Dr. Cordell is ready, I’ll send you in to see her,” she promised.

  Several minute
s later, Holly saw Zander Cruz emerge from exam room 1. After pausing to make a payment on his bill, the man entered the waiting room and then headed for the clinic’s front door. That meant that the new doctor could see the next patient.

  But rather than send Millie in immediately, Holly rose from her chair and made her way back into the rear of the building.

  Alisha looked up as she heard someone coming into the exam room she was currently in. But instead of the anticipated next patient, she saw the clinic’s nurse standing in the doorway.

  “We can’t be out of patients, can we? Or are you my next patient?” Alisha asked, finding the idea mildly amusing.

  Holly laughed softly, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, we’re definitely not out of patients. It’s almost standing room only out there, but I just thought you might want to know something.”

  “Oh?”

  The single word carried a note of leeriness in it. At this point in her life, after her fiancé fiasco, any surprises coming her way were suspect and unwelcome.

  “Your next patient is Millie Edwards—and I thought you’d like to know that she specifically asked for you.” Holly smiled as she delivered the news. “I believe that makes Millie your first official patient by choice in Forever.”

  Alisha had been seeing patients for close to three and a half weeks now, but to her knowledge, this was the first one to actually request her—choosing her over the clinic’s resident physician.

  Alisha’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at the nurse, appreciating the notification. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  Holly returned the smile. “My pleasure, Doctor. I’ll send Millie in now.”

  Alisha nodded. “Please.” She watched Holly leave the room.

  She hadn’t thought it would matter that much to her, being singled out by a patient and having that patient actually request seeing her, but it did. So much so that Alisha felt as if every fiber of her being was smiling.

  Big-time.

  The feeling lasted for the rest of the day, weaving its way into the late afternoon and the beginning of the evening—even when fatigue set in.

  * * *

  “WELL, YOU CERTAINLY look happy,” Brett noted as his one and only tenant walked by the bar later that evening.

  The crowd along said bar had thinned out somewhat since the doors had officially opened a little after noon and the “late” shift—people coming in after they’d had their dinner—hadn’t begun to pour in yet. Occupied as usual, Brett had still been watching the front door, waiting for Alisha to come through it on her way to her apartment.

  He’d found himself keeping an eye out for her every night now, whenever he was on duty—and of late, he was on duty every night, at times sharing the job with one of his brothers, at times going it alone. Liam, devoting himself more and more to nurturing his musical career, played with the band at Murphy’s at least two nights a week, if not more.

  Finn lent a hand at the bar far more often than Liam did, but the truth of it was, his middle brother was predominantly busy with making renovations to the ranch house that he had insisted belonged to all of them. The upstairs bathroom had been completed, as Finn had promised, within a little more than two days of Alisha’s moving in.

  His brothers, Brett thought with pride, each had a special talent. His lay in keeping the family together no matter what.

  The sound of Brett’s voice burrowed into her thoughts, and Alisha looked at her too-good-looking-for-her-own-damn-good landlord for the first time, mildly surprised that she was inside Murphy’s. These days, she’d discovered, she came here almost by rote, as if she was on some sort of automatic pilot.

  Tonight she’d stopped to have dinner with Holly at the diner where the latter used to work until she’d graduated from online nursing school. Holly had done that just after she’d married Ray Rodriguez, the last of the eligible Rodriguez brothers.

  Miss Joan had served them dinner personally, and for once, Alisha noted with relief, the titian-haired woman had been too busy asking Holly questions to grill her—that meant that she’d gotten a pass for the evening.

  Alisha had to admit, though, like everyone else in the town, she was growing fond of the eccentric woman. Miss Joan had truly missed her calling. The woman should have been an interrogator for one of the alphabet agencies. She was rather confident that Miss Joan would have worn down just about any suspect who crossed her path.

  Not quite ready to pack it in and call it a night just yet, Alisha drew closer to the bar and leaned in. “I’m sorry—I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

  For his part, Brett drew in closer, as well. Only a few inches separated their faces. A fact that he had a feeling they both noticed.

  “I said you looked happy. It’s a nice look on you,” he commented. “Any particular reason you’re currently giving off more light than the sun?” he asked, the corners of his mouth curving not just in humor, but in deep appreciation of the way she looked, as well.

  In his opinion, Alisha Cordell was a woman who owned every room she walked into whether she knew it or not, but when she smiled like that, she wasn’t just beautiful; she became incredibly stunning.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s nighttime,” Alisha pointed out. “The sun’s not up anymore.”

  Brett never missed a beat. “But if it was, it definitely would retreat in the face of the competition it would find itself dealing with, having you beaming like that. Want to tell me what’s up?” he asked. And then, just as suddenly, a thought occurred to him as to why she might be looking as happy as she was. “You’re not about to go back to New York, are you?”

  The question was playfully stated, but he wasn’t altogether surprised that the thought of her leaving bothered him. He’d just gotten used to seeing her around, used to looking forward to seeing her walk out each morning and walk in each night. He was reluctant to face that coming to an abrupt end.

  “No, not now,” she said with feeling. “I’d be leaving Dan in a lurch.”

  Alisha appeared unaware that her referring to the doctor by his first name had been noted—with a surge of satisfaction—by the man she was speaking with. She was coming around nicely, Brett thought.

  “Someday,” she interjected, not wanting Brett to think she was in any way contemplating becoming a permanent resident of this one-pickup-truck town, “but not right now.”

  “Okay, so what has you smiling from ear to ear?” he asked, adding, “You might as well tell me, you know. Resistance really is futile. We bartenders are known to be relentless when it comes to extracting information.”

  Settling in without fully realizing it, Alisha perched on the closest bar stool. “Someone asked for me at the clinic today. Specifically. They wanted me to attend to them, not Dan.” She was doing her best not to sound or seem smug, but it really did feel good, she couldn’t help thinking.

  Brett paused to study her face, and then he laughed, shaking his head.

  “Wow, if that was all that it took to get you to smile like that, I would have come into the clinic your first day there and asked for you. Specifically,” he underscored, finding himself totally captivated by her dazzling smile.

  “That wouldn’t have counted,” she told him, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand.

  “Why not?” he asked, pretending to take offense at the rejection.

  She sighed. Okay, she’d spell it out for him. “Because you wouldn’t have meant it. You would have just been doing it to be nice.”

  Brett paused to get a couple of glasses, then poured her a drink first. Moving the drink in front of her, he dispensed a glass of beer for himself, only half filling it.

  “How do you know that?” Brett asked, his eyes locking with hers. “How do you know I wouldn’t have meant it? How do you know I wouldn’t have actually wanted to see you ins
tead of Dan?” he challenged softly.

  Alisha had a flippant remark all set and ready to go on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t exactly a put-down so much as a verification that she knew he would have just been trying to build up her confidence—he seemed to have a knack for looking into her soul and supposedly seeing things about her she was unaware of. It was something he had referred to as a good bartender’s gift.

  But her remark, well-intentioned or not, never emerged because Brett’s liquid green eyes had all but taken her prisoner, seemingly looking deep within the recesses of her soul, and by the same simple action making her very breath temporarily stop and back up within her lungs and throat.

  “Because,” Alisha finally managed to say, words slowly materializing in a mouth that was bone-dry, “it wouldn’t have been genuine. You would have only asked for me so that I wouldn’t feel as if I was every patient’s second-rate consolation prize. They couldn’t get in to see Dan, so they put up with seeing me.”

  Was that how she really felt about it? Or was she baiting him, seeing how far he’d go to get her to feel confident?

  Brett had a feeling it might be a combination of the two.

  “Are you a second-rate doctor?” he asked her in a mild, nonjudgmental tone.

  “No, of course not,” she denied.

  Brett heard a little fire in her answer and found it encouraging. She did believe in herself, which was a good thing, but she definitely needed that feeling bolstered.

  “Then why the hell would you think that the patients even think of you that way?” he quietly demanded.

  He would have allowed his voice to become more heated, but he instinctively knew that she guarded her privacy zealously and wanted to keep her conversations that way, as well.

  Okay, so they were having an actual serious discussion on the subject, she thought, rather surprised that Brett was capable of being serious. If that was the case, then she might as well level with him.

  “Because they all want to see Dan when they come to the clinic,” she told Brett.