Falling for the Rancher

by Roxanne Rustand

  “Your other priorities?”

  “Everything,” she said simply. “I’d love to remodel the entire place if I could, but anything you want to tackle and have time to finish would be wonderful. I don’t expect even a minute extra. I’m just grateful, given all that you have on your own plate.”

  He turned slowly, taking in the faded floral wallpaper, the lacy curtains and the worn leather furniture that made him think of soft marshmallows. A small television sat in one corner with a DVD player and stack of children’s DVDs on top. No high-end electronics here.

  “So if you’d won the bid on your friend, you might have gotten everything done?”

  “Edgar isn’t a friend, but I did hope to convince him to stay on longer for his usual rate. Whether he would’ve agreed or not, I’ve no idea.”

  “Well, I’ll do everything I can. You can decide where to start.”

  “Really—you can do this?”

  At the renewed doubt in her voice, he stifled a chuckle. “I’m sure I can’t compare to Edgar, but I grew up on an isolated ranch where we dealt with most everything on our own. And then I put myself through college working summers for a contractor.”

  “Really?” The worried look in her eyes faded. “Perfect. I’d like to start with the picket fence, because it would really improve the curb appeal. Maybe that isn’t possible, though. Those swirly edges and the heart cutouts at the top of the pickets must be tricky.”

  “No problem. I’ve got a band saw and a jigsaw, and I can use an old picket as a template.”

  “I realize the fence might take a good part of your hours, but with whatever time is left, can you start work on the kitchen?”

  “No problem.”

  From one of the bedrooms came the faint sound of Emma whimpering.

  “Sounds like you’re needed, and I’d better get home to do my horse chores.” Logan pulled his truck keys from his back jeans pocket as he headed for the door. “Just figure out where you want to start, and I’ll come back after work tomorrow to do some measuring. I’ll write up a list of materials, and once you have them, I can get to work.”

  The enormity of the work to be done here and her concern about it were more than clear. He felt a twinge of guilt as he walked out to his pickup.

  He’d been in seminars at vet conferences where business consultants recommended making a clean sweep of things, bringing in new staff unencumbered with prior loyalties and stubborn adherence to old routines.

  So when he made an offer on the clinic, he hadn’t thought too deeply about what his plans would mean to the current staff. His focus had been on new beginnings—financing and building a successful new practice.

  If he’d been empathetic enough to consider the collateral effect on the people involved, would he have turned down this chance to start his life over?

  And would he now change his plans for the focused vet practice he’d always wanted—what he had specialized in through an extended equine medicine residency and then pursued in the Montana group practice for the past eight years?

  That was another question.

  “Thanks, Logan—have a good night,” Darcy called softly from the door as she closed it.

  He stared at the door after she turned off the front light, sorting out his thoughts. She was certainly an enigma.

  She was a single mom, which had to be tough. Yet she did have a good career, she’d inherited this house and he’d seen no evidence of profligate spending. If she was as strapped for cash as Hannah had implied on Saturday, where was her money going? Was she a risk as an employee?

  He hadn’t known her for very long, but while his heart told him no, the logical, analytical side of his brain said yes.

  She was the spitting image of the associate vet who had so easily ruined his life in Montana, the one who had so quickly captured his heart. Was that why he felt an inexplicable tug of emotion whenever he ran into her? A physical awareness tinged with a persistent niggle of doubt?

  Whatever he felt about her, it had no place in his life. Not now, not ever.

  The humiliating interrogations, legal fees and defamation of his character back in Montana were too fresh in his mind to take any chances.

  * * *

  Darcy finished her exam of the Chihuahua and smiled. “Scooter is doing really well. The X-rays show excellent healing.”

  Mrs. Johnson picked her dog up and cuddled him against her chest. “I was so worried—I don’t know what I’d do without my little boy for company.”

  “You made the right choice when you let me go ahead with the plating and bone graft. Splinting of radius-ulna fractures in these small dogs doesn’t always succeed.”

  “Worth every penny to do things right, I always say.” She gave the little dog a kiss on its head.

  Darcy handed her a list of going-home instructions. “You said that he always wants to be on the sofa and bed with you. Have you set up some ramps for him? He shouldn’t be jumping to the floor.”

  “I ordered two from a catalog, and they were delivered yesterday.” The elderly woman moved toward the door, then turned back with a wink and a smile. “I heard about you winning the new vet at the handyman auction, and I just think it’s so sweet. Smart, too, keeping all of the other young ladies at bay like that. Keep him to yourself.”

  Darcy swallowed hard. “Believe me, that really isn’t it at all—”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” Mrs. Johnson waggled her eyebrows and gave her a knowing look. “Can we assume romance is already in the air?”

  “No.” Darcy briefly closed her eyes against that unwanted vision. “Not at all. Really.”

  But judging by her smug little smile and the teasing sparkle in her eyes as she left the exam room, Mrs. Johnson didn’t believe a word of that denial and wasn’t planning to keep her thoughts to herself, either.

  Darcy braced her hands on the exam table. Word would spread. People would believe she’d made a pathetic effort to snare the new vet. Maybe Logan would believe it, too, which would be beyond embarrassing.

  Marilyn rapped lightly on the door frame. “I’ve got your next two charts, and—oh, my. Is everything all right? You look a bit pale.”

  “I’m fine.” Darcy straightened. “Just reminding myself that small-town gossip doesn’t mean a thing.”

  Marilyn flicked a hand dismissively. “You mean about you and Dr. Maxwell?”

  Darcy groaned. “You do know it’s completely false conjecture, no matter where you’ve heard it?”

  “I guessed that already, given that he’s probably planning to let us all go during the next few months,” Marilyn retorted dryly. “But when you won that bid at the auction, there were lots of whispers going through the crowd. That was bound to happen anyway, with both of you being single and all. People like to talk.”

  Darcy glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wednesday afternoons usually aren’t this busy, but I’ve been swamped all day. Has he come in?”

  “He’s been out back working on that old stable and corral all day, far as I know.” She handed Darcy the charts. “Kaycee has your next client in the other exam room, but if you need to talk to him, I can go out and let him know.”

  “No, I’ll catch him later. He came over after work yesterday to take measurements for my fence, and I just wanted to let him know that I bought the materials at the lumberyard.”

  Marilyn’s eyebrows rose with sudden hope. “Sooo...are you two getting along a little better?”

  Darcy snorted.

  “Seriously,” Marilyn said. “Maybe if we’re all really professional and helpful, he’ll decide that we’re worth keeping around. All of us,” she added pointedly.

  “I don’t think being friendly will change his business plans, but go for it and see what happens. As far as I know, he still doesn’t plan to make his
final decisions until around June 14—at the end of two months.”

  “When I think of all the accessibility issues Bob had at our house, and all we’ve done to make it better for him...” Marilyn bit her lower lip and looked away. “I’m just praying I can keep this job and our house, because Bob’s Parkinson’s is not going away.”

  Over the past year, Marilyn had been the motherly one at the office, giving Darcy comfort and advice during her darkest days. Now the tables had turned and Darcy was the one comforting the older woman.

  Darcy set aside the charts and gave the older woman a quick hug. “I can’t believe there could be any issue with keeping you and Kaycee on board, honestly. If anyone will be packing her bags, it will be me.”

  “Oh, honey. That would be so wrong.”

  Darcy stepped back and sighed. “If that happens, then I figure the Lord has better plans for me. I’ve been thinking harder about starting my own practice here in town. But right now, I’d better get back to work.”

  At the sound of a nearby footstep, Marilyn turned and paled. “D-Dr. Maxwell,” she stammered. “I didn’t see you coming.”

  “Just taking a quick break.” If he’d overheard their conversation, there was no sign of it in his voice. “Have you had any calls or emails about the new website?

  Flustered, Marilyn fiddled with her bracelet. “Three calls, just this afternoon. I left the messages on your desk. There have been some emails, as well.”

  Darcy stepped into the hallway to head for the other exam room, but faltered to a stop.

  The days and nights were still cool in Wisconsin, and she’d seen him wear just jeans and sweaters or sweatshirts so far. But now he was in a ragged T-shirt and well-worn jeans, dusted with sawdust.

  The T-shirt stretched across his powerful chest. The short sleeves clung to his powerful biceps. His tool belt was once again slung low around his hips.

  The man could work as a model if he ever wanted an easier profession.

  She forced her gaze up to his face. “Sounds like good news for you, then. The potential clients, I mean.”

  “I updated the new website to show the equine practice will be open starting on Monday, but in the meantime I’d be happy to take calls from anyone curious about available services. Feel free to give them my cell number.”

  Marilyn nodded and fled back to the receptionist’s desk, leaving Darcy facing Logan alone.

  “She sure is jumpy,” he said mildly.

  “She’s terribly worried about her job, and Kaycee is, as well,” Darcy said in a low voice. “They both have heavy responsibilities at home. It would be a kindness if you could let them know your plans and get the news over with.”

  He assessed her with a frank, open gaze. “And what about you?”

  She shrugged, locked her gaze on his. “I’ll either be working here or move down the road and become your toughest competition. The choice is yours.”

  Chapter Five

  “Is he coming today?” Emma ran to the front door for the fourth time in the past ten minutes, her blond ponytail flying. “With his horse? The one that’s blonde like me? Maybe it could stay overnight, or even live with us!”

  Darcy had left the vet clinic when it closed at noon, picked up Emma at the sitter and had been trying to settle the little girl down for lunch, to no avail. “No horses, not in town. Not even briefly, because horses need a very good fence, and ours needs lots of work. That’s why Dr. Maxwell is coming.”

  Emma’s face fell. “Could we go see it, then? And ride it?”

  “Um...maybe someday. Two more bites of your sandwich. Then we’ll go outside and get things ready for him. All right?”

  Emma dutifully clambered up onto her chair and took two miniscule bites, then raced for the back door. “Then can we get a puppy? You promised, after Elsie died.”

  Keeping up with Emma sometimes made Darcy’s head spin. “Yes, I did. But not until our fence is completely done. We always had to take Elsie for walks, but a nice safe yard would be much better than taking those walks after dark.”

  “Can you ask Hannah? She has lots and lots of puppies. Cats, too. And a pony.” Emma’s face brightened with excitement. “A pony could stay in our yard!”

  Emma asked about horses and ponies every day, from morning ’til night. “When you turn five, we’ll look for a pony and a place to keep it. Right now, let’s think about a puppy. One thing at a time.”

  She grabbed a hammer from the utility closet by the back door and followed the little girl out into the yard. She breathed in deeply, savoring the scents of the neighbor’s fresh-cut grass and the spring perennials Aunt Tina had planted along the borders of the yard years ago.

  Yellow crocuses, grape hyacinths and daffodils nodded cheerfully in the light breeze. Soon the sweet scent of lilacs—her favorite—would fill the air, followed later by the heady scents of the heirloom roses planted on three sides of the tiny brick gardening shed.

  All of them brought back bittersweet memories of her aunt and those carefree days of childhood when everything seemed possible and nothing bad had ever happened. Yet.

  “Can I help you, Mommy?”

  “Why don’t you play on your swing set for a while? I’m going to start taking down the broken pickets, and nails are very sharp.”

  She’d just pried off the first splintered picket when Emma shrieked. “He came—he really came!”

  Her heart in her throat, Darcy spun around...and saw Logan saunter through the backyard gate with a stack of boards in his arms and his tool belt slung around his hips once again.

  Every time she saw him, she felt a little frisson of awareness, and her traitorous heart seemed to skip a beat. It had to be the jeans and cowboy boots, and that casual cowboy grace suggesting he could drawl yes, ma’am and then vanquish her foes with no effort at all.

  If only he’d met her late husband, Dean, she would have loved to see him try.

  Emma raced to the gate. “Are you a real cowboy?” she asked, looking up at him with adoration she rarely showed to anyone except Darcy anymore. “Did you bring your horse? Mommy says no, but maybe you did anyway.”

  He chuckled and grinned down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling and that dimple deepening in his cheek. “Your mom is right, but someday you can come out to my place and we’ll see about letting you ride. Would that be okay?”

  Darcy strolled over. If only the man knew what he had just started with that little offer.

  “Thanks for coming,” she called out. “I’m sure you had other ways you wanted to spend your Saturday afternoon.”

  “No problem.” He stacked the pickets on the wrought iron table under a shady oak. “I have more in my truck, but what do you think so far?”

  She ran her hand over the smooth, one-by-four pressure-treated slats that the lumberyard guy had promised would hold up for years. Each swoop and curlicue along the edges was exactly right; the little heart cut-outs near the top of each pointed tip were a perfect match to the originals.

  “They’re beautiful,” she said with awe. “How in the world did you do them so fast?”

  He shrugged. “Having the right equipment helped.”

  Emma looked up at him, her eyes hopeful. “Could you make a playhouse, like Sienna has?” she breathed. “Her daddy made it. It’s pink and white and has a purple roof. But I don’t got a daddy.”

  “Dr. Maxwell only has enough time to help with the fencing and fix some things in the house, Emma. We need the fence before we can think about your puppy. Remember?”

  “But—”

  “Let’s help him fetch the rest of his things. He and I need to get to work. Okay?”

  Emma dutifully followed them out to the black pickup parked in front of the garage, where Logan gave her a single picket to carry. Then Darcy and Logan took the r
emaining pickets and his tools to the backyard.

  Emma watched for a while, then wandered back to her outdoor slide and swing set and played on the upper deck with her dolls.

  With Darcy removing damaged pickets and Logan using an electric drill to set the new ones, they were finished with the front yard and backyard a couple of hours later.

  “I could’ve painted them before bringing them over,” he said, stepping back to assess the overall job. “But I figured it would be better to do the entire fence all at once, after the peeling paint is scraped. Do you want me to do that or start something else?”

  “This is just beautiful,” she said fervently. She bit her lower lip, thinking about all of the work he’d done back at his shop. “I can do the painting later on. I’m not even sure how much of your time I have left, though, given what you’ve done already.”

  “Eighteen hours would be fair enough.” He shrugged. “Does that work for you?”

  “But you spent more than two hours just putting it up today. And what about all of the time you spent making the pickets? That isn’t fair to you.”

  “It was simple, and I like woodworking. It was a nice break from working on the barn at home and the one at the clinic. Gave me an excuse to avoid unpacking boxes in the house, too,” he added with a grin. “Just forget about it.”

  He’d been gruff and cold when he’d arrived two weeks ago. She’d been prepared to dislike him completely after that first awkward encounter. But she’d started to see a different side of him now, and it was getting harder to keep up her defenses. Especially when he was so sweet to Emma and being such a good sport about this whole arrangement.