by Amanda Renee
“I’m absolutely jonesing for some Chinese, if that’s okay with you. It’s my favorite.”
Amused by her expression, Clay didn’t think the phrase “jonesing” came from South Carolina. Must be a part of her northeastern upbringing. “Chinese it is. Six o’clock all right? I’ll pick you up at the Bed and Biscuit.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“I’ll see you then.” Clay hung up the phone and banged his head repeatedly against the kitchen cabinet. “Why did I do that? I had no business calling her. This is a job, she’s a client and I’m an idiot.”
Yet he hadn’t been able to get Abby out of his head since meeting her yesterday. The woman had gotten under his skin and he hadn’t allowed that to happen since Ana Rosa. His fiancée’s face had begun to fade from his dreams lately, and though he tried to hang on to every memory of her, some days they began to blur. The thought of losing her memory terrified him. If only he’d done things differently and told her the truth. There were no second chances, though. Both Ana Rosa and her son were dead. And it was his fault.
Clay grabbed a beer from the fridge and glanced around his old farmhouse. Shane was right, it hadn’t changed much since the day he bought the place. Well, maybe he had opened a box or two when he’d been searching for a particular item. It had been so long since he’d looked inside any of the boxes, he had trouble remembering what he owned.
Clay had entertained thoughts of donating everything to the local thrift shop. And why not? After surviving this many years without the boxes’ contents, he obviously didn’t need whatever was inside. But he knew one of those boxes contained their photos. Reminders of the days they’d spent together, promises he’d made to them of a future and a life free of fear. All of them broken—every single promise—irretrievably broken.
“Dammit!” Clay kicked at the screen door and stormed down the back porch stairs. Heading for the barn, he passed all his clients’ payments, including his newly acquired five-year-old Welsh pony, Olivia. Originally, he had planned to give the mare away, but when his gelding Dream Catcher had met Olivia, it was love at first sight.
At a little under thirteen hands, she was much smaller than his Morgan horse, but their silver-dappled coloring was almost identical. Clay figured the two were meant to be together. Once again, Abby came to mind—she was much shorter than he was.
“Get a grip, Clay.” He led both horses from the corral into the barn. “Abby’s not a pony and I’m sure as hell no gelding.”
Frustrated that he had let the slightest bit of Abby seep into his thoughts, he placed Dream Catcher in his stall. When he returned from feeding the goats, the horse stood in the middle of the barn, ears twitching and tail swishing as if he were about to bolt.
He’d forgotten to latch the door. Allowing Abby to cloud his vision had already complicated his life. His horse could be in danger if Clay couldn’t corral him back into the stall. The last thing he needed was to chase Dream Catcher down the two-lane road that was only a stone’s throw from the barn.
“Are you seriously going to do this to me today?” Clay held his arms wide attempting to make himself appear larger. He was afraid to close the barn doors behind him for fear the horse would turn and run out the other side of the building. If Dream Catcher ran straight for him, Clay at least had a better chance of catching the animal. “Come on, pal. You don’t want to leave your girlfriend here all alone, do you?”
Slowly, Clay inched forward. Dream Catcher lowered his head slightly and for a second, Clay wondered if the gelding was about to charge. Reaching for the lariat hanging on the barn wall, Clay hoped he had enough clearance to throw it before the horse turned and bolted.
Dream Catcher snorted and stomped his hoof, then nonchalantly walked into his stall.
“Are you kidding me?” Clay quickly latched the door. “What was that—a test? I’ve had enough of those today, thank you.”
Tests he was apparently failing. Why had he opened his big mouth and asked the pint-size blonde out to dinner?
Because he lacked enough good sense to keep his distance.
He lived a quiet, uncomplicated life, and that’s how he wanted to keep it. The last thing he needed was Abby Winchester and her problems...only the fact that no one else knew of a sister didn’t sit right with him. Locate cases rarely resulted in a neatly wrapped gift box full of answers. Instead, they had a tendency to take on a life of their own with the subject of the search usually secreted for a reason. Clay’s gut told him Abby’s life was about to unravel. And that bothered him much more than it should have.
* * *
ABBY HAD PASSED New China earlier in the day and knew the dress she had bought at Margarita’s Ragpatch would be overkill for the tiny, ultracasual restaurant. It was definitely a low-key type of place. She slipped into her favorite curve-hugging distressed jeans and topped them off with a cotton and lace empire-waist sleeveless shirt under a soft peach linen cropped jacket. As she rolled up her sleeves and slid some wooden bangles onto her wrists, she decided on a pair of platform chocolate-leather ankle booties.
Her mother’s words whenever they went shopping echoed through Abby’s head. Neutral pieces will carry you everywhere. You can always accessorize. Her mother, queen of the cruise lines, knew how to dress to impress. Her parents were perpetually off to some exciting locale. They were on second honeymoon number one thousand at this point. Wyatt and Abby never joined them, not even when they had been kids. Their grandparents had taken care of them while Maeve and Steve sailed off into the sunset.
Abby admired their relationship. They were one of those perfectly in sync couples who finished each other’s sentences, and she was willing to bet they were as much in love today as they were when they met. Maybe more. Abby dreamed of the day she’d find her soul mate. She’d been planning her wedding ever since she was a little girl. But a wedding would never happen unless she cleared her schedule a bit and actually took the time to meet someone.
Downstairs, she told Mazie she was going out for the evening. Mazie said she’d look in on Duffy and take him for a walk if Abby was gone for more than a few hours. Mazie’s devotion to her pet guests more than justified the higher cost of staying at the Bed & Biscuit, in Abby’s opinion. Many hotels didn’t take pets and fewer offered dog-walking services.
Abby decided to wait for Clay on the Victorian’s expansive wraparound porch. White antique rocking chairs invited guests to relax among the fall flowers in various sized pots and hanging baskets decorating the porch’s perimeter. Serenity and intoxicating florals welcomed you to the Hill Country region of Texas the second you stepped out the door.
“You look very pretty, dear.”
Abby jumped at the sound of a woman’s voice. “You scared me.” Abby hadn’t noticed Janie Anderson, one of the inn’s employees, standing in the corner of the porch with a watering can in her hand. “And thank you.”
“I’m sorry.” The older woman continued to water the plants while she spoke. “You can get lost in Mazie’s jungle of flowers out here. I hear you have a date with our Mr. Tanner this evening.”
Well that didn’t take long to spread around. “I wouldn’t call it a date. We’re meeting over dinner to discuss my mysterious sister.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. Sounds exciting. I’m sorry I don’t remember your parents from back then. I even looked through some of my old photos last night. My husband, Alfred, is an avid hobby photographer and I swear we have stacks of photos from every parade and festival Ramblewood’s ever seen. Of course, I don’t know what I’m looking for, either, but you are more than welcome to look through whatever we have.”
“Really?” Maybe she’d find a photo of her parents, or one of her father and another child. “That’s very generous of you.”
“Any time you want to come over, you let me know. I can’t say my Alfred is the most organized man, but the photos are in some sembl
ance of order.”
Abby couldn’t wait to tell Clay the exciting news. Maybe the newspaper archives would have something about her father, too, but she was certain Clay would look into that on his own. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to mention it.
A week ago, Ramblewood, Texas, hadn’t been a blip on her radar. She’d arrived in town so quickly she had a hard time distinguishing one day from the next. Now that she was here, thoughts she hadn’t considered complicated the situation.
Did her sister have a relationship with Walter? Did they see each other often? Maybe Abby wasn’t the only one he sent notes to. And maybe his yearly scavenger hunts weren’t just for her.
“Are you all right?” Janie motioned for Abby to sit in one of the rockers.
“I’m sorry.” She needed to escape her own head for a bit. She sat and Janie joined her. “I guess the reality of the situation is finally hitting me. To be honest, I thought it already had. I mean, the first big step was coming here, right? Then when I hired Clay, I thought that was the big step. In actuality, they’re all little steps to finding the truth. The idea of having a sister that I never knew of is very surreal.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re handling yourself beautifully,” Janie said.
“Thank you. When I first considered hiring an investigator I had my doubts anything would come of this. It was more wishful thinking, but when I was sitting in the Bark Park and then walking around town, I got this feeling—an indescribable draw that was telling me this is where I’m supposed to be.” Abby looked up to see Janie listening intently. “I must sound crazy, but in my heart, I know it’s only a matter of time before Clay finds the answers and then what? How do you make up for all that lost time?”
“You take it day by day, dear.” Janie rested her hand on Abby’s knee. “Don’t worry about what happens next. Concentrate on what you do know so you can find her.”
“I don’t mean to sound pitiful. I haven’t allowed myself to think about the end result, and it’s kind of hitting me all at once.”
“That’s normal,” Janie said. “I would say it’s part of the grieving process over your father, too. Allow yourself to feel, but don’t cross the line into dwelling on it.”
Abby knew Janie was right. Seeing patients with disabilities and traumatic injuries every day, she had learned to appreciate everything she had. One of her old professors used to say, “As long as you’re aboveground, there’s always a bright side.” Abby lived by those words. They were why she never allowed her patients to give up, even when they suffered a setback.
But one question had plagued Abby since she had received Walter’s note. Why would anyone keep her sister’s existence a secret?
* * *
CLAY PULLED HIS TRUCK into the Bed & Biscuit parking lot. He shut off the engine and sat with the keys in his hand. He swallowed drily. This was dinner to discuss Abby’s case, nothing more.
Then why did he need to keep reminding himself it wasn’t a date? Because he wanted it to be a date and that made him feel worse than his nerves did.
Clay was attracted to Abby more than he cared to admit. When her background check revealed she was a physical therapist, he’d been intrigued. He had figured her more the clothing-designer type. Or an art dealer, maybe. A physical therapist was completely unexpected.
He inhaled deeply in a vain attempt to steady his uneven pulse. Failing miserably, he climbed from his mud-caked truck, cursing himself for not washing it. He proceeded around to the front of the inn where Abby waited for him in one of the rocking chairs. The warmth of her smile was echoed in her eyes. She met him halfway down the stairs, and he once again wondered how she managed to remain upright in such high heels. She looked beautiful in an effortless way.
Clay hoped he had the sense to keep that opinion to himself. Abby was a client and he refused to cross that line.
You already have.
“Are you ready to go?” Clay’s voice broke. Abby’s eyes widened slightly, but fortunately she let it slide without comment. Clay hadn’t been remotely close to this nervous since the night he had proposed to Ana Rosa. A perpetual reminder that he couldn’t blur the lines between client and romance. Not that romance was on the table. He wouldn’t tarnish Ana Rosa’s memory by having a fling with Abby, or anyone else for that matter.
Abby faced the sidewalk. “Since it’s so beautiful out tonight, do you mind if we walk? It’s still beastly humid back home and I’m loving this Texas weather.”
“You want to walk to New China in those shoes?” Clay didn’t think she’d make it fifty feet, let alone all the way down Main Street.
“I assure you I’ll be fine. I’m quite capable of putting one foot in front of the other.”
“Don’t those things hurt your feet?” Clay opened the wrought-iron gate leading to the sidewalk and held it for Abby.
“Listen, I usually wear sneakers when I’m at work, and anything without a heel makes me feel like a twelve-year-old. Scratch that, most preteens are taller than I am. I wear heels so I can at least look like a grownup.”
“If you say so.” Clay found himself scrambling to keep up with her quick pace. “Are we race walking?”
Abby stopped and stared at him. “I’m sorry. I have to remind myself I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere while I’m here. My schedule is usually packed and I tend to run nonstop. I assume you completed my background search. Did I check out okay?”
Yes, you managed to check right into my every waking thought. “I was surprised to discover you’re a physical therapist.”
“What were you expecting...a personal shopper?” Abby teased. “Most people don’t peg me for a PT because of my size, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years working with my patients, the only limitations are within your heart. I may be small, but I can do anything I put my mind to.”
Clay admired Abby’s confidence. He wished some of it would rub off on him tonight because while she appeared composed, he was the exact opposite.
He’d worked undercover in dangerous sting operations and helped take down some of the country’s most dangerous criminals, all while managing to keep his nerves in check. Yet a simple walk with an attractive client left him jumpier than spit on a hot skillet. It didn’t help that the more Abby spoke of her work, the more impressed he became. By the time they were ready to order their dinner, he found himself captivated by the stories she told about her patients.
“I’ll have the chicken lo mein, no mushrooms, and an egg roll, please.” Abby handed her menu to the waiter.
Clay enjoyed a woman who ate real food and didn’t pick at a salad while he chowed down on General Tso’s shrimp and fried rice.
“I take it you’re using your vacation time to come to Ramblewood.” A part of Clay wished she’d be called back to work on some emergency so his heart rate could return to normal.
“It wasn’t exactly planned. I basically decided I needed to get away from the hospital for a few weeks.” Abby dipped a crunchy noodle into a small bowl of duck sauce and popped it into her mouth. “We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye right now.”
“About what?” Clay knew he should steer his questions toward her family, but curiosity drove him to ask why she needed a break from a job she clearly enjoyed.
“Animal-assisted therapy. My dog, Duffy, is a therapy pet, and we make the rounds of nursing homes and rehab centers. Just having a dog present transforms a room into something more familiar than a hospital bed and beeping machines. A brain tumor patient had been in ICU for a month and wouldn’t open her eyes or react to any stimuli until we brought Duffy in. We put a sheet on the bed and he climbed up and lay beside her. Instantly, this woman put her hand on Duffy and opened her eyes. It was a life-changing experience for me. I’ve been trying to persuade the hospital to induct a program of its own.”
“How’s th
at going?”
“They’ve rejected my proposal three times. They would need to dedicate a team to research the program first. They feel it would cost too much money. Money they’d rather spend on conventional therapy with years of scientific study behind it.” Abby broke a noodle in half and tossed it onto the table. “I told them I had already conducted a preliminary inquiry on the grants available and I’m willing to chair any events that would bring in donations to the program.”
“Can you manage to take all of that on yourself?” Based on the determined lift of her chin and the challenge of her gaze, Clay knew the answer before she responded.
“I know it won’t be easy, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes. This is personal for me. When I was a kid, I stuttered horribly. Other kids made fun of me. Everyone was always telling me to think before I spoke, which only made things worse.” She shrugged. “I didn’t have a problem thinking. I had a problem getting the words out of my mouth. My speech therapist told me to talk to my dog, alone, with no one else around, and you know what? I didn’t stutter when it was just Ebony and me.” Abby laughed. “I’m not saying that talking to him cured me, but it taught me to have confidence in myself. And, I still have my moments and my bad days when I stumble over my words, but who doesn’t? I’ve had dogs my entire life and they’ve gotten me through some rough times.” Her face suddenly reddened. “Wow, I’m monopolizing the conversation.”
“No, you’re not.” The waiter set their meals on the table. Clay had intended to discuss Abby’s family, but his interest in the woman became more personal the more she spoke about her work. “You remember the woman that referred you to me, Kay Langtry? She runs the Dance of Hope Hippotherapy Center, where they use the horses’ movements to treat people with injuries and disabilities. I think you’d find it fascinating. I’m sure she’d love to give you a behind-the-scenes tour.”
Abby bumped her water glass, sloshing some of it onto the table in her excitement. “You’re kidding me!” She used her napkin to clean up the mess, and continued talking without missing a beat. “I never thought to look up animal-assisted therapy centers while I was here. I would love to see the place. Kay had told me she owned a ranch and to ask anyone in town to show me the way.”
