“Fine. He lives in the Lodge. He still misses Mom a lot. Think leading guests to check out the flowers when the hills are blooming, or hike, or bird-watch keeps him busy. In the hotter months, he’s with the aunts in Montana. He’s here now, so stop by and say hi. He’d love that.”
She nodded. “He must be so proud of everything you have accomplished.”
“Hunter started it, getting all successful. We couldn’t let him show us up, you know?” He swiped another gingerbread cookie. “That Boone competitive streak. You know Hunter. Hell, I think you know Hunter best of all.” His expression turned serious—as serious as Fisher ever got.
“No, not really.”
“Aw, come on, Josie. That’s not true—”
“Years ago, maybe.” She put the sample plate behind the counter and began to wipe down the counter. “Why does everyone keep talking about the past?”
“What’s got you so worked up?”
She shut the display case with a little more force than necessary. “Nothing.”
“Right.”
“Moving on.” She shot him a look. “You dating anyone?”
He winked at her. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think that would go over too well with my brother.”
She hadn’t meant to yell, but she did. “Why the hell would Hunter care if I dated anyone? He’s married, remember?”
If she hadn’t been yelling, she might have heard the bell over the door jingle. But she didn’t. So Eli’s angry words took her by complete surprise. “My mom divorced my dad when I was three.”
Josie couldn’t think. Or speak. Or breathe. The agony on Eli’s face was unbearable. “I...I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Eli,” she finally managed.
“You should be,” Eli bit out. “It’s your fault she left.”
“Eli,” Fisher cut in.
Josie was reeling. “Eli, I...” She had no words. She knew nothing she said could make a difference.
Dara placed a hand on Eli’s arm. “Walk me home?” Eli didn’t look up as Dara led him from the bakery.
Her heart ached for him, truly ached for him. She knew how hard it was, growing up without a mother. If she’d been the cause of that... No, surely not. Hunter was a man of his word. He’d married Amy—he wouldn’t have let it fall apart without a fight.
“What is all the yelling about?” Her father hobbled into the kitchen through the door that connected their home to the bakery. “I could hear you all the way in my room.”
Josie watched Eli and Dara walk away. She saw the slump to Eli’s shoulders, knew the anger and pain in his voice.
“How the hell did you not know he’s single?” Fisher asked, stunned.
“What are we talking about?” her father asked.
“Hunter.” Fisher reached around the counter for another gingerbread cookie.
“Oh.” Her father sounded far too pleased, so she looked at him. “What?”
“What?” she echoed. “That’s all you have to say?” Hunter Boone is single.
Her father’s smile disappeared. “You told me if I ever mentioned him you’d never talk to me again. Guess I figured the more time the two of you spent together, you’d figure things out.”
“Seriously, Josie?” Fisher shook his head, then ate another cookie.
“Every time I brought him up, you changed the subject. I got the point,” her father continued.
“That was a long time ago.” He hadn’t mentioned Hunter or the rest of his family in years. Because she’d told him not to. Josie grabbed the plate and shoved it into a cabinet out of Fisher’s reach. “I was young and hurt—”
“You’re my baby girl. And I listened to you,” her father interrupted. “I figured someday you’d find out that he was here, waiting for you.”
Josie glared at her father. “Daddy, I know you love Hunter. But that’s ancient history—”
“Maybe for you.” Fisher’s eyebrows went up.
Her father’s voice was cautious. “Now, Fisher—”
Fisher leaned forward, staring into her eyes. “Ask me how many dates my brother’s been on since Amy left.”
She didn’t want to know, did she? No. She didn’t.
“Let’s give her some time to get used to things, Fisher.” Her father chuckled. “Her whole world just got flipped upside down.”
She lied quickly, to herself and the two of them. “Nothing has changed. Nothing. I’m here to take care of you, Dad, not relive some teenage romance.” She yanked the apron over her head and threw it on the back counter.
“Josie,” Fisher groaned. “Come on now.”
She held up her hand. “Stop. Please.” She paused. “I’m tired. I need a shower. I just hurt a boy that I’d never in a million years want to hurt. So, please, just stop.”
Her father exchanged a quick look with Fisher before he sighed. “It’s closing time, anyway.”
“I’ll lock up,” Josie offered, looking pointedly at Fisher.
Fisher took the hint. “Eli will be all right. You okay?”
She nodded but wouldn’t look at him.
Fisher left and Josie locked the door behind him. She took her father’s arm, leading him back into the house.
“Should I have told you, Josie?” her father asked.
“No, Dad.” She patted his hand. There was no way to go back. Thinking about what could have been, what might have happened, was pointless. “It doesn’t matter. Now go sit, and I’ll get you some water. Maybe a snack?”
Her father nodded, moving slowly to his recliner in the other room. She headed into the kitchen, grappling with too many emotions to understand. But a part of her—a part deeply buried inside—felt relief. He wasn’t a cheater. He wasn’t a liar. He had loved her. Maybe he still—
“Josie, bring the car around,” her father yelled. “We gotta get Sprinkles to the hospital.”
* * *
HUNTER’S CELL SCREEN lit up. Amy. He hadn’t had enough coffee for this yet.
Tripod, the black three-legged cat that roamed the hospital, glared at the phone from his napping spot on the corner of Hunter’s desk.
Hunter nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling.”
Tripod yawned, stood and stretched, then curled back up in a ball on the desk. Hunter stroked the cat’s silky side, letting the animal’s reverberating purr calm him before answering the phone.
“How’s the sexiest man in the world?” Amy’s drawl was light, teasing. “Wearing your tight jeans and your jump-me doctor coat?”
He’d learned not to bite to her teasing. “How are you, Amy?” He clicked the end of his pen a few more times.
“All business this morning? Guess it’s hard to talk dirty at the office.” She sighed. “I’d be better if I was there with Eli. And you.”
“You coming through town?” He kept clicking the pen.
“I’m trying. You know I want to be there.” She sighed again. “I’d never miss Christmas with my baby if I could help it.” She paused, but he kept quiet. “But I’ve got a chance to ride in Vegas through New Year’s. Big show, you know?”
Amy spent more time with the cowboys on the rodeo circuit than riding in it, but all he said was, “I’ll let you tell Eli.”
She made that noise, that irritated, impatient sound she made when she wasn’t getting her way. He remembered that noise all too well.
“Don’t use that tone with me, Hunter Boone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”
“I know.” He tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the white insulation tiles of the ceiling.
“Good. You don’t know how hard it is, to live without the perfect parents and buckets of money just sitting around their big ol’ fancy house.” Her voice was shaking. “A gal’s gotta eat, Hunter.”
There it was. “How much do you need?”
“I don’t need a handout,” she snapped.
“You’re Eli’s mom, his family. It’s not a handout. It’s family taking care of fam
ily.”
The phone was silent for a long time. “You don’t miss me at all? Us?”
He didn’t say, “No, Amy. I don’t. I won’t. Stop messing with our son and grow up.” He’d learned not to have any expectations when it came to Amy—then there was no disappointment. But Eli was a boy—a boy wanting to believe the very best about his mother. Even if a lot of it wasn’t true. And now his mother was missing Christmas with him...again.
It tore his heart out to see his boy hurting. He was used to buying a present and putting Amy’s name on it, but he resented having to cover for her. It shouldn’t be his job to maintain a relationship between his ex-wife and his son.
“Dr. Boone.” Jason, one of his students, came running into his office. “Larry ate Hanna’s hair scrunchie again.”
“Hold on a sec, Amy?” He covered his phone. “Is Larry breathing okay?”
“Yes, sir. But he’s coughing a little.”
Hunter sat back, ran a hand over his face. Why Larry the emu liked eating hair scrunchies was a mystery. But they could be dangerous to the animal if they got stuck in his trachea. “Please ask Hanna to set up the ultrasound machine. I’ll expect her to assist in fifteen minutes.” Since he’d told Hanna several times to remove her hair accessories before she went into the pen, she would help him scan the bad-tempered bird and, if necessary, remove it from the bird’s long neck.
“Yes, sir.” Jason left.
“Still there?” he asked.
“I’m here, waiting. But I’ve got people waiting, too. I’ll call our son tonight.” And she hung up.
He was about to throw his cell phone against the wall when a soft “Dr. Boone” was followed by a knock on his office door.
He repressed an irritated sigh as one of the school deans entered. He stood, extending his hand to the older man. “Dr. Lee,” he said. “Nice to see you.”
“You, as well.” Dr. Lee nodded, shaking his hand. “I hear you have a procedure in fifteen minutes, so I won’t keep you. But I need your help. We have received a substantial donation from the Harper-McGee family—an in memoriam for their deceased son Nate.”
Hunter nodded. The Harper-McGees were one of the school’s most devoted supporters. The past five generations of Harper-McGees had earned their doctor of veterinary medicine degrees from UET’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Nate would have carried on that tradition if he hadn’t been killed in a car accident midsemester last spring.
“Part of the donation is to be used for a mural in the waiting room. His parents have a drawing he did when he was young. They want something like it to cover the wall over the admissions desk.”
Hunter looked at the drawing Dr. Lee offered him, then back at the older man. “I’m not sure—”
“Dr. Hardy told me you’re very close with the local artist Joselyn Stephens. That she’s visiting right now. Dr. and Mrs. Harper-McGee were delighted. They hoped you’d convince her to consider their commission.”
Hunter blinked. “I don’t know Miss Stephens all that well. But I do see her father now and then.” He didn’t know if he could see her again, to talk business or otherwise. Her angry words were a hot band around his heart.
“Perhaps you could ask her to contact me, then? Their donation is incredibly generous, Dr. Boone. I’d like to be as accommodating as possible, you understand?” Dr. Lee nodded at the drawing. “These are for Miss Stephens.” He placed a sealed envelope on top of the sketch. “If she has any questions, I’m sure there’s contact information inside.”
Hunter stared at Joselyn’s name on the envelope. “I’ll get it to her.”
“Thank you, Dr. Boone.” Dr. Lee nodded. “Good luck with Larry.”
Hunter smiled. “Good training opportunity.”
The older man paused at the door. “How’s the pharaoh hound?”
Hunter ran a hand over his head. “Bad-tempered. Stubborn. And spoiled.” But the owners were willing to keep spending thousands of dollars on their rare breed, so until puppies were a guarantee, the damn dog was Hunter’s problem.
“Any animal that needs help procreating has a right to be all of those things.” Dr. Lee chuckled.
“Never thought about it that way,” Hunter agreed. “We can only hope the procedure works this time.”
Hunter thought letting Tut have some fun the old-fashioned way might sort out his quick temper. But the owners were determined, and footing the bill, so petri dishes, test tubes and no hanky-panky were all Tut had to look forward to.
“Poor Tut. We shall hope for the best. I do hope Larry behaves for you.” Dr. Lee stopped at the door. “If I don’t see you before the holiday, enjoy your break.”
“Thank you. You, too.” No sooner had Dr. Lee left than Hunter’s office phone rang. He tried not to snap as he answered, “Dr. Boone.”
“Dr. Boone, we’re checking in Sprinkles, Mr. Stephens’s rat terrier.”
He could pass the dog off to another resident. Maybe he should. But Carl was recovering right now. And Jo— “On my way.” It took him two minutes to leave the administration wing, pass the massive lecture halls and labs, and enter the teaching clinic.
The first thing Hunter saw was Josie, her arm around her father. Her hair had slipped free from the clip on her head, falling down her back in thick reddish-brown curls. Her shirt was covered in a fine coating of flour; two more streaks ran across her forehead and into her hairline. He smiled at the flour handprint on her hip.
Her words rang in his ears, branding his heart. But seeing her worried and disheveled only reminded him that she was hurting, too. This time, right now, he could make it better.
She saw him then, her gray eyes widening before everything about her relaxed. “He’s here, Dad. It’ll be okay.”
Damn, she looked beautiful. “Hi.”
Carl was clutching a trembling Sprinkles to his chest. “Hunter, I didn’t know if you were working the clinic today—”
“You think I’d let anyone else take care of Sprinkles?” Hunter patted the dog’s head, looking into the small canine’s brown eyes. He glanced at the desk clerk. “Call Dr. Archer in to assist with Larry. Jason and Hanna should have him prepped and ready to go.”
“Yes, Dr. Boone. Room four is open,” she added.
He nodded, assessing the situation. Yes, Sprinkles was sick, but Carl was clearly worn-out. “How about I carry Sprinkles?” Hunter took the dog. “Follow me.”
He placed his hand over the dog’s chest, counting the beats per minute. One thirty-six. Nothing irregular. Breathing was a little labored, but Sprinkles didn’t like riding in the car, so that was just as likely to cause her panting as anything. Once they were in the exam room, he put Sprinkles on the metal exam table and looked at Carl. “What happened?”
“Dad, please sit.” Jo pulled one of the chairs closer to the table.
“I don’t know.” Carl sat in the chair, resting his hand on the dog’s head. “I just don’t know. Sprinkles and I were watching a John Wayne flick, a good one. Then Josie and Fisher were yelling in the bakery, so I left to see what they were going on about. Sprinkles was in my chair. I came back and she’s lying on the floor, acting like this.” He pointed at Sprinkles for emphasis. The dog was definitely not her normal, bouncing, yapping self.
Hunter put the earpieces of his stethoscope in and listened to Sprinkles’s stomach. “Did she eat anything?”
“Her food,” Carl answered. “You give her anything, Josie?”
Hunter looked at Jo and froze. She was staring at him, intently. In the depths of her silver gaze he saw something that made him ache. What was going on inside that head of hers?
“Josie?” Carl repeated, making Jo jump and reminding Hunter he had a job to do.
“No, I didn’t.” Her hand rested on her father’s shoulder. “You’ve told me a dozen times she’s on a special diet.”
Carl patted his daughter’s hand.
Hunter focused on the dog. “Could she have gotten into something?”
“S
he gets into everything,” Carl admitted.
“I’ve had to chase her out of my suitcase every morning.” Jo smiled.
“She eat something bad? Josie, you have perfume or something that could make her sick?”
“No, Dad. Besides, if she’d drunk my perfume, she’d smell better.” Jo’s voice was teasing.
“That’s not funny, Joselyn Marie.”
Like hell it isn’t. Hunter winked at Jo.
He saw the splash of color on her cheeks, the way she blinked and looked at her father. “Sorry, Dad.” She bent, pressing a kiss to Carl’s temple.
“I don’t think we need to get too worried just yet,” Hunter said as Sprinkles stood up. Her little stomach tensed and she vomited a glob of clear gelatinous fluid onto the metal exam table.
“Sprinkles,” Carl groaned.
“Jo?” Hunter used a long exam swab to poke the goop. “You use any sort of face cream?”
“Yes. Anti-wrinkle gel.”
Hunter stood back and grinned. “I’d check the container when you get home. Bet it’s gone.”
Carl glared up at Jo.
“Dad.” Josie shook her head. “It was on the vanity counter, out of her reach.”
“Sprinkles has always been a good jumper, if I remember,” Hunter said. Sprinkles had belonged to old Mrs. Henry for three years before she’d decided a cat was less work for her. Hunter had offered to help find the dog a home. Carl and Sprinkles had taken one look at each other and clicked.
Carl nodded. “Guess I need to put on some of those baby locks to keep her out of things.”
Sprinkles vomited again, shaking.
Hunter watched. “Might be best if we keep her here—”
“Nope.” Carl shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Hunter glanced at Jo, who shrugged at him. “Dad—”
“No.” Carl wasn’t taking no for an answer. “She’ll be happier at home. We can keep her in her kennel.”
“You need to keep her hydrated,” Hunter said.
“Anything else?” Carl asked.
“Don’t feed her.” Hunter glanced between the two of them. He couldn’t help it if his attention lingered on Jo. “Not today, anyway. We’ll see how she is tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “Maybe you could swing by and check on her later?”
A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Boones of Texas, Book 1) Page 5
