by Box Set
“Good job. That was smart to keep a watch on that.” The teenager’s shoulders pushed back with the smallest amount of pride.
“We’ve got a problem,” Trip said, from behind the horse. “The foal’s coming out breach.”
“Oh no.” She hurried to the rear of the horse to take a look. She grabbed the mare’s swishing tail and held it back.
Shit. He was right.
The hooves of the foal’s foot were visible. “We need to turn the foal. Its hooves are pointing up, so it’s either backward or upside down.” She went into vet mode, calling out instructions, thankful that Spencer was willing to follow her commands.
Trip obviously had some experience with this. He moved into position, massaging the horse’s stomach in an effort to try to reposition the baby. Except this baby was gangly and already weighed close to a hundred pounds, and its mama wasn’t too excited by the idea.
She huffed and snorted, swinging her head back and snapping at Trip.
He took the horse’s movements in stride, running his hands gently along her mane and cooing sweet words to her. “You’re all right there, darlin’. Settle down now, sugar.”
Momentarily distracted by his gentle compassion, Bre hated the fact that for a second she was jealous of the loving words he was speaking to the mare.
Maybe he wasn’t as much of an asshole as she thought.
Maybe.
The mare stamped her foot, reminding Bre that she’d have time to ponder his asshole-ness later. Right now she needed to focus on delivering this foal and possibly saving it and its mother’s lives.
“I can feel the hock, so the foal’s backwards. We’re gonna have to deliver it breach,” he said, moving back to the horse’s rear.
She instructed Spencer to hold the tail while she grasped the foal’s hooves and pulled them down, trying to get its hips into position so that it could pass through the birth canal. “Breach births nearly always break the umbilical cord, so once the hips are out, we need to get the foal out right away.”
She gave another gentle pull, and the horse’s hips popped free. Moving quickly, she positioned herself behind the horse and pulled on the foal. Sweat popped out on her forehead from the exertion, and her muscles strained at the effort.
Trip stepped in behind her, sliding his arms around her and grasping the foal’s hips. The horse took a deep breath, and he planted his feet as she exhaled. “Now. Pull.”
Using their combined strength, they pulled the foal free, and Trip eased it to the ground then ripped the birthing sac open.
Alarmed at the absence of breath, Bre leaned forward and lifted the foal’s head, working to clear its nostrils.
“Is it okay?” Spencer whispered. “It doesn’t look like it’s okay.”
Ignoring the teenager, Bre kept her attention focused on the foal, her concern building at the lack of breath. “Trip, grab his back legs and hold him up. We’ve got to drain the mucus.”
Without hesitation, he grabbed the lifeless foal and hung it upside down. A large stream of slime poured from the horse’s nostrils, then it inhaled a strong deep breath and wriggled in Trip’s arms.
He let out a whoop and set the foal gently back onto the straw.
Duchess had now lain down and was still panting from the exertion, but she nudged the colt with her snout and began to nuzzle and lick its head.
“Let them be a minute. I’m going to try to get the umbilical stump disinfected and treated,” Bre instructed, although the teenager hadn’t moved and still stood against the wall of the stable, a look of shock on his face. “It’s okay. The colt is going to be fine now.”
“Thanks to you,” Trip said softly, but she could tell his words were heartfelt.
“Thanks to both of you,” Spencer said. “That was a total team effort. That whole thing scared the hell out of me. But you guys just jumped in and pulled that fricking baby horse out.”
Bre laughed. “Well, I am a veterinarian, and I have done this before.” She gave a sidelong glance at Trip. “And it would seem you have some experience in the matter as well. I had no idea you knew how to foal a colt.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
Chapter 3
Bre watched the foal try to stand, nudging the mare’s udders as it tried to feed. It was so cute with its gangly legs and wobbly stance.
She, Trip, and Spencer had been silently observing the mare lick and clean the foal for the last fifteen or twenty minutes, giving them the space to bond and for the foal to imprint on its mother.
The mare had just stood up a few minutes before, and Bre was watching for any signs of distress from her. “I’m going to keep an eye on her for an hour or so,” she said. “You guys don’t have to stick around. If you want to go clean up, the most exciting part is over. I just want to make sure she passes the afterbirth and doesn’t have any other trouble.”
Spencer’s expression showed his disgust, and he took a step back. “You had me at afterbirth.” He looked down at the filth covering his shirt. “Like, that was cool and all, watching that baby horse being born, but it was also fairly disgusting. I’m gonna go change, and take a shower, like, for an hour.”
Trip chuckled. “You’re good. We’ll stay. You can come back down later this afternoon and check on him.”
The teenager nodded and waved before heading out of the barn.
“You don’t have to stay,” Bre told Trip, not entirely sure if she actually wanted him to go or if she secretly wished he would stay.
He shrugged. “I’ll stick around. I told John that I’d keep a special eye on Duchess. She’s one of his favorites.” Looking down at his own muck-covered shirt, he gestured to the bucket of water she’d brought with her. “Mind if I use some of this to clean up?”
“Suit yourself.” She feigned disinterest but hoped he didn’t hear her catch her breath as he took off his hat then tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a tan chest full of muscles and rock-hard abs.
Holy hot cowboy.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he bent and splashed water on his chest and arms. His biceps flexed as he scrubbed at the mess covering his toned arms. He sure hadn’t had muscles like that when he was a teenager.
And he had a tattoo.
That was new. An inked drawing of an American flag covered his shoulder, but she couldn’t make out the wording around it.
Holy mother, a freaking tattoo.
Breathe, girl.
He might be hot, she reminded herself, but this was the man who’d broken her heart. The guy who’d ruined her for all other men.
Not just because she’d loved him to distraction, loved him with every fiber of her being, but because he’d left her without a word, walked out on her on one of the worst nights of her life.
Since then, whenever she started to get too close to a man, she’d back away, leaving them before they had a chance to walk away from her, leaving her heart bruised and battered the way Trip had.
To say she had trust issues was an understatement. After a few attempts at dating, and even one pretty serious relationship, she’d realized it was easier to be alone.
And now here he was, the man who’d ripped her heart from her chest and walked away without a backwards glance, standing in front of her looking like sex on a stick as he scooped water onto his head and shook out his hair.
Trip had been it for her. They’d had plans. Plans to go to Colorado, for him to work and her to attend college, to get married. She knew they were young—God, they were so young—but it hadn’t mattered. She would have done anything for him.
But everything changed that night. It only took a few bad decisions and a single moment to change the entire course of her life.
“I’ve got a clean shirt in the truck,” he said, drawing her out of her memories. “I’m gonna grab it. I’ll be back in a few.”
He picked up his soiled shirt and walked away, giving her a g
reat view of his jean-clad butt as he sauntered toward the front of the barn.
She was startled by a sudden pain, and hadn’t realized she’d been biting down on her bottom lip as feelings that she’d tamped down long ago bubbled to the surface. Feelings of ache and need and desire. Feelings she almost didn’t recognize, it had been so long since she’d let herself consider them.
And now sure as hell wasn’t the time to reconsider them. Trip Turner had walked out on her before, and she damn sure wasn’t going to give him a chance to hurt her again.
She just had to get through the next two weeks. Fourteen days.
Kneeling down, she plunged her own hands into the cold bucket of water, trying to lessen the heat that had been building in her since Trip had pulled his shirt off.
It wasn’t enough. Maybe she should just dump the whole bucket on her head.
***
Trip pulled a clean T-shirt from his duffel bag and yanked it on over his head. He felt completely unsettled seeing Bre again and needed a minute of air just to catch his damn breath.
The last hour had flown by in a flurry of excitement and alarm with the birth of the colt, but now reality was sinking in. Bre Wilson was here, at Saddle Creek, less than a football field’s length away from him.
Hell, less than an inch away just a short while ago. He could still feel the pressure of her body pressed against his as they’d worked together to free the foal.
Too much was happening, too many thoughts and memories were swirling around in his mind. He’d had to get out of that barn, clear his head.
Did John know? Had he purposely planned to throw them together again after all these years? Had there been an ulterior motive to him needing a “special” vet at the ranch the same week that Trip would be there? John hadn’t said a word to him about Bre, hadn’t even indicated that he even knew her.
Or had the universe conspired to place them back in each other’s lives?
It didn’t matter. She was here now. And he didn’t know when—or if—John would wake up so he could get the truth out of him.
He shook his head.
Don’t think like that. John’s gonna be okay.
And regardless of why, or how, Bre was back in his life, she was here.
Thoughts of her had filled his head all day—regret and shame at what he’d done to her, and wishing that he could fix it. That he could go back and follow the one rule of John’s that he’d failed to obey.
Maybe this was his chance—his chance to make it right, to win her back and this time not let her go.
He grabbed a few more things from his truck and headed back into the barn.
She stood by the stall, her focus on the horses as she leaned on the rail of the fence.
His heart tripped a beat—she was so damn beautiful.
And successful.
Look what she’d done with her life. She’d followed her dream and gone to vet school. A dream that may not have happened if he hadn’t walked away that night. Walked away and let her go.
Doubt churned in his gut. Maybe coming back into her life right now wasn’t what was meant to be. She appeared to be doing well. Maybe he should just let sleeping dogs lie and let her go on living her life.
Hell, for all he knew, she could be married, or have a boyfriend. Best to not muddy the already murky waters. Best to just get through these next two weeks then put her out of his mind.
She turned as he approached, and he held out the bottle of water and fresh T-shirt he held in his hand. “Thought you could use these.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lip, and his heart did a backflip in his chest.
Get through the next two weeks? Hell, he didn’t know if he could manage getting through the next two minutes.
All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and crush her mouth with his. He wanted to know if she still felt the same, tasted the same. His hands itched to touch her.
“Thanks.” She draped the shirt over her arm and twisted the lid off the bottle before taking a drink of the water. “I needed that.” She gestured to the shirt. “I probably have a clean shirt somewhere in my truck, but this will get me by until I can get to it. Thank you.”
She recapped the water bottle and balanced it on the fence post then narrowed her eyes at him and swirled her hand in a circular motion. “Turn around so I can change.”
He grinned. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” But he hadn’t. He hadn’t seen this Bre before, and his mind went to dark places at the thought of seeing her half-naked.
“Fine. Suit yourself.” She shrugged and peeled her shirt over her head. After tossing it to the ground, she offered him a defiant stare as she pulled the new shirt over his head.
His mouth went dry at the sight of the black lace bra, her lush breasts spilling over the top. His gaze traveled over her slender waist and landed on her hips and stomach.
An ache of desire felt like a punch to the gut as he yearned to touch her, to explore her body, to learn how else she’d changed, to lick and taste and savor her bare skin.
He swallowed and let his gaze travel back up to her face.
She had one eyebrow raised, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. She shook her head and turned back to the stall. “I’m going to sit here for a bit and keep an eye on her if you have something else you need to do.” Sinking to the floor next to the corral, she leaned back against the wall, but kept her gaze trained on the mare and the colt.
“This is the most important thing I need to be doing right now.” He took a few steps forward and joined her on the floor, leaning back and stretching his long legs out in front of him. His arm wasn’t quite touching hers, but it was close enough that he swore he could feel an almost electric current drawing his body to hers.
The soft floral scent of her skin swirled around him, wrecking his focus, as he tried to watch the horses and come up with something intelligent to say.
“So you’re a vet now. You really did it.” Wow. Yeah, that was intelligent. Right up with there with a chat about physics or calculus. He was an idiot. But he didn’t really want her to know that.
She gave him another one of her “are you for real?” expressions. “Yes, I’m a vet now. Either that or I just stole the truck and the real vet is tied up and stuffed in one of the toolboxes in the cab of the truck. I might actually be a criminal mastermind that enjoys coming out to random farms to deliver foals because I enjoy getting slimed by afterbirth in front of the former love of my life.”
She caught her breath, obviously embarrassed that the last part of that statement had popped out of her mouth. Dropping her gaze to her lap, she let out a sigh. “What are you doing here, Trip? Did you know I’d be here?”
“No. I had no idea. If I did, I would have been better prepared to handle seeing you.” He jostled her leg, trying to tease her out of her embarrassment. “And I would have come up with some better conversation starters than asking if you’re really a vet.”
She let out a soft laugh.
“You still have a wicked sense of humor,” he said. “Unless you were serious, and I need to go out to your truck and rescue the real veterinarian from your evil clutches.”
Shaking her head, she offered him a grin, and he felt like he’d just been awarded the grand prize in a contest. Her smile lit up his heart. Still. Even after all of these years.
Time to try a different approach. Change the subject.
“So, are you married? Any kids?”
Wow. Just dive right in there, guy.
She shook her head. “Nope. Not even a current boyfriend. No time. What about you? Is there a Mrs. Turner?”
“You mean besides my mom?” He offered her another grin, but his joke fell flat, since she knew his mom had died when he was a little kid. Tilting his head, he arched an eyebrow at her. “Nah, never married. I gave my heart to a girl a long time ago, and it’s always belonged to her.”
She didn’t say anything—no cute comeback—and he menta
lly kicked himself for throwing the comment out there. Oh well, he’d already said it—couldn’t take it back now.
She blinked at him, and he watched her swallow then clear her throat. “So, what do you do now? For a living, I mean?”
“I make custom furniture. My time spent here at the ranch wasn’t all bad. John taught me the trade of woodworking, and I apprenticed as a carpenter in Wyoming. I make a decent living, especially now that I can sell so much online. I just a bought a little place there to set up shop and do a little farming. I close on the property in a couple of weeks. That’s why I agreed to help John out while I’m waiting.”
“So you’re not staying in Montana?”
“No. My pop passed about seven or eight years ago, so I don’t have anything holding me to the state anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t want to talk about his dad. They weren’t close when he was alive, and Trip had only been back home for a few days to take care of the funeral arrangements. He’d considered trying to look her up then, but had asked a few discreet questions and heard that she’d been accepted into vet school and was dating a guy in Colorado.
So he’d walked away again and just moved on with his life.
“How’s your brother?” He wasn’t ready to ask about the rest of her family. Didn’t think he could stomach a conversation involving her father. It was hard enough to bring up her sibling.
“Ryan’s doing okay, I guess.” She picked at the seam on her jeans, the concerned look on her face telling Trip that she wasn’t revealing the whole story. “Did you hear he’s running for governor of Montana?”
He shook his head. He’d purposely avoided any news of the Wilson family, trying to put Bre and her brother out of his mind. It was easier that way—hurt less if he didn’t let himself think about them.
“I hadn’t heard, but good for him. Do you think he has a chance of winning?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I do. He’s the same—funny, charming, and just slick enough to do well in politics. I mean, he’s my brother and I love him, but I don’t think he always makes the smartest decisions.”
