The Surgeon and the Cowgirl (Harlequin American Romance)

by Heidi Hormel

  He knew it was a challenge. One he was sure that Jessie would decline. Instead, she snapped, “No problem.” Her surprisingly soft lips curled into an evil grin.

  Payson leaned over so the pony could touch her lips to his cheek. The smell of oats and molasses wafted over him as the little animal chuffed a breath across his face. He pulled back quickly. Jessie grinned. He reached up his hand to check his face. Slimy pony slobber. He strode forward before Jessie could move and wiped his cheek on hers. She laughed, and he covered her mouth with his to wipe that smirk off her face. Their lips met, and hers parted and softened. Damn. His hand moved down her back, and he pulled her close.

  “Dr. Mac, Dr. Mac, I want to go now.”

  Saved by the kid, Payson thought. No way he resented that. He and Jessie were over long ago. Having his heart ripped out once was more than enough. “Sure, Alex. Let’s go.” He easily swung the boy up into his arms and carried him to his mother’s car.

  He knew what—if he went with his knee-jerk reaction—he’d tell the hospital administration about the program: therapy riding posed an imminent danger to patients. He’d seen a youngster miss being trampled by inches. He would not talk about what had happened to his brain when he saw Jessie go into that corral. Time had stopped. That usually only happened during surgery, when everything went away except the small field of skin exposed by draped hospital fabric. When the seconds stretched out, making each of his movements deliberate and slow. Often after surgery, he was surprised by the amount of time that had passed.

  “He’s going to be okay, right?” Jessie asked as they watched the boy and his mom drive away.

  “Yes,” he said tightly, not willing to argue with her about safety right now. “What about you? What’s up with your knee?”

  “Nothing.” She shifted, and the silence stretched between them, tense and heated. “I want to invite you to come back another day. Alex is doing really well out here. In fact, so well that he’s starting to misbehave because he has the strength and confidence.”

  Jessie’s gaze didn’t waver as she looked at him. Double damn. It was as hard saying no to her as to Alex, which was exactly why he’d been reluctant to evaluate this program. On the other hand, when the administration “asked” a doctor to do something, it was never good for his career to refuse. Now that he was involved, he needed to step back and act like the scientist he was. Could he formulate any conclusions after only one visit? He really hadn’t had a chance to assess the program before Alex’s great escape. Spending more time with Jessie and her program was strictly in the interest of research.

  “My schedule is full for the next week,” he said in his professional voice. “Call me at the hospital and talk with my office manager. Maybe she can find time in two or three weeks.”

  Payson watched Jessie’s face change from resolute to angry. “Two or three weeks? This is important, Payson.”

  “I know, but so are my patients. I have operations back-to-back, and then clinic and—”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

  He could see she was both upset and disappointed. “Before I go, I want to check that knee.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Who’s the doctor here?” It was a familiar argument and one that could almost make him smile. They had teased each other often like that early in their marriage, until those teasing comments had become angry barbs. He stepped toward her, and she didn’t back up. He could smell Jessie’s seductive scent, a mix of hay, desert mesquite and Ivory soap. He’d discovered on their third or fourth date that just a brief whiff aroused him. If he’d thought the kiss had gotten him hot, it was nothing compared to her fragrance. He looked at her and saw a flush on her face that wasn’t from the sun.

  He made himself step back. They were divorced. “You should use ice followed by heat. Take a double dose of ibuprofen today and tomorrow morning and that should keep the swelling down and help with the pain.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” she said. “I’ll call the office.”

  “You do that. I’ve got to go.”

  She put her hand on his arm to stop him from turning. “He really is a great kid, Payson. He’s been doing so well. At first he was weak and scared, but now he’s walking more often and his balance is thirty percent improved. The therapy works.”

  “I said I’d come back,” he answered, not wanting to argue with her, rail at her that he’d also seen Alex almost get trampled to death. He’d learned a few things in their years apart, including how to keep his temper in check. What he hadn’t learned was how to erase the memory of her curled against him when they were alone and in their big old-fashioned sleigh bed—the bed he still slept in. There were nights when the dreams were so real he’d wake up and reach for her. When he felt the coolness of the empty sheets, he wanted to cry or punch the wall.

  He needed to sell that bed.

  Chapter Two

  Jessie glared at Payson, who was sitting across from her three weeks after his disastrous visit in his version of cowboy casual—a pressed and starched shirt tucked into equally stiff, dark denims. It was wrong to iron jeans, as she had told him more than once, and it was wrong for her to think he looked sexy.

  They were in her small office that was crammed into the corner of one of the barns. Usually the scents of hay and horse kept her calm and focused. Not today. Three years divorced, and he could still make her mad enough to see red. What did she tell the kids to do when they were angry? Walk away. Well, she didn’t have a choice about that this time. Payson had just announced that if she wanted the hospital to endorse her program, then he was sticking around.

  “Your neck is red and not from the sun,” he said softly, his mouth curling a little as his coffee-colored eyes gleamed with a wry humor. “Are you upset?”

  She waited for him to laugh. One snort. One chortle and she was taking him down. She regularly wrestled with a half ton of horse. “I am surprised. A barn is the last place I expected you to want to hang out,” she said.

  “Times change.”

  “You mean it’s snowing in hell.”

  “I would think you’d watch your language with all of these children around.”

  She didn’t want to fight with him, but he definitely knew which buttons to push. “Do you have any ideas on how you would like to carry out your observations?”

  “You mean besides stand and watch?” he asked and grinned.

  She worked not to smile back at that smart-ass answer. Those sorts of comments had gotten him into trouble on a regular basis when they were younger. Of course, there were times when the verbal battle that followed such remarks would lead directly to a horizontal two-step, but she was not going there today...or any other day, she told her racing heart. She calmly said, “We’re using the indoor ring. That would probably be the best place to start.”

  Payson had told her that he would observe again today. After that, he and the team from the hospital would be at the ranch nearly full-time to see how the program aligned with medical standards. Jessie had never expected that the hospital would take such a hands-on approach, but if she wanted to keep Hope’s Ride operating, she had to accept the invasion. She’d try to cooperate. She really would. It was just tough with Payson as the one coordinating the study by the hospital.

  He stood and waited. She got up and limped off through the barn. It had been weeks since her tussle with Alex and the horse, but her knee refused to stop aching. Being short-handed at the ranch hadn’t helped her condition. She’d been doing more than usual, and going to the doctor was out of the question. Until Hope’s Ride made money, Jessie had only the most basic insurance.

  Payson followed her, making her even more self-conscious about her gait. In the past, when he’d walked behind her, he’d said it was so he could enjoy how she filled out a pair of jeans. She doubted that was what he felt right now.


  “Here’s the indoor ring,” Jessie said. She would pretend he was a donor who was thinking about supporting Hope’s Ride. That would give her the right attitude. “The afternoon sessions are for the younger children who aren’t in school yet.”

  He looked at his watch. “I have a consultation at three, so that gives us an hour.”

  Jessie almost made a snarky comment. Paste on a smile and be polite, she firmly told herself. She could do that for the next hour. She could do that for however long it was going to take to save Hope’s Ride.

  She explained briefly what the volunteers were doing and each child’s therapy plan. Payson asked questions, but his gaze was intent on the children. They stood side by side for a few moments. She could smell the tartness of the starch from his shirt and clearly remembered what that innocent-looking cotton hid. She would not think about how that scent had invaded her senses when Alex made them kiss.

  She refused to remember how he had touched her in their big comfortable bed—a whimsical monstrosity that Payson had bought for her because she’d refused to have a diamond ring. During the divorce, she’d told him nastily that she didn’t want anything from their marriage, especially that “stupid” bed. Less than a year later, a stumble by Candy Cane, her Appaloosa, had changed her life as much as marrying Payson at nineteen had. While her damaged knee functioned pretty well, it wasn’t 100 percent and never would be. She’d had to retire from the rodeo.

  After a month of sitting at her folks’ house in Tucson and feeling sorry for herself, her parents placed a firm, but kindly, foot on her butt, encouraging her to open Hope’s Ride. The program had been in her someday plans after seeing riding therapy in action at a farm in Ohio. So, after paying her medical bills, she’d used a chunk of her savings along with a little bit of help from her parents and their friends in the rodeo “family” to get started.

  Now, every month had become a balancing act of draining her savings as she tried to put off creditors until the payments came in. The problem was that the payments weren’t covering all of the expenses now, and her savings were nearly gone.

  “Each of the volunteers and paid staff go through extensive training,” she told Payson. “The mounts have all been donated. We test each one before any child is allowed on. You can see that each rider has a helmet and helpers. It’s very safe. The movement of the horse forces them to—”

  “What conditions do you treat?” he asked, interrupting her.

  He was a “donor” she reminded herself, and explained the current program and her hopes for expansion. After another five minutes of observation, he suggested that they move on. She took him to the outdoor facilities and to a small room where the children and their caregivers regularly met to speak with the two other therapeutic riding instructors, both of whom were certified. She had help from a couple of part-timers to care for the stock and everyone else volunteered their time and expertise to help the children. She took him into the horse barn. It was empty except for a cat and flies that buzzed lazily in the air.

  “The older riders are expected to help care for the horses,” Jessie said.

  “Free labor, huh?”

  “No, Payson, the children, especially the teens, need that kind of responsibility. They don’t have a lot of confidence in their own abilities. Caring for the horses shows them that they have a lot more going on than they think.”

  “Plus a rider always takes care of her own horse,” he said, nodding a little as he repeated the words she’d told him often enough.

  “Yep. There’s that, too. It’s also a chance for the kids to really bond with the horses. It’s an important part of the therapy.”

  The tour was over, and they were standing in the aisle of the barn. Even with the sun streaming in through the stalls, it was dim, the concrete floor keeping the space cool. Jessie couldn’t see Payson’s expression, but his stance was taut. She shifted to give her knee a rest.

  He took her arm and said, “That’s it. You’re going to let me look at that knee.”

  She started to pull away but his fingers tightened. Her arm tingled where he touched her skin. “It’s fine, Payson.”

  “It is not fine. You were limping the last time I was here, and you’re still limping.”

  “I have an appointment for next week.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re lying. You turned your head,” he said.

  Darn it. How could she have forgotten that he knew her better than anyone else?

  “You’re a kid doctor. I’m an adult,” she said.

  “A knee is a knee. Do we have to go through this again? I wanted to look at it the last time I was here.”

  “I said no then, too. You don’t owe me anything, Payson.”

  “Who said anything about owing you?” he asked. “I’m trying to fulfill my duty as a physician.”

  * * *

  PAYSON GRITTED HIS TEETH. Why did Jessie have to make things so hard? She had this idea that if she didn’t do things herself, people would never respect her. So, here they were glaring at each other. The way she favored her leg, it must be excruciating.

  When they’d been married, she’d often ridden with something pulled or strained. Jessie was used to being hurt and not showing it. He remembered her eyes shining with tears more than once and her fighting to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. The code of the rodeo, she’d told him. “You don’t let people see you cry no matter how much you hurt.” It was all about respect. That was what was driving her to limp around on a knee that needed rest and attention.

  He glanced at his watch. He was already late for his consult, and he tried to ignore the hitch in his stomach from the same tug of war that had strained their marriage: patients or Jessie. With more heat than he intended, he said, “You need to have that checked out.”

  “I will if it doesn’t get any better.”

  He followed her from the barn, his concern as a physician fighting with his intense arousal as he watched her tall, lithe body shift under her just-tight-enough clothing. In the old days, even when he’d been exhausted during his surgical residency, following her around like this would have made him hot enough to not care about schedules or exams. He would have dragged her into one of the stalls and...

  Why would he remember any of their marriage fondly? Sure, it had been amazing when their problems could be solved by a little time together in bed. When they had to deal with the real problems, grown-up problems, everything fell apart.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. I’ll be done with rounds by then,” he said as he got into his Range Rover.

  “I’ll have the releases you requested ready and the therapy plans, too. ’Bye,” she said and turned without another word.

  He jammed the SUV into Drive and gravel spit from his tires.

  * * *

  AS HELEN, HIS office manager, laid out the medication and instruments he requested, she said, “A doctor who makes house calls? Wait till I tell your other patients, they’ll be lining up.”

  “Thank you,” Payson said, giving her an aggravated look.

  “Oooh, the Dr. Mac evil eye. I’m so scared,” she said and laughed. “Based on what’s being said in the halls, I’m guessing this has to do with Jessie?” Her voice had gone from joking to aggravated.

  “The grapevine is pretty quick,” Payson said. He was irked that he and Jessie were being discussed, but it was a hospital. There was no way to stop the rumors. He needed to stay focused on his final goal: becoming director of pediatrics. It had been made clear to him that moving up at the hospital now depended on the success of the program. He and his team were expected to bring Hope’s Ride into compliance with the hospital’s goals and policies.

  “It’s a practical thing,” he explained to Helen. “She’s got to be at a hundred percent if I want to get her program integrated with ours.” He saw Helen sta
rt to open her mouth and he looked at her from beneath slightly lowered brows. That one gesture had been known to quiet children in a full tantrum. “She injured her knee saving Alex Suarez. Even you have to agree that examining her is the least I can do as a doctor. I’m sure she doesn’t have very good insurance. Plus, I need to speak with her about the hospital’s requirements.”

  “I would guess that there are hundreds of doctors in the greater Phoenix area who would treat her,” Helen said. She straightened the stacks of paper on his desk, her mouth tight and disapproving. Payson imagined it was how a mother would look when her child had acted up. His own mother had always let the nanny or school take care of it when Payson or his brother misbehaved.

  “I’ve got to finish up,” Helen said. “My son has a lacrosse game this afternoon.”

  When she left, Payson focused on the consult he’d just had and the endless paperwork for his other patients. He knew that, as director of pediatrics, most of his day would be filled with paperwork like this. That was the downside. As he’d told Helen again and again, he could be more effective in helping care for children as director. What he would never admit was that by becoming an administrator and sacrificing what he really loved—performing surgery—he might finally make up for not being able to save the one small life that had mattered more to him than any other.

  * * *

  JESSIE SAT STIFFLY in her office chair as Payson pressed and poked her knee. She’d only agreed to let him check the joint after he’d refused to continue the evaluation of Hope’s Ride until she let him examine her. She wanted to squirm away but felt stupid because he didn’t seem affected by nearly lying in her lap as he prodded the knee. Her skin prickled with awareness and she ground her teeth against the moan...of pain. Definitely pain.

  “When are you going to have this knee replaced?” he asked as he sat back on his heels.

  She relaxed a little. “I’m not. At least, not until I’m ninety.”