Dr. Colton’s High-Stakes Fiancée

by Cindy Dees

  In all the years since he’d left Honey Creek, he’d never been able to trust another woman enough to give away his heart. What if someone else hurt him like she had? He didn’t think he could stand it a second time.

  They had finished another slow revolution and his family was about to come into sight again. His family, who’d stood by him when he’d wanted to turn down his college scholarship and just run away from Rachel, who’d kept him from falling into a bottle to drown his sorrows. The Coltons might have their problems, but at least they’d stuck by him when his life had fallen completely apart. Or, more accurately, when Rachel Grant had blown it completely apart.

  He was being torn in two. And it was killing him.

  “You’re right,” he announced abruptly. “I can’t have it both ways. And I don’t want it both ways.” His arms fell away from her. “I’ll never forget or forgive what you did to me, Rachel. No pretty dress or demure charm or injured dog is going change that. I can’t do this anymore.”

  He pivoted on his heel and strode off the dance floor. He headed for the door and some cool air outside. He felt like she’d stuck a knife in his chest all over again. He’d known coming to this dance was a bad idea. That it would dredge up too many old memories and open up too many old wounds.

  He burst outside into humid night air that clung heavily to his skin. He tore off his tie and shrugged out of his jacket, but he still felt like he was about to suffocate. He had to get away from there. From her. Far, far away. He’d head back to Bozeman this very minute were it not for Craig Warner lying near death in the hospital. Damn him.

  But he could get away from Rachel. He fished the keys out of his pocket and marched into the parking lot. He climbed in his truck, hit the gas and peeled out of the parking lot as fast as he could.

  Rachel stood in the door of the gym, tears flowing down her face, and watched him go—again. And he never looked back—again.

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe he did that to you!” Carly exclaimed. “Let’s go to his house and trash his truck.”

  Her cousin’s arm went around her waist; but like the last time Finn had humiliated her and abandoned her in this very spot, Rachel dared not accept the comfort. If she did, she would shatter into a million pieces. She had to hold it together until she could get out of there. Go somewhere far away by herself. And hide. And cry. And if she were lucky, she wouldn’t get to the raving and screaming part until she was safely alone.

  “Take me home, Carly,” she ground out.

  “I don’t think you should be alone right now. Besides, I think you should go back in there and show them all that he doesn’t—”

  “No!” She cut off her cousin sharply.

  “Rachel. Do you still have a thing for him? After everything he’s done to you? Are you nuts?”

  “No!” she snapped a second time. “Of course I don’t have a thing for him. I know better than to want Finn Colton. He’s poison.”

  But a poison she was addicted to as surely as she was standing here.

  “C’mon, Raych. We’ll go to your place, open up a bottle of wine, and drink to what bastards men are!”

  “No, thanks. Just take me home,” she replied tiredly.

  “You sure?”

  Sympathy was something she couldn’t handle right now. Carly’s concern was threatening to break down her last remaining ounce of strength. “Let’s just go.”

  It took determined effort on her part; but when they got to her place, Rachel managed to send Carly on her way without the threatened bottle of wine and man-bashing session.

  Finally alone, she hung up the disastrous yellow gown carefully in her closet—no sense taking out her grief and anger on a dress, and besides, she could probably sell it for a little money in Bozeman. She checked in on Brownie, who looked alarmed and licked her hand in concern. Intuitive creatures, dogs.

  “Don’t worry about me, boy. You just get better. At least you’re on the mend. I got one thing right this week at any rate.”

  The dog whimpered quietly as if mirroring her distress.

  She lay down in her bed but felt numb. She paced her bedroom for a while and experienced alternating bouts of grief and humiliation. She kept waiting for the storm of tears, but it wouldn’t come. Shockingly, what finally came was not self-pity at all. It was anger. She was even forced to move her pacing to the living room where she could work up a good head of steam.

  She could not believe he’d done it to her again. He’d walked out on her in front of the whole town and left her standing all alone in the middle of the dance floor again. She supposed she ought to be grateful that this time he hadn’t reamed her out before turning on his heel and marching away from her. But it was hard to work up much gratitude for that. Her current frame of mind hovered closer to homicidal.

  She was a grown woman. She lived a decent life. She was a nice person. There was no reason for her to put up with anyone treating her like this. She’d pack up her things and leave this two-bit town tomorrow were it not for her mother. As soon as Mom passed away, she was out of here forever.

  But the moment the thought entered her mind, she shoved it away in dismay. She loved her mother. No reason to wish for her mom’s death out of her own selfish anger.

  How dare Finn act like that? She hadn’t asked him to come back to town. To come to her house and kiss her and make her think they might actually have a chance. He had no right to play with her heart like this!

  Who was he to judge her anyway? Just because he was a Colton didn’t give him the right to treat other people like dirt. And especially when he couldn’t even be bothered to tell them what they’d done to deserve it!

  Why had he walked out on her tonight? She went over and over what they’d said; and while she’d called him on his mixed messages, that wasn’t the sort of thing that made a person storm out of a room like he had.

  And speaking of storming out of gyms, she was sick and tired of him accusing her of all sorts of bad things but refusing to tell her exactly what those bad things were. The guy had owed her an explanation for fifteen years and never had bothered to give it to her. After this latest fiasco, she expected it would be at least fifteen more years before he bothered to show his face around this town again. And by God, after waiting that long already, she wasn’t about to wait that long again for some answers!

  She was going to go out to that cursed ranch and demand some explanations once and for all. She had grabbed her car keys and stepped out onto the back porch before it dawned on her that it was three o’clock in the morning. Okay, fine. She’d go out there and demand answers when daylight broke.

  But when daylight came, she was passed out across her bed, sleeping off the exhaustion and emotional rollercoaster of the night before. It was close to noon before she woke up, and were it not for Brownie whimpering to go out, she might have slept longer.

  She stumbled into the kitchen and opened the back door for the dog. A wave of muggy warmth hit her in the face. Indian Summer was late this year. The air was turbulent, and ominous clouds were already building in the west. Looked like a storm brewing. Perfect weather to fit her mood.

  Grimly, she fed the dog and moved his bed out to the back porch so he could enjoy the day’s unseasonable warmth. She dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, stomped into a pair of cowboy boots and threw on a little makeup for confidence. Her eyes snapping and her cheeks unnaturally ruddy, she headed for the Colton ranch and a showdown with Finn. If she’d owned a six-shooter gun, she’d have strapped it onto her hip in her current state of mind.

  Her bravado wavered as she turned into the Colton drive and passed under the big arch, but she took a deep breath and wrapped her righteous indignation more closely around herself. She drove around to the back of the main house.

  She knocked on the back door.

  No one answered. Cursing under her breath, she knocked again. Still nothing. She looked around for any sign of humans and noticed a barn door open up the hill. She headed for it. She was no
t leaving this place until she found out what in the hell was going on.

  What in the hell was going on? Finn stared down at Craig Warner’s latest blood work in dismay. The cell salts had been working. The guy was getting better. He’d even kept a little food down last night. And then this morning he had crashed worse than ever. His heart had stopped an hour ago, occasioning the call from the E.R. asking him to come in to the hospital to watch Warner so the on-call doctor could cover the emergency room.

  “Get me a list of everything he ingested last night,” he told the nurse hovering beside him.

  “Already got it,” the woman replied grimly.

  Obviously, her thoughts were running in the same direction his were. He smiled his appreciation for her efficiency and took the sheet of paper she thrust at him. Four ounces of chicken broth. Five saltines. Two ounces of strawberry gelatin. Seven ounces of apple juice. Nothing there to explain Warner’s cardiac arrest and respiratory distress.

  “Double the cell salts,” he told the nurse quietly.

  “You already have him on a pretty high dosage.”

  “He’ll die if we don’t do something.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He jammed a hand through his hair in frustration. What was he missing?

  Missing? That would be Rachel.

  Oh, for God’s sake. He was not missing her. He’d done the right thing. Protected himself from another disaster at her hands. If they had gotten together, how long would it be this time before she turned to someone else? Before she broke his heart for good?

  Rachel paused in the dim doorway of the barn while her eyes adjusted. Down the broad alley she saw a big, male figure enter a stall. She marched toward him, battle ready.

  She got to the stall and looked inside. A man squatted in the corner, holding a bottle for a red-and-white calf who was noisily and messily drinking from it. He glanced up. Damien. Disappointment coursed through her.

  “Hey, Rachel. What brings you out here? Looking for Finn?”

  “Looking for answers,” she replied grimly. “And Finn’s the one who can give them to me, yes.”

  “He’s not here. He got called to the hospital a while ago. Craig Warner had a setback, apparently.”

  “Oh. Too bad. He’s a nice man.”

  Damien shrugged.

  “Well, I’ll be going, then.”

  “Before you leave, could you pass me that second bottle and the bucket on the floor beside the door?”

  She looked down at her feet at a mash that looked like cracked-wheat cereal in a bucket. “Sure.” She picked up bottle and bucket and opened the stall door. She eyed the momma cow warily. “She going to be okay with me?”

  Damien glanced up at the gigantic creature casually. “Yep, she’s pretty mellow for a first-time mom.”

  Despite his assurances, Rachel still gave the cow wide berth as she moved slowly across the stall to Damien’s side. “What’s the mash for?”

  “Trying to get this little fella to start eating some solid food.”

  She gave the calf a critical glance. “He looks a little young for that.”

  Damien shrugged. “His mother’s not making enough milk. Probably the weird time of year he was born. Mother Nature is telling her to preserve energy to get through the winter herself, and she can’t spare much for junior. I’m bottle-feeding him until I can get him eating solid food, and the sooner I can do that, the better for his health.”

  She watched as the calf butted at the nearly empty bottle. “He’s a cutie. Looks like he’s playing you to get you to give him more milk.”

  “Animals are honest. They don’t play games with you.”

  Rachel snorted and the cow flung her head up in alarm. “Sorry, momma,” she murmured.

  “Who’s playing games with you?” Damien asked quietly.

  “Your brother.”

  “Finn? That’s never been his style. ’Course, I’ve been gone a long time, and maybe he’s changed.”

  Rachel replied bitterly, “He did the same thing to me fifteen years ago. He hasn’t changed his stripes at all.”

  Damien took the bottle away from the calf—much to its displeasure—and substituted his fingers, dipped in the mash, in the calf’s mouth instead. The little guy sucked for a moment but then spit out Damien’s fingers in disgust.

  Rachel smiled. Damien patiently repeated dipping his fingers in the mash and putting them in the calf’s mouth. “You’re good with animals,” she commented.

  He shrugged. “Finn’s the one with real magic where animals are concerned. Too bad he never followed his dream to become a vet. He’d have been a great one.”

  “At least animals would’ve forced him to be honest with them.”

  Damien glanced over at her. “You need me to beat him up for you?”

  Startled, she looked at him full on. Humor glinted in his eyes. “No, but I’d sure as hell like you to tell me what happened fifteen years ago that turned him against me so suddenly and completely.”

  Damien blinked, startled. She swore that was guilty knowledge flashing in his gaze before he looked away, busying himself with feeding the calf.

  “You know, don’t you?” she accused.

  He offered the calf the bottle once more and the hungry baby latched on, sucking eagerly. At length, he looked up at her grimly. “Yeah, I know what happened.”

  Chapter 10

  Finn turned at the sound of a male voice calling his name. Wes. “Hey, bro. What brings the sheriff to the hospital on a Sunday morning?”

  “How’s your patient?”

  Finn shrugged. “Had a setback between last night and this morning. Crashed on us about two hours ago. It was a near thing to get his ticker going again.”

  Wes lowered his voice. “Any idea what caused the crisis?”

  Finn frowned. “No. He even was able to eat a little last night. We’ve tested for food allergies, and nothing he ate should’ve caused him to nearly die on us this morning. His blood stats are as bad as they ever were, too.”

  Wes lowered his voice even more. “Who was with him last night? Particularly at or near the time he was eating?”

  Finn blinked. “You think one of the Walshes is trying to poison him? A business associate?”

  Wes shrugged. “I need a nurse to pull the visitor logs and see who visited Craig last night. Can you arrange that?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Finn replied, startled. Wes wasn’t kidding. He seriously seemed to think one of the Walshes might have poisoned Craig. Why on Earth would one of them do that? Craig was practically a member of the family. He and Jolene were obviously deeply in love, and her kids treated him like a father.

  Wes murmured, “Are those blood tests we talked about back yet?”

  “Yeah.” Finn grimaced. The results weren’t going to please his brother.

  “And?”

  “His arsenic levels are through the roof,” Finn said quietly. Wes stared, and Finn continued, “I’ve ordered another round of tests to determine if his body has been storing up too much of it for a very long time for some reason, or if he has recently ingested massive quantities of the chemical—either by accident or foul play.” As his brother’s frown deepened, Finn reminded Wes, “It’s possible he was exposed through some natural source, like a tainted water source at his home.”

  “But not damned likely,” Wes muttered grimly.

  “No. Not likely,” Finn agreed. “I’ll let you know what the tests show. The tox panel should be back in a day or two.”

  “Ever heard of an outfit called Hidden Pines Holding Company?” Wes asked abruptly.

  “No. Should I have?”

  “No.” Wes shrugged. “I’m working on a subpoena to get the state of California to release the names of the company’s officers to me. In the meantime, if you happen to overhear any of the Walshes mention it while they’re hanging around here, let me know, okay?”

  Finn frowned. “You want me to spy on a patient’s family?”

  “I want you to
assist me in a murder investigation and a possible attempted murder investigation.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything in the Hippocratic oath to prevent me from doing that.” Finn sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll do it.”

  Rachel followed Damien out of the stall like a burr stuck to his back. No way was he getting away from her without spilling his guts. He went to a work area and rinsed out the bottles and bucket, and she waited nearby. Finally, he turned to face her.

  “Why are you asking me about all this?” he murmured. “You know what happened as well as I do.”

  “All I know is that the boy I was crazy in love with turned on me for no reason, dumped me, humiliated me, and didn’t come back to town for fifteen years. And I never found out why.”

  Damien blurted, “The abortion, of course.”

  Rachel stared. “What abortion?”

  “Your abortion.”

  “What?” Her mind was a complete blank. What on Earth was he talking about? “You mean me? An abortion? I’ve never been pregnant, let alone had an abortion. Who are you talking about?”

  Damien frowned. “I was there. I heard it all.”

  “Heard what? Tell me what happened, Damien.” An awful suspicion was taking root in her head.

  He exhaled hard. “It was the night of Finn’s senior prom. I was just coming into the kitchen when Maisie told Finn about it. She saw you in Bozeman at an abortion clinic. You were terribly upset. She went in and told them she was your friend who’d come up to be with you. They said you were in having the procedure done, but she could wait for you. She didn’t stick around.”

  “And then she told Finn I’d had an abortion?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rachel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Good God, Damien. I was still a virgin the night of prom. I couldn’t possibly have had an abortion.”