Painted Petals

by Kassandra Lea

  A short time later Asher flipped on his blinker, taking the turn into his driveway. Following Clara’s taillights to the vet clinic and then waiting for her to step inside, delivering a tiny wave his way, did little in the way of slowing down his thoughts. They ran rampant. A fair portion of them turned into mental chastising. Asher kicked himself for letting things play out the way they did. Another chunk was preoccupied with the fact that Clara had nearly married another man. Once or twice she mentioned a prior relationship that went south, specifically on their first official date, wanting to explain away her nerves. He vowed right then and there, while bumping along the driveway, to love without reservation, to give her all of him, the moon and stars, whatever it took to keep her happy.

  The headlights of his pickup played over the back bumper of a visiting vehicle. Asher scowled. “What the hell is she doing here?”

  He ditched his truck. Opening the front door, he received the usual greeting from his dogs, each one of them happy to see him. Sarsaparilla hung back, tail wagging, toy in her mouth. Asher have her a loving scratch. Then heard someone moving about upstairs. He looked up, presented with the sight of Shasta wrapped in a towel, plenty of bare skin on display.

  “Asher,” she practically cooed.

  “What are doing in my house?”

  The way she descended the stairs, it was like she wanted to put on a show, to arouse him, the towel hiking up with each step. “I stopped by to ride and felt like a shower afterward. You used to love me naked.”

  She pressed up against him, providing Asher with a perfect view of her chest, if he bothered to look down.

  He gently, yet firmly, pushed her away. “Used to is the key phrase. Put your clothes on and please leave.”

  “Party pooper,” Shasta pouted. She toyed with the edge of the towel. “Are you sure? You might see something you like.”

  “I’m going out to the barn. Be gone when I get back.”

  His tone sucked the playfulness right out of her mood. Shasta stood, hands on her hips. “What happened to you?”

  Asher was already half way out the door. “I fell in love with someone other than you.”

  He let those be his parting words, returning to the cold night. The driveway was empty, for which he was grateful, afraid to find Clara changed her mind and was currently on her way by. The nerve, he thought, of Shasta popping back into his life and expecting everything to be as it was when she left. Perhaps it would have been, had she bothered to come back sooner. Time and distance eased the heartache, especially when he focused on the ranch. And now he had Clara.

  Clara, just thinking about her warmed his heart.

  And made him feel like a jerk.

  In the barn the soft glow of the night lights created deep pools of shadow. There were a handful of stalls, a few of them unoccupied. A soft whicker came from one, however, and Asher headed in that direction. He slid the stall door open. The stallion standing in a bed of pine shavings was an important part of the ranch, providing Asher with steady income from breeding contracts. And to think, someone discarded him, left him at an auction where Asher saw something in the stallion’s eyes. He easily outbid the kill buyers and brought Tec home, cleaned him up, and discovered the stallion possessed an impeccable bloodline.

  Tec also had a flair for ranch work; which was a bonus. Every animal at Sugarbush earned their keep.

  Tec nosed Asher in the shoulder seeking affection. Asher scratched Tec’s velvety soft nose, then rubbed his forehead. In times of turmoil the barn always turned out to be Asher’s sanctuary, even if it meant reading comics or day dreaming in the hay loft on a warm summer day instead of doing his chores. A sense of calm washed over him as soon as he entered the barn, inhaling the smorgasbord of scents. And the feel of horse flesh under his hand also calmed him for Asher was practically born in the saddle and planned to die with his boots on.

  “The question is,” he asked Tec, fussing with the stallion’s mane, “is do I keep walking this path alone or do I make my intentions clear to Clara?”

  Tec nudged him.

  “Yeah, I should probably figure out my intentions first, huh? Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, do I have enough time to do anything for her, do you think? And what exactly? But her flowers and chocolates? Both perfectly okay gifts, but I want more. Neither of those say how I feel. I’m madly in love with the woman, ole boy.”

  He stepped out, reaching into a lidded bucket that hung on a hook. Tec gleefully took the offered treat. Asher secured the stall, then moved on further down the aisle. Near the far end of the barn, as far from Tec as they could get, were the mare and foal Asher rescued in December. With the careful guidance of Clara and his own wealth of knowledge Nova was well on her way to being back in good shape. And her dazzling little foal, Candy Cane, who rested at her feet, was blossoming. Aside from an ear twitch Nova kept a sleepy-eyed vigil over her little one.

  Happy to see them cozy, Asher did a slow circuit of the barn, checking on each occupant, giving a little extra time to a yearling Clara visited a handful of days ago, the stitched wound on her shoulder healing nicely. He even paused at the stall temporarily holding Shasta’s horse, a golden Palomino gelding Asher helped her purchase back when they were a couple. Times had certainly changed.

  Back at the door he peeped out the little window. Shasta’s truck was thankfully done. He bid farewell to the slumbering critters and hastily crossed to the house, greeted by the typical chorus of whimpers and barks. Asher detoured to the kitchen, fishing out a few dog treats and giving each spoiled mongrel a cookie. For himself he poured a glass of whiskey and wandered into the dining room. He stared out the glass patio door.

  When his family gave up the tiny cabin that was the original homestead of the ranch to build a new house, they picked a premium location. From his vantage point Asher looked out over the snow-covered hills and valleys, most of which he owned. Thankfully, Bowie’s property bordered his so land disputes rarely, if ever, cropped up. And with that new bull being kept near the barns instead of out on the range…Asher sighed. Things were changing. He was falling head over heels in love with Clara and Bowie was considering ditching his rodeo ways.

  He sipped his whiskey.

  The howl of a wolf reached him from off in the distance and Asher hoped the critter was well fed. He polished off the glass, figuring it was time to hit the hay. Ranch work started before first light this time of year and it waited for no man. Besides, back-breaking work provided him with time to think about Clara and the upcoming holiday. As he turned to head into the kitchen to rinse out his glass Asher spied an object on the sideboard that solved his problem, at least a little. But did he have enough time?

  Chapter 12

  Paperwork, the bane of Clara’s existence, at least at present. Caught in a lull, she decided to tend to things she sort of let slip, like inventory of supplies and making sure the bottles of medication matched her records. The last thing she wanted was a delinquent to be getting high off her laziness.

  Does Sugarbush even have crime?

  Asher may have mentioned cattle rustling at one point; which surprised her in this day and age. It sounded like a leftover from the Wild West days when cowboys used to have standoffs and ladies, accompanied by pianos, used to sing in saloons. At least that was how the movies portrayed those bygone days.

  Does Sugarbush have a saloon? There’s an idea to run by Bowie if he wants a new business venture. He can open the only authentic western saloon in all of Sugarbush, probably in the whole state. Think of all the dashing cowboys.

  She put down her pen, scowling at the desktop.

  Where did that come from? Last time I checked Asher and I were still good and he’s the only cowboy I want. Still, a saloon might be fun, especially if people get dressed up.

  Clara made a mental note to run the idea by Bowie the next time she saw him; which come to think of it, their paths hadn’t crossed in a whole. On one hand she considered that a good thing as it meant the critt
ers at the Bowie ranch were in fine form. On the other, she missed his charm and friendship. Plus, if she got some time alone with him she could pump him for information about the newly returned ex of Asher’s.

  Was she jealous? Of a woman she had yet to meet? Ridiculous.

  The telltale thump of knuckles against the door frame drew her focus. Miss Maggie stood in the doorway, her mouth puckered. As soon as she saw she had Clara’s attention she waltzed in, partially closing the door in her wake.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Tell me we can turn away customers.”

  Clara’s eyebrows raised. “Come again?”

  “There’s a lady here with a cat and trust me, let’s turn her away. She can find another vet.”

  “Maggie,” Clara said, pushing her chair back, “this is certainly new. You love everyone.”

  “Not everyone,” the middle-aged woman sniffed.

  “Besides, whether we like the owner or not we have to at least treat their pet. It’s only fair. My commit is to the animals of this town.” She headed out of her office. Miss Maggie fell into step behind her. “How about while I tend to the patient you ring up Morty North and see how the adoptions are faring?” Clara drew up short, a mental lightbulb blinking on brilliantly. “And,” she lowered her voice, having stopped close to the reception area, “have him inform the new pet parents that with proof of adoption they will get six months of discounted vet visits.”

  “That’s mighty generous of you.” Miss Maggie squeezed her arm in a friendly way. “Good luck, dear.”

  Perplexed by Miss Maggie’s attitude, Clara stepped into the waiting area, noting the one occupied chair was home to a leggy blond with features favored by all the posh magazines. Just the kind of lady to make Clara feel fat instead of pleasantly curvy. At the sight of her the woman stood revealing herself to be about Clara’s height, give or take an inch, with a body to die for. She was the girl all the guys watched when she went by. Clara was envious. She often struggled with being happy with her body. There were days she absolutely loved it and those when she longed to be as drop dead gorgeous as her customer.

  She put on a smile, burying her silly insecurities. “Hello, I’m Dr. Clara Dickens. How can I help you today?”

  “Well,” the lady spoke with a charming drawl, “I’m staying with a friend temporarily and she got called into work today, but asked me to run by with her cat.” She hefted the cat carrier in her hand.

  “Right this way, let’s have a look at the adorable furball.”

  Clara led her to the first exam room, catching the glare Miss Maggie shot in the blonde’s direction. The carrier was placed on the metal table. Clara undid the snaps keeping the two pieces together, having learned that with cats this was the easiest method. A patchwork of black and orange and white fur greeted her, followed by a friendly meow. The woman may have been a mystery, but at least Clara knew her patient and what was required.

  She started going through the usual steps, checking Queenie’s vitals. “You mentioned you’re staying with a friend. Will you be in town long?”

  “I’m actually moving back,” she replied. “Oh, where have my manners gone. My name’s Shasta Jamison. I hear you’re the new vet in town? Do you also see horses?”

  “Yes,” Clara responded, happy to note her voice was strong.

  Now it all made sense, Miss Maggie’s reluctance over Clara tending to the waiting woman. Shasta, the woman who originally laid claim to Asher’s heart and had recently come sweeping back I to his life unannounced. Clara swallowed down the bitter lump forming in her throat. Asher was a looker, a man worthy of being on the cover of GQ or gracing romance novels. Until last month he was considered the most eligible bachelor in Sugarbush, cowboy Casanova Bowie pulling in a close second. With the likes of a stunner such as Shasta at his side, they rivaled any Hollywood power couple.

  Your insecurities are showing again. This woman can run circles around you. Her makeup is impeccable and her style spot on. Why pick plain, ordinary me when Asher can have a shining star, a girl that makes among other guys jealous?

  “Oh good,” Shasta was saying, rocking slightly back and forth, having slipped her hands into her back pockets. “I’ll see about scheduling a time for you to come check on Windsome. He’s been off his feed and I’m hoping it’s just the move.”

  “Just check with Miss Maggie on the way out. She can get everything sorted.”

  Clara picked up the needle, preparing to give Queenie her rabies shot, wishing it was Shasta who got the pointy piece of metal driven into her skin. Then she realized how horrible that sounded, even in her own head, and felt guilty. For all of a minute. The sooner she finished up with the cat, the quicker Shasta would be out the door.

  But…

  “May I ask what brought you back to Sugarbush Creek?”

  “Let’s just say my big city dreams didn’t come to fruition.” Shasta giggled, flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. “And there’s a guy here, maybe you’ve met him.” She paused, rolling her eyes. “Listen to me, of course you have, anyway, I’m hoping to patch things up with him. Asher Barlow. He may be the one for me.”

  Clara’s hands trembled as she tapped the information into the computer to update Queenie’s file. “That’s…wonderful.” With that out of the way she gathered up Queenie and got her safely stored away in the carrier, ignoring the dejected, pitiful meow it earned her. “Everything looks good. Miss Maggie will have a receipt waiting for you.”

  “Well, that was quick.” She snatched up the carrier, jostling Queenie. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Dickens.”

  “Likewise,” Clara lied through her teeth.

  Normally she walked her customers and their critters out, often exchanging small talk about town matters, but Clara let petty jealousy get the best of her. She set about wiping down and disinfecting the table, letting Shasta go on her way. She tried to keep her spirits positive, recalling the talk she had with Asher last night. Either she chose now, in that moment, to believe him, or settle on the idea of him lying. Had he ever lied to her? Aside from waiting too long to come clean about Shasta being back in town their relationship had been good. One Clara hoped lasted the tests of time.

  Why does love have to be so complicated? I find myself torn, and unfortunately, I get the feeling prior heartache is driving me toward an evening of crying.

  “Are you alright, dear?” Miss Maggie asked, stepping into the room.

  “Fine and dandy.”

  “Sorry, you’ll have to figure me for not buying what you’re peddling. Now you’ve had the unpleasantness of meeting Asher’s ex. That’s bound to throw even a strong woman like you for a spin.”

  Clara threw away the bleach wipe she’d been using. “Maggie, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, my dear, you know that.”

  “Do you think he’ll take her back?”

  “When he’s got you? Only a fool,” Miss Maggie replied, vehemently. She strolled into the room, taking Clara’s hands in her own and directing her to the two chairs in the corner. They sat, knees touching, facing each other. ”I can tell by looking at you that you’re worried about Asher leaving you for Shasta. Dear, from the bottom of my heart, I tell you that boy is head over heels in love with you. She may unwisely think she had a shot, but everyone in town…well, most everyone in town, knows it’s you. Why, I haven’t seen Asher as happy as he’s been with you since, well, quite possibly forever.”

  Clara sniffled, blinking back tears. “You flatter me.”

  Miss Maggie patted her hand. “I’m telling the truth, dear.”

  “I love your honesty.”

  “More people should try it.” She stood, brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt. “Now how about you call it an afternoon, go get yourself some lunch, and swing by the shelter? There was quite a bit of ruckus coming over the phone line when I called. Makes me think your little plan worked.”

  Clara sighed, the tension easing from her body. “You kn
ow, I think that sounds like an absolutely wonderful idea. Give me a call if I’m needed?”

  They walked out of the room together, Clara removing her stethoscope, planning to ditch it in her office.

  “Pardon me if I’m crossing any lines,” started Miss Maggie, “but with spring time coming perhaps you should consider finding an intern to give you a little bit of a helping hand.”

  Clara experienced a twinge of worry. “Is the office getting to be too much for you to handle alone?”

  “Oh no,” laughed Miss Maggie. “I meant for you. You can’t be everyone at once and your practice is growing in popularity. Rumor also has it that you-know-who,” she referenced Dr. Lawrence, “will be closing down soon. His health isn’t what it used to be and his bedside manner, well, that hasn’t changed in the least. That man still has a surly way about him. Anyway. A handful of patients have stuck with him up to this point and with you being the only vet in town…”

  No more needed to be said. Clara understood exactly what Miss Maggie was hinting. “Where does one get an intern?”

  “Leave it up to me, dearie. I already have the perfect person in mind.”

  “If you say they’re a fit, I believe you.”

  Miss Maggie gave her a gentle shove. “Now you be on your way. Just be back before closing time because I expect a full report on the goings on at the shelter.”

  “I’ll leave nothing out.”

  Chapter 13

  The parking lot of the Sugarbush Shelter was full of vehicles. Clara lucked into the last spot. It warmed her heart to see a large turn out and she hoped it meant a lot of rescues were being adopted into loving homes. Despite the chill in the air, big fluffy clouds racing across the sky, the doors to the shelter stood open. Clara nodded at a few people she recognized from day to day life, like her mailman and the guy who ran the post office to the local librarian, and stepped into the main room of Morty’s shelter. He stood behind the counter, beaming, as he helped a new owner finish filling out their paperwork. It looked to Clara like the rabbits were on their way to a good home.