Groomed for Love

by Helen R. Myers

  “Okay, okay,” he groused. “Just be careful.”

  “Driving?” she asked, her expression all innocence. “You know I will be. Now that you have your truck, the bubble mirrors are permanently fastened on mine.”

  “Wise guy,” he muttered.

  “You know I appreciate your generosity very much,” she added, dropping her teasing tone. She had gotten her driver’s license transferred and the truck title changed into her name on Tuesday afternoon. “And your concern about everything else.”

  “Anything for you,” he said with a sigh. “You know that. All I’m saying is that you’ve been through enough disappointment for someone of your tender years.”

  “I love you, too,” Rylie said, kissing his whiskered chin. “I won’t be long. It’s just that Noah’s phone fell out of his pocket and he’s stuck at court.”

  “Mr. Big Shot needs it so much that he can’t send an underling to collect it for him?” Roy sniffed. “He sure is romantic—not to mention concerned about your welfare.”

  “Since he helped me clean the kennels and barns on Sunday,” she announced, “I thought this was the least I could do to reciprocate.”

  Roy all but gaped. “He was here Sunday, too?”

  “Oh, Uncle Roy, he’s a good man.”

  “And considering how preoccupied he was that he almost clipped me leaving this morning, I’m guessing that he’s been rewarded plenty for that,” Roy muttered.

  With a gasp that he’d actually been so frank, she swatted his arm. Then, exchanging her clinic smock for her windbreaker, she left.

  Her uncle’s worries aside, Rylie was delighted with the chance to see Noah for even a minute. She grinned all the way up to Rusk, as she remembered how he sounded on the phone when he realized what had happened as a result of his drawn-out love play before he’d forced himself to head for the office.

  “See what you do to me?” he’d moaned, when she’d confirmed that she found it had slid farther under the couch than they’d checked.

  She did have to deal with one worry, though. The incident about the warrant could still be fresh on some peoples’ minds. It would be embarrassing if she crossed paths with someone from the sheriff’s office, or the courthouse, who looked at her with continued suspicion or censure. As much as she wanted to put the matter behind her, the memory of what a close call she’d had couldn’t quite be forgotten. As a result, when she pulled into the courthouse square and didn’t see Noah outside waiting for her as they’d agreed he would do, she drove around and around the building, thinking she’d mistaken which door he would be at. Finally, she pulled into an empty slot and hurried inside. Like it or not, she had to get back to the clinic.

  Thinking that he may have been called back to court, she decided she could only hand off the phone to whoever was at front desk in the department. To her amazement, she found the room empty—except for Noah speedily collecting papers on his desk, and then turning around to glance through the miniblinds.

  Relieved to see that he hadn’t forgotten about her, she playfully scoffed. “Too late, Mr. Assistant District Attorney!”

  He wheeled around, and his expression was a priceless mixture of worry-turned-surprise-turned-pleasure. In the next instant, he was rushing across the room. Momentarily ignoring the iPhone that she offered him—he hugged her, rocking her in his arms. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t outside. I was waylaid by the defense attorney on this case.”

  Perfectly willing to forgive him the small inconvenience, she handed over the phone. “I’ll bet you felt lost without this. I sure missed your text messages.”

  He chuckled. “I missed sending them. The rest of the time, I felt naked without it.”

  “Interesting,” she mused, and slowly ran a finger down his red tie. “I haven’t noticed you being shy about nudity around me.”

  With a glance over his shoulder to check the doorway, he took hold of her upper arms and started walking her backward.

  “Noah...?”

  He didn’t stop until they were in a small, secluded space made up of file cabinets and supply shelves. “I can’t let you go without at least one taste of you.”

  He locked his lips to hers and drove his tongue deep. Almost instantly, Rylie felt his body harden against hers. She moaned softly, helplessly leaning into the kiss.

  Then, like that dreaded and cruel bucket of cold water, someone cleared his throat.

  They jerked apart like kids caught necking in a parked car. “I’m so sorry,” Rylie whispered to Noah. Before he could respond, she rushed for the exit, keeping her head ducked as she passed District Attorney Vance Underwood.

  Just as she reached the hallway, she heard, “Noah? Wasn’t that the trailer-park girl? The one Marv Nelson had trouble with a week or so ago?”

  “No trouble, sir. A misunderstanding easily enough resolved. And there’s no trailer park. Her RV is quite a machine.”

  “What was her name?” Vance went on, clearly ignoring him. “Quince?”

  “Quinn. Vance, you’re wrong—”

  “Now you listen to me, Noah,” Vance continued, an edge entering his voice. “I didn’t imagine that an out-of-state warrant existed, did I? And from anyone on the outside looking in, she got special treatment and never spent so much as an hour in jail.”

  Frozen in place, Rylie couldn’t have left if she wanted to. Not only did she find his censorious tone offensive, but he was acting as though the sheriff had done the wrong thing in letting her pay her fine and go home.

  Noah remained civil, but firm. “There was no such thing as special treatment. The matter was discussed with all parties involved and—considering the mitigating circumstances—we saw no reason to make a huge production out of something that would cost taxpayers needless expense. Ms. Quinn has satisfied her debt to the State of California and has otherwise been a model resident in our county. I should confirm, this had the sheriff’s blessing.”

  “Maybe,” Vance replied, in his subtly droning, nasal voice, “but the whole thing has the unpleasant aftertaste of favoritism, Noah. I appreciate your youth and virility. You work hard and deserve your playtime, even if I question where you’re shopping for it.”

  “That will be enough. Sir.”

  “No, this is enough,” Vance whispered, his s’s sounding like a serpent’s hiss. “You don’t embarrass my office. I don’t care who you do what with in your free time. You remember that you want and need my endorsement to become my successor. That’s not happening if she’s part of the package.”

  Stunned and sickened by what she was hearing, Rylie couldn’t stand to hear any more. All but running from the building, she barely dodged an elderly couple coming up the sidewalk and overcompensated, slamming her forearm into a U.S. Mail drop-off box on her right side.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she cried, blinded by pain.

  It was a relief to reach her uncle’s truck and get away from there. The tears that flooded her eyes were as much from emotional pain as the physical kind.

  The D.A. had all but called her a slut! Trash! She knew that her pedigree was nothing like that of a Prescott—she honestly didn’t know anything about Vance Underwood’s family tree, but it didn’t matter considering his position. However, he’d had no right to besmirch her family’s good name. They were humble and hardworking people who’d built their own success one customer at a time! And what was the D.A. threatening to do to Noah’s future? Her heart ached. He’d already given up so much of his dreams by leaving his position in Houston. Now he was in danger of even losing a post that Rylie knew was beneath his abilities.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  How she made it back to the clinic, she didn’t know. Wishing she could run into the RV and bury herself in the pillows where she and Noah had made love last night, she forced herself to enter the clinic. Her forearm was thr
obbing and she thought some cold tap water would help.

  She was holding her arm under the faucet when Gage came out of his office with a stunningly beautiful, Amazon-tall woman. Naturally, ever sharp-eyed Gage took in her situation and frowned.

  “What happened?”

  “You know me. Miss Clumsy.”

  “Uh-huh.” Gage turned to the raven-haired goddess. “This is Rylie, who I was telling you about.”

  Hearing undercurrents she wished she didn’t, Rylie shut off the water and quickly patted her arm dry before grabbing up her clinic jacket. The last thing she needed was a guest looking at her with pity.

  “Rylie, I want you to meet Dr. Laurel Lancer, a recent graduate of Texas A&M’s veterinary school. She’s finishing up an internship south of here for extra certification and wants to do another here. I’m hoping after that we can bring her in as a partner.”

  Having given herself a pep talk that things couldn’t get worse, Rylie realized she’d been a fool. “How—how wonderful for you, Dr. Lancer. Welcome.” As she summoned a bright smile, she felt a new pain—as if someone was taking out her appendix using only fingernails.

  “I’ve heard great things about your talents with animals, and your rapport with the locals,” the young woman replied. Her onyx gaze dropped to Rylie’s injury. “That’s going to be some bruise, and it’s already swollen. Are you sure you didn’t break it?”

  “Fortunately, I don’t have the weight to combine with speed to create enough velocity to do anything thoroughly,” she quipped. “It’s just another bump to add to the collection.”

  Rylie didn’t know if it was the woman’s superior height, her stop-you-in-your-tracks beauty that appeared to be partly credited to some Native American heritage, her enviable degree and future, or that she was simply so close to Rylie’s age that she represented everything Rylie would never be...but it didn’t matter. Dr. Laurel Lancer was here on the tailwind that had already kicked Rylie off of her dreamy trajectory. Enough was enough. She was cashing out on everything. The Amazon was going to be a partner, and Rylie had to leave.

  As though from another dimension, she heard Gage say, “Most of her family is up in Montana.”

  “Oh,” Rylie replied, suddenly frowning. “Um...isn’t yours...?”

  “That’s right, it turns out our families know each other slightly.”

  Great, Rylie thought.

  “Laurel’s father and some brothers are ranchers, and another brother is in oil.”

  So what was she doing in Texas? Rylie thought. They didn’t have veterinarian schools in Montana? Belatedly, she forced herself to extend her hand. “Mine is mostly in California. They’re in building, dust and rust.”

  Laurel just studied her as though she was a lab project, while Gage choked back a laugh. Feeling like a bigger fool than before, Rylie said, “You’ll have to excuse me. I...I have a Pekingese waiting for me up front, who, like Mick Jagger, has a face that only a mother can love. It’ll take every second I can spare him to get him in shape.”

  Could things get any worse? she wondered.

  * * *

  At least Dr. Stunning was gone by the time Rylie was done with the Pekingese, Wokie, as his mistress called him. But at soon as they were gone, Rylie’s uncle appeared, acting like a mosquito buzzing around her head.

  “You look terrible. What’s happened? Did Wokie bite you?”

  “Of course not.” Rylie showed him her hands to prove as much, but it was a mistake. Her bruise was now a lump the size of a kiwi, and about the color of the fruit’s seeds. Not something that Uncle Roy could miss.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “It’s Senior Citizens Day. You see one, you automatically throw yourself at the nearest mailbox in celebration.”

  “Oh, baby.” He sighed. “The right eye again?”

  She gestured, signaling that talking about it wasn’t worth his energy or hers. “I guess you met Dr. Lancer?”

  “Yeah. Wow. I knew Doc was talking to someone, but I didn’t expect...that.”

  Keeping her back to the old-timers and her voice low, Rylie said, “It’s okay, Uncle Roy. You can say ‘gorgeous.’ Great pedigree to go with the capital investment. Add an actual license qualifying her to make independent ranch and dairy calls. What did I leave out?”

  “Your feelings are hurt.”

  Rylie didn’t hear him come up to the front. But in her current frame of mind, which was anything but reliable, she chose to be less than honest and shook her head stubbornly as she turned to face Gage. “I’m good. And God knows, you need someone to have your back, Doc. But I’ve been thinking...with another doctor, things are going to get a little crowded in here. If you need me to clear out, I’ll totally understand.”

  Gage looked flabbergasted. “Are you kidding? I’m trying to build up the clinic, not whittle it down to the smallest common denominator. And there’s plenty of room yet in this building. When there isn’t, we can expand.” He tilted his head, trying to get a better look at her face. “I thought you were happy here.”

  Feeling as though her heart was taking a torturously slow turn through a shredder, Rylie whispered, “Oh, Doc...I am. I was. I just...” She swallowed, determined to put the best face on the situation. She loved everyone here and wanted them to understand that.

  “I’ve been a fool,” she said with a self-deprecating shrug. “It’s not just about what you’re doing. I understand it. I may not be head-over-heels thrilled, but I’m a big girl, I get it. It’s just that it’s been one of those revelation days, you know? It’s made me see that maybe it’s best for everyone if you go with a whole change of scenery.”

  To his credit, Gage kept his usual calm demeanor and waited for her to say what she really meant.

  “I’m not a good fit here,” she told him. “And I’m not right for someone like Noah Prescott, either.” She laughed mirthlessly. “The irony is, he needs someone like...like...Dr. Lancer.”

  Chapter Eight

  Wondering if closing time would ever come, Rylie was relieved when she could finally retreat to her RV. While it was evident that Gage had wanted badly to continue their discussion, considering her out-of-right-field outburst, life—in their case, business—intruded. The reception room started filling up as if there was an epidemic. Then came news of an overturned cattle truck several miles up the interstate, which had forced Gage to apologize to those with pets still waiting to be seen and hurry to that emergency.

  Rylie’s uncle Roy had gone, too. She was relieved. She didn’t want to answer questions, and she desperately needed time alone to think. Then, of course, there was Noah.

  He started sending her text messages shortly after she’d left the courthouse. For the first time since they’d started to indulge in that method of communication, she didn’t respond. Later the calls started, and she ignored them, too. It was no surprise, then, when, only minutes after she retreated to the RV for the night, she saw car lights coming around to the back of the clinic.

  With her heart working like a Triple Crown contender, she forced herself to open the door to him. He looked the same—handsome, concerned, polished. The “can do” guy. And he would succeed if she had any say in the matter.

  “Thank God,” he said, jogging up the stairs. “Did your phone go out on you? When you didn’t answer my calls, never mind my texts, I got really worried.” He paused only long enough to take in first impressions of her standing there, her arms wrapped around her middle. “You’re sick?”

  He wasn’t totally wrong. She’d showered and brushed her teeth twice, hoping she would stop feeling as though she’d spent the afternoon losing what wasn’t in her stomach, only none of that had worked very well. However, going with the affirmative would still be lying by evasion. “It’s just been a long day.”

  “They all are for yo
u these days.”

  “A particularly long one.” For him, too. Was he going to tell her? He didn’t look much better than she did, but he had a better grip on his self-control than she did. That gave her an ugly thought: maybe what she was going to do would end up being a relief for him.

  “I heard about the accident on the interstate,” he said slowly. “I’d hoped Doc wouldn’t take you out there.”

  “No, my uncle went.”

  “Because of that? Sweetheart, did you get it x-rayed?”

  He’d noticed the bruise. “No need. But I’m sure it had something to do with that.” Rylie watched MG try to get Noah’s attention, and when he failed to realize that, Rylie made things easier for him. “MG, down. Not your time.”

  Her tone was one she rarely used. It brooked no nonsense and, looking crestfallen, MG went to the couch and curled up in the corner of it and hid her face in the cushions.

  Perfect, Rylie thought, hating herself for hurting her sweet friend. With a sigh, she gestured to Noah. “I was going to have wine in the hope that it would make me sleep. Would you like a glass?”

  She prayed that he would decline. She was losing her nerve to go through with this, and hoped in his worry about her needing rest, he would leave. But that wasn’t happening. Watching her as though he was still analyzing what was going on, he nodded at her offer.

  “But I’ll get it. Sit down.”

  As he took off his jacket and poured the wine, she chose to sit in the recliner by the door. He was less apt to try to draw her into his arms there. Tucking her bare legs under the sleep shirt, she hugged herself again and tried to make sensible small talk. Maybe the more normal she sounded, the sooner he would be willing to leave.

  “How did the rest of your day go?” she asked, hoping her smile didn’t look as false as her voice sounded to her own ears.