Click here to register
Or visit us online to register at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
Falling for the Rancher
by Roxanne Rustand
Chapter One
After working at the Aspen Creek Veterinary Clinic for the past thirteen months, Dr. Darcy Leighton had encountered a lot of interesting situations. But walking into the clinic on Friday morning to find a tall, dark and muscular cowboy rifling through the file cabinets was certainly a surprise.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had broken in, searching for drugs or money, but this guy looked like he’d never touched an illicit drug in his life. Why on earth was he here, and how had he disabled the new burglar alarm? She and the other staff had inadvertently set it off more times than she could count, to the point that now someone from the alarm company just called her cell to ask if they’d tripped it again.
But there’d been no such call on her cell phone today.
The intruder had tossed an ivory Resistol hat on the desk, and from his pewter fleece vest and long-sleeve shirt to his well-worn jeans and ostrich Western boots, he appeared more suited to a ranch out West than this little resort town in Wisconsin. Not at all like the jittery, tattoo-covered thief she’d inadvertently confronted late one night while returning to check on a surgery case.
“Excuse me,” she said sharply, pulling her cell phone from a jacket pocket. She took a single cautious step back and pressed the speed dial numeral for 911. “I think you’d better leave right now, mister. The sheriff will be here any second.”
He shot a brief glance at her over his shoulder, then frowned and gave her a much longer second look. With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned back to the files and continued thumbing through them. “Explaining this filing system would be useful. Are you the receptionist?”
Receptionist? Three months ago, the attorney handling Dr. Boyd’s estate had sent out a team of accountants who had pored over every last document and computer file for days, then recorded an inventory down to the last paperclip. But this guy sure wasn’t wearing a suit and shiny loafers.
“No, I’m not. How did you get in here?”
“A key and the alarm code.” He shoved the drawer shut and turned to face her with a sigh. “I’m serious about this filing. Someone here has just a passing acquaintance with the alphabet.”
Her gaze landed on the discreet veterinary caduceus logo on the front of his vest. Realization dawned as she stared at a man who had the potential to ruin completely the future she’d so carefully planned. “So...y-you are...”
“The new owner as of last week.” He reached forward to shake her hand. “Logan Maxwell.”
Still wary, she held back. “We haven’t been notified of any sale. Surely the attorney would have let us know.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. The firm doesn’t seem all that competent.” He snagged his billfold from his back jeans pocket, withdrew a business card and tossed it on the receptionist’s desk. “Call them.”
She swallowed back the knot rising in her throat as she eyed the familiar card with the scales of justice symbol in the center and flowing script, but she went ahead and made the brief call to the attorneys’ office anyway. Sure enough, this guy was the new owner. Logan Maxwell, DVM.
The news made her heart sink.
She’d been praying that the practice wouldn’t sell until she’d saved enough for a solid down payment and finally found a bank that would grant her a long-term loan. She’d also been praying that if that didn’t happen in time, the new owner would want to continue business as usual with her on board.
Maybe a younger version of Dr. Boyd, rest his soul.
Not over six feet of toned cowboy with thick, dark lashes shading startling blue eyes, and a grim, suspicious expression on his way-too-handsome face. What was with that narrow-eyed, penetrating stare, anyway?
He was the one who’d looked like he might be robbing the clinic when she first walked in, while she’d just been coming in to continue working in the career she loved.
She bit back the wave of disappointment settling in her chest with the weight of an anvil as she called to cancel the 911 request. “I’m Darcy Leighton. Dr. Boyd started slowing down, and he needed an associate vet to keep the clinic running.”
“So I heard.”
She managed a faint rueful smile. “He’d promised to let me start buying into the practice after I’d been here for a year.”
He directed a level look at her. “But according to the attorneys, no contract was ever signed, and no money was paid.”
The anvil pressing down on her heart grew heavier, obliterating her long-held dreams. It took her a moment to respond. “Correct. He died six months after I started, but the attorneys wanted the practice kept running until it could be sold, to maintain its value. So we’re all still here.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Do the other employees come in by seven thirty?”
Darcy nodded.
He tipped his head toward the hallway leading from the waiting room to the lab, two exam rooms, the surgery room and two offices. “Instead of standing here, let’s go back to Boyd’s office. We have a few things to discuss.”
He stepped aside and followed her to the back office, where she hesitated for a split second before dropping into one of the leather club chairs facing the massive old mahogany desk. He settled behind the desk as if it had been his for decades, and she felt a flare of sorrow.
“It doesn’t seem right, seeing someone else in his chair. Doc was an institution here in town for more years than anyone can remember.”
“And probably well loved, though from what I see in this clinic, he was behind the times.”
“He was a good vet,” she shot back, defending her old boss though she knew Maxwell was right. “Even if...some of the equipment here is out of date.”
The man had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Show me something that isn’t. The list is staggering, but I knew that before buying the place.”
She looked at him in surprise. “When were you here?”
“Over a month ago, on a Sunday. I flew in from Montana, and two of the attorneys from Madison met me here. Then I went back to their office and spent a couple days going through the clinic’s old financial records.”
That explained why she hadn’t seen him, then. He’d chosen to delve into the situation when the clinic was closed. “So you’ve seen that, despite a lack of the latest technology, this practice is busy.”
“I hope it continues to be. The horse population in this county is growing rapidly, and there’s a real need for an equine practice around here.”
“Just equine?” she asked faintly. “What about our small-animal clients?”
A brief grin lifted a corner of his mouth, and she felt momentarily dazzled by the flash of a deep, slashing dimple in his left cheek. If he ever offered a genuine smile, the clinic’s circuits just might blow.
“That’s all I do, ma’am. Horses.”
“Then that’s perfect,” she exclaimed with a rush of relief. “If you want to focus on horses, I can handle everything else. You’ve already got an excellent vet tech and receptionist in place.”
His gaze veered to the wall of bookshelves. “Actually,” he said carefully, as if walking cautiously through a minefield, “I want to have a fresh start. So—”
At a sharp, indrawn breath, he and Darcy looked at the open doorway, where Kaycee, the vet tech, now stood with a hand at her mouth and tears welling in her eyes. Marilyn, the office manager, stood behind her, her face pale with obvious shock.
“You’re already firing us—without even giving us a chance?” Kaycee’s voice trembled with outrage. “Is that fair?”
“I
didn’t say that,” he said mildly.
“Y-you have no idea how hard we work or how dedicated we are,” she retorted. “Doc Boyd always said—”
“Kaycee,” Darcy said quietly, though she knew how much the girl needed her job. At just twenty-three, she was supporting her younger brother and sister, while Marilyn had a disabled husband at home.
Knowing their difficult situations, Dr. Boyd had given both of them generous annual raises. There wasn’t another job in town that would pay either of them as much for their specialized skills. This practice was the only one for forty miles.
But starting an argument on the new owner’s first day wouldn’t help anyone’s cause.
Darcy looked up at Marilyn. “Are my first clients here?”
The receptionist nodded stiffly.
“Then please get them settled in the exam rooms, Kaycee. I’ll be out in a minute.” Darcy stood to shut the office door quietly and turned back to the desk with a frown. “They’re excellent employees. I can promise you that. I’ve worked with them for a year. They’re both highly professional.”
He drummed his long, tanned fingers on the desk. “As I started to say, I feel it’s important to have a fresh start here. This is going to be an equine clinic in the future, with far less—if any—small-animal. So I have to assess the kind of staff I really need. And honestly...”
His voice trailed off as he seemed to consider his words, but at the regret and sympathy in his eyes, Darcy suddenly knew exactly what he was going to say. This wasn’t just about Marilyn and Kaycee. It was also about her. And given the muscle ticking along the side of his jaw, those changes weren’t going to be in the distant future.
What was he going to do—boot her out the door right now? Would he be that callous?
After all she and her little girl had been through during the past two years, she’d thought they were finally secure in their new lives here in Aspen Creek.
Even two weeks’ notice wouldn’t be enough to get her finances and her future in order. What if she needed to leave town to find employment? How would Emma handle yet another wrenching change?
Blindsided, Darcy felt her heart falter as her thoughts raced through a dozen possibilities. “Even if you’re developing an equine practice, you’ll find the small-animal side busy and well worth keeping.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not part of my plan,” he said gently.
Time. She needed much more time, and it didn’t sound like she was going to get it.
“But it’s still going to take a while for you to get up to speed and build up a different clientele, and in the meantime, it sure couldn’t hurt to enjoy a solid income.” She said a silent prayer and took a steadying breath as she considered just how far she could push him.
“I’ll stay on for just the next two months,” she continued firmly. “So you can get your feet on the ground here. I’ll take care of the clinic appointments while you get settled in and start your horse practice, and then we can reassess. If you realize it’s worth keeping the small-animal side going, we can discuss my salary and contract. If not, no hard feelings. I’ll just start my own large and small-animal mixed practice here in town. A little competition never hurt anyone, right?”
He stared at her reluctantly for a long moment, then laughed—probably at her sheer audacity—and accepted her handshake. “I guess we have a deal.”
* * *
A few hours later, Logan settled into a booth at a cafe at the far end of town and sighed heavily. His goal had been simple and should have been easily met, but his first morning at the clinic certainly hadn’t gone as well as he’d planned.
Finding the right veterinary practice to buy had occupied his thoughts for months. Finding one within a reasonable distance to horse breeding farms and also the active horse show circuits in Wisconsin and Minnesota had been high on his list.
The Aspen Creek Vet Clinic and associated property had ticked every box. It had once been a mixed practice, so it included a good clinic building with a corral and small stable out back, which made it perfect for conversion into an equine practice. And a few miles out in the country, Dr. Boyd’s house sat on twenty fenced acres with another stable. The house and all of the buildings needed updating, but at least he hadn’t needed to hunt for a place to live.
The fact that this little Wisconsin town was far from Montana made it even better.
But all of those thoughts about the property and his future here had instantly fled the moment he’d come face-to-face with Darcy Leighton this morning. Warning bells had clanged in his head. His jaw had almost dropped to the floor. He’d had to force himself to stand his ground.
Curvy, with brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, she could easily have been the much prettier sister of his former fiancée back in Montana, though for just a moment he’d imagined he was staring into Cathy’s deceitful eyes and his stomach had plummeted.
His business plan aside, seeing Darcy on a day-to-day basis would be an intolerable reminder of the past. A time when a pretty face and calculated charm had blinded him to clues so obvious that in retrospect he could not believe his stupidity. Two months. He could manage two months. Maybe.
Why hadn’t he just said no, offered Darcy a nice severance bonus and sent her on her way? And what on earth was that rush of sensation when he’d accepted her handshake? He’d felt his arm tingle and his blood warm, and when his eyes locked on hers he couldn’t look away.
It was only when she’d smiled a little and stepped back that he realized he’d held her hand a little too long.
He certainly hadn’t felt this instant connection with Cathy...which made those warning bells clang all over again. He could not afford a second mistake.
He ordered a cheeseburger and Coke when the waitress—Marge, given the name embroidered on her uniform—stopped by his booth. Then he pensively stared out the large plate glass window overlooking Aspen Creek’s Main Street.
For a chilly Monday morning in mid-April, there was a surprising amount of activity in town. Most of the parking spaces were filled. Pedestrians were window-shopping as they passed the various boutiques and upscale shops probably meant to lure tourists from Minneapolis-St. Paul and Chicago.
Farther down the street, he’d spied some high-end outfitters displaying kayaks, canoes and pricey backpacks in their windows. A quaint two-story bookstore. Cozy-looking tea shops. Bed-and-breakfast signs in front of grand old Victorians.
The town hardly looked like it could be in horse country, but his research had proved otherwise, and so he had started making his plans. Remodeling. Equipment purchases. Supplies. Promotion, to let horse owners know about him.
Under Dr. Boyd’s ownership the clinic had been focused on small animals, so he’d figured he would let the current staff go and then hire people with the equine expertise he needed. People he would carefully interview, and then he’d follow up with background checks on. Thorough background checks.
He felt a shudder work down his spine, wishing with every beat of his heart that there’d been more careful scrutiny of staff at the multi-vet clinic where he’d worked back in Montana. But that was over, done with, and now he had a chance to start his own clinic and do things right.
The waitress returned, gave him a narrow look and set his Coke down with a thud. A few drops splattered onto the table, but she wheeled around for the kitchen without a second look.
Curious, he watched her go and realized that every eye in the place was fixed on him. None of them looked friendly. Feeling as if he’d slipped into some sort of time warp, he eyed the Coke but didn’t try it.
A stooped, gray-haired man in a bright plaid shirt, khakis and purple tennis shoes appeared next to his booth. “I figure you must be the new vet,” he muttered. He leaned closer to peer at the veterinary emblem on Logan’s vest. “Yep. Figured so. Lucky man, buying Doc Boyd�
��s place. He was the best. Best gals working for him, too. Couldn’t find any better. You can count your blessings, sonny.”
He stalked away, muttering under his breath.
Three elderly women seated at a round table a dozen feet away craned their necks to watch the old guy leave. As one, their heads swiveled toward Logan. If glares could kill, he’d have been turning cold on the floor. Still, he nodded and smiled back at them. “Ladies.”
The oldest one harrumphed and turned away. The one with short silver hair fixed him with her beady eyes. “Paul is right. Everyone loved Dr. Boyd, you know. He wouldn’t ever have treated his staff badly.”
“People care about each other in a small town.” The third woman lifted her chin with a haughty sniff.
He politely tipped his head in acknowledgment, then startled a bit when a thirtysomething woman slipped into his booth and propped her folded hands on the table.
Judging from the blinding sparkles on her wedding ring, she surely hadn’t stopped by to flirt, and given the decidedly unfriendly mood in the café, he hoped she didn’t plan to whack him with her heavy leather purse.
“Beth Stone. I own the bookstore in town,” she said briskly. “It looked like you might need a bodyguard, so I figured I’d stop by for a minute. Thought I might need to warn you.”
He glanced at the other customers in the café, who were all pushing eighty if they were a day. “I think I can handle them. At least, so far.”
Her long chestnut hair swung against her cheek as she slowly shook her head. “Your business affairs are your own, of course. I don’t mean to pry, and whatever you decide to do is totally up to you. But as you can see, word spreads fast in a small town. Gossip is a bad thing, but people really do care about each other here, just as Mabel told you. No one wants to see a friend hurt.”
Clearly eavesdropping from her seat at the round table, Mabel gave him a smug smile.
“I just wanted to offer a little friendly advice,” Beth continued. “If you can, take things a bit slow. Settle in. Get to know people. And if you’re going to fire everyone at the vet clinic right off the bat—”
Second-Chance Cowboy Page 19
