Mason's Rescue

by Peggy L Henderson

  “I hope you don’t mind that I invited her. She’s very nice, and can use a few friends.”

  Mason blinked and stared up at his sister. He shrugged.

  “Sure. You didn’t bother to ask me who else to invite, so why should it matter to me that you invited the new vet?”

  Raine’s eyes narrowed. Mason turned away from her and headed out the door before she could say anything else. Time to mingle with his friends, and pretend that nothing was wrong. It would come easier after a few beers.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” Boone greeted, handing him a bottle. “We thought we’d have to eat all the food without you.”

  “Not to mention letting us do all the work over the barbeque,” Jerry chimed in, taking a long drag on his beer.

  “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I?” Mason plastered a smile on his face.

  “Care to take over the chef duties so I can go visit with your sister for a few minutes?” Jerry held out a long-handled spatula and winked.

  Boone laughed. “When are you going to get it through your thick head that Raine wants nothing to do with you, Jerry?”

  “If she keeps being so stubborn, maybe I’ll just ask that cute little doctor out.” Jerry laughed.

  Boone stared at him with a perplexed look on his face. “Cute doctor? Why don’t I know about this?” His eyes went to Mason, as if he’d have the answer.

  “She was with Raine at Evie’s Diner this afternoon.” Jerry wiggled his eyebrows.

  Mason emptied his bottle in one long drag. Jerry could only be referring to one cute little doctor. A sudden twinge of annoyance at his friend coursed through his limbs, pushed along by the effects of the sudden infusion of alcohol to his system.

  “The steaks should be done soon,” Shane chimed in, calling over his shoulder. Barbequing was serious business, and his full attention had been on the meat rather than the conversation.

  Mason glanced toward the house. If Lori had arrived, she was inside, no doubt detained by his sister. Alley was working on salads in the kitchen, and Raine had probably joined her.

  “Looking forward to having you back at work, Mason,” Brody Evans called from one of the tables that had been set up. “Old Doc Johnson was looking a little haggard when he was out at the farm the other day.”

  Mason nudged his chin in the family neighbor’s direction as a non-committal answer. He reached for another beer in the ice bucket and downed it as quickly as the first. While he’d always enjoyed a few drinks with his friends, he usually paced himself throughout an evening. Today, he couldn’t get the alcohol into his system fast enough. Already, he was feeling more relaxed.

  By the fourth beer, he barely paid attention to the conversation around him. His eyes kept wandering to the house. Was Lori here?

  “Can someone check with the girls and see when the rest of the food is going to be done? The steaks will be nothing but charcoal if I don’t get them off the fire soon.” Shane pointed with his barbeque tongs in the direction of the house.

  Mason glanced at the ice bucket. This was a good excuse to get away from everyone for a few minutes. “Looks like we need more beer, too.” He turned his chair to head in the direction of the house.

  “It’s in the kitchen,” Shane called.

  “Stay here, Mason. I’ll get it, and check with the girls,” Jerry announced.

  His annoying grin grated on Mason’s nerves. When his long-time friend walked past him, Mason lunged forward in his chair and grabbed Jerry’s shirt, pulling his friend toward him. Jerry, obviously caught off guard, stumbled forward and almost fell into Mason’s lap. Mason glared at Jerry, his grip tightening even more and yanking his head closer. His other arm snaked around Jerry’s neck, forcing the man to his knees and into a headlock.

  “You think a cripple isn’t capable of going and fetching a few beers?” Mason snarled, clamping his arm around Jerry’s neck. “How about now? Still think I can’t do anything on my own?”

  Jerry flailed and choked, making some incoherent sputtering sounds. Mason kept him in a tight hold for another second, then released him by pushing him away. Jerry stumbled backward, bumping into Boone. He rubbed at his neck and stared with a surprised and bewildered look. He shook his head.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, man?” Jerry fumed. Now that he was free, his surprise had turned to anger.

  From the house, Raine’s voice called his name like their mother used to do when they’d done something that would get them in a heap of trouble.

  Mason continued to glare at Jerry. His gaze drifted to Shane and Boone, who wore equally surprised looks on their faces. Mason grinned, then laughed. He ignored his sister, and sniggered when there was no response from his friends. Boone even frowned.

  Mason raised his arms in the air in exasperation.

  “What? You can’t take a joke? Did you think I was being serious? What happened to the good old days?”

  Truth be told, he wasn’t joking. His frustration, aided by a few beers, had finally got the better of him. He’d always been the more even-tempered Taggart twin in high school, while Shane had been the one with the short fuse.

  “You seemed pretty serious,” Jerry mumbled, rubbing at his neck.

  Raine called again. Mason finally looked in her direction . . . and groaned. Standing next to his sister was the ‘cute little doctor’ he couldn’t get out of his head, staring at him with wide eyes.

  Ignoring his friends and Shane, who hadn’t uttered a word, Mason wheeled toward the house. The spinning of his wheelchair brought a slight dizziness to his head, and he blinked to shake off the feeling. A couple more beers, and he might not remember a thing in the morning. That’s exactly what he needed.

  “What’s going on out there?” Raine demanded when he reached the French doors. She stood like a watchman with her arms folded across her chest, and didn’t move to let him pass.

  Mason scoffed. “What’s the matter, Raine? I thought this is what you wanted.”

  Her brows rose. “I wanted you to get into a fight with one of your best friends?”

  “Fight?” Masson laughed. “Who was fighting? I was mingling with my friends and engaging in activities we used to all enjoy.” His eyes connected with Lori. “Pardon the rough-housing, but that’s what we do here in Burnt River.”

  Lori Emerson straightened. She stared directly at him. “Looked less like childish rough-housing and more like letting out some pent-up frustration,” she shot back without missing a beat.

  “Are you drunk?” Raine shot him an indignant look.

  Mason laughed. “No, but I will be after a few more beers.” He leaned forward in his chair and glared at his sister. “And that’s just what the doctor ordered.”

  Mason pushed the wheels of his chair forward. Raine moved aside to let him enter the house. The look that his sister exchanged with Lori Emerson didn’t escape his notice before he made it across the threshold. Let the little doc think what she wanted. His head was in a blissful fog where he didn’t care about much at all. Maybe he should have taken up drinking a lot sooner. He wheeled toward the kitchen.

  “Dr. Taggart.”

  Mason clenched his jaw at the sound of his formal title coming from the woman he’d longed to see again, and at the same time wanted to stay as far away from as possible. He stopped and turned his chair around.

  “It’s Mason, not Dr. Taggart. The title of doctor belongs to you.”

  Lori Emerson walked toward him. Raine wasn’t with her. She must have gone outside to help Jerry nurse his bruised ego. Mason raised his eyes to Lori. She looked taller than she had the day at the clinic. His eyes drifted downward. She wore jeans this time, rather than the skirt and lab coat, but she hadn’t abandoned high heels. One of these days, she’d break her little ankle in those things.

  His gaze made its way back to her face. She stared at him expectantly, tilting her cute face as if waiting for something from him.

  “I heard you were a hotshot vet bef
ore your accident.”

  Mason grinned. The alcohol in his system kept him relaxed.

  “And I’ve heard you are a hotshot bookworm with no animal experience.” His grin widened at the surprised look on her face. “What can I do for you, Dr. Emerson?” He placed special emphasis on her title.

  Lori smiled in response, seemingly recovering fast from his comment. She was probably wondering why and when he’d done some checking up on her. Mason groaned. Clearly, he needed more to drink before that smile wouldn’t send heat coursing through him. He may be a cripple, but his brain still functioned normally.

  “Maybe now’s not a good time to talk to you,” she said, lifting her chin. “From what I’ve seen, the party’s clearly gotten well under way, and you’ve lost count of how many beers you’ve had already.”

  “Four. I’ve had four, and I plan to drink plenty more before this night’s over.”

  Lori pressed her lips together and nodded, as if she could see right into his mind. “I see,” she said, with clinical assessment. “Drowning your sorrows in a bottle. That’s always the easy way out, I suppose.”

  Mason gritted his teeth. This girl was no different than his sister. He mentally shook his head. No. She was worse than Raine.

  “Did you come here to lecture me, or did you have something else you wanted to say, Doc?”

  “Not that it matters, since you’ll probably forget this conversation after your hangover tomorrow, but I wanted to thank you for helping me out the other day.”

  Mason raised his brows. “Thank me for what?”

  “The diagnosis on the potbellied pig. You really helped me out. I had no idea what was wrong with the animal.”

  He lowered his head and shook it slightly. She was being sincere. He’d overstepped his bounds as a professional by butting into her case without being asked for input, yet she was grateful for it.

  “Didn’t mean to step on your toes with that case. I’ve seen that syndrome several times before, both in school and in practice. It was easy to recognize.”

  Lori shook her head. “You didn’t step on my toes. I’m glad you stopped by the clinic when you did.” She dropped eye contact for the first time, then said, “I was completely lost for a diagnosis. Thank you for your help.”

  Mason studied her. There was nothing but complete sincerity in her voice and in the way she looked at him.

  “Anytime. Glad to have helped,” he mumbled.

  He needed another beer, quickly. Maneuvering his wheelchair toward the kitchen, he nodded to indicate she didn’t need to respond. Quick as a little mouse, she was beside him.

  “If you really meant it, there’s something else I wanted to ask.”

  She looked rather unsure of herself when he lifted his head to her face. Mason frowned.

  “Meant what?”

  “You just said you’d help anytime. If that’s true, I have a favor to ask.”

  Chapter 7

  “Lori’s here.”

  Raine grinned from ear to ear, standing just outside Mason’s bedroom door.

  He ran a hand over his unshaven face and pressed his fingers to his temples. Three cups of coffee and some pain meds hadn’t taken away his hangover headache. His pulse slammed against the inside of his skull.

  “I’ll be right there,” he grumbled.

  “I still can’t believe you agreed to go with her on her farm calls this morning.” The look in his sister’s eyes was downright gleeful. “I’ve tried to get you out of the house, and suggested you need to go back to work since the day you came home, but you’ve fought me tooth and nail. Yet, Lori asks once, and you roll over like a little puppy.”

  Mason glared through hazy eyes. “I’m not rolling over. I was drunk when I agreed to go with her.”

  “I don’t think you were quite that drunk, yet, but I’m glad the beer made you see reason.”

  “Maybe I should tell her I changed my mind. I’m not feeling great this morning.”

  Raine shook her head and strode into the room. “Oh, no, you don’t. You promised her you’d go, and she’s waiting in the kitchen. You can’t go back on your word.”

  Mason scowled. He pulled a blue t-shirt over his head, then raked his fingers through his hair. What the hell had he gotten himself into? The conversation with Lori Emerson last night at the barbeque was still fuzzy, but he’d woken up this morning and she’d been the first thing on his mind.

  One minute she’d thanked him for his diagnosis with the pig, the next she’d asked him to go on a vet call with her today to Rory Anderson’s place, one of the horse ranches a few miles out of town. When he’d laughed and asked her why, he’d sensed some evasiveness in her answer.

  “If the ranchers are anything like the small animal owners, they won’t like putting their trust in a new vet. I simply thought having you along would put their minds at ease.” She’d paused, and her chest had heaved in a sigh. “To tell you the truth, I could use someone to put in a good word with them for me, and everyone respects you.”

  Despite the alcohol-induced fog in his head, there was something she hadn’t told him. She might have told the truth, but not the whole story. It was more than simply feeling nervous about going on her first ranch call and needing someone along for the ride. An unexpected sense of protectiveness had come over him at that moment, fueled by the four beers in his system.

  Doc Johnson was throwing her to the wolves, but that was his way. He’d always done the same with Mason. His mentor always said the best way to learn something was to just do it, and mistakes honed skills. Mason’s life had provided several advantages in that strategy that Lori didn’t have. Many of the ranchers would take one look at her, and dismiss her simply because of her small stature.

  If she was going to be the new vet in town, she was going to have to go above and beyond to prove herself. Before he’d even had a chance to think about her question and tell her no, the alcohol had answered a resounding “Yes, Mason will be happy go with you on your ranch calls, Lori Emerson.”

  Now he was stuck honoring that commitment. Mason leaned forward in his chair and tied his work boots. Not that he needed to wear them. He could simply sit in the truck and chat with Rory while Dr. Emerson examined her patient.

  “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re going. Shane is pulling your vet truck up to the house now. It’s been parked in the same barn where you’ve always parked it. I know you kept it well-stocked with supplies, so there shouldn’t be any issues with having what you’ll need for patients.”

  “Why would we take my truck?”

  Raine glanced up at the ceiling. Her lips twitched when she made eye contact with him again. “Lori didn’t come in Doc Johnson’s truck. She’s in her little two-door Honda.”

  Mason rolled his eyes. “Please tell me she’s not wearing a skirt and high heels.”

  Instead of an answer, Raine laughed. She left the room, and Mason followed his sister. Lori had better not be wearing high heels. What had Doc Johnson been thinking when he’d hired her?

  Checking into her past since he’d met her at the clinic a few days ago had been easy. She’d graduated near the top of her class at Colorado State, then been offered an internship at one of the most prestigious small animal hospitals in Denver. Mason hadn’t been able to find out why she didn’t accept the position, or if she had, why she’d left after only a few months.

  Growing up in Los Angeles, she’d graduated with a bachelor’s degree in Biology from the University of Southern California. She’d turned down vet schools at Davis and Cornell, and opted for Colorado State. Her academic record was top notch.

  There had been nothing, however, that indicated she had any prior experience with animals, or living anywhere but in a large city most of her life. Fort Collins had been about the most rural place she’d lived while going to vet school, and even that was a large city compared to Burnt River.

  She was in for a rude awakening in a few months, when winter came to Montana. What was a girl l
ike her doing in a place like Burnt River? The more he’d dug to find out about Lori Emerson, the more curious he’d become. He’d told himself repeatedly that boredom had prompted him to learn more about her, but even his alcohol-induced mind last evening hadn’t been able to deny his attraction to the woman, especially since she seemed so lost and vulnerable.

  Mason wheeled down the hall and toward women’s voices coming from the kitchen. Lori was talking to both Raine and Alley. Last night, she and his sister-in-law seemed to have gotten along well together.

  Alley had already mentioned the possibility of starting a diagnostics lab where blood and other samples could be analyzed for quicker turnaround, if the large animal complex was going to get built at the old Cramer place. Lori had been more than enthusiastic about the idea. Apparently, Doc Johnson’s diagnostic tools were a bit outdated or slow for her, which Mason had to agree was true.

  “Shane has the truck out front,” Raine said as Mason rounded the corner into the kitchen.

  “I couldn’t find the keys to Dr. Johnson’s truck, and he didn’t answer his phone.” Lori sounded apologetic. “I had no choice but to come in my car.”

  “He keeps the keys in the upside-down dog skull that’s on the end of the bookshelf in his office, and he most likely put his cell phone in his suitcase.” Mason grinned at Lori, who spun around to face him when he answered the comment she’d directed at Raine.

  “Well, why didn’t I think to look in the dog skull first?” Lori rolled her eyes, but her wide smile left Mason gaping like a carp gasping for air.

  He glanced at the jeans she wore, and the barn boots. His lips twitched as his grin returned. Those boots were clean and shiny as if they’d just come off the store shelf. She’d probably worn them at school, and then packed them away after scrubbing them clean. At least she wasn’t in high heels. His eyes rose to her face when she came up to him.