He rubbed a hand over his head and sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘Really?’ she drawled, doubting the truth of his apology. Who forgot they weren’t wearing their clothes? The very fact that everything was exposed to the air proved his words a lie. ‘Hmm... Do you often go swimming in the river in just your underwear?’
‘Not any more,’ he muttered. ‘Not until summer, at least.’
She wasn’t a prude, but she really hadn’t expected her first call to involve an undressed male. Glancing at his still bare chest, she noticed water dripping in rivulets down over the well-defined hard muscles to hang like clear jewels from his dusky nipples. Her tongue tingled at the sight.
Her eyes moved farther down, stopping when they came to a strange patch of sludge splattered across his stomach.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, trying to work out what the strangely familiar-looking muck was. It reminded her of watered-down grease, but it also resembled—
‘What?’ the man asked.
‘There.’ She pointed at the offending mess. ‘On your stomach, just above your jeans.’
He clenched his jaw. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘It looks like bird’s m—’
‘It’s mud.’
‘Mud?’ she repeated. ‘It doesn’t look like mud. It’s whitish, for one, and the patterning reminds me of—’
‘The soil around here has a high chalk content,’ he insisted.
She narrowed her eyes and considered the mess again. ‘Are you sure? It does look an awful lot like—’
‘It’s nothing. I’ll wash it off later. Now, about Morsi.’
‘Don’t you have a shirt or jumper?’ she asked, deciding to forget about the muck on his stomach and get on with her job. ‘Or is your memory so bad you’ve forgotten where you’ve put them?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘No, I remember fine, thanks.’
‘Then please fetch one and put it on. I’d really prefer to speak to you without any unnecessary distractions.’
He grinned, losing his serious expression for the first time. ‘Distraction, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘It’s not meant as one,’ she bit back, flustered slightly by the sudden roguish twinkle in his blue eyes and the suggestiveness warming his voice.
It was a voice capable of seduction if he chose to use it. Not that she would ever be seduced by it. But she understood some women would find the effect of his deep silky tones coupled with his attractive body irresistible and maybe a bit knee-weakening.
‘Well?’ he asked, still smiling. ‘Is Morsi coming?’
‘No,’ she said, wondering if he was some kind of exhibitionist.
Did he get a kick out of cavorting half-naked in his field? Well, he could do what he liked in private, but she wanted him covered. Preferably all over! Head to toe—twice over! Finger to finger and everything in between.
‘Alex—Mr Morsi—asked me to call instead.’
His humour vanished at her reply. ‘But I need someone with experience.’
‘I am experienced,’ she replied, not about to be bullied or intimidated into leaving before she saw her patient. Alex Morsi had given her the chance to prove herself and she wasn’t going to fail at the first hurdle—or the first grumpy man with odd tendencies to nakedness and covered in suspected bird droppings.
He folded his arms and regarded her. ‘You’re a qualified vet? You’re very young.’
Ruby closed the space between them. ‘Mr MacKinley? I guess you are Mr MacKinley? Only you’ve yet to have the decency to introduce yourself other than to expose yourself in a fashion I would prefer not to see you in.’
‘You sure?’ he asked, his eyes once again flashing with humour.
‘Yes, I’m s-sure,’ she stuttered, tilting her chin up. ‘Mr MacKinley, I am a qualified vet and more than capable of examining your horse. I have a degree to prove it.’
Crossing his arms, he asked, ‘Is that supposed to mean something to me?’
‘It means that your horse will be treated not only by someone who knows her stuff, but has the documentation to prove it.’ She hoped he wouldn’t demand to know how much actual experience she’d had, otherwise she would be forced to tell a little white lie.
He hesitated. ‘My aunt gave me Morsi’s name. Not yours.’
‘I’m afraid he’s busy,’ she said, picturing Alex Morsi with his baby daughter. How would Mr MacKinley react if she informed him that her new boss put feeding his child before everything—including this man’s precious horse? ‘He sent me instead.’
‘My girl isn’t any old nag. She’s a top thoroughbred.’
‘She’s a horse, no matter what her bloodline is or how much she’s worth, Mr MacKinley. One whom I will be able to treat. If she’s sick, I need to examine her.’
‘She’s not sick,’ he hedged. ‘I just want someone to check her over. We’ve done a lot of travelling over the last few days.’
Ruby nodded, not seeing a problem other than a trainer’s protectiveness. ‘Fine. If you’ll show me where she is...?’
He stared back at her, then grinned. ‘You blush when you’re embarrassed.’
Gritting her teeth, Ruby replied, ‘I am not embarrassed—merely shocked by your unorthodox behaviour. Annoyed is a better description of how I’m feeling.’
‘You reacted as though you’d never seen a man in only his underwear before,’ he persisted, not letting the subject go.
‘Your horse, Mr MacKinley?’
Intense blue eyes stared down at her.
‘Lady, that horse is all I have left in the world. Only the best vet is going to get anywhere near her.’
‘I am the best, Mr MacKinley.’
An out-and-out lie, but one day Ruby intended to be. Once she had real everyday experience and a chance to prove herself. Something she was determined to do now that Alex Morsi had given her the opportunity and the means.
Kern MacKinley regarded her for a long moment, then said, ‘Then I guess you’d better prove it to me.’
‘I intend to, sir,’ she replied, but the man had already turned and walked away.
* * *
What the hell was Morsi up to? Sending some young woman to do his job? Kern continued to walk in the direction of the back paddock while buttoning his shirt. His mind was still full of the recent exchange between him and the woman trailing several paces behind him. For such a shy woman, she packed a fair slap-down when roused.
He’d asked for the practice’s top vet and they’d sent out Miss Ruby Day, with her weird make-up and her hair so thick and curly his fingers begged to slide into it and discover if it really was as soft and bouncy as it appeared. A woman who’d nearly choked on her prissy tongue when faced with a wet naked chest and more.
Irritated, he pushed the notion away. Miss Vet was no doubt waiting for Mr Right to come along and dance her up the altar. Some man who’d make promises he’d struggle to keep.
Once he’d been that man, to his own Miss Right, little knowing that she’d eventually become his Mrs Wrong, who’d refuse to listen to anything but the poisonous whispers in her head.
He sighed, feeling the weight of everything once again settling heavily on him.
To reach the paddock meant passing the old grey brick farmhouse he’d grown up in. Kern had purposely avoided the building since he’d driven onto the land, but now he had no choice.
Memories of his bedroom up in the thatched roofed attic swept over him. He’d moved up there after his mother had married her second husband. He glanced up at the small window in the roof. Did the room still hold everything he’d left behind? Did his once-treasured keepsakes still sit on the shelves? Had his posters yellowed and faded?
A part of him ached to go inside and find out. To reach out and touch the past for just a brief moment.
‘Who’s she?’
The question interrupted Kern’s reminiscing. His stepfather was walking out through the front door of the farmhouse towards them. Well, staggering described his movements better. Kern’s hangover was nothing but a minor inconvenience compared to the one he suspected bothered the old man.
Great—dealing with Fin was the last thing he needed right now.
‘No one,’ Kern answered briskly. ‘Leave us to our business. It has nothing to do with you.’
‘Wrong,’ Fin snapped, stumbling closer. He raised a shaky hand and pointed at Kern. ‘If you think I’m going to let you turn up and start ordering me around, then you’re wrong. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson, like I did when you were younger.’
Resisting the urge to snap his stepfather’s finger, just to stop his ranting, Kern searched and found the last piece of his patience. He wasn’t a kid any more, and no matter how low he fell he’d never stoop as low as Fin.
‘Forty-five per cent is yours—the rest belongs to me.’
‘I’m the one who kept everything going while you swanned around drinking champagne with your fancy crowd. Where are they now, hey? Since your golden crown has fallen off your damn big head? Where are they now, boy?’ He cackled. ‘Gone. Just like your career. It’s the only reason you’ve come back here to trouble me.’
‘Shut up,’ Kern warned him, not needing his problems to be shared with the vet. His life’s mistakes concerned no one. The woman didn’t need to know that failure hung around his neck like an unwanted bridle.
‘No one wants to know the great Kern MacKinley now, do they?’ Fin continued. ‘Your name must really be dirt if the only sort of woman you’re attracting is her kind.’ He glanced at the vet and grimaced. ‘A step down for you, boy, isn’t she? From all the blondes who used to flutter around you at the race courses. You’d be better off paying for a woman’s time than picking up a freak like her from the gutter.’
Kern’s patience evaporated, and before Fin could utter another insult he grabbed the old man by the shirt. The woman deserved better than bearing Fin’s slurs and bitterness.
Temper and frustration pumped through his blood as he faced the man who’d given his mother such a hard time during the last years of her life. ‘Shut your damn mouth. There’s nothing wrong with her. Got that? She’s a queen compared to a nasty old dog like you. At least she doesn’t stink of body odour and urine. When was the last time you bathed?’
‘Get your hands off me!’ Fin cried, all his bravado vanishing beneath Kern’s temper. ‘Beating up old men impresses her, does it?’
‘I wouldn’t waste my time.’ Kern shoved him away, furious they’d not managed five minutes before they were at each other’s throats.
He watched the sour old man turn and head into the farmhouse and slam the door. A black iron horseshoe fell off and hit the stone step with a dull clang. Who knew what state the old place was in after all these years of housing Fin and his addiction?
He glanced at the vet, his heart tugging as he took in her bent head and the way she hugged herself. Clearly a protective stance. How many times had she endured hurtful comments from strangers because she dressed a little differently and wore make-up in unusual colours?
An unexpected urge to comfort her tugged at him, but he buried it, not about to scare the woman further. Although Fin must be blind as well as useless if he couldn’t see the beauty in this woman’s lines and form. She reminded him of a newly born foal. With long, shapely legs and an unconfident delicacy to her movements.
‘Mr MacKinley, are you all right?’
Kern blinked several times as her question penetrated his wandering thoughts. ‘I’m sorry about Fin. Ignore his stupidity. My stepfather is a drunk and bitter man. He married my mother expecting to inherit this farm when she died, and turned vicious when he discovered he never would—not completely. It’s a family farm and the majority owner will always be a blood relation. Besides, he’s an idiot. Any man can see you’re a stunner.’
She stared at him as though his words had shocked her. Surely someone—a parent, a boyfriend or a lover—had told her the same? Even an old cynic like him could see that Miss Vet was a beautiful woman.
A deep flush coloured her cheeks beneath her make-up and she glanced towards the paddock. ‘Your horse?’ she said again.
The sight of her blush pulled at Kern’s battered heart and he changed his mind. Folding his arms, he shook his head. ‘I think it’s best you leave. I’ll give the practice a call in a few days if my horse still hasn’t settled.’
‘But Mr MacKinley...’
‘Truth is, Fin will be out here again in a few minutes, once he’s drunk some fresh courage. Now’s not a good time for you to stay around. Things will get uglier than they already have. I’ll call and make another appointment once I’m confident you’ll not get caught in the middle of our argument. Okay?’
‘But—but...’ she stammered.
Kern placed his hands on his hips and sighed. ‘I’m sorry—but my property, my rules. I’m afraid it’s past time for you to leave, Miss Day.’
* * *
What a mess. Kern stared around at the rundown stables, unsure whether to yell until his throat burned or toss a lit match on the whole place and drive north.
Disrepair and neglect stared back at him, no matter where his eyes settled. From the piles of dried manure to the stable doors hanging off rusty hinges.
Paint flaked from walls once adorned from top to bottom with multicoloured rosettes. These derelict stables had once homed some of the best horses in the country. Now they were fit for nothing more than flattening with a bulldozer.
Large cobwebs hung from the sloped beamed ceiling like fragile Halloween decorations, gently moving from side to side thanks to the draughts coming through the roof where there were missing tiles. Thick mould grew in dark corners and heavily scented the air.
Fin had a lot of explaining to do once he sobered up. Not just about the decay of this building, but the rest of the farm.
Kern had taken a walk up to the old gallops his grandfather had created, back in the 1950s, and he’d had to fight his way through thick overgrown bushes and hip-high weeds just to reach the start. The rest of the course wasn’t much better.
‘It’s a sight to hurt the optics and the heart, isn’t it?’ a familiar female voice remarked behind him.
Though its tones were aged, he would recognise that accent in a crowd of cheering racegoers any day.
Not sure what to expect from the woman, he slowly turned and braced himself to see her for the first time in nineteen long years. ‘Eloise...’
Eloise Blake, his aunt, had collected her share of wrinkles and shrunk several inches in height, but he could still see the tough spirit of the woman he’d once known in her hazel eyes and straight back. Even now she stood holding the lead rope of a pretty brown mare.
‘Aunt Eloise, if you don’t mind,’ she replied, her displeasure clear in both her voice and gaze. ‘I haven’t forgiven you yet and I’m not sure I want to.’
Figuring it best to forget polite chit-chat and face the full wrath of his aunt’s anger, he asked, ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me how bad Fin had let things get?’
Eloise raised a brown pencilled eyebrow and stared down her straight nose. Her right hand gripped a pink walking stick. ‘Would you have cared?’
The question hit him right in the chest, where he suspected she’d meant it to. Never one to pull her punches, his aunt had something on her mind and he might as well let her spit it out if he wanted answers.
He sighed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Let’s not kid ourselves, young man,’ she said, disappointment in every syllable. ‘I’m no fool and you’re no liar... Well, you never were. I called Corinne time and again over the years, and every time she insisted you didn’t care. That you’d kicked us and this place from your heel
s without regret. Yet now you stand here complaining. As though this is all my fault. As though I was the one who walked away.’
Confused, Kern asked, ‘She did what?’
‘She said you’d left us all behind for a reason and that you had far more important things to deal with than this farm.’ She lifted the walking stick and pointed it at him. ‘Oh, she enjoyed telling me that, you know. Never could keep the glee from her voice when she did it.’
Kern clenched his hands, absorbing this latest discovery of his wife’s betrayal. Never had he said anything about not wanting to hear from his aunt. He’d believed it was the other way around, when after the first year he’d heard nothing from his relative despite the fact he had written with his new address and phone number.
‘She never told me you called.’
Eloise sniffed and lowered the stick. ‘I bet she didn’t. Well, I honestly don’t suppose it would have made any difference if she had. You never called me either, did you? No, you turned your back on this place and moved on, just as your dear mother predicted you would. Yes, she was right about that.’
Mention of his mother brought fresh irritation. The woman he’d loved and believed loved him. The woman who’d gambled with his inheritance and then left him with the resulting mess when she’d died too young.
‘Do you blame me?’
‘For leaving?’ Eloise shook her head. ‘No. I understood in the beginning. You always had a temper and your mother spoilt you. But I hoped once you’d calmed down and thought about things you would eventually trail home. You didn’t—and that is what upsets me the most. This place, its history, the people who built it—your own family—you walked away from it all. So, yes, you are to blame for the broken roof on the stables and the overgrown, weed-thick paddocks, and the fact that not one horse calls this place home any more. Your mother loved this farm and sacrificed her happiness for it. When she left you her share of the place she did it because she hoped you’d grasp it and make a new history for it. Continue her and your grandparents’ legacy. Yet all you’ve done is prove her greatest fears correct.’
Awakening His Shy Vet Page 3
