Awakening His Shy Vet

by Shelley Rivers

  ‘Sounds like you’re going to buy him. Does this mean you intend to start training again?’

  Kern shrugged. ‘I can do some work with him and sell him on later if I need to. I lost my yard because people stopped trusting me with their horses after the fire. It’s hard to come back from a knock like that. I’m not sure I have the drive to do it again, you know?’

  In a way, she did. For a long time she’d lived each day with no aim other than to get through it without thinking of her parents and the past. But when she’d decided to become a vet it had given her a purpose, a challenge. A reason to get out of bed, to use her brain, and to indulge her love of creatures who required her help and care.

  Animals had never left her feeling emotionally bruised and drained, as her parents often had after one of their many confrontations.

  ‘You’ve a good seat,’ said Kern. ‘Who taught you to ride?’

  Ruby licked the salt from her lips and answered, ‘My parents.’

  Kern stared intently at her. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re the one holding secrets now?’

  She shook her head, and they continued to the end of the cove and then slowly headed back again. Even though Ruby was concentrating on her horse, she sensed Kern glancing at her several times. Was he wondering about her parents? Or perhaps wondering why she didn’t ride any more?

  When they returned to where the owner waited, the man directed them to the path leading to his farm and stables. There, the next forty-five minutes consisted of both Ruby and Kern giving the grey colt a thorough check-over. After haggling over the price, Kern shook the owner’s hand and worked out the arrangements to collect the horse the following day.

  ‘So you own another horse?’ she said as they left the yard.

  ‘I do,’ Kern said, opening a wooden gate that led back down to the cove.

  ‘Are you sure you haven’t come to a decision about your future?’ she asked.

  For someone who professed not to know, he was committing both time and money to staying at MacKinley farm. And what about his friend Jacob? The few minutes’ conversation she’d witnessed had made it clear the man considered Kern mad for coming back.

  He shook his head and swung the gate shut. ‘No, not yet. But as I said before, I can resell the colt for a profit once I’ve done some work with him.’

  ‘Why did you return to Dorset?’ Ruby asked.

  What had called him back to the place he’d apparently avoided for years? After making a life elsewhere, why return to the place he’d run from?

  ‘Honestly?’ he asked. ‘I had nowhere else to take Evie and very little money to keep us both. Desperation brought me home—and a deep need to see my aunt. I’ve neglected Eloise for far too long. I realised I’d tried to recreate what was here somewhere else, but the truth is, there’s only one MacKinley farm. How crazy is that? It took losing what I thought was important to realise that fact.’

  ‘What now?’ Ruby asked, pleasantly relaxed despite the slight ache in her thighs, as they wandered back to the beach.

  Being on horseback had reminded her of how much she missed it. She didn’t want to compete, the way she had as a child, but now the occasional ride might be fun.

  Kern shrugged. ‘I thought we’d eat our picnic on the beach before returning home. The owner said we could.’

  ‘Sounds nice, but Dog—’

  ‘Is with my aunt—and she prepared the picnic, remember?’ he soothed. ‘She’s trying to matchmake, you know?’

  Ruby nodded, suddenly awkward. ‘Does it bother you?’

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he urged, ‘Find a nice spot for us to sit and I’ll fetch the basket from the van. I hope she’s fixed something tasty. I’m starving.’

  Ruby grinned as they parted and went in different directions. ‘Me too.’

  Though she doubted food would satisfy the huge hunger developing deep inside her every time she and Kern spent time alone together.

  * * *

  ‘Egg sandwiches!’ Ruby declared, unwrapping the foil covering the first package she’d retrieved from the old-fashioned wicker basket.

  Kern reached over and swiped a sandwich from the pile. ‘Great. My favourite.’

  She held the rest out of his reach and nodded towards the basket. ‘See what else is in there.’

  He withdrew two crisp packets, chocolate bars, fizzy drinks and finally a large pork pie. Holding it up, he went to take a bite, but Ruby whipped it out of his hand before his lips touched the pastry and put it in her own mouth.

  ‘Hey!’ he yelled.

  Munching a large mouthful, she grinned at his shocked expression, and then took another ravenous bite of the pie. ‘Sorry, but I’m starving. Blame the sea air.’

  ‘So am I,’ he said, helping himself to another sandwich before she prevented him. ‘I never suspected you were a food stealer.’

  ‘It’s a bad habit,’ she joked. ‘I try to resist, but occasionally the urge is too much for me to fight.’

  He finished his sandwich and then reached for another. This time she shared without any fuss.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ he asked.

  Wary of his serious tone, she mused, ‘Is it personal or professional?’

  ‘Personal.’

  She continued chewing her pilfered pie, not sure she wanted the pleasant moment ruined. ‘Very personal or a little bit personal?’

  ‘Very,’ he answered.

  Licking grease from her fingertips, she shrugged. ‘Okay. What do you want to know? Though you can only ask one question.’

  He leaned back on one elbow and smiled. ‘Is this revenge for the other day?’

  Ruby nodded, and quoted his words back to him. ‘I like the odds to be in my favour. Come on—ask your question so I can get on with stealing more of your food.’

  ‘Did you never learn to share as a child?’ he quizzed, tapping her on the nose.

  ‘Nope. Only child.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. But I always share when needed.’

  She laughed, not the least bit bothered by his criticism. Taking his food before he could eat it made her happy. Or rather the shocked expression on his face did. A little friendly teasing lifted a heavy soul, and she suspected Kern’s was pretty weighty.

  ‘And I appreciate it. The pie was delicious.’

  He glared at her for a moment, then asked, ‘How long ago did you start wearing Goth make-up?’

  Surprised, she considered not answering. But Kern had shared his past with her the other night, so would it really hurt to tell him a little of her own? She wasn’t confessing the secrets of her heart—not the deeply hidden ones that lingered among the doubts. Just a small snippet of data.

  ‘When I was sixteen,’ she said, reaching for a bottle of drink. She twisted open the lid, but didn’t drink from it.

  ‘Do you wear it to hide the scar on your neck?’

  His second question threw her completely. She rested the bottle in her lap and asked, ‘You’ve seen it?’

  ‘Yes—the day I threw you into the river. Patches of your make-up washed off and exposed it.’

  She fiddled with the bottle’s lid. Twisting it on and off. ‘Why didn’t you ask then?’

  ‘I figured you’d tell me if it mattered. I’m more curious about the make-up.’

  Ruby pondered his words, then sighed heavily. Most people would regard her scar as more interesting, but Kern wasn’t like other people. Was that because of his own scars? The ones on his heart because of his marriage? Whenever he spoke of his wife, guilt and regret shaded his words. Was he not asking about the scar because he respected the fact that everyone had scars that were often best left alone?

  ‘Don’t you like my make-up?’ she asked. ‘Does it offend you?’

  Kern shook his head. ‘No, I’m just curious. It seems to clash with your personality
.’

  She frowned at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re beautiful, but shy, and yet you wear make-up which causes people to notice you. Two forces at odds, surely? Who’s the real Ruby?’

  ‘I’m not beautiful,’ she denied, uncomfortable with his comment.

  ‘Yes, you are,’ he insisted, touching her cheek. ‘You’re very beautiful—and your scar does nothing to detract from it.’

  Disturbed by his touch, she blurted, ‘I wear it as camouflage. To stop people from recognising my face.’

  Why had she said that? Why not tell the man that she loved the Goth look and leave it at that? What had happened to sharing only a vague morsel of information?

  His expression tightened as he absorbed her words. ‘Are you famous?’

  She’d put herself in this hole—now she had to find a way out without confessing more. ‘No, not me. My parents were well-known. The scar is from where a bullet grazed my skin. It happened a long time ago. It’s nothing.’

  Kern’s intense gaze didn’t flinch. The slight tightening of his fingers against the curve of her skin was his only reaction to her statement. ‘Who did it?’

  Great. She’d hoped by acting as though it was nothing he’d stop asking questions. Trust Kern to do the opposite.

  Gripping the bottle, she whispered, ‘My father.’

  ‘Why?’

  She sighed. ‘He wanted to stop the guilt that consumed him every time he stared at my face and saw my mother’s instead.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  ‘Chantel Dainnes,’ she said, releasing the name from the secret part of her heart where she’d suppressed it for so long, desperate to keep their connection hidden.

  ‘The French model?’ Kern questioned.

  She nodded. ‘When I wear the Goth make-up I don’t resemble her as much. It’s enough to stop people from making a connection between us.’

  ‘I see,’ Kern replied. He lowered his hand and grasped her own. His gaze searched hers as he shuffled the pieces into sense. ‘So Frank Day, the jockey, was your father?’

  Ruby sucked in a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But didn’t he go to jail for trying to shoot his daughter—?’ His words dried up. ‘Oh, my God. He tried to kill you.’

  She nodded and drew her knees up to rest her arms on them. Why not tell Kern the rest and give him the truth, instead of risking him searching on the internet, where lies and hearsay waited for the gullible to read and believe? Because of her big mouth, there wasn’t any other choice.

  ‘My parents’ marriage was stormy. One week they loved each other—the next they hated one another. My father was critical, bad-tempered and controlling. Mostly because he battled hunger daily, trying to retain his weight for riding. Whereas my mother represented beauty to the world, but around my father she became ugly. She made him feel inadequate and small—literally. They were two people who purposely enjoyed wounding each other and thrived on doing it often. Together they played games of spite and point-scoring. They were each other’s poison and they never should have married. But to the world they pretended to be faithful and in love. The perfect couple.’

  ‘And you were stuck in the middle of that?’

  She nodded. ‘Oh, they loved me—but each other...? Well, it depended on their mood. One day my mother left home to go on a photoshoot, but returned to the house when she became ill. She searched for my father and found him with the housekeeper, doing the one thing she refused to forgive. She’d endure the fights, the drinking and the gambling, but adultery was her limit.’

  Kern reached out and drew her down beside him and into his arms, sheltering her from the wind coming off the sea and the shadows floating up from the past.

  Ruby closed her eyes for a second, savouring the closeness.

  ‘She left the house with me in tow, after threatening to drag my father through the courts and destroy him. She drove to my father’s agent’s house and left me there. Then she travelled to our London apartment and swallowed a ton of pills to numb the pain permanently.’

  Kern’s hold tightened around her. ‘What happened afterwards?’

  ‘I returned to live with my father for a few weeks, but every time we were together he’d cry and yell. He’d talk to me as though I was my mother. Begging, pleading for forgiveness. The one thing I was unable to give because I wasn’t my mother. Plus, I didn’t forgive him. The housekeeper wasn’t his first affair—just the first my mother discovered. I knew there’d been others before. His grief and guilt sent him crazy and his behaviour became erratic.’

  ‘Oh, Ruby...’

  ‘One day I was in the stables, seeing to our horses because no one else bothered, when my father appeared with his handgun and turned it on me.’

  ‘You must have been terrified.’

  She nodded and gripped Kern’s arms, finding the strength to continue through touching him. ‘Fortunately, my father’s agent turned up unexpectedly, and shoved my father backwards as he took aim. The bullet grazed my chin and neck, leaving me with this scar, but alive.’

  ‘Thank goodness...’

  ‘He called an ambulance and the police while my father wept on the floor. Later my father confessed that he’d planned to turn the gun on himself afterwards, because he wanted us to join my mother. They’d barely managed to live together in life, and yet he couldn’t live without her once she was gone.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘My father’s agent offered me a home. With no other family, I accepted. I’d known him for most of my life. He supported me through the court case. Stood by me when the newspapers villainised my mother and I—’

  ‘You?’

  She glanced at him wearily. ‘They wanted someone to rip apart, and I was the only one they could get to. I’d lost all my friends, and hardly left the house. The few times I did, I was followed and offered money to spill secrets about my parents. And then there were my mother’s and my father’s fans, who accused me of lying because they didn’t want to believe they’d fallen so easily for my father’s great guy persona and my mother’s perfect image. It all became horrendous and suffocating.’

  ‘Oh, Ruby,’ he soothed.

  ‘A few months later, although I’d thought I could trust my father’s agent, he sold the story of my parents’ marriage to those same newspapers. Sold the secrets I’d confided in him because I thought he cared and it was safe.’

  Kern kissed the side of her face. ‘The man abused your trust. You were a child who needed his protection.’

  ‘That’s when I used the Goth make-up for the first time. One day I packed a bag and left the house for good. I walked down the street for the first time in months and no one recognised me.’

  Kern cupped her cheek with his hand and gently drew her face to his. ‘What a crap hand they dealt you.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not a great one, I guess. But plenty of people deal with worse. I managed, and my life is pretty good. I transferred to a different school, moved on to university, then decided to train as a vet. The best decision of my life.’

  ‘Beautiful and brave.’

  She squirmed with embarrassment. ‘I just did what I had to. One thing my mother did teach me was that if I wanted something or needed something then I should work for it. So I did.’

  ‘You must hate horse racing and everything about it.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. My parents’ relationship was troubled because of who they were—not what they did. Everything they did together was destructive, yet they couldn’t face being without each other.’

  ‘Not everything,’ he said. ‘They made you.’

  ‘There’s something else you should know,’ she confessed, deciding to clear her conscience completely.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I can heal animals,’ she sai
d. She hated not being honest about her gift, and Kern already had suspicions about what had occurred when he’d left the stables the night she’d tended to Evie. ‘What I mean is, I help animals in pain, emotionally and physically, by placing my hands on them.’

  Kern gazed at her silently, then grinned. ‘You’re a healer?’

  She tensed. ‘Yes.’

  He continued to stare down at her, his expression thoughtful. ‘Are you saying you put your hands on Evie and made her better? I’ve heard and read about people who can, but I’ve never known anyone who actually does it.’

  ‘Do you think I’m a freak?’ she blurted out, worried he would see her differently now. People tended to when she admitted to being able to do something unusual. And, despite her trying to keep this man as a mere friend, she knew his opinion mattered to her. It shouldn’t, but it did.

  ‘No,’ he soothed, softly stroking the outline of her lower lip with his thumb. ‘I think you’re special and talented and I really want to kiss you.’

  She blinked up at him. She could see the tiny bristles over his face and feel the warm breath coming from his lips. ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But wouldn’t that be a terrible idea, considering we’re only friends?’ she asked, licking her lower lip.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I haven’t wanted to kiss a woman in such a long time, but I can’t help wondering how your lips will feel under my own.’

  ‘I keep speculating about what your hair feels like,’ she admitted.

  He leaned closer and encouraged her. ‘Why don’t you touch it and satisfy your curiosity.’

  She clenched her hands to stop herself from giving in to his appealing invitation. ‘But as friends we’re not allowed to touch each other in any caressing way. It’s a rule.’

  ‘I’m not one for rules...’

  She tilted her head farther back and looked him straight in the eye. ‘So why don’t you break it, then?’