Leave Me Breathless
A second chance romance
Katie Douglas
Leave Me Breathless (Arizona Heat 4) Copyright 2019 Katie Douglas
Cover design by Katie Douglas
Edited by Celeste Jones.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Thank you!
Chapter 1
Dylan
It had been the worst day in a long list of bad days.
First, there was the incident with Mrs. Leroy. I was already late for work and looking in my purse for my car keys when she came shuffling over the street in her housecoat and battered, shapeless slippers, holding her phone. No one should have taught her how to use a smartphone because she spent all her time taking pictures of things from her living room window and complaining about non-events.
“Your cat was out again last night,” she accused.
I nodded, wishing I’d had my keys ready before she came over.
“She’s a cat,” I replied. To my mind, it was pretty obvious that cats went out.
“She was standing on Mr. Wallis’s trash cans for thirty minutes. Look.” The annoying woman shoved her phone in my face and tapped on the screen where the timestamp was displayed.
“See? Eight-oh-two, your cat’s on the trash cans. Now look at this one.” She switched to another picture. “Eight-thirty-four, your cat finally moves. Eight-thirty-four!” She brandished the picture as though she were the District Attorney in a TV murder investigation. Actually, that might be where she got the idea.
“Is there a point to this?” I raised a brow, waiting for her to tell me the cat ate her guinea pig or similar.
“Your pet is a menace. You need to get her under control.”
“But what did she actually do?” I all but yelled.
“Didn’t you see the pictures? Your mangy animal was loitering!”
Snickerdoodle didn’t have the mange. It was mostly a disease affecting urban foxes. My cat’s unkempt appearance was due to the injuries she was healing from—injuries caused by her abusive former owners, before she’d been rescued.
I shook my head in disbelief. “She’s a cat. There’s no law saying she can’t hang out on someone’s trash cans.”
“If I see it outside again, I’m calling animal welfare.”
I laughed out loud at that. “Lady, I am animal welfare. And I can tell you straight up, you don’t have a legitimate complaint against my cat. Now go home and find a better TV show to watch because you make a lousy investigator. Some of us have jobs to go to.” I sidestepped around her and got into my truck, then pulled out of the driveway, leaving her standing in my front yard. I wasn’t actually an animal welfare inspector, I worked at a sanctuary for rescued and unwanted horses, but I had also trained as a vet, in another lifetime. It was safe to say I knew a thing or two about animal protection laws.
I was two miles away from home when a dog leapt out in front of me. I slammed the brakes on as fast as I could, but the animal was too close and I smashed into it with a squeal of tires and a sickening crunch.
Immediately, I stopped and got out.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
My breathing was shallow and I couldn’t get that crunch out of my mind. I ran to the animal. It was a dog; no ID tag, dirty fur, overgrown nails... clearly a stray.
Or a rescue, I pointed out to myself. It was possible someone had taken the animal in. I looked around, but there were no buildings as far as the eye could see, just the open Arizona desert. I knew most people would shrug it off as roadkill and keep driving, but I couldn’t leave him like that, dead on the side of the road. Like this dog’s life had never mattered.
I got a shovel out of the back of my truck and dug a hole in the sand, blinking back tears at the unfairness of it. This poor dog had been minding its own business and a stupid, dangerous human invention had ended its life. I had killed him. I was so mad at myself. I’d been going at the correct speed limit, paying attention to my surroundings, and yet somehow I was sure there must have been something I could have done to prevent this tragedy.
By the time I arrived at work, I was late, tired, dirty, and in a really bad mood. Some lazy farmer was going to get the sharp end of my tongue today, and I just knew it.
“We got a call from just south of Snake Eye,” Lisa, our call handler and manager, told me. She held out a piece of paper and I read it through before repressing the cacophony of swearing that jumped to the tip of my tongue.
Lemon Tree Ranch. Lame horse.
Why did it have to be a call to visit Lemon Tree Ranch?
“Can Steve go?” I asked, knowing he almost certainly couldn’t.
“Nope, he’s already been dispatched to a traveling fair in Mesa. Don’t worry! You’ll be there and back in two hours!” Lisa was way too chirpy. Then again, she had no idea why I was reluctant to go to Lemon Tree Ranch.
I sighed. That pretty much settled it, then. This was going to be the very worst day in recent memory and there was nothing I could do about it.
“I’ll hitch up the trailer,” I muttered, probably sounding like a sulky teen. I didn’t care so much.
* * *
Jake
“Poor Betsy,” Clay sighed deeply, and I knew it killed him as much as it hurt me to see one of our horses leave the ranch.
“Are you sure we can’t keep her?” I asked for the thousandth time, just in case the answer had changed.
“We’re not a horse rescue place, Jake, and you know it. We’re not equipped to keep every sick or injured horse. I’m sorry, but there’s no two ways about it; we have to turn a profit. Blueberry Horse Sanctuary is the best place for Betsy and you know it as well as I do.”
I did know. Clay and his brother Lawson had a business to run, as much as they loved their animals. But I didn’t like it, all the same. If it was down to me, we’d keep them all, and hire a full time vet to take care of the horses during their twilight years.
“I don’t want to let her go,” I admitted, knowing Clay wouldn’t laugh at me. He knew how deeply I cared about every horse on the ranch.
“Me either, but it’s the best thing for her. She’ll get the care she needs.” He nodded with an air of finality and left me alone in the stables. I stroked Betsy’s nose and tried to stay calm. The horses always knew when the people around them were emotional, and it upset the animals.
Betsy eyed me with what felt like a knowing look, and we shared a moment of connection.
“You’re going to a nice place with other horses,” I told her. “They’ll take good care of you.”
She harrumphed and I knew her heart ached. Mine sure did.
People said I got along better with animals than people. They were right. Animals were more real to me, their personalities more vivid. I remembered intricate details about every horse I’d ever spent time around, which was more than I could say for most of the people I’d met in life.
I’d rather spend my life around these horses than one week without them.
* * *
Dylan
I headed over to Lemon Tree Ranch. By the time I reached Snake Eye, the last town before the ranch, a heavy lead feeling had settled into my gut. I contemplated calling Lisa and telling her I’d come down with some tropical disease but there was a horse involved, and regardless of how I felt about Jake Royston
, I just had to suck up the fact I would see him so I could attend to the horse.
I parked at the end of the big driveway on the concrete which was surrounded by pretty gardens belonging to each of the three ranch houses clustered together. If Jake had lived in one of those, perhaps I’d get away without seeing him, but he made his home in an annex of the stables, where he was always close to the horses.
I locked my truck out of habit rather than necessity, taking a deep breath.
Usually, going to attend a horse was a satisfying process. Bringing them to the sanctuary was rewarding, especially when they got to know the staff and settled into their new environment. This time, however, I just wanted to be in and out as soon as possible.
I squared my shoulders and walked to the stables.
“Hello? I’m here from Blueberry Horse Sanctuary,” I called, not raising my voice too loudly because there were horses nearby.
“Dylan Pines. You’re a sight for sore eyes!” The most irritatingly sexy voice in the world grated down my spine and I cringed. Looking around, I saw Jake heading over from the tack room. My cheeks flushed as I remembered what we’d done the last time we’d been in there together. Why couldn’t he have gotten food poisoning today, leaving anyone else in charge of the horses?
“I’m not here to see you,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, and hoping the low lighting in the stable would stop him noticing the embarrassment emblazoned on my face right now.
“I know. You’re here for Betsy.”
I nodded firmly. He moved closer, and his scent filled the air. Leather, saddle soap and the familiar masculine musk that made my clit twitch. Trying to hold my breath, I scrunched up my eyes so I didn’t have to look at his incredible body, outlined beautifully by that blue and white plaid shirt.
“You got something in your eye?” he asked amiably.
“No. Let’s just get this over with.” I couldn’t look. Couldn’t sniff him. Couldn’t throw myself down on the stable floor and ask him to forgive me for ever leaving. No way.
I had to move on, and the only way to do that was to try and keep a professional distance, no matter how hard my heart was straining for me to run into his arms and lay my head against his chest, just one more time.
Last time, we’d been a disaster together. That man was trouble, and I needed him in my life again like I needed a chocolate fireplace. I just wished my body would get the damn memo.
Chapter 2
Jake
There was something up with Dylan. I had no idea what it was, but she was skittish, like she was going to spook any moment and flee. Things had gone south between us, but I didn’t think I’d done anything to scare her like this. If she was a horse, I’d talk her down with soothing tones and gentle touches, but she was a woman, and I didn’t understand them so good, but I did know not to treat them like horses.
Seeing her again was a nice surprise. Over the past couple of years, I’d wondered how she’d been doing, but her adamant determination to avoid me had meant I couldn’t call to catch up. I wasn’t sure why some people had to stay far away after things had gone bad, but then again, there were a whole lot of things about Dylan Pines that completely eluded me.
We stood in silence for a long moment before she finally spoke again.
“Where’s the horse?” It sounded like she was asking through gritted teeth.
“Over here. But you’ll want to lose the attitude before we go see her. I won’t have you upsetting her just because you got a bee in your bonnet.”
She growled and glared at me. “I know how to act around horses, thanks. I was riding for two decades before I ever met you.”
Oh, boy, was she ever in a strange mood. It was one of those snits where nothing I said or did was right, and she’d criticize every little thing. Never did find out how to handle her when she got in such a prickly sort of state.
Short of pinning her down and spanking her, I didn’t see another solution. And she’d never agreed to letting me do that for discipline. She’d only ever submitted to me during sex. That right there was one of the deep problems we’d had when we’d been together. I knew what she needed, but until she saw it for herself and agreed to it, I couldn’t do a damn thing about her behavior without her calling the cops on my ass. Again.
Nope. I wasn’t going there. She was unpredictable and didn’t know her own mind.
“Wh-what’s the problem with Betsy, anyhow?” Dylan finally asked, taking her head out of her ass for long enough to remember she had a job to do.
Okay, that was pretty mean of me, but she’d wronged me quite badly two years ago and I wasn’t in the mood for her shitty attitude, as if I’d been the bad guy.
“She’s getting older. She’s twenty, now, and she’s not recovering from injuries as quickly as she used to.”
“Injuries?” She was putting aside her personal feelings to concentrate on the horses. I considered praising her, but decided she’d only get mad again and accuse me of patronizing her.
“Yeah, she hurt her leg three weeks ago. The vet thought she caught it on some barbed wire but we never figured out where she might have done that, because I don’t use it around the horses and she hasn’t escaped for about fifteen years. She’s been limping ever since and it’s not showing any signs of healing.”
“Let me look at it.” Of course, Dylan would want to investigate for herself. She had never trusted the opinion of my preferred vet, and I never figured out why.
“Go ahead.” I indicated Betsy’s stall and helped Dylan lead her out.
“Hey, Betsy, how’s it going?” Dylan greeted the horse far more warmly than she had addressed me so far today. We didn’t seem to be on great terms, but both of us cared deeply about the animals. Betsy got a nose stroke and a scritch behind her ears.
“You like that? You want more scritches, hun?” Dylan crooned, gently rubbing the pads of her fingers in the fluff on the top of Betsy’s head. Like a hopeless puppy dog, I yearned for the same attention, but I knew better than to hope Dylan could ever show me anything close to the amount of affection she showed to animals.
Perhaps we were both broken in the same way. Two puzzle pieces shaped the same, so we just didn’t fit together. We both cared more about animals than people, which seemed like it should have brought us together, but neither of us seemed great at bridging the divide that had grown day-by-day between us.
Dylan crouched down and looked at Betsy’s leg.
“The tendon’s been cut,” Dylan snapped. “Your dumbass vet should have spotted that straight away and stitched it.”
I held my hands up to placate her. “He must have missed it.”
“I’ve told you before, you need to use a better vet. Malcolm Gilders is a moneygrubbing asswipe with bad credentials.”
I bristled at the insinuation that this was my fault. Additionally, Malcolm wasn’t that bad. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t quit your profession, we wouldn’t have an issue, but there isn’t another vet around these parts, so I don’t got a choice which one I call.”
She glared at me. “There’s always a choice.”
“Yeah, I’ll just put an injured, lame horse into a horse trailer and drive for two hours. Sounds real kind to the horse,” I retorted.
Dylan looked at me like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t get a chance.
“Dylan Pines! Thought I heard your dulcet tones,” Lawson remarked, strolling into the stables and leaning on the wood. “You taking Betsy?”
She looked from Lawson to me, as if she was trying to figure out if we were conspiring about something, but when neither of us said anything more, she had to reply.
“Yeah. I’m taking her. But not today. She’s not in a good state to be moved. I’ll... uh... go get my... from the truck.” She scurried off, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. Lawson raised a brow.
“What’s she mad about this time?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Doesn’t like our vet. Says Betsy’s tendon was cut, an
d she needs stitches.”
“Is that so?” Lawson looked thoughtful. “Shame there’s no other vet, now, ain’t that right?”
I caught onto his meaning and I rolled my eyes. “There’s no way I’m going there again. She’s like a bad cough. Violent and hard to get rid of.”
“Shame. We could sure use someone with vet skills on the ranch.”
“Anyhow, she doesn’t practice anymore.”
“Then what’s she just gone to her truck for? Peppermints? Mark my words, she’s comin’ back with a vet kit and she’s gonna patch the horse up.”
I knew he was right, but I also knew Dylan would never agree to work as a vet again. I didn’t know exactly what had happened to change her career from veterinarian to sanctuary assistant, but I did know once she dug her heels in about something, nothing would change her mind.
Still not looking at either of us, Dylan came back with her vet bag. I didn’t know why she’d kept it all these years; she hadn’t been in that line of work for as long as I’d known her.
“Someone needs to come and reassure Betsy,” Dylan said, and all three of us knew she meant me, even if she wouldn’t outright say it. Lawson didn’t have the same way with the horses that I had. That’s why I was the horse guy and Lawson ran the ranch, with his brother Clay.
I went to Betsy’s head and kept her occupied. She was tied to the wood near her stall and Lawson was at her side, in case she spooked, while Dylan knelt down to work on Betsy’s injured front leg.
“I’m giving her a local anesthetic,” she said, pulling out a needle. Lawson gave me a look, and I silently agreed with him. If she had completely turned her back on animal medicine, why did she still have the perishable supplies she’d need to take care of situations like this? It wasn’t impossible for her to keep a suturing kit all these years, but that anesthetic had to have a shelf life, right? The mystery deepened, but I didn’t say anything.
Leave Me Breathless: A second chance romance Page 1
