Trey snorted. “Hell, I’m not going to be guilty of setting my sights on any woman. I can barely take care of myself. But she’s easy on the eyes. And I sorta feel bad for her. She seems kinda lost, don’t you think?”
Chandler let out a long breath. In the twelve years since he’d opened the clinic, Trey was the best assistant he’d ever had. But sometimes the man’s incessant chatter had Chandler longing for a piece of duct tape. However, this was one time Trey was voicing Chandler’s exact thoughts.
“She’ll be okay, Trey,” Chandler reiterated. “And if you’re finished with the horses, you can go on home. I can handle this. There’s no need for you to keep hanging around.”
Trey looked at him with surprise and then he grinned and winked. “I got it, Doc. You’d rather be alone with the lady. No problem. I’m out of here. Pronto. Like right now.”
Chandler hardly needed to be alone with Roslyn DuBose. Not in the way Trey was suggesting. But he did need time to make sure she was capable of leaving the clinic under her own power. “I’ll see you in the morning. At six. Remember? We have to be over to the Johnson ranch to geld his colts.”
“Six. Yeah, I’ll be here.” He screwed his hat down tighter on his head and started out the door. “You can tell me all about Ms. DuBose then.”
* * *
Roslyn pushed herself to a sitting position on the couch and glanced curiously around Dr. Hollister’s office. The room was nothing like her OB’s plush office and definitely nothing close to the luxurious suites that made up her father’s corporate law firm back in Fort Worth.
Rectangular in shape, this office had a bare concrete floor and walls of whitewashed cinderblock. A large metal desk with a leather executive chair took up most of the left-hand side of the space. Two wooden chairs sat at odd angles in front of the desk that was used for consultations, she supposed. Although, the seats were presently filled with an odd assortment of clothing and leather riding tack. To the right of her, metal cabinets and shelves were loaded with boxes of medications and other medical supplies, while straight in front of her the wall was covered with an endless number of photographs, all involving animals. Most of the images were of horses, taken either in the winners’ circle at the racetrack, or in an arena next to a trophy-presentation table. Along with the horses, there were pics of dogs, cats, raccoons and opossums.
The man clearly had an affinity for animals, she decided. And he had no need to surround himself with a lavish work area. The fact impressed her, almost as much as the gentleness of his hands and the kindness she’d found in his eyes.
She was still thinking about him when he suddenly walked through the door carrying a plate of food. As he moved toward her, she found her gaze riveted to his striking image.
He was at least an inch or two over six feet, and his shoulders were so broad they stretched the denim fabric of his Western shirt to the limit. As her eyes followed the line of pearl snaps down to a square, silver belt buckle, she noted that his lean waist was a huge contrast to the breadth of his shoulders. Long, muscular legs strained against the work-worn denim.
Lifting her gaze, she studied his rugged features, which were made up of a square chin, and a jaw, covered with dark, rusty stubble. Beneath the gray cowboy hat, his hair was dark enough to call black and lay in thick waves until it reached the back of his collar. His eyes were vivid blue, like the sky after a hard rain, and framed by thick black lashes. The effect of his gaze was disconcerting, but then, so was everything else about the man.
“I found something for you to snack on,” he said, offering her the plate. “Eat what you can. It’ll help revive you.”
“Thanks. I am rather hungry.” She picked up the chicken leg and a paper napkin from the plate and began to eat. Halfway through, she paused to glance at him. “As soon as I eat, I’ll be ready to leave. I don’t want to keep you any longer than I already have.”
He relaxed against the corner of the couch and crossed his boots out in front of him. The hems of his jeans were ragged and stained green with manure, while the pant legs were covered with dust and splotched with something dark, like blood. She didn’t have to wonder if he was a hardworking man. It was evident from the burnt brown skin of his face, his calloused hands and dirty clothes. Even though Fort Worth was known as “Cowtown,” and she’d seen plenty of men wearing boots and Stetsons walking the sidewalks, she’d never been close up to a man like him. His masculinity roared at her like a lion warning her to beware.
He said, “Don’t worry about it. This is normal hours for me.”
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the chicken. “Have you had this clinic very long?”
“Twelve years,” he replied. “It’s my second home.”
“Where’s your first home? In town?” The questions came out of her before she could stop them. But thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.
“No. I live about twenty-five minutes from here. On Three Rivers Ranch.”
“You have a ranch?”
“Partly. It’s owned and operated by the Hollister family. My brother Blake is the general manager, but my mom has the final say-so over everything.”
She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m being nosy.”
“Not really.” He gestured toward the mound of baby covering most of her lap. “When are you due?”
“About four weeks. That’s why I’m...making this trip now, before there’s a chance I might go into labor.”
“I’m not an OB, but I’d say there’s a chance you might go into labor sooner than that.”
Her cheeks burned with hot color. “I just look that way because I’m—I’ve gained a little extra weight these past couple of weeks.”
“No. I don’t mean you look big. It’s just the way you’re carrying. But like I said, I’m not an OB.”
No. But he’d probably seen plenty of pregnant animals, she thought. Oh, God, what was she doing here in this Arizona town, without one friend or acquaintance within a thousand-mile radius? Had she lost her mind?
No, you’ve not lost your mind, Roslyn. You’ve finally found it. Along with the guts to be your own person, live your own life, deal with your own mistakes.
“I should be fine until I get to California,” she said, wishing she felt as positive as she sounded.
“You have relatives there?”
She didn’t know a single person in California. She’d chosen that state because it was as far west as she could get from Texas. Also, her late mother, who’d originally lived in Redding, had left Roslyn a small house and piece of property there.
“No. I, uh, own a place in Redding.”
“That’s where you intend to settle?”
The chicken leg eaten, she put down the plate and he handed her the carton of yogurt. It was topped with blueberries, one of her favorite flavors.
“That’s my plan. I’ve never been there before, but I’ve heard the town is pretty.” Oh, Lord, why had she told him that? Now he was probably thinking she was completely irresponsible and chasing after pipe dreams. But this man’s view of her wasn’t important. Once she walked out of this clinic, she’d never see him again.
“Uh, I guess you’re wondering why I’m traveling alone. Without a man.”
“The question did cross my mind,” he admitted.
Her gaze fell to his left hand. There was no wedding band on his finger. But given the man’s occupation, he might choose not to wear one. He could be going home to a woman tonight. One that would be waiting for him with a smile on her face and love in her heart. Or was that sort of fairy-tale life even real? She wondered bitterly.
Dipping the spoon into the yogurt, she said, “I’m not married. And don’t plan to be—at least, not anytime soon. The baby’s father turned out to be a first-class jerk. So he’s out of the picture. Completely.”
He stroked a thumb and forefinger over his chin
as he regarded her thoughtfully. “That’s...unfortunate. The baby needs a daddy. There isn’t any chance—”
“No!” she blurted before he could finish. “Shortly after he learned I was pregnant, he signed away all his paternal rights to the child. Since then, he’s already moved on and married someone else.”
“Is that the way you wanted it? Surely making him pay child support—”
Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t need or want his money. Not that he actually had any money of his own, anyway. Besides, it’s more important to me to have him totally out of my child’s life.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”
The empathy in his blue eyes was more than her frazzled emotions could bear and she purposely dropped her gaze to the yogurt. “Well, better now than later.”
She began eating the yogurt, but it took effort to get each bite past her tight throat. She needed to get out of here, she thought—away from his perceptive gaze and unsettling presence.
After a long stretch of silence, he asked, “Have you already made reservations for a room in town?”
Focusing on the yogurt, she scooped out the last bite. “Uh, no. With it being early spring before vacationers hit the highways, I was hoping there would be plenty of vacancies.”
“I’m sure there will be. But I...”
When he failed to go on, she looked up. “What? Is there some place in town I shouldn’t stay?”
A faint smile tilted the corners of his lips. “No. That wasn’t what I was about to say. I was thinking it would be far better if you’d come home with me.”
Copyright © 2019 by Stella Bagwell
IMPRINT: Cherish
ISBN: 9781489285119
TITLE: SWITCHED AT BIRTH
First Australian Publication 2019
Copyright © 2019 Christine Rimmer
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