Читать книгу Her Tycoon to Tame - Emilie Rose - Страница 9

The door to Hannah’s lab opened abruptly on Saturday morning, startling her. Wyatt stalked in as if he owned the place…which he did, technically. But this was her domain—the only place that remained orderly and tranquil no matter what chaos reigned in other parts of her life.

Her muscles snapped taut and the hair on her nape sprang to attention. She’d never experienced such instant antagonism toward anyone before, and the strength of the emotion roiling inside her now surprised her.

“You said twelve. You’re early.” She tried to keep her tone polite, but judging by his scowl, she failed.

His dark eyes panned the spotless room as if inventorying each piece of equipment before returning to her and examining her as thoroughly. “The rain is predicted to worsen. I want my tour now.”

Rain? Hannah blinked and listened. Sure enough, rain snare-drummed on the barn’s metal roof. She’d been so engrossed in her tasks and her troubles that she hadn’t even noticed the rat-a-tat-tat before now. Usually the sound relaxed her. But not today, thanks to the irritant in front of her.

She stood her ground and returned his appraisal. The hard line of his jaw gleamed from a recent shave and his hair looked damp—either from the weather or a recent shower if he were the type to waste a morning lying in bed. A picture of him on twisted sheets popped into her head.

Where had that come from? She kicked it away.

A black cashmere sweater stretched across his broad shoulders, the white of a T-shirt showing in the V-neck, and faded jeans clung to his hips and long, muscled thighs. Something—most likely aggravation—quickened her pulse. It couldn’t be anything else. She didn’t like him or his arrogant attitude.

“I still have orders to process before the courier service arrives. Come back at twelve. Please,” she added. She wasn’t going to let him disrupt her schedule and thereby give him grounds to fire her.

“Reviewing employee performance is part of any new business venture. I’ll start with yours. You work. I’ll observe.”

Anxiety tangled with the coil of exasperation snaking through her. She couldn’t throw him out. “Then at least close the door. This is a controlled environment. The room needs to remain dust-free, and the temperature as constant as possible.”

“Is it that important?”

“Considering I handle thousands of dollars’ worth of product every day, yes, quality control is important.”

Curiosity sharpened his eyes. He strolled toward her, encroaching on her personal space, but she kept her boots planted, refusing to surrender her spot by the microscope despite an almost visceral urge to back far, far away.

“What are you working on, doc?”

An odd question from the man who owned everything in front of him. Everything except her, that is. “I’m confirming the viability of the sample before I chill and ship it.”

“Sample of what?”

He was kidding. Right? But if so, he did so with a straight face. Hey, she could play along. “Sperm. Want to take a look?”

His short, thick lashes flickered, then he moved forward, calling her bluff and forcing her to yield territory to avoid contact. He bent over the microscope. “Tell me what I’m looking for.”

Unsure whether he was testing her knowledge or simply being a pain in the rear, she scowled at the thick, dark strands covering the back of his head. “You’re checking to see whether the sample has enough potency to get the job done.”

He straightened. Their gazes collided unexpectedly and held. Her thoughts scattered like bowling pins. Tension crackled between them.

“And the answer?”

She inhaled slowly, trying to remember his question, but a trace of his cologne—something hinting of patchouli, sandalwood and cypress—distracted her. He smelled good and looked good. Too bad he was a jerk. She’d dealt with enough overinflated egos over the years to know bad attitude cancelled out any positives.

“Yes, this is a fertile stud, and a good thing, too, since Commander is Sutherland Farm’s top moneymaker.”

Determined to get back to business, she waved him out of the way and bent over the eye pieces, but his presence disturbed her. She could feel him dissecting and cataloging her every action as if he were waiting for her to make a mistake. When she adjusted the focus her hands weren’t as steady as they’d been before his arrival, and it annoyed her that he could rattle her so easily.

“What’s the purpose of all the equipment and charts?”

Another odd question from Sutherland’s new owner. She lifted her head and put down the pencil she’d been using to make notes. “If I explain, will you go away and let me finish my job?”

“I’m not leaving until you’ve given me a satisfactory tour.”

Not what she wanted to hear. “Are you completely ignorant of the business into which you’ve invested millions?”

Whoops. Not nice, Hannah. What happened to killing him with kindness and not making waves?

“You mean the business I own, the one that pays your salary?”

He had her there. And if she wanted to continue receiving that paycheck so that she could care for her horses and put food on her table, she’d better dam the resentment pouring from her mouth. “I apologize. The clock is ticking and I really need to get this order ready before the sample is ruined.”

“Answer my question, Hannah.”

“The shelves are filled with the collection equipment we use. Each stud has his own—” Her cheeks warmed and her tongue tangled. Oh, for pity’s sake. Reproduction was her job. Discussing it was routine. So why did explaining it to him make her uncomfortable? They weren’t discussing her personal sexual preferences.

Or his.

An image of him bare-chested, braced on his forearms above her and with passion instead of irritation tightening his features flashed in her mind. Her womb clenched. She inhaled sharply.

Girl, you have been too long without a man’s attention.

She cleared her throat and, trying to ignore the unwelcome warmth seeping through her, carefully chose her words. “Stallions have likes and dislikes that could interfere with or assist in production and collection. We get our most successful outcomes when the positive elements are in place, and we keep track of each stud’s preferences with the charts.”

His eyes narrowed and for a moment the air seemed to hum with tension. “Sutherland Farm has two veterinarians on staff. Your position seems redundant. Why should I continue paying your salary?”

Alarm froze any lingering awareness faster than a liquid nitrogen dip. “You’re asking me to justify my job?”

“Correct. Convince me nepotism wasn’t a factor in your hiring.”

She dampened her suddenly dry lips. “Our staff vet oversees general animal health. I oversee breeding.”

“Something animals have managed without assistance or all this equipment since the beginning of time.”

“Breeding is Sutherland Farm’s bread and butter. Without the raw material, our trainers can’t produce champions. We continue to make money off successful mares and studs for years, sometimes even decades, after they leave the show ring.”

“And why can’t the staff vet oversee that?”

“Developing a winning bloodline is far more complicated than randomly pairing animals and hoping for a pretty foal. It’s an intricate mix of genealogy, genetics, biology and veterinary science aimed at producing an animal with optimal traits and minimal deficiencies. It’s a science—one at which I happen to excel.”

He didn’t look impressed.

“Tell me, Wyatt, exactly how much do you know about horse breeding?”

“My knowledge of horses is limited to thoroughbreds.”

That explained a lot. “And yet you bought a Warmblood farm. Thoroughbreds are bred naturally. Sutherland Farm does almost everything by artificial insemination.”

“Why?”

“There are several reasons. Our horses are too valuable to risk one of them getting injured during the natural breeding process, and artificial insemination allows us to service mares globally and not only in our barns. It’s cost-effective and less stressful for the mares than being shipped to the stallion’s home stable. Shipping a horse overseas is expensive and often disturbs her cycle. Plus quarantine is a hassle. Shipping semen is less aggravating. We simply freeze or chill it and send it out.”

He pointed to yet another chart. “And this?”

Hannah grimaced. She was fond of her charts and graphs. Charts were predictable. They made sense. She could weigh the pros and cons of practically any permutation on paper and erase her mistakes. Unlike life’s bad choices.

“That’s the stallion schedule. Regular, predictable collection encourages better production. In layman’s terms, it’s our way of aligning supply to demand so we know where to set our stud fees. And the chart beside it is the pending shipment list—the one I need to get back to before I can give you the tour and before this sample loses viability. So please, Mr. Jacobs, go away and let me do my job.”

“Wyatt,” he corrected.

She didn’t want to be on a first-name basis with him. That implied friendship—something they would never have. But he was the boss and that meant she had to mind her manners.

“Wyatt. Sutherland Farm bloodstock has been producing champion jumping and dressage stock for years. Let me show you to the visitors’ lounge in the office building. You can have a cup of coffee and look through the catalogue of our studs, mares and foals until I finish here.”

His dark gaze lingered on hers until an odd sensation stirred in the pit of her stomach and her toes curled in her boots. “I can find the lounge.”

The moment he left the room tension drained from her shoulders, torso and legs as if leaking through her soles. She sagged against the work table, bowing her head and taking a moment to collect her composure.

Damn the man. How was she going to work with him when she couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with him? He made her uncomfortable with his long, intense examinations and he was clearly searching for a reason—any reason—to fire her.

She’d barely gotten back into the groove when the door opened again. She snapped upright. Her stomach sank as Wyatt strolled in carrying one of the farm’s many photo albums and ending her short-lived reprieve. He parked himself on the stool directly across the table from her microscope.

No. “I thought you were going to let me work.”

“I’m not stopping you. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can get on with business.” He directed his attention to the book in front of him.

Irritation sputtered through her. If he didn’t quit distracting her, he’d never get his tour, and he acted as if the delay was her fault.

Determined to ignore him, she gritted her teeth and returned to the job at hand. Every time she looked up from the microscope her gaze slammed straight into his, and each time she felt those dark eyes on her or his body shifted her pulse skipped.

She wanted him gone. From her lab. From her farm. From her life. Daddy, what have you done?

Forcing herself to concentrate, she powered through her work with sheer determination. When she finally sealed the last tube in the shipping package, relief coursed through her. Dread trotted close behind. Finishing meant she’d have to spend time alone with her new boss.

Resigned to the torture, she sighed. “Where do you want to start?”

He closed the portfolio and slowly rose, unfolding one smooth muscle after the other. As much as she hated to admit it, Wyatt Jacobs had great conformation and grace in motion, like one of Sutherland’s prized dressage champions. “Anywhere.”

She swallowed her impatience. She wanted to make this as quick and painless as possible. He wasn’t helping. “Narrow that down. We have two thousand acres. Which parts of the property have you not seen?”

“Except for the house, this barn and the office building, I haven’t seen any of the farm.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You spent millions of dollars without seeing what you were getting for your money?”

“I had pictures, topography maps and the video package the real estate appraiser prepared. Sutherland Farm suits my needs.”

She remembered the videographer’s visit several months ago. Her father had told her the film would be used for promotional purposes and she’d had no reason not to believe him because they often had photographers on the premises. That meant not only had her father lied, but he’d been scheming to tear her world apart for months. That hurt.

But the past was over. She had to deal with the present, and the present included the testosterone-packed problem in front of her.

“And what exactly are your needs?” She winced when she heard the double entendre of her words.

As if a door slammed shut, Wyatt’s face instantly turned inscrutable. “To own a horse farm. What else?”

Wyatt Jacobs was lying through his perfect white teeth. Hannah would swear to it. But she couldn’t prove it. And even if she could, what could she do about it? Right now she was nothing but a puppet. And he held her strings.

Hannah didn’t believe him, and frankly, Wyatt didn’t care. He wasn’t here to make friends. In fact, it would suit him better if she got ticked off and quit her job.

Playing chaperone to a spoiled princess had never been part of his plan. He’d bought the farm for Sam and had intended spending as little time here as possible. But Hannah would require more supervision than his planned sporadic visits.

The door to the lab burst open, shattering the standoff between him and the bothersome brunette. A lanky redheaded guy rushed in. “Doc Will’s got another one.”

Hannah’s body language changed instantly from resentful and reluctant to alert and attentive. Wyatt found the switch quite intriguing. She didn’t snap at the new guy for keeping the door open, dripping on the floor or tracking in mud. Instead, she wiggled her fingers in a give-me-more gesture.

“He got a call to euthanize, but he decided to give you a look first. He’s down at the barn.”

Those big blue eyes rounded. “He’s here instead of calling for a consult?”

“Yep. It’s that critical. He hightailed it off the property as soon as the authorities gave him the okay. He says this one will be a real test of your skills.”

“He’s assuming I’ll say yes.”

The redhead chuckled. “Hannah, you never say no.”

Wyatt tried to make sense of their conversation and couldn’t, but he seriously doubted the twentysomething guy meant the words in a sexual context—which was exactly where Wyatt’s brain headed when he heard a woman couldn’t say no.

He shut down that mental detour and cursed his traitorous libido. Hannah Sutherland might have a rockin’ body and a damned sexy pout, but there would be nothing remotely intimate between him and his temporary employee.

“I’m Wyatt Jacobs. And you are?” His question brought both sets of eyes in his direction.

Hannah grimaced. “I’m sorry. Jeb Jones, our veterinary assistant. Wyatt is the new owner.”

Wyatt shook Jeb’s hand. “Who is Doc Will?”

Hannah ripped off her lab coat and hung it on the hook by the door. “Will is one of our county veterinarians. Your tour will have to wait.”

“Are you willing to risk the consequences of refusing my request?” He didn’t need to elaborate that she’d be fired, but her quick gasp told him she received his unspoken message loud and clear.

Her defiant gaze drilled him. “You didn’t request, Mr. Jacobs. You ordered. And I’m not refusing. I’m postponing your tour until after I’ve handled this emergency.”

Her exasperation came across loud and clear despite the pretty-please smile punctuating her sentence. No doubt that smile worked on most men. Not him.

“Let’s go, Jeb.” Hannah rushed from the lab.

The kid hesitated, as if trying to decide who was in charge, but then he mistakenly fell in behind his cohort. Taken aback by Hannah’s insubordination and the kid’s loyalty, Wyatt rocked on his heels. Then he reconsidered. This wasn’t the case of a woman standing up for her convictions. Hannah was a spoiled daddy’s girl who believed the rules didn’t apply to her. He’d teach her and her flunky differently.

He followed the pair, intent on firing Hannah, giving her follower a warning and informing the veterinarian that Sutherland Farm was no longer a dumping ground for unwanted animals of any kind. Hannah might not be able to say no, but Wyatt had no such problem.

Ahead of him Hannah and Jeb raced down the driveway heedless of the rain. They veered off the paved surface and onto a gravel track leading to a building set behind a copse of trees several hundred yards from the main barn. Wyatt climbed into his Mercedes and drove the distance rather than get soaked.

Once he pulled off the asphalt, the uneven ground tested his car’s suspension. Considering the pristine condition of the rest of the property, the neglect surprised him. He made a mental note to speak to the manager about ordering a load of gravel to fill the potholes.

A pickup truck with a horse trailer attached had backed through the barn’s open doors. He parked beside it and surveyed the stone building through the rain streaming down his windshield. The smaller barn had the same architecturally attractive design as the other barns, but the structure, like the driveway hadn’t been as well-maintained as the rest of the farm. Odd.

He climbed from his car, then squeezed between the trailer and doorjamb. While the outside of the building lacked sparkle, the interior was as spotless as a barn could be. The combined scents of fresh shavings, hay and oats ambushed him with memories of happier times with Sam.

The trailer’s rear ramp had been lowered into the center hallway. Inside the metal enclosure a horse danced restlessly in the right compartment, its feet thumping hollowly on the rubberized mat covering the steel floor.

Hannah occupied the left half of the trailer, a rib-high divider separating her from the agitated creature. She stroked the animal’s withers and back, and spoke calmly. “It’s okay, girl. You have nothing to fear. We’re going to take good care of you.”

Her quiet, soothing tone contrasted with the impatient one she’d used with him each time he’d asked a question this morning.

The horse responded with a panicked sound that raised the fine hairs on Wyatt’s body. It had been almost fifteen years since he’d been around horses, but even he recognized the animal’s terror.

Firing Hannah would have to wait until she wasn’t in physical danger. Distraction in the workplace was an invitation to disaster. “Get out of there.”

“In a minute,” she replied without raising her voice. “Okay boys, let’s ease her out and see what we have.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” an older gentleman wearing muddy jeans and a battered field jacket said as he came from behind the trailer and clapped Wyatt on the shoulder. “Best not to get behind this one, son.”

Wyatt flashed back to his teens. He’d heard the same warning from Sam too many times to count when Sam had been at the top of his game and lucid all the time and not just intermittently.

Hannah scowled at Wyatt across the distance. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“If you stay, you’ll end up getting in the way or getting hurt.”

“I worked on a thoroughbred farm from the time I was fourteen until I went to college. But don’t unload that horse. It needs to go back to wherever it came from.”

Her expression turned belligerent. “That’s not an option—a fact the police will confirm if you pick up the phone and ask for Officer—”

“Harris,” the veterinarian supplied when Hannah arched an eyebrow.

Her continued defiance rasped against Wyatt’s last nerve. “I don’t want that animal on this property.”

Hannah descended the ramp and didn’t stop until they were toe-to-toe, chest to chest—so close he could taste the mint on her breath and feel the heat steaming from her rain-dampened clothing.

He fought to keep his attention from the way her white polo shirt had turned almost transparent. Fought and failed. The wet fabric clung to her hard-nippled breasts and outlined her thin white bra. His hormones reacted the way a healthy man’s would and, try as he might, he could not control the sudden increase in his pulse rate.

“Mr. Jacobs, Wyatt, if you feel the same way after I’ve examined her, we’ll discuss other arrangements. But for now, please step aside, and let me do my job.”

“I thought you were the breeding specialist.”

“I only work a half day on Saturdays. In my off hours I wear a different hat.”

“Have you forgotten who pays your salary?”

“You’re not likely to let that happen. Give me an hour to examine the mare and see what we’re dealing with. This could be a matter of life and death. I’m not ready to take a life without just cause. Are you?”

“Are you always so melodramatic?”

“Hardly ever,” she answered deadpan.

Her determination impressed him. “Make it quick.”

“Thank you.” She returned to the trailer, apparently undaunted by the agitated creature’s dancing.

Under her direction the trio coaxed the horse down the ramp in fits and spurts. The mare’s hesitant steps alternated with nervous hops and skips, then in a sudden backward lunge the horse launched from the trailer kicking up a spray of shavings. Once the dust settled the wild-eyed animal quivered in the hall, its terror-widened eyes taking in the scene.

Then Wyatt saw what the shadowy trailer had concealed. Open sores and scars crisscrossed the emaciated back, haunches and muzzle. Bloody rings circled the mare’s back legs just above the hooves.

She’d been abused. His gut muscles seized and rage blazed within him. “Who did this?”

The vet shook his head without taking his eyes from the animal. “Mean SOB who owned her. I hope the cops give him a taste of his own medicine. A billy club upside his head would be a nice touch.”

Hannah handed the lead rope to Jeb then eased around the horse without ever lifting her palm from the animal’s dull, scarred hide. Wyatt recognized the trick as one Sam had employed. By never losing contact, the horse always knew where you were and wouldn’t be startled.

“You know animal abusers get a slap on the wrist at best, Will.” Her frustration came through loud and clear even though she kept her tone low and even. “She doesn’t look good.”

“Nope. Not much to work with,” the vet replied. “She wouldn’t have lasted another week in that hellhole.”

Wyatt focused on the deep gouges and bloody fetlocks. Now that the fight had drained out of the mare her head hung low as if she were resigned to whatever came next and fighting took more energy than she possessed. She’d probably been a beauty once, but now she was nothing more than a broken shell. She looked ready to collapse. Her spirit seemed broken, her usefulness in doubt.

Like Sam.

The parallel was so strong it blindsided Wyatt. He hated to see anything or anyone turned into a victim trapped in a body that could no longer function or fight back. He turned to the vet who’d brought the animal. “You should have put her down.”

“Maybe. That’s Hannah’s call now.”

“Why prolong her misery? Ending her suffering would be more humane.”

Hannah bristled, agitating the mare into a side step. “Just because the owner is worthless doesn’t mean the animal is. Every life has value, including hers. Her teeth indicate she’s less than ten years old. There could be a lot of good years in her yet.”

“She’s debilitated, terrified and in pain,” Wyatt countered, his fists curling in frustration.

“If anyone can pull her through, Hannah can,” the vet said.

A muscle jumped in Wyatt’s jaw. The horse had been through hell, and someone had to find the compassion and make the executive decision to end her suffering. That someone was him, apparently.

“She’s probably disease-ridden and could infect the other horses. And after being abused this severely, her trust in man has likely been irrevocably broken.”

Hannah planted herself between Wyatt and the mare. She didn’t look like a spoiled daddy’s girl now. She resembled a mama grizzly passionately defending her cub. “You can’t write her off without giving her a chance.”

Her stormy gaze hit Wyatt with a fireball of pain, anger and frustration, the same emotions rumbling through him. The fight in her eyes would cause a lesser man to back down.

“Giving horses second chances is what I do, Wyatt. And if you’d done your research on the farm before you tossed around your money, you would realize it’s what you do now, too.”

Wyatt stiffened as the barb hit home. He couldn’t argue with facts. He’d delegated his research. The agent’s report hadn’t included anything about Sutherland Farm being a dumping ground for damaged animals, or Hannah Sutherland, who was going to make damned sure he paid for delegating.

“That right rear leg could be broken.”

Hannah didn’t even glance at it. “It’s cut deep from the hobbles. It looks like the brute bound her back legs so she couldn’t defend herself when he beat her. But from the way she’s bearing weight on it, it’s most likely superficial. I’ll run X-rays to confirm.”

“You mean you’ll run up expenses on a lost cause.”

She glared at him. “This isn’t about money. Find Your Center saves lives. It doesn’t destroy them unnecessarily.”

“What in the hell is Find Your Center?”

Irritation darkened her eyes to storm cloud gray and tightened the tendons running the length of her neck as she stuck out her chin, making the diamonds in her ears sparkle in the barn’s overhead lighting. If she’d been a guy, she probably would have punched him.

“Illustrating once again, Mr. Jacobs, you should have done your homework before your underhanded purchase.”

“There was nothing devious about my purchasing this farm. It was for sale. I bought it.”

She visibly reined in her temper, taking a deep breath then relaxing her tense muscles. “Sutherland Farm specializes in birth and rebirth.”

A bird swooped through the open barn door. The horse spooked and jumped sideways, its haunches knocking into Hannah. She stumbled. Wyatt instinctively sprang forward to catch her. His muscles bunched as he banded his arms around her and braced his thighs to keep them both from going down under the ragged, dancing hooves.

Her feet tangled with his as she scrambled for traction and shifted against him in ways that made him excruciatingly aware of the surprising firmness and strength beneath her curves.

“Are you all right?” he asked through a knotted jaw.

Her wary gaze locked with his. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. His pulse spiked and heat flooded him, proving he shared something he wanted no part of with the pampered princess.

Chemistry.

“I’m fine. Thank you. Release me. Please.” She planted her palms on his chest and pushed, broke his hold and backed away. Keeping an equally watchful eye on him, she circled to the opposite side of the horse.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Jeb said. “I have her now.”

“It’s okay, Jeb. My mistake,” she offered. “I know better than to turn my back on an unfamiliar animal.”

She flashed a brief look at Wyatt as if he were the animal in question, then she bent to reexamine the mare’s fetlock the way she’d done everything this morning—with a methodical thoroughness and attention to detail that had frustrated him in the lab because he’d suspected her of deliberately stalling as she checked and rechecked each sample and then meticulously packaged and charted each vial. Slow and steady was very likely her modus operandi and not just a passive-aggressive ploy to get under his skin.

She finally stepped away from the mare and, ignoring Wyatt, approached the vet, who’d been watching Wyatt as much as he had the horse. “I’ll keep her.”

“She could jeopardize the safety of the other horses,” Wyatt objected.

“She’ll be quarantined until the test results come back.”

The vet nodded. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ll take care of the legalities. Can you send me the pictures documenting the abuse ASAP? I took some video with my cell phone and shot that off to the authorities. But detailed still shots will help our case.”

“I’ll get photos before and after I clean and treat her wounds, and I’ll email those and the lab results to you as soon as I’m done.”

Wyatt didn’t like the way this was playing out. “The mare’s suffering should end. Put her down. I’ll cover the cost.”

Hannah gripped Wyatt’s forearm. Her touch burned through his sleeve like tongues of fire. Heat licked up his limb and settled in his torso.

“If you don’t care about the mare, let me put it another way. To stand any chance of making the bastard who did this pay for his heinous crimes and to keep him from hurting another animal, we’ll need documentation. Not only was this mare beaten and malnourished, she was obviously living in filth. The judge has to see what a sadist her owner is or the jerk might be allowed to own and torture other animals. No creature deserves to live or die in those conditions. Please, Wyatt, let me do this for her.”

When she put it like that how could he refuse? Reports of abuse and neglect had been the top reasons he’d refused to put Sam in a facility. The mare, like Sam, deserved to be treated with dignity.

Her movements slow and deliberate, Hannah approached the mare and smoothed a hand down the white blaze. The horse shied away, tossing her head and almost knocking Hannah over, but the stupid woman wouldn’t quit. She kept sweet-talking and caressing until the horse tolerated her touch.

“Look at that face. She deserves a second chance, don’t you, girl?” Hannah’s eyes, soft and wide, beseeched him. “Give me two weeks. Unless she tests positive for something I can’t cure, I’ll prove to you, and to her, that she deserves a better life. When I’m done she’ll be healthier so someone else might be willing to foster her. Worst-case scenario, her final days will be good ones. She’ll be warm and clean and well-fed.”

Wyatt couldn’t care less about Hannah’s bedroom-soft purr or the horse’s face. He didn’t believe for one minute this spoiled rich girl had what it took to bring the mare back from near-death, but her point about final days got to him. That’s why he’d bought the farm for Sam.

“Two weeks. You pay for the costs, and no heroic measures.”

Relief softened Hannah’s expression. “Wait and see the miracles a little TLC can create.”

“I don’t believe in miracles.”

She shrugged. “Your loss. They happen every day.”

“That’s Pollyanna garbage.”

“Beats pessimism.”

The vet’s pager buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned at the message. “Hannah, darling, I have a colic call on the other side of the county. I have to go. Can you manage without me?”

“Jeb and I can handle her.”

Hannah flicked her fingers at Wyatt in a dismissive gesture. “You can go, too. I’m going to be busy here for a while. I’ll call you when I’m done, and if there’s still enough daylight left, you’ll get your tour. If not, I’ll make time tomorrow.”

The liability of her getting hurt on the job outweighed his disgust with the situation, and he couldn’t think of a better way to keep an eye on her than to help. “I’m not leaving. You’ll be shorthanded without Doc.”

Hannah frowned. Her mouth opened, then closed as if she’d considered arguing but had changed her mind. “If you insist on staying, then go into the office and get my camera out of my desk drawer. You can take the before photographs while I get my suture kit. But stay out of my way.”

Her bossy tone reminded him that she was probably used to men jumping at her command. She’d learn quickly that he had no intention of being one of her minions.