Читать книгу Bittersweet - Laura Browning - Страница 6

Chapter 3

Anna gripped the steering wheel of her truck like a drowning man holding on to a life preserver. Chris lounged in the passenger seat, describing the farm as they drove to the barn. She was thankful he seemed to be unaware of any undercurrents. This had been such a bad idea. She should never have agreed to breakfast. Now his presence was almost overpowering in the confines of the truck.

Last night had been one thing, but everything had shifted when she’d awakened on that porch to find him watching her with those silvery eyes of his. She should have kept their encounters on a business-only footing. What on earth had she been thinking to even take the job here in Redfield? She knew Stevenson lived in the area. She should never have brought Becca here. Too much was at stake, but her other job opportunity had been far too close to where she had grown up.

At the time, being close to her family had seemed to be the greater evil. Now she wasn’t sure. She had thought she was immune to him, her hero-worship a thing of the past. And that part of her attraction was, but she couldn’t deny the tug she felt every time she looked at him. She’d have to keep any contact with the Stevensons to a bare minimum, invent some excuse so Jim or one of the other vets took any future calls here.

When they reached the barn, Anna jumped from the truck and grabbed her barn clogs from the backseat. She didn’t bother with the coveralls since she was just rechecking the stitches and getting away would be much faster if she didn’t take time to change.

“Whoa!” Chris ordered from behind her as she rushed down the aisle. “Why the hurry?”

Anna glanced over her shoulder at his lean, tanned face. He had the looks and the body of a god, or perhaps a fallen angel might be more appropriate. And he looked much better than he had a year ago. No matter what her body’s response to him, he would never be the man for Anna, but most importantly, she couldn’t afford for him to be anything to her. Becca had to come first.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, slowing. When she started to enter the stallion’s stall, Chris stopped her.

“Better let me bring him, he can be a bit testy.”

The stallion flicked his ears and stared at them. Anna scowled, but waited as Chris led the big horse to the crossties and snapped them on each side of his halter.

She should have been used to the overprotective male syndrome. For some reason it seemed to follow diminutive women throughout life, but it hadn’t her, at least not until recently. Bart fidgeted, no doubt as irritated for his own reasons as she was. Anna once again approached him from the front and let him smell her. As he lowered his head and relaxed, she stroked along his body and back to the hip she’d stitched.

“Would you bring me the mounting block, so I can get a closer look?”

Chris’s hands bracketed her waist and she stiffened with outrage. Part of her reaction stemmed from the instantaneous response she felt at even this simple touch. Her breasts throbbed, and heat coiled through her core. As he lifted her off the floor, outrage turned to genuine anger. All her life, people had treated her like a kid because she was short. This was different than trying to be courteous. She’d had to prove herself over and over again, especially in a family of athletic amazons where misfit didn’t even begin to describe how different she was.

“Put. Me. Down,” Anna snapped. “I am not a child.”

The stallion skittered at her sharp tone.

“Don’t get bent out of shape. I was trying to help.” He dropped her to her feet. “By all means, let me back off.”

Anna glared at him. How dare he look as if he’d been the one wounded? “You would never do such a thing for a male veterinarian.”

He arched a brow. “I wouldn’t need to. A male veterinarian would be tall enough to do his damn job,” Chris retorted.

Anna thought she would burst a blood vessel. “I can do my job fine. Now, are you going to bring the mounting block or do I need to get a stool from my truck?”

Chris’s eyes narrowed. So she had roused his anger as well. “That’s an interesting tone to take with a client, don’t you think, Dr. Barlow?” He spun on his heel and stepped around the corner to the wash stall. After setting the mounting block next to the stallion, he leaned against the wall, arms folded across his broad, muscular chest.

That’s right. Keep away. Distance was a good thing.

Anna ignored his slouching form and stepped up to look at the wound. Everything else faded as she entered her world, her element, the place where she felt at ease. The animals and the science possessed her. She pressed on the area around the wound with as much gentleness as she could. The stitches appeared to be holding and there was no sign of heat or swelling.

She climbed down and turned to Stevenson, who still looked at her with narrowed, icy gray eyes. She would not be intimidated, but he was right about one thing–he was one of the clinic’s most important clients. Arrogant man! And she’d pissed him off. She would have to deal with the consequences.

“Everything looks fine. If you want to turn him out, that might be better than keeping him hemmed up. Make sure someone checks him twice a day. If there are any problems with the stitches, call the clinic. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a week to see if he’s ready to have them removed. Do you have any questions?”

“No, ma’am,” he drawled in a rich southern accent as dripping in sarcasm as honeyed sweetness.

“I need to be on my way.” She paused. “Do you need a ride?”

He studied her in a way designed to make her bristle. “No, I have plenty of riding to do right here.”

Anna hurried from the barn and jumped into the truck. She wanted to get Becca and go home. Maybe if she spoke to Jim Douglas, he’d arrange things in such a way she wouldn’t have to handle any calls at Fincastle Farm. But as one of their largest equine clients, she knew that idea wouldn’t fly. Even so, she would still have to speak with him. There was no telling what Chris might say to him, and she couldn’t afford to lose her job.

She had calmed by the time she reached the big white house. After changing out of her barn clogs, she climbed the steps. Liz was seated in a rocking chair in the sitting room, cradling a sleeping Becca in her arms. Anna nibbled on her lower lip as she walked inside the room. Allowing her daughter to spend time with the older woman might not have been the best idea for most of the same reasons she needed to avoid Chris.

“Thank you, Mrs. Stevenson, for breakfast and for watching Becca.” Anna refused an invitation to join them for dinner the following weekend, inventing chores as an excuse. As she collected the baby’s paraphernalia, Anna smiled at the older woman. “You’ve been very kind. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble, dear.” Liz returned her smile. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

Anna ducked her head. “Thank you.”

As she drove past the barn area, she saw someone schooling a horse in the ring off to the side. Chris. She would have recognized his riding style anywhere. The wall of her bedroom had been plastered with photos of him and other riders when she was a teenager. Anna turned her face away. That was a lifetime ago. She had other priorities that put a riding superstar like Chris Stevenson way, way out of her orbit. And it needed to stay that way.

She stopped at the clinic on the way home, glad to get her mind on business as she completed the paperwork on Chris’s stud and the colic case from the previous night. Becca grew fussy, and by the time they reached Anna’s rented house, the baby had launched into an angry, colicky wail. For a moment, Anna allowed herself the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. There were some times when it would have been nice to have someone around to help, even just to tell her everything would be okay.

Right. Time to suck it up and move on. She’d spent her entire life doing that, so this should be no different.

She had two appointments scheduled Monday with potential daycare providers, but she wasn’t sure how that was going to work. Becca had yet to accept a bottle. As the baby slept in the swing, Anna pumped milk. If she hadn’t felt like a dairy bar before, she thought, the breast-pumping machine drove the point home with its rhythmic whirring.

Anna tried the bottle again when Becca awoke, but the baby refused to take it, instead turning her head toward Anna’s covered breasts and making irritated smacking sounds. Anna slumped her shoulders and gave in. Tears of frustration and fatigue trickled down her cheeks as she leaned her head back in the overstuffed chair. She loved Becca so much, but sometimes the baby left her drained.

The first daycare she visited the following day was out of the question. Toys and books were scattered over the floor, and while some untidiness might be expected with small children around, Anna was not convinced about its cleanliness. The second place she pulled up to was an in-home facility in a quiet area not too far from the clinic. An older woman answered the door and invited her in. Anna liked what she saw. There were only a handful of children and a quiet young woman helped with the toddlers.

The older woman gave her a tour and explained how she structured things and what she provided. She was licensed by the state and had been for ten years. Her credentials sounded good to Anna, and Becca even seemed content to look around.

“There is one problem,” Anna admitted toward the end of the interview. “Becca is breastfed, and I have not been able to get her to take a bottle.”

The older woman smiled at her. “I’ve run into that before. Have you tried getting someone else to feed her?”

“That’s just it,” Anna admitted “There is no one else to help. Every time I try it, she ignores the bottle and turns toward me.”

“It’s not uncommon. Do you happen to have a bottle with you?”

Anna opened the diaper bag and grabbed one. “Yes, I did bring one.”

“Excuse me a minute and I’ll warm this.”

Anna looked after her with curiosity. In a moment, the woman was back and gave her a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you step inside the kitchen for a moment, and I’ll call you.”

Anna did as requested, her curiosity aroused. She peeked around the corner after about five minutes and looked in to find Becca cradled in the older woman’s arms, sucking at the bottle.

“Stand over there where she can’t see you, Dr. Barlow,” the older woman instructed.

“What did you do?” Anna whispered.

The older woman chuckled. “Nothing. Becca just knows the difference between the bottle and the real thing. Why should she take an artificial nipple when you’re right there? Without you present, she can focus on the milk in the bottle rather than the milk in your breasts.”

Anna had seen enough. The woman was a godsend. She collected the paperwork needed to enroll Becca and said she would be there the next morning.

Daycare might be a blessing. It would certainly make her life easier, but Anna couldn’t help the lump in her throat as she handed her daughter over the following morning.

“If you have any problems, just call me. The clinic’s not far away, and I always have my pager on…”

“We’ll get along just fine, Dr. Barlow.”

Anna nodded, biting her lower lip a little as she returned to her truck. She took a deep breath and glanced at her watch. She would be late if she didn’t go. Out of habit, she looked back to check the carseat, but Becca wasn’t there.

Anna headed straight for Jim Douglas’s office. The clinic’s senior veterinarian was seated behind his desk, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he studied the charts in front of him.

“Got a minute?” Anna asked.

“Sure, Anna. Come on in. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about this weekend.”

“Rough one on call?”

She prowled around Jim’s office. “Yes and no. I had to go to Fincastle Saturday night to stitch their stallion, Bart.”

“Nothing serious, I hope. Chris loves that stud.”

“Not too serious. Caught his hip on a gate, and it tore through the dermis. I think it will heal fine.”

Jim relaxed in his chair and removed his reading glasses. “What was the problem?”

Anna stopped her prowling and faced her boss. “I had a run-in with Mr. Stevenson. I’ll admit, I was rude to him. I’m afraid I might have made him angry.”

Jim rocked forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “Would you like to sit and explain what happened?”

After taking the seat across from him, Anna went through both visits, from Stevenson’s attitude Saturday night to the altercation on Sunday. She finished by looking at him and offering, “I’ll apologize if you want me to.”

Jim smiled. “If he complains, we’ll deal with the issue. But I don’t think you’ll need to worry. Let it blow over, Anna. Now, what I will tell you is I won’t cut you any breaks in working with our clients. If a call comes in and you’re the one available, you’ll handle it no matter who the client might be, unless they request otherwise. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” She might not be happy with his answer, but his response was what she had expected to hear. And at least now, she’d brought her concerns in the open.

Her calls that day were routine, and her schedule stayed on time despite one barn where they added in a couple of additional horses for Coggins tests. With the local show season getting underway, there were always owners who decided last minute they wanted to compete.

As she headed back to the clinic at the end of the day, Anna realized she wasn’t nearly as exhausted as she had been. Once she’d finished up her paperwork, she grabbed her keys and headed over to pick up Becca.

“So how did things go?” she asked as she came in.

The daycare owner looked up and smiled. “Not a hitch. She took the bottles with no problem whatsoever, but I think she’s ready for Mama now.”

Becca waved her arms and legs, squirming as she saw Anna.

“Hey, baby!” Anna laughed, feeling her heart turn over at how excited her daughter was to see her. “Did you miss me?”

She cuddled her close and pressed her lips to the baby’s cheek. Turning back to the older woman watching them, Anna said, “Thank you. You just can’t imagine how wonderful it feels to know she’s in such good hands.”

The only cloud on her horizon was Chris. The less she encountered him, the better. Still, she had to admit to a small pang when she thought that. And the pang surprised her, but who was she kidding? They’d had one brief encounter. He obviously didn’t remember, even if she did…but she couldn’t let herself go that road. That was the old Anna. She had more than herself to think about. She had Becca. Doing what was best for her daughter meant keeping Stevenson, and his family, as far away as possible.

So she put him out of her mind. She had a lot of calls that week, most of them routine. On Thursday, she accompanied Dr. Douglas to Pheasant Run to help with routine physical exams and health certificates for their jumper barn. Since the farm was another of the clinic’s major clients, Jim wanted her to meet the owners.

They had almost finished pulling Coggins tests when she heard a familiar voice in conversation with a woman behind her.

“Thanks, Wynter. You know you and Nelson are the only ones I would trust to campaign this mare for me.”

Chris Stevenson. Anna slid farther back along the horse she was examining. As short as she was, remaining unseen wasn’t too difficult. There were some advantages to being petite.

“I still don’t understand why you’re laying off, Chris,” the woman replied—Wynter Anderson, Anna wondered? She’d seen pictures of the tall redhead, wife of Nelson Anderson and an accomplished rider in her own right. They were about the same age, if she remembered what she’d read in The Horse Journal.

“I need a break, Wyn. I’m burned out.” The conversation paused as they reached the horse Anna and Jim were examining.

“I understand. Oh hi, Jim. How are you?” Wynter asked. “Thomas is still working with a client in the ring, but he mentioned you’d have your new colleague with you.”

Anna cringed. The last thing she wanted right now was to be noticed in any way. She did not want to see Chris in particular. In fact, after another rather awkward discussion with Jim, she had arranged things so he was going to check on Chris’s stud tomorrow. Now it looked as if she had no choice. As usual when she spent much time around a barn, she had managed to get dirt smudged all over her, and she knew she was sweating from the heat and the pace they’d set in order to get everything done.

“Anna,” Jim called over his shoulder. “Step around here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

She wiped her hands on her coveralls and stepped around to Wynter Anderson. The woman was even more beautiful in person, Anna thought as she was introduced.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Wynter smiled. “It’s about time Jim joined the twenty-first century and added a woman to the staff,” she added in a teasing voice.

Tension knotted in Anna’s stomach, but she smiled and tried to ignore the scowl Stevenson shot her way.

Wynter turned to him. “This is Chris Stevenson, Anna.”

“We’ve met,” Chris growled at the same time Anna spoke.

“I’ve met Mr. Stevenson, already.”

Wynter glanced between the two of them.

“Tell me about yourself, Anna. Are you married?”

“No,” she supplied, embarrassed at answering questions in front of Chris.

“Where’s Becca?” Chris interrupted, his silvery eyes cold as ice shards. “Surely not sitting in the truck on a day like today?”

Anna bristled at both his question and his tone but managed to control her temper. “No, Mr. Stevenson, Becca is not in the truck.”

“Anna was able to find an excellent daycare provider,” Jim Douglas added. “Right, Anna?”

She smiled in relief at her boss. “Yes. Becca loves it there.”

“You have a daughter?” Wynter asked.

Anna felt Chris still staring at her, but she ignored him. She was not going to let him intimidate her.

“Yes. Rebecca. She’s almost four months old now.”

“We’ll have to compare baby notes sometime. My youngest is turning one, and the boys are five.”

Anna smiled and shifted back and forth. Stevenson still glared at her.

“Come to the ring, Chris,” Wynter suggested. “I want you to see the young mare Nelson’s working.” She turned to Anna. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thanks.” Anna’s smile felt a bit more natural. Inside, though, she was a mess. She wanted to leave, or at least get away on her own for a minute or two.