Читать книгу His Rodeo Sweetheart - Pamela Britton - Страница 11

Chapter Five

“I’m Natalie Reynolds,” said a woman on a massive sorrel horse. She held out a hand wearing an odd-looking glove. Half leather, half crochet. “And this is my husband, Colt, since Claire seems too distracted to perform the introductions.”

Ethan glanced at Claire in time to see her eyes flick away, seemingly in humiliation, but what did she have to be embarrassed about?

“Nice to meet you.” Ethan shook Natalie’s hand, her horse snorting in protest at the sudden thrust of his arm. Might be big, but the horse still had the nerves of a Thoroughbred. Couldn’t deny it was a beauty, though. The animal looked almost wet its coat glistened so noticeably. When Claire had said her sister-in-law’s horses were worth a small fortune, she hadn’t been kidding.

“You’re the dog doctor, Adam tells me,” the woman said.

“MWDs—military working dogs.”

She nodded, her eyes the same color as a military ribbon. They projected friendliness, those eyes. “Ever work on horses?”

“Actually, yes.” Most people were like Claire. They had no clue that military veterinarians worked on all sorts of different animals. It all depended on the base where they were stationed. He could look at a cat one day, a bird the next, sometimes even cows. All that had changed, however. “I was attached to a cavalry unit once, nonactive, strictly for parade purposes, but it was fun traveling around with them.”

That was before. Pre-orders. Off to the Middle East. Life had never been the same since.

“Interesting,” Natalie said.

“But I’m not really tied to my veterinary career. My hope is to work for one of the big canine training facilities. I’d like to keep serving my country in a small way and that seems like the best way to do it.”

Claire looked impressed, then thoughtful. “That explains why you’re so willing to work with Thor.”

He forced himself to focus on Claire’s words, because that was who’d spoken. He stared into her eyes, observed the different specks of green in them. A distraction technique, one that he hoped would keep his hands from shaking yet again.

“That’s part of my master plan, anyway,” he admitted.

Focus.

He’d been hoping—damn, how he’d been hoping—a trip to the country might be just what his frazzled nerves needed. He realized too late he’d been kidding himself. Trev’s death was still too fresh. The things he’d witnessed still in the forefront of his mind. The helplessness he’d felt was something he would never forget.

Damn it.

“I think it might actually work out to have him stay here,” he heard Natalie say.

“No,” he interjected. Natalie drew back a bit and he realized he’d sounded a little terse. “Look, you’re really kind to even consider offering me a place to stay.” He caught the boy’s gaze, forcing a smile. “But I can’t accept.”

“Actually, you’d be doing us a favor.”

It was Claire’s brother who’d spoken, the man leaning forward and resting an arm on his saddle’s horn, saddle creaking in protest. “One of the owners Natalie rides for has decided to put her horse up for stud. We were just talking about how to handle that.” He pointed with his chin at his wife. “We both know a lot about horses, but we’re not breeding experts, and the stallion in question is worth a lot of money. We have a friend who’s a vet, but she’s pregnant and busy, and we have no business risking its health in the breeding shed, and so we need a professional to help us do it right. At least until we can find someone to do it permanently.”

Natalie was nodding as she fiddled with her reins. “I was explaining to my husband just yesterday that a lot of big show barns offer stallion service.” A strand of blond hair had escaped from beneath the black cap she wore. “It was kind of a long-range plan of ours to do the same, and then my owner called last week and she really doesn’t want to have to move her horse...”

“So we were thinking this would work out perfectly,” Colt finished. “We’d hire you as a consultant. You could advise us on what equipment to buy and what kind of facility we’ll need. And if you’re still here after we get it all done, you could be our stallion manager, at least until you decide to move on or we find another full-time veterinarian interested in the job. In between all that, you could work as our barn manager. You know, keep an eye on things when we’re gone on the weekends.”

“See?” Adam’s voice was full of smug satisfaction. “All settled.”

Ethan had a feeling the words were something Claire said on a regular basis and that Adam just parroted. Still, their offer was too generous to believe. “You really want me to work here?” He turned and anchored his gaze on Claire’s again. She seemed just as surprised as he did.

“Well, maybe.” Natalie splayed a hand in his direction. “We realize we only just met you, and this is way sudden. It’s sudden for us, too, so worst-case scenario, why don’t you stay a night and think about it? Adam tells us you’re kind of homeless right now.”

He was, but he still couldn’t take them up on such a generous offer.

“Look, it’s really nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t be comfortable imposing.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Colt said. “You’re a brother in arms. Or didn’t you know I was in the Army, too? I wouldn’t dare let a combat veteran stay in a strange hotel, not when we have a perfectly good place for you to bed down for the night.”

“There’s an apartment over the barn.” Natalie’s smile grew. “It’s nothing big, but it’s new and it’s perfect for a single man. Colt and Claire’s brother will be living there when he gets discharged in a few months.”

“Please?” Adam said, coming up and smiling at him. “It’d be a big help to my mom.”

He realized then that the boy didn’t want him to stay for selfish reasons. This wasn’t about having a cool new adventure learning how to train dogs. This was, and always had been, about making sure his mom didn’t have to deal with Thor all on her own. The boy worried about his mother, just as she probably worried about him. They were looking out for each other. He had no idea why that made him feel weird inside, but it did.

He inhaled deeply. He didn’t want to do it. There were a million reasons why he shouldn’t—his recent anxiety attacks, his horrible dreams, his need to get on with his life, but most of all, his hatred of being a burden on people.

But there was one reason why he should do it. Actually two.

He looked into Claire’s eyes, and then her son’s.

“Okay. I guess I’ll stay.”

* * *

“YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE made such a big deal about it.” Claire stared at her son. Thank God they were back in her own house and Ethan at her brother’s place. “The poor man probably felt so guilty about saying no, he didn’t think he had a choice.”

Her son sat in the same chair he had when she’d broken the news to him about his illness a year ago. He’d lost his hair somewhere in between, but the light from the kitchen window behind him revealed a peach-fuzz scalp. He looked better. Less pale. Maybe a little more flushed than she would like to see, but so much better than at the start of this whole mess.

“Well?” she asked, because he just sat there staring up at her.

“You need help, Mommy.”

The kid knew how to work her, that’s for sure. All he had to do was call her mommy.

“No, I don’t need help. We have plenty of help between Uncle Colt and Aunt Natalie and their friends. And Uncle Chance will be back soon. We’re fine.”

“Uncle Colt and Aunt Natalie are too busy, and Uncle Chance isn’t coming home for three more months.” He said three more months as if it were a whole lifetime, and in his world, it probably was. “One more person would be good. You could go to town and things.”

Go to town: code words for stop worrying about me. He might be six, but her son had the wisdom of someone five times his age. She couldn’t help worrying about him, though. The doctors watched Adam like a hawk. Blood samples could be taken locally, but they made the trip to Los Angeles to speak to his oncologist about the results and any adjustments that would need to be made to the myriad of medications they had him on. It served as a constant reminder that her son was in a battle for his life. So, yes, maybe she was a tad overprotective, but that was her job.

“Buddy, we’re doing fine, aren’t we?” Claire leaned forward in her rickety wooden chair that’d been in her family for generations and had seen better days. Her whole house had seen better days. “I mean, it’s not near as crazy as before, right? It’s okay.”

Before—when he’d been undergoing treatment. Before her life had fallen apart and the center of her world—her son—had nearly died. Not just once, but twice. Midnight trips to the hospital. Long stays while they fought to get his immune system sorted out. Weeks on end of never sleeping in their own beds.

“At least we’re home more.” She glanced around the kitchen. It was a mess. So were the family room and bedrooms. Adam was still being homeschooled. Until his immune system got back up to normal levels, it was better for him. Honestly, though, she liked him at home. Her life was chaotic. Dogs in the morning, each of whom needed to be taken out and exercised individually, then homeschooling, something she’d thought would be easy but had turned out to be hard, then back to work with the dogs, the office work in the afternoon because her “job” was to place the dogs in her care, and then work at her other job: graphic artist. Then it was back to work with Adam, then dinner, then bed, rinse, repeat. Unless there was a doctor’s appointment—

“Mom?”

She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even realized her son had spoken, and whatever it was he’d said must have been pretty important judging by the seriousness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, bud. What did you say?”

She held back a chuckle when he said, “Jeez, were you even listening?” as a teenager would have said. Too much television.

She didn’t bother trying to conceal her guilt. “Nope.”

He released an exaggerated sigh that was so much like the old Adam that she smiled.

“I worry about you, Mommy. You’re doing too much. There’s all that paperwork about Dad. The dogs. Me. I’m not a little boy anymore. I can take care of myself.”

The paperwork for Dad. She was part of a lawsuit against the makers of the vaccine that’d made Marcus so sick. Yes, she admitted, Adam was right. That was a lot of work, too. But he was wrong about one thing. He was still a little boy. He might have seen more in this past year—friends dying, his mom’s grieving, the harsh realities of life—than most people saw in a lifetime, but he would always be her little man. Always.

“Don’t worry about me.” She touched his chin. “I’m doing just fine.”

“That’s what every parent says until they drop dead from a heart attack.”

The words were uttered so seriously and so matter-of-factly that she ended up smiling.

“I’m taking care of myself.” Okay, so maybe she wasn’t. She needed more sleep. Truth be told, she always felt so tired. And she would love some time for herself just as Adam suggested. To know that the dogs were taken care of and Adam looked after so she could escape into town to do a little window-shopping. All things she could hypothetically do right now, except she never did.

“All right.” She sighed deeply. “I’ll tell you what. When Dr. McCall comes over tomorrow morning I’ll let him take care of the dogs for me. You can stay with me and help and I’ll run into town for some errands.”

Her son’s whole face lit up and only in that moment did she truly understand just how much he’d been fretting over her.

“He said to call him Ethan. And that sounds like a deal.”

Yes, she admitted, he had said to call him that, but for some reason, it felt better—safer—to add the doctor title in front of his name. He was here temporarily, after all. She wasn’t going to become friends with him. Well, okay, she’d be friendly, but that was it.

Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.