Читать книгу 'Tis the Season - Robyn Carr - Страница 8

Two

The puppies were found on Monday and Nate managed to stay away from the bar on Tuesday, but by Wednesday he was back there right about dinnertime. He told himself he had a vested interest—they might be about a hundredth the size of his usual patients, but he had more or less treated them. At least he’d looked at them and judged the care Annie recommended to be acceptable. In which case he didn’t really need to check on them. But Jack’s was a decent place to get a beer at the end of the day, and that fire was nice and cozy after a long day of tromping around farms and ranches, rendering treatment for horses, cows, goats, sheep, bulls and whatever other livestock was ailing.

But then there was Annie.

She was no longer a skinny, flat-chested, fuzzy-haired metal-mouth. Something he’d been reminding himself of for more than twenty-four hours. The jury was still out on whether she was a pain in the butt. He suspected she was.

She was tall for a woman—at least five-ten in her stocking feet—with very long legs. That carrot top was no longer bright orange—maybe the miracle of Miss Clairol had done the trick. In any case, her hair was a dark auburn she wore in a simple but elegant cut that framed her face. It was sleek and silky and swayed when her head moved. Her eyes were almost exotic—dark brown irises framed by black lashes and slanting shapely brows. And there was a smattering of youthful freckles sprinkled over her nose and cheeks, just enough to make her cute. But that mouth, that full, pink, soft mouth—that was gonna kill him. He hadn’t seen a mouth like that on a woman in a long time. It was spectacular.

She was a little bossy, but he liked that in a woman. He wondered if he should seek therapy for that. But no—he thrived on the challenge of it. Growing up with three older sisters, he’d been fighting for his life against determined females his entire life. Meek and docile women had never appealed to him and he blamed Patricia, Susan and Christina for that.

The very first thing Nate noticed when he walked into the bar on Wednesday was that Annie was not there. He smiled with superiority. Hah! He should have known. She talked Jack and Preacher into keeping eight tiny puppies—a labor-intensive job—promising to help, and was a no-show. He went over to the box and counted them. Seven. Then he went up to the bar.

“Hey, Jack,” he said. “Lose one?”

“Huh?” Jack said, giving the counter a wipe. “Oh, no.” He laughed and shook his head. “Annie took one back to Preacher’s laundry room for a little fluff and buff. He mussed his diaper, if you get my drift. It’s the littlest, weakest one.”

“Oh,” Nate responded, almost embarrassed by his assumption. “He hanging in there?”

“Oh, yeah. And wouldn’t you know—Christopher has decided that that one is his. Comet. Annie tried to talk him into falling in love with a stronger, heartier pup, but the boy’s drawn to the one most likely not to make it.”

Nate just laughed. “It was that way for me,” he said. “I was older, though. We had the most beautiful Australian Kelpie—chocolate brown, silky coat, sweet face, ran herd on everything. My dad had her bred and promised me a pup. Out of her litter of six, I picked the runt and practically had to hand-feed him for weeks. The other pups kept pushing him off the tit. I was fifteen and, probably not coincidentally, also small for my age. I named him Dingo. He was big and tough by the time I was through with him, and he lived a long life for a hardworking Kelpie. We lost him just a few years ago. He lived to be fifteen. ’Course, he spent his last four years lying by the fire.”

“You’d think a boy would pick the strongest in the pack.”

“Nah.” Nate snorted. “We don’t feel that strong, so we empathize. Can I trouble you for a beer?”

“Sorry, Nate—I wasn’t thinking. Fact is, I’ve been sitting on our nest on and off all day. I have a whole new appreciation for what you do.”

“Have they been a lot of trouble?”

“Well, not really, just time-consuming,” Jack said. “They eat every three hours or so, then their bedding has to be changed, then they nap, then they eat. And so on. Kind of like regular babies. Except there are eight of them and half of them need encouragement to eat. Plus, every so often, you have to check that they’re not too warm or too cold. I don’t want to freeze ’em or cook ’em. And the bar’s getting lots more company during the day—visitors to the litter. Since they’re here, they decide to eat and drink—more serving, cooking and cleanup than usual. Other than that, piece of cake. And if I ever find the SOB that left ’em under the tree, I’m going to string him up by his—”

“Well, hey, Doc Jensen,” a female voice sang out.

Nate turned to see Annie come out the back of the bar, Christopher trailing so closely that if she stopped suddenly, he’d have crashed into her. She carried a furry ball of black-and-white that fit perfectly into her palm. Looking at her, he realized he hadn’t remembered her quite accurately. Or rather, quite enough. Tall, curvaceous, high cheekbones, soft dark auburn hair swinging along her jaw, long delicate fingers... She was beautiful. And her figure in a pair of snug jeans and turquoise hoodie with a deep V-neck just knocked him out. Where the heck had this girl been hiding?

And why was he, a man who could appreciate cleavage and tiny bikinis, suddenly seeing the merits in jeans, boots and hoodies?

Then he remembered she’d been hiding in a little hair salon in Fortuna, under a pink smock.

He picked up his beer and wandered over to the hearth. Christopher and Annie sat on opposite sides of the box, which left no place for him, so he stood there in the middle.

Annie passed Chris the puppy. “Hold him for just a minute, then snuggle him back in with his brothers and sisters,” she said. “It’s good for him to be part of his family. They give him more comfort than we can right now.”

“A little maintenance?” Nate asked.

Annie looked up at him and smiled. “This is the part that gets to be a bother—without a mother dog to change their diapers and keep them clean, by the end of the day they’re looking a little worse for wear. Some of them actually needed washing up. My dad always used to say a little poop never hurt a puppy, but you let that go long enough and it will. Gets them all ugly and matted and sick.”

“You bathed him?”

“Four of them, without dunking them,” she said. “Can’t let them get cold. Preacher’s wife loaned her blow-dryer to the cause. Okay, Chris, he’s been away from home long enough now.” She reached into the box and pushed some puppies aside to make room, and Chris gently put his puppy into the pile. “They’ll be ready to eat again in about an hour. Why don’t you get back to your homework, or dinner, or chores, or whatever your folks have in mind.”

“Okay, Annie,” he said.

And Nate fought a smile as Chris vacated his place on the hearth. But before he sat down he asked Annie, “Can I buy you a beer? Or something else?”

She tilted her head and smiled at him. “I wouldn’t mind a beer, thanks.” He was back with a cold one for her in just moments and sat down opposite her. “I think they’re doing okay here,” she said to him.

He wasn’t a hard-hearted guy, but he only pretended interest in the pups, picking one up and then another, looking at their little faces. He’d rather be looking at her, but didn’t want to seem obvious. “Were you here yesterday?” he asked, studying a puppy, rather than her.

“Uh-huh,” she said, sipping her beer. “Ah, that’s very nice. Thanks.”

“You planning to come every day?” he asked.

“If I can swing it,” she said. “I kind of made a deal—if they wouldn’t hand them over to some shelter, I’d do my part. These little guys are just too cute and vulnerable. They could turn into impetuous Christmas presents, no matter how carefully the shelter volunteers screen the potential owners. And look at their markings—I’d say Australian-shepherd-and-border-collie mix. Outstanding herders. They should find good homes around here, and they’ll be glad to work for a living.”

Nate lifted his eyebrows. “Good guess,” he said. “You get off work before five?” he found himself asking.

“Not usually. I have a small shop in Fortuna—six chairs. It’s a franchise—my franchise. So I’m responsible, plus I have a large client list and it’s Christmastime. But I’m moving appointments around the best I can—a few of my clients will take another stylist in a pinch. And I’ve been training an assistant manager, so she’s getting thrown into the deep end of the pool because of these puppies. And I’m doing my puppy laundry and paperwork at midnight.”

“What kind of paperwork?” he asked.

“The kind you have with a small business—receipts, receivables, bills, payroll. Jack and Preacher are managing real well during the day when it’s sort of quiet around here, but when it gets busy at the dinner hour, they need a hand. And you heard Jack—he’s not washing puppy sheets with his napkins.” She smiled and sipped her beer. “We should all take comfort in that, I guess.”

“I guess.” He smiled. “How’d you end up with a beauty shop?”

“Oh, that’s not interesting. I’d rather hear about what you do. I grew up around animals and being a vet is my fantasy life. You’re living my dream.”

“Then why didn’t you pursue it?” he asked.

“Well, for starters, I had exactly two years of college and my GPA was above average, but we both know it takes way more than that to get into veterinary college. Isn’t it harder to get into veterinary college than medical school?”

“So I hear,” he said. “So, after two years of college...?”

She laughed and sipped her beer. “One of my part-time jobs was grooming dogs. I loved it. Loved it. The only thing I didn’t love was going home a grimy, filthy mess and not exactly getting rich. But I saw the potential and needed to make a living. I couldn’t focus on a course of study in college, so I went to beauty school, worked a few years, hit my folks up for a loan to buy a little shop, and there you have it. I do hair on two-legged clients now. And it’s working just fine.”

“And your love of animals?”

“I stop by this little bar every evening and babysit a bunch of orphaned puppies for a few hours,” she said with a laugh. “I still have a couple of horses at the farm. My dad got rid of the livestock years ago except for Erasmus, a very old, very lazy, very ill-tempered bull who my dad says will outlive us all. They’re down to two dogs, my mom keeps some chickens and their summer garden is just amazing. But it was once a thriving dairy farm, plus he grew alfalfa and silage for feed.”

“Why isn’t it still a thriving farm?” he asked.

“No one to run it.”

“Your brothers don’t want the farm life?”

“Nope,” she said. “One’s a high-school teacher and coach, one’s a physical therapist in sports medicine and one’s a CPA. All married with kids and working wives. All moved to bigger towns. And the closest one lives a few hours away.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You sound like you love the farm. You love animals. You still have a couple of horses at your parents’ farm....”

She smiled. “I’d be real happy to take on the farm, but that’s not a good idea. Not the best place for me.”

“Why not? If you like it.”

She cocked her head and smirked. “Single, twenty-eight-year-old woman, living with Mom and Dad on the farm, building up the herd and plowing the fields. Picture it.”

“Well, there’s always help,” he said. “Hired hands for the rough stuff.”

She laughed. “Rough stuff doesn’t scare me, but I can’t think of a better way to guarantee I’ll turn into an old maid. My social life is dull enough, thanks.”

“There are ways around that,” he pointed out. “Trips. Vacations. Visitors. That sort of thing. Something to break up the isolation a little.”

“That’s right—that’s what I heard. Before I knew who you were, I heard Jack ask you if you had your plane tickets yet and you said something about Nassau, a Club Med vacation and lots of string bikinis. Right?”

For some reason he couldn’t explain, that embarrassed him slightly. “No, no. I don’t know anything about that Club Med stuff. A buddy of mine, Jerry from vet school, set up a get-together over Christmas with our old study group. We’ve only been in touch by email and haven’t been together since graduation. The Nassau part is fact, the string-bikinis part is fantasy. I’m planning to do some scuba diving, snorkeling, some fishing. I haven’t been away in a while.” He laughed. “Frankly, I haven’t been warm in a while.”

“You don’t get together with your family over the holidays?” she asked.

“Oh, they were gracious enough to invite me to join them all on a cruise. All of them,” he stressed. “My folks, three sisters and brothers-in-law, four nephews and two nieces. It’s going to be hell to give up all that shuffleboard, but I’ll manage somehow.”

“Do they ever come back here?” she asked. “You know—to the old homestead? Where you all grew up?”

“Frequently. They move in, take over, and I move out to the stable and take up residence in the vet tech’s quarters.”

“You and the tech must be on very good terms.”

He grinned at her. “She’s married and lives in Clear River, but we keep quarters for her for those times we have cases that are going to need attention through the night. She was my dad’s assistant before he retired. She’s like a member of the family.” Then he studied her face. Was that relief? “The family was all home for Thanksgiving,” he went on to explain. “It was great to see them all, and boy was I glad when they left. It’s madness. I have really good brothers-in-law, though. At least my sisters did that much for me.”

She sipped her beer. “You must be looking forward to your vacation. When do you leave?”

“The twenty-third. Till the second of January. I plan to come home tanned and rested.” And with any luck, he thought, sexually relaxed. Then he instantly felt his face grow hot and thought, Why the hell did I think that? He wasn’t typically casual about sex. He was actually very serious about it.

Annie peered at him strangely. “Dr. Jensen, are you blushing?”

He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to be so formal, Annie. Nate is fine. Is it a little warm by this fire?”

“I hadn’t noticed, but—”

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No. I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“Let’s grab that table, right there close by, before anyone else gets it. I’m going to tell Jack we want dinner. How about that?”

“Fine,” she said. “That sounds fine. By the time we’re finished, Chris will be back, ready to feed his puppy.”

* * *

Through the rest of that first week the puppies seemed to do just fine. Thrived in fact. So did Annie, and she hoped it didn’t show all over her face. There was no particular reason for Nate to show up day after day; the pups weren’t sick, didn’t need medical care and he hadn’t made the commitment to help that she had. Yet he returned on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. She’d love to believe he was there to see her, but it seemed such a far-fetched idea. So highly unlikely that she could interest a man like him through this odd doggie-day-care-in-a-bar that she wouldn’t allow herself to even think about it.

But he was there by six every day, right about the time she finished her puppy chores. He always bought her a beer, then Jack provided dinner, which they ate together at a table near the hearth. They talked and laughed while catching up on their families and all the locals they knew, getting to know each other in general. Although she knew this friendship would probably fade and disappear by the time the puppies were adopted, and even though traipsing out to that bar every day was wearing her out, she was enjoying his company more than she could admit even to herself.

“Did you always plan to come back here? To take over your father’s practice?” Annie asked him one evening.

“Nope,” he said. “Wasn’t part of my plan at all. First of all, I prefer Thoroughbreds to cows. I wanted to treat them, breed them, show them, race them. I did a couple of years’ residency in equine orthopedics, worked in a big practice in Kentucky, then in a real lucrative practice outside Los Angeles. Then my dad wanted to retire. He’d put in his time—he’s seventy-five now. Years back, he and my mom bought a horse property in a nice section of Southern Arizona, but they wanted to keep the house and stable, not to mention the vet practice, in the family. You have any idea how hard it is to build a practice with these tough old farmers and ranchers?” He chuckled. “The name Nathaniel Jensen goes a long way around here, even though I am the upstart.”

“So here you are...back at the family practice?” she asked. But she was thinking that he’d been rubbing elbows with big-money horse people. Society people, whom she’d seen at a distance at certain competitions and fairs, but knew none of. She’d been riding since she could walk, took lessons and competed in dressage, and so was more than a little familiar with the kind of wealth associated with breeding, racing and showing Thoroughbreds. The well-to-do could send their daughters to Europe for lessons, fly their horses to Churchill Downs in private planes and invest millions in their horse farms. Humboldt County farm girls couldn’t compete with that. She swallowed, feeling not a little out of her league.

“I said I’d give it a chance. My plan was to put in a year or two, save some money, maybe break in a new guy with an interest in the stable and practice. But I haven’t gotten around to that and it’s been two years.”

“I see,” she said. “You’re still planning to leave?”

“I don’t have to tell you what’s great about this place.” He smiled. “And I think I don’t have to tell you what’s missing. It’s kind of a quiet life for a bachelor. Remember that dull social life you mentioned?”

“How could I forget?” she threw back at him.

“You seeing someone?” he asked suddenly, surprising her.

“Hmm? No. No, not at the moment. You?”

“No. Date much?” he asked.

Startled, she just shook her head. “Not much. Now and then.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Ah. The vacation. Getting away to see if you can jump-start your social life a little bit?”

He just smiled. “Couldn’t hurt. And it’ll be nice to catch up with friends. We were real tight in vet school. We got each other through a lot of exams.”

“How many of you are going?” she asked.

“Five men, including me, two of them married and bringing wives. Two women vets.”

“Women vets? Married?”

“One’s still single and one’s divorced.”

“Gotcha,” she said. “I bet one’s an old girlfriend.”

“Nah,” he said.

“Come on—didn’t you ever date one?”

“I think I dated both of them. Briefly. We worked out better as study partners than...well, than anything else.” He took a drink. “Really, I want to fish.”

She took a last bite of her dinner. “Fishing is real good around here,” she said.

“I fish the rivers here. A little deep-sea fishing sounded like a good idea. Some sun would be acceptable. I have golf clubs,” he said with a laugh. “I used to play a lot of golf in L.A. Yeah,” he mused, “a little sunshine won’t hurt.”

After a moment she reminded him with a smile, “And soon you’ll be lying on a beach in the middle of a hundred string bikinis.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said with a grin. “Maybe I should do more fishing around here if I want to catch the big one.”

* * *

By the time Sunday rolled around, Annie was back at the farm. She went early in the day so she could drop by the bar later that afternoon. Today, so close to Christmas, she was baking with her mother all day—breads, pastries, cookies to be frozen for the barrage of company—but she would have her dinner at the bar. Because of the puppies, of course.

“You’re very quiet, Annie,” her mother said. “I think you’re letting this adventure with the puppies wear you out. You’ve always had such a tender heart.”

“I am tired,” she admitted, rolling out cookie dough. “I’m getting up extra early, starting at the shop earlier so I can leave earlier, staying up late to finish work. And you know I won’t leave my house alone—I’m decorating for Christmas. I’ve been doing a little here and there, before and after work.”

“Then you shouldn’t be out here two days a week,” Rose McKenzie said. “Really, I appreciate the help, but I’m not too old to do the holiday baking.”

“I count on our baking as gifts,” Annie said. “So I’m glad to help.

“I didn’t realize we had a new and improved Doc Jensen,” she went on, changing the subject. “I thought it was still old Doc Jensen who came for the horses and Erasmus when you needed a vet. But when he stopped to look at the puppies, he explained he was Nathaniel Junior. You never mentioned.”

“Oh, sure we did, honey. His coming home was good gossip there for a while. He had some woman living with him, but she took off like a scalded cat. I don’t think we talked about anything else for months.”

“A woman? When was that?”

“A couple years ago. Some fancy young Hollywood girl,” Rose said with an indulgent laugh. “We ran into them a few times—at the fair, the farmers’ market, here and there.” Her mother was kneading dough as she chattered. “You know, you don’t run into people that often around here. They could’ve been here a year before anyone met her, but Nathaniel had her out and about. Probably trying to help her get acquainted. But it didn’t work too well, I guess.”

“I’m sure I would have remembered, Mom. I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”

Rose looked skyward briefly, trying to remember. “That might’ve been about the time you were preoccupied with other things. Like buying the Clip and Curl shop. And then there was Ed, and that ordeal with Ed. You might’ve had other things on your mind.”

Ed. Yes, Ed. She hadn’t exactly been engaged, thank God, but they’d been an item for about a year and she’d expected to be engaged. They had talked about marriage. She laughed humorlessly. “That could have distracted me a little,” Annie agreed.

“The bum,” Rose McKenzie muttered, punching dough more aggressively than necessary. “He’s a pig and a fool and a liar and a...a bum!”

Loving it, Annie laughed. “He’s really not a bum. He works hard and earns a good living, which it turned out he needed for all the women he had on a string. But I concede to pig, liar and fool, and I’m certainly not missing him. The louse,” she added. “I can’t remember now—why was it we didn’t let the boys shoot him in the head?”

“I can’t remember exactly, either,” Rose said. “I knew all along he wasn’t right for you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Annie argued. “You had me trying on your wedding dress about once a month, asking me constantly if we’d talked about a date. You expected him to give me a ring.”

“I just thought if...”

Ed was in farm-equipment sales and had a very broad territory in Northern California, a job that had him on the road most of the week. Then she learned that for the entire time they’d dated, Ed was involved with another woman in Arcata. About six months ago he’d decided it was time to make a choice, and he chose the other woman.

Ouch.

Annie’s pride was hurt, but worse than hurt pride was her embarrassment. How had this been going on without her getting so much as a whiff of it? When she hadn’t seen him, she had talked to him every single day. He never betrayed the slightest hint that she was not the only female in his life. And it made her furious to think he’d been with another woman while he was with her. She even drove to Arcata to sneak a look at her, but she couldn’t figure out, based on looks, just what it was that won her the great prize that was Ed.

Before she could ponder that for long, that Arcata woman found her, looked her up, informed her they weren’t the only two. Ed, as it happened, was quite the dabbler. He had at least one other steady girlfriend to spend the nights with.

Her tears had turned to fumes. She threw out everything that reminded her of him. She bought all new bedding and towels. Went to the doctor and got a clean bill of health. But at the end of the day when she grieved, it wasn’t so much for Ed as for the idea of Ed; she had invested a year in a man she thought would give her the stability of marriage and family, a settled life. The dependence of love. Security. When she thought about Ed, she wanted to dismember him. She wanted her brothers to go after him and beat him senseless. But not only would she never take him back, she’d cross the street to avoid him. So maybe Rose was right—maybe they both really knew all along he just wasn’t the one.

But neither was anyone else. She hadn’t been out on five dates since the breakup a little more than six months ago, and the number of boyfriends she’d had before Ed had come along were too few to count. She went out with her girlfriends regularly, but the best part of her life was spending a couple of days on the farm, riding, cooking or baking or putting up preserves with her mom.

The farmhouse had a wide porch that stretched the length of the house, and from that porch you could watch the seasons come and go. The brightness of spring, the lushness of summer, the burnt color of fall, the white of winter. She watched the year pass from that porch, as she had since she was a little girl. But lately it seemed as though the years were passing way too quickly and she wondered if she’d ever find the right partner to sit there with rather than alone.

A Hollywood woman? A fancy Hollywood woman? That would explain things like Caribbean vacations. Nate was drawn to flashy, sexy women. Or maybe the kind of women found in the private boxes at races or horse shows; Annie had seen enough of those televised events to know the type—model gorgeous, decked out in designer clothes, hand-stitched boots, lots of fringe and bling. Or the type seen at the fund-raisers and society events attended by the wives, daughters and sisters of Thoroughbred breeders, the kind of women whose horses were entered in the Preakness. Or perhaps he preferred medically educated women, like another vet who could appreciate his professional interests—the kind of women who also rubbed elbows with the well-to-do because of their profession.

But probably ordinary, sensible-shoes farm girls didn’t do anything special for a man like Nate.

Annie’s thoughts were broken when her father walked into the kitchen and refilled his coffee cup. He put a hand on the small of his back and stretched, leaning back, rolling his shoulders.

“Are you limping, Dad?”

“Nah,” he said. “Got a little hitch in my giddyup is all.”

“As soon as I’m through with this puppy project, I’ll make it a point to get out here more often to help.”

“The doctor says the best thing is for him to keep moving,” Rose said. “You do enough to help already.”

“You don’t remember that fancy Hollywood woman?” Hank asked, going back to the conversation he had overheard. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Breeze woulda blown her away. Skinny thing. Could see her bones. Not at all right for Nathaniel.” He took a sip of coffee and lifted his bushy brows, looking at her over the rim of his mug. “You’da been more his speed, I think. Yeah, better Nathaniel than that son of a so-and-so you got yourself mixed up with.”

“I didn’t even know Nate Jensen was here until a few days ago, remember?” Annie pointed out. “And before that, I was with the so-and-so, and Nate was taken.”

“Yeah, you’da had to kill that skinny thing, but she looked near death, anyhow.” Then he grinned at her and left the kitchen.

“Will Nathaniel have his family for Christmas?” Rose asked.

“Actually, he said his parents, sisters and their families are going on a cruise. I gathered, from the way he said it, he’d throw himself off the boat if he were along. He said something sarcastic, like it would be hell to give up all that shuffleboard, but he’d manage.”

“Oh, you must invite him to join us for the holiday dinners, Annie. As I recall, he was friendly with one of your brothers when they were kids.”

“Mom, he’s not hanging around. He’s going on some highfalutin Caribbean vacation, meeting up with some old classmates from veterinary college, hoping to get lost in a sea of very tiny bikinis on the beach. Apparently his taste in women hasn’t changed much.”

“Really?” Rose asked. “Now to me, that sounds dull.”

“Not if you’re a single guy in your thirties, Mom.”

“Oh. Well, then take him some of these cookies.”

“I’m sure he couldn’t care less about home-baked cookies.” Not if what he prefers is some fancy, skinny, rich girl, she thought.

“Nonsense. I don’t know the man who doesn’t like home-baked cookies. Reminds them of their mothers.”

“Just the image I’d most like to aspire to,” Annie said.