Читать книгу A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion - Sasha Summers - Страница 9
ОглавлениеJosie straightened the remaining pastries and sat in the little chair in the doorway between the kitchen and the bakery. Sprinkles lay on her back, her fuzzy white stomach bared as she slept soundly. Josie envied the dog—she could use a nap. She glanced at the clock. It was almost two, closing time.
But today she had to help with the gingerbread, mountains and mountains of it. Her dad’s fall had put the gingerbread dough-making behind. Somehow, she had to make eighty gallon tubs of cookie dough in the next forty-eight hours. The Gingerbread Village was a huge part of the Stonewall Crossing’s Christmas on the Square celebration. Most families made a gingerbread house to display. Some made them look like their own home, others followed the theme for the year. This year’s theme, which Josie thought left a lot of room for interpretation, was Images of Christmas.
The phone rang and she answered it, pen and notepad at the ready.
“Pop’s Bakery. This is Josie. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Miss... Jo... Josie. It’s Eli Boone.” He paused. “I have the plans for the float. Can I come by and show it to you?”
She smiled. “Sure, Eli. But I’ll warn you. You might just end up elbow deep in gingerbread dough when you get here.”
“O-okay.” He sounded uncertain. “Can I bring someone with me?”
“Can they hold a mixer?” Josie added. “Just kidding. Bring as many as you like.”
He didn’t laugh. “Yes, ma’am. Be there soon.”
“Sounds good.” And she hung up the phone.
Eli was a good kid. He was just like his father. Or how he used to be, anyway.
She didn’t linger over thoughts of Hunter. Whatever memories she had of him were tarnished somehow. She’d been so young—they both had. He’d loved her with an unwavering strength. He’d been hers and she’d been his. It had been right and good and real. Losing him was like losing a part of her, the pain of which had faded to a steady hollow ache she still couldn’t erase.
But maybe the Hunter she remembered had never existed. Maybe he’d cheated on her with Amy as eagerly as he’d been willing to cheat on Amy.
It scared her, how tempted she’d been.
But saying Amy’s name had snapped her out of it and pissed her off. She’d been just mad enough to drive herself home. By the time she was home, her head was throbbing in time to the beat of the rain. She’d crawled into her bed in her wet clothes, angry, needy and confused.
She’d spent the past two days not thinking about him. It wasn’t really working...
And now she was going to spend some quality time with his son.
The phone rang again. “Pop’s Bakery.”
“Got your voice message. I talked to our librarian and she wants you to come read to the kids next Friday.” The voice on the end of the line was soft, tired.
“Why, good morning, Annabeth. I’m fine, thanks for calling. How are you?” Josie teased.
“Work is crazy, girl. I’m sorry.” Annabeth sighed. “How are you?”
“Not half as tired as you sound.”
Annabeth Upton had been Josie’s only real girlfriend in high school. She’d been there through everything, from Hunter’s betrayal to her mom’s endless string of weddings and divorces. Josie had tried to return the favor when Annabeth lost her husband to a sniper in Afghanistan. But she didn’t know how to ease the pain of losing the man you loved while having to be a coherent, positive single parent to a rambunctious boy.
“I won’t lie. I’m ready for the break.”
“I can’t imagine why. Being an elementary school principal is one of the easiest jobs in the world.”
Annabeth laughed. “R-right.”
“Are you going to get a break? Heading to Greg’s family this year?”
“No, not this year. His parents offered to take Cody for New Year’s so I could do something.” She snorted. “What the hell am I going to do? Alone? In Stonewall Crossing?”
“Whatever you want,” Josie said.
“That’s the thing. I have no idea.” She sighed. “So, how’s it going? I know you’re spread thin, with your dad and the bakery and the gingerbread craziness. And Hunter—”
“Dad’s being ornery, but that’s why I’m here.” Josie was quick to interrupt her. Not thinking about Hunter. Not talking about Hunter. “We’re heading to the doctor on Monday, so we’ll see what the verdict is.”
“Ready to get out of here?”
“Not really.” Leaving meant going back to an empty apartment. This would be her first holiday without Wes. She didn’t blame him for leaving, but she was lonely.
“You sound surprised.” Annabeth paused. “And I did notice your attempt to dodge the whole Hunter topic. Not very subtly, either, I might add.”
“Okay, let’s talk about him.”
“Let’s. Over wine and dinner?” She added, “You can call Lola to come over and keep your dad company.”
“Lola?”
“Josie, get your head out of the clouds and look around you. Lola, from the beauty shop two stores down the street. She’s sweet on Carl.”
Josie was surprised, in a good way. “And Dad?”
“I have no idea. Your dad rarely has a harsh word for anyone. So, call her so your dad can get a love life. Then we can have dinner and drinks and talk about our nonexistent love lives.”
“Deal.” She’d call Lola right away.
“Good. Oh, hold on.” There was a pause. “Will next Friday’s story time work?”
“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Upton. I’ll put it on my calendar.”
“Thanks. Gotta go. Duty calls... Kindergarteners, noses and peas... Bye.”
“Bye.” Josie laughed, but the phone was already dead.
She stared out over the freshly mopped wooden floors, her gaze drifting around the bakery. Lola Worley was a blue-haired sweetie. And, come to think of it, Lola had enjoyed a cup of tea and a small bear claw every morning since Josie had arrived in Stonewall Crossing five days before.
She packed up a plate of pastries, patted the flour from her clothes and walked quickly down the sidewalk to the Lady’s Parlor. It was cold out, surprisingly cold, but she’d been too preoccupied to think of grabbing her sweater. She pushed through the door, the smell of acetone and bleach stinging her nose. Four heads turned to look at her.
“Joselyn Stephens?” Lola stepped forward. “What a surprise.”
“Afternoon, Miss Worley. I thought I’d bring by some pastries for your patrons.”
“Don’t that just beat all?” Lola took the pastries, smiling. “What can I do for you, sugar? A haircut? Polish for your nails?”
Josie looked at her nonexistent nails before shoving her hands in her pockets. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
Lola set the plate on the counter. “Sure thing, sugar. With what?”
“My dad. He’s a little stubborn.”
“Just a little.” Lola Worley turned a very fetching shade of pink.
“Annabeth and I would like to go out this evening. Would you be willing to come over, take care of him? I won’t be late.”
Lola took in a deep breath. “I’d be happy to.”
Josie could tell that was an understatement.
“Anything else?”
“Well—”
“Go on, sugar. You’re among family here.” Lola patted her arm.
Josie looked around the beauty parlor, where chatter and laughter filled the air. “I’m swimming in all the gingerbread. Dad won’t sit so—”
“I’ve got a half-dozen grandsons I’ll send down this evening.”
“Lola, you’re an angel.” Josie nodded. “I’ll return the favor, if ever I can.”
“Aw, now, I don’t know about that, sugar. I’ll see you about six?” Lola asked.
“Yes. And thank you.” She hugged the woman before dashing out of the parlor and back to the bakery. Eli was waiting outside with a red-haired girl.
“You can go in. I know its cold out here.” She held the door open for them.
Eli nodded at her. “Hey.”
“Hi, I’m Dara. Nice to meet you, Miss Stephens,” Dara gushed.
“You, too, Dara.” She beamed at the girl, then at Eli. Eli didn’t smile back. “Can’t wait to see the sketches.” She waved them back behind the counter.
Eli stood between the two of them and spread open a large piece of drafting paper. A chair sat in the middle of the float, flanked by two supersize books.
“These will have the covers for Floppy Ears and 34,” Eli pointed out. “Mrs. Upton said she wants to get the little brothers and sisters of the Future Farmers of America kids to ride on the float with you. Make it like you’re reading to them.”
Josie nodded. “And these?” She pointed to two blob-like shapes.
“One will be a cow and one will be a rabbit,” Dara said. “We’re going to make them out of garland and wrap them with lights. You know, those topiary things?”
“It looks great.” Josie was impressed. “And a lot of work.”
“It was Eli’s idea.” Something in Dara’s tone made Josie look at the girl.
“It’s a great idea,” Josie said. She saw Dara cast a timid glance Eli’s way, saw Eli’s red cheeks. Just when Eli looked at Dara, the girl looked back at the drawing.
The bell over the door rang.
“Hey, Josie-girl.” Fisher was all smiles. “How’s it going?”
“Gingerbread madness has begun.” She grinned. “Nice of you to stop by to help.”
“I’ll help eat my fair share. It sure smells good.” Fisher sniffed for emphasis.
“Tastes pretty good, too.” Josie offered the three of them a gingerbread man.
“Damn good,” Fisher agreed, eating the cookie in two bites. “You good with the plans?”
She nodded. “Since I’m not building it, yes. Looks great.”
Dara’s phone rang so she walked outside to take the call, and Eli followed.
“They’re adorable,” she said to Fisher.
“Eli’s too young for a girlfriend,” Fisher argued. “He’s just a kid.”
“I don’t think they’re talking marriage, Fisher.” She offered him another cookie. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m good, real good. Nothing like living your dream while being seriously good-looking, you know?”
She giggled. “You’re incredible.”
“I’ve heard that before.” He winked at her.
She kept laughing. “Behave.”
“Not in my nature,” he countered.
“Fisher,” she wheezed. “You’re going to make me have an asthma attack.”
He chuckled. “Never done that to a woman before.”
She shook her head. Fisher had always been funny. Once she was able to breathe and talk, she tried again. “I’m really impressed by the ranch. Looks like the family has been working hard.”
“Mom and Dad set the bar pretty high. And Hunter. He’s going to reach that bar, and then some. Archer’s a genius, really taking the whole refuge thing to the next level. I mean, we’re getting eleven abused horses—that’s a lot. But he’ll figure it out.” He shook his head. “Now, Ryder’s still more interested in cars and petite blondes than anything else, but he works hard when we need him.”
“How’s Renata?” Josie had always felt for Renata, Fisher’s twin sister. She couldn’t imagine having four brothers and Teddy Boone for a father.
“Renata’s working for the chamber of commerce. Does their PR and events and stuff.”
“Sounds like the Boones still own Stonewall Crossing.”
“Can’t help it if our people were competitive from the start. We don’t own it, exactly.”
“No? Just most of it?” She argued, “If I remember the little tour I took when I first moved in with dad, they said the town was named Stonewall Crossing because your great-grandfather put up stone walls to line his property.”
“Great-great-grandfather. Man is a territorial animal, Josie. Those walls are a surefire way to let people know where not to trespass.” Fisher shrugged.
“How is your father?” She’d missed him. Teddy Boone was a great barrel-chested man who let everyone know when he entered a room.
“Fine. He lives in the Lodge. He still misses Mom a lot. Think leading guests to check out the flowers when the hills are blooming, or hike, or bird-watch keeps him busy. In the hotter months, he’s with the aunts in Montana. He’s here now, so stop by and say hi. He’d love that.”
She nodded. “He must be so proud of everything you have accomplished.”
“Hunter started it, getting all successful. We couldn’t let him show us up, you know?” He swiped another gingerbread cookie. “That Boone competitive streak. You know Hunter. Hell, I think you know Hunter best of all.” His expression turned serious—as serious as Fisher ever got.
“No, not really.”
“Aw, come on, Josie. That’s not true—”
“Years ago, maybe.” She put the sample plate behind the counter and began to wipe down the counter. “Why does everyone keep talking about the past?”
“What’s got you so worked up?”
She shut the display case with a little more force than necessary. “Nothing.”
“Right.”
“Moving on.” She shot him a look. “You dating anyone?”
He winked at her. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think that would go over too well with my brother.”
She hadn’t meant to yell, but she did. “Why the hell would Hunter care if I dated anyone? He’s married, remember?”
If she hadn’t been yelling, she might have heard the bell over the door jingle. But she didn’t. So Eli’s angry words took her by complete surprise. “My mom divorced my dad when I was three.”
Josie couldn’t think. Or speak. Or breathe. The agony on Eli’s face was unbearable. “I...I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Eli,” she finally managed.
“You should be,” Eli bit out. “It’s your fault she left.”
“Eli,” Fisher cut in.
Josie was reeling. “Eli, I...” She had no words. She knew nothing she said could make a difference.
Dara placed a hand on Eli’s arm. “Walk me home?” Eli didn’t look up as Dara led him from the bakery.
Her heart ached for him, truly ached for him. She knew how hard it was, growing up without a mother. If she’d been the cause of that... No, surely not. Hunter was a man of his word. He’d married Amy—he wouldn’t have let it fall apart without a fight.
“What is all the yelling about?” Her father hobbled into the kitchen through the door that connected their home to the bakery. “I could hear you all the way in my room.”
Josie watched Eli and Dara walk away. She saw the slump to Eli’s shoulders, knew the anger and pain in his voice.
“How the hell did you not know he’s single?” Fisher asked, stunned.
“What are we talking about?” her father asked.
“Hunter.” Fisher reached around the counter for another gingerbread cookie.
“Oh.” Her father sounded far too pleased, so she looked at him. “What?”
“What?” she echoed. “That’s all you have to say?” Hunter Boone is single.
Her father’s smile disappeared. “You told me if I ever mentioned him you’d never talk to me again. Guess I figured the more time the two of you spent together, you’d figure things out.”
“Seriously, Josie?” Fisher shook his head, then ate another cookie.
“Every time I brought him up, you changed the subject. I got the point,” her father continued.
“That was a long time ago.” He hadn’t mentioned Hunter or the rest of his family in years. Because she’d told him not to. Josie grabbed the plate and shoved it into a cabinet out of Fisher’s reach. “I was young and hurt—”
“You’re my baby girl. And I listened to you,” her father interrupted. “I figured someday you’d find out that he was here, waiting for you.”
Josie glared at her father. “Daddy, I know you love Hunter. But that’s ancient history—”
“Maybe for you.” Fisher’s eyebrows went up.
Her father’s voice was cautious. “Now, Fisher—”
Fisher leaned forward, staring into her eyes. “Ask me how many dates my brother’s been on since Amy left.”
She didn’t want to know, did she? No. She didn’t.
“Let’s give her some time to get used to things, Fisher.” Her father chuckled. “Her whole world just got flipped upside down.”
She lied quickly, to herself and the two of them. “Nothing has changed. Nothing. I’m here to take care of you, Dad, not relive some teenage romance.” She yanked the apron over her head and threw it on the back counter.
“Josie,” Fisher groaned. “Come on now.”
She held up her hand. “Stop. Please.” She paused. “I’m tired. I need a shower. I just hurt a boy that I’d never in a million years want to hurt. So, please, just stop.”
Her father exchanged a quick look with Fisher before he sighed. “It’s closing time, anyway.”
“I’ll lock up,” Josie offered, looking pointedly at Fisher.
Fisher took the hint. “Eli will be all right. You okay?”
She nodded but wouldn’t look at him.
Fisher left and Josie locked the door behind him. She took her father’s arm, leading him back into the house.
“Should I have told you, Josie?” her father asked.
“No, Dad.” She patted his hand. There was no way to go back. Thinking about what could have been, what might have happened, was pointless. “It doesn’t matter. Now go sit, and I’ll get you some water. Maybe a snack?”
Her father nodded, moving slowly to his recliner in the other room. She headed into the kitchen, grappling with too many emotions to understand. But a part of her—a part deeply buried inside—felt relief. He wasn’t a cheater. He wasn’t a liar. He had loved her. Maybe he still—
“Josie, bring the car around,” her father yelled. “We gotta get Sprinkles to the hospital.”
* * *
HUNTER’S CELL SCREEN lit up. Amy. He hadn’t had enough coffee for this yet.
Tripod, the black three-legged cat that roamed the hospital, glared at the phone from his napping spot on the corner of Hunter’s desk.
Hunter nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling.”
Tripod yawned, stood and stretched, then curled back up in a ball on the desk. Hunter stroked the cat’s silky side, letting the animal’s reverberating purr calm him before answering the phone.
“How’s the sexiest man in the world?” Amy’s drawl was light, teasing. “Wearing your tight jeans and your jump-me doctor coat?”
He’d learned not to bite to her teasing. “How are you, Amy?” He clicked the end of his pen a few more times.
“All business this morning? Guess it’s hard to talk dirty at the office.” She sighed. “I’d be better if I was there with Eli. And you.”
“You coming through town?” He kept clicking the pen.
“I’m trying. You know I want to be there.” She sighed again. “I’d never miss Christmas with my baby if I could help it.” She paused, but he kept quiet. “But I’ve got a chance to ride in Vegas through New Year’s. Big show, you know?”
Amy spent more time with the cowboys on the rodeo circuit than riding in it, but all he said was, “I’ll let you tell Eli.”
She made that noise, that irritated, impatient sound she made when she wasn’t getting her way. He remembered that noise all too well.
“Don’t use that tone with me, Hunter Boone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”
“I know.” He tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the white insulation tiles of the ceiling.
“Good. You don’t know how hard it is, to live without the perfect parents and buckets of money just sitting around their big ol’ fancy house.” Her voice was shaking. “A gal’s gotta eat, Hunter.”
There it was. “How much do you need?”
“I don’t need a handout,” she snapped.
“You’re Eli’s mom, his family. It’s not a handout. It’s family taking care of family.”
The phone was silent for a long time. “You don’t miss me at all? Us?”
He didn’t say, “No, Amy. I don’t. I won’t. Stop messing with our son and grow up.” He’d learned not to have any expectations when it came to Amy—then there was no disappointment. But Eli was a boy—a boy wanting to believe the very best about his mother. Even if a lot of it wasn’t true. And now his mother was missing Christmas with him...again.
It tore his heart out to see his boy hurting. He was used to buying a present and putting Amy’s name on it, but he resented having to cover for her. It shouldn’t be his job to maintain a relationship between his ex-wife and his son.
“Dr. Boone.” Jason, one of his students, came running into his office. “Larry ate Hanna’s hair scrunchie again.”
“Hold on a sec, Amy?” He covered his phone. “Is Larry breathing okay?”
“Yes, sir. But he’s coughing a little.”
Hunter sat back, ran a hand over his face. Why Larry the emu liked eating hair scrunchies was a mystery. But they could be dangerous to the animal if they got stuck in his trachea. “Please ask Hanna to set up the ultrasound machine. I’ll expect her to assist in fifteen minutes.” Since he’d told Hanna several times to remove her hair accessories before she went into the pen, she would help him scan the bad-tempered bird and, if necessary, remove it from the bird’s long neck.
“Yes, sir.” Jason left.
“Still there?” he asked.
“I’m here, waiting. But I’ve got people waiting, too. I’ll call our son tonight.” And she hung up.
He was about to throw his cell phone against the wall when a soft “Dr. Boone” was followed by a knock on his office door.
He repressed an irritated sigh as one of the school deans entered. He stood, extending his hand to the older man. “Dr. Lee,” he said. “Nice to see you.”
“You, as well.” Dr. Lee nodded, shaking his hand. “I hear you have a procedure in fifteen minutes, so I won’t keep you. But I need your help. We have received a substantial donation from the Harper-McGee family—an in memoriam for their deceased son Nate.”
Hunter nodded. The Harper-McGees were one of the school’s most devoted supporters. The past five generations of Harper-McGees had earned their doctor of veterinary medicine degrees from UET’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Nate would have carried on that tradition if he hadn’t been killed in a car accident midsemester last spring.
“Part of the donation is to be used for a mural in the waiting room. His parents have a drawing he did when he was young. They want something like it to cover the wall over the admissions desk.”
Hunter looked at the drawing Dr. Lee offered him, then back at the older man. “I’m not sure—”
“Dr. Hardy told me you’re very close with the local artist Joselyn Stephens. That she’s visiting right now. Dr. and Mrs. Harper-McGee were delighted. They hoped you’d convince her to consider their commission.”
Hunter blinked. “I don’t know Miss Stephens all that well. But I do see her father now and then.” He didn’t know if he could see her again, to talk business or otherwise. Her angry words were a hot band around his heart.
“Perhaps you could ask her to contact me, then? Their donation is incredibly generous, Dr. Boone. I’d like to be as accommodating as possible, you understand?” Dr. Lee nodded at the drawing. “These are for Miss Stephens.” He placed a sealed envelope on top of the sketch. “If she has any questions, I’m sure there’s contact information inside.”
Hunter stared at Joselyn’s name on the envelope. “I’ll get it to her.”
“Thank you, Dr. Boone.” Dr. Lee nodded. “Good luck with Larry.”
Hunter smiled. “Good training opportunity.”
The older man paused at the door. “How’s the pharaoh hound?”
Hunter ran a hand over his head. “Bad-tempered. Stubborn. And spoiled.” But the owners were willing to keep spending thousands of dollars on their rare breed, so until puppies were a guarantee, the damn dog was Hunter’s problem.
“Any animal that needs help procreating has a right to be all of those things.” Dr. Lee chuckled.
“Never thought about it that way,” Hunter agreed. “We can only hope the procedure works this time.”
Hunter thought letting Tut have some fun the old-fashioned way might sort out his quick temper. But the owners were determined, and footing the bill, so petri dishes, test tubes and no hanky-panky were all Tut had to look forward to.
“Poor Tut. We shall hope for the best. I do hope Larry behaves for you.” Dr. Lee stopped at the door. “If I don’t see you before the holiday, enjoy your break.”
“Thank you. You, too.” No sooner had Dr. Lee left than Hunter’s office phone rang. He tried not to snap as he answered, “Dr. Boone.”
“Dr. Boone, we’re checking in Sprinkles, Mr. Stephens’s rat terrier.”
He could pass the dog off to another resident. Maybe he should. But Carl was recovering right now. And Jo— “On my way.” It took him two minutes to leave the administration wing, pass the massive lecture halls and labs, and enter the teaching clinic.
The first thing Hunter saw was Josie, her arm around her father. Her hair had slipped free from the clip on her head, falling down her back in thick reddish-brown curls. Her shirt was covered in a fine coating of flour; two more streaks ran across her forehead and into her hairline. He smiled at the flour handprint on her hip.
Her words rang in his ears, branding his heart. But seeing her worried and disheveled only reminded him that she was hurting, too. This time, right now, he could make it better.
She saw him then, her gray eyes widening before everything about her relaxed. “He’s here, Dad. It’ll be okay.”
Damn, she looked beautiful. “Hi.”
Carl was clutching a trembling Sprinkles to his chest. “Hunter, I didn’t know if you were working the clinic today—”
“You think I’d let anyone else take care of Sprinkles?” Hunter patted the dog’s head, looking into the small canine’s brown eyes. He glanced at the desk clerk. “Call Dr. Archer in to assist with Larry. Jason and Hanna should have him prepped and ready to go.”
“Yes, Dr. Boone. Room four is open,” she added.
He nodded, assessing the situation. Yes, Sprinkles was sick, but Carl was clearly worn-out. “How about I carry Sprinkles?” Hunter took the dog. “Follow me.”
He placed his hand over the dog’s chest, counting the beats per minute. One thirty-six. Nothing irregular. Breathing was a little labored, but Sprinkles didn’t like riding in the car, so that was just as likely to cause her panting as anything. Once they were in the exam room, he put Sprinkles on the metal exam table and looked at Carl. “What happened?”
“Dad, please sit.” Jo pulled one of the chairs closer to the table.
“I don’t know.” Carl sat in the chair, resting his hand on the dog’s head. “I just don’t know. Sprinkles and I were watching a John Wayne flick, a good one. Then Josie and Fisher were yelling in the bakery, so I left to see what they were going on about. Sprinkles was in my chair. I came back and she’s lying on the floor, acting like this.” He pointed at Sprinkles for emphasis. The dog was definitely not her normal, bouncing, yapping self.
Hunter put the earpieces of his stethoscope in and listened to Sprinkles’s stomach. “Did she eat anything?”
“Her food,” Carl answered. “You give her anything, Josie?”
Hunter looked at Jo and froze. She was staring at him, intently. In the depths of her silver gaze he saw something that made him ache. What was going on inside that head of hers?
“Josie?” Carl repeated, making Jo jump and reminding Hunter he had a job to do.
“No, I didn’t.” Her hand rested on her father’s shoulder. “You’ve told me a dozen times she’s on a special diet.”
Carl patted his daughter’s hand.
Hunter focused on the dog. “Could she have gotten into something?”
“She gets into everything,” Carl admitted.
“I’ve had to chase her out of my suitcase every morning.” Jo smiled.
“She eat something bad? Josie, you have perfume or something that could make her sick?”
“No, Dad. Besides, if she’d drunk my perfume, she’d smell better.” Jo’s voice was teasing.
“That’s not funny, Joselyn Marie.”
Like hell it isn’t. Hunter winked at Jo.
He saw the splash of color on her cheeks, the way she blinked and looked at her father. “Sorry, Dad.” She bent, pressing a kiss to Carl’s temple.
“I don’t think we need to get too worried just yet,” Hunter said as Sprinkles stood up. Her little stomach tensed and she vomited a glob of clear gelatinous fluid onto the metal exam table.
“Sprinkles,” Carl groaned.
“Jo?” Hunter used a long exam swab to poke the goop. “You use any sort of face cream?”
“Yes. Anti-wrinkle gel.”
Hunter stood back and grinned. “I’d check the container when you get home. Bet it’s gone.”
Carl glared up at Jo.
“Dad.” Josie shook her head. “It was on the vanity counter, out of her reach.”
“Sprinkles has always been a good jumper, if I remember,” Hunter said. Sprinkles had belonged to old Mrs. Henry for three years before she’d decided a cat was less work for her. Hunter had offered to help find the dog a home. Carl and Sprinkles had taken one look at each other and clicked.
Carl nodded. “Guess I need to put on some of those baby locks to keep her out of things.”
Sprinkles vomited again, shaking.
Hunter watched. “Might be best if we keep her here—”
“Nope.” Carl shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Hunter glanced at Jo, who shrugged at him. “Dad—”
“No.” Carl wasn’t taking no for an answer. “She’ll be happier at home. We can keep her in her kennel.”
“You need to keep her hydrated,” Hunter said.
“Anything else?” Carl asked.
“Don’t feed her.” Hunter glanced between the two of them. He couldn’t help it if his attention lingered on Jo. “Not today, anyway. We’ll see how she is tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “Maybe you could swing by and check on her later?”
Hunter stared at her then. He was more than willing to make a house call for Sprinkles. But he’d expected Carl to make the suggestion, not Jo, not after their exchange the other night. Did he dare smile at her? He wanted to.
“Hey, now, that’s an idea.” Carl nodded.
“If you’re free?” She seemed uncertain, hesitant.
Now he really wanted to know what was going on in that beautiful, stubborn head of hers. “I’ll stop by later.” He’d leave work now if he thought it would mean more time with her. “And I’ll install the baby locks, if you have them for me.”
“Fine, but if we’re putting you to work, we’re feeding you.” Carl stroked the dog’s head. Sprinkles whimpered. “Come here.” Carl pulled the little dog close.
“Carl,” Hunter cautioned. “At least let me get you a towel. Things are gonna get messy real fast.”
He saw Jo’s nose wrinkle and laughed.
Carl rubbed Sprinkles’s head. “See there, it’s gonna be fine, little girl.”
When Jo looked at him, her gray gaze was searching. She drew in an unsteady breath and mouthed, “Thank you.” He couldn’t stop staring at her then. He didn’t want to.
The intercom buzzed. “Dr. Boone, you’re needed in OR 1, please.”
“On my way. Please ask Janette to bring in some diapers and a towel for the Stephenses.”
“Yes, sir.” The intercom went quiet.
“Thank you, Hunter.” Carl shook his hand.
“Hunter, if...if you can’t make it tonight—” Jo seemed nervous, flustered.
“I’ll be there,” he promised before leaving the room.
