by Jean Oram
He sat at the reception desk in the clinic, waiting for his regular receptionist, Lainie Hopewell, to arrive for her shift. April had the afternoon off, filling it with appointments around town for herself and Kurt. Brant had a few things to do out back, but they could wait. He’d learned in this business that if he had a chance to put his feet up, he should take it. There would always be enough work, if that’s what he was looking for.
“Hi, Mr. Wylder,” a female voice said from behind him.
Brant spun his chair around to face Robyn, the pregnant teenager who lived above the clinic in his old apartment, her parents having kicked her out when they’d heard she was expecting. Instead of rent, she did some light cleaning and restocking in the clinic after school. He double-checked the time. School wasn’t due to let out for a few more hours.
“Hey, Robyn. How are you feeling?” She gave a feeble smile. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Too much morning sickness again.” She sat in the extra office chair, her fingers tangled together in her lap.
“It’s still bothering you?” She was in her second trimester, but the morning sickness didn’t seem to want to abate.
“Yeah.”
Robyn let out a shaky breath, and Brant moved to the water dispenser to fill a cup for her. She took it with a grateful smile.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Blake and I want to move in together.” Her boyfriend, a high school senior, had earned a college scholarship for his talents on the football field, and once the two of them were through the last few months of the twelfth grade, they’d be off on a new adventure.
“I don’t mind if you both live in the apartment,” Brant said.
“My parents want to sue Blake’s family, and when we move in together, they might go all the way off the deep end.” April had mentioned in passing that Robyn’s parents wanted to go after Blake’s family.
“Are you worried about your safety?” he asked gently, and her eyes widened with worry even though she shook her head.
“I don’t want to drag you into this, Mr. Wylder. You’ve been really good to me. So has April.”
He nodded, glad he and April could help.“I can handle difficult situations, Robyn,” he told her. “Do what’s best for you and the baby, okay? Don’t worry about me.”
“We’re going to rent a mobile home near the swimming pool.” She added quickly, “It’s real cheap, and Blake has been working hard at two jobs.”
Brant understood. April hadn’t wanted handouts when she’d moved out, either, even though she’d been in a similar bind, with no cash and no roof over her head. She’d been eager to get her boots back under her again, just like Robyn was.
“Know that the apartment is still an option if you two want it.” He gestured to the suite above them. “But I also understand if you feel it’s best to move out.”
“We move into the trailer in a week. The landlord is letting us in a few days before the end of the month.” She met Brant’s eyes, revealing a spark of courage that made him smile. For all his worries, he knew she’d be okay. “But I was wondering if I could still work here. For pay.”
He hadn’t seen that coming. Robyn had been doing some light work, help he didn’t actually need, seeing as he also had a cleaning company come in. But he’d wanted her to feel as though she was contributing toward her rent-free home. He’d already given April a job, one that made his life easier, but also wasn’t truly needed. Could he afford to pay Robyn as well?
“Sure. Until you guys move away in the fall?”
She nodded, her eyes damp with gratitude.
“How many hours do you need?”
“Just part-time.”
Her baby was due in the summer, and the couple had plans to move away at the end of August. He could make things work until then.
After Robyn left, Brant shook his head. He really was a rescuer, wasn’t he?
As if reinforcing the answer, the gray-and-white tabby kitten meowed at him, wrapping himself around his ankles.
“What am I going to do with you? Hmm? Are you going to become a clinic kitty and live here, or can we find you a new home?” The well owner hadn’t wanted the cat, claiming he’d never seen it before.
Brant picked up the feline, which he’d dubbed Tadpole, and set him on his favorite napping place, his chest. He leaned back in the office chair once more, mulling over his afternoon as the cat’s rumbling purrs reverberating through him.
He slowly spun the chair to the right and carefully reached for the computer mouse to check the appointment calendar, eventually spying a blank stretch of time that afternoon. That didn’t happen often. He could take care of a pretty big task if no emergencies came in.
He thumbed through the slips of paper left beside the phone in case some were for him. Most were reminders to call someone back, deal with an invoice and that sort of thing.
But the one at the bottom said “ Find a place to board Cookies”. April’s horse. That beast was still at Heath’s?
The divorce had been final for over a month, and Cookies was still on Heath’s property. And being fed by him? No wonder the man wasn’t paying April any child support.
Brant fingered the note. April loved that horse. Why would she leave him there when he could be at Sweet Meadows Ranch? Was she afraid to completely let go of her old marriage, the way she’d been afraid to sever ties with Cole?
Whatever hers reasoning, she wasn’t planning to get Cookies today if she had filled her day with appointments.
Another barrier.
Well, he could take care of this one, and save her the hardship that would surely appear further down the line for letting Heath bear the expense of her horse. Boarding wasn’t cheap, and he’d surely charge her for it.
Once Lainie arrived, Brant was out the door in record time, heading for Sweet Meadows Ranch to pick up the horse trailer.
He parked behind the stable, spying the trailer nearby, and had hopped out of his truck to adjust the hitch height when Betty Coulter, the riding stable manager, came toward him.
“Here’s someone I haven’t seen in a while,” she said with a big smile. Her red-and-black-checkered shirt was tucked into a pair of jeans, her belt cinched tight around her middle.
“Hi, Betty,” he said, giving her a quick hug. She was a no-nonsense woman with a heart of gold. Not just anyone could manage a program for special-needs riders like she did. His grandmother Ruth, who’d started the whole thing, would be proud of the work Betty did. “Has April talked to you about Cookies?”
“We spoke about him joining the riding program a few weeks back, and she seemed game. But so far, no horse.” If Brant wasn’t mistaken, there was a flicker of concern in Betty’s eyes.
“How about today?”
“I sure could use another ride for the kids. Laura’s scholarships have drawn a lot of attention and we’re at full capacity. Cookies is well-trained and old enough now that he won’t rile up the others. He used to like to prove himself, if I recall. But he was just a few years old back then, and now I hear he’s nearly retired and mellow.” She winked. “Like me.”
Brant let out a bark of laughter, and Betty grinned.
“I’ll go collect him then.”
“You can put him in the empty stall on the east end. I’ll get some feed and water ready. Do you need help hooking up the trailer?”
“I’ve got it, thanks. The new clinic truck has a backup camera.”
“Well, I guess I’m redundant,” the woman said amicably, as she slapped her hands on her thighs, releasing a cloud of dust.
“They keep telling us technology’s going to take over the world,” Brant said easily, climbing into his truck.
“Then I guess today’s the day. Mark it in the history books.”
Brant backed up to the horse trailer, then hitched it on. Before he left the yard, he sent April a quick text, letting her know he was picking up Cookies. Then he headed to the one property he had hoped he would never h
ave to set foot on again.
“Brant? What are you doing?” April panted, running to catch up with him behind the Sweet Meadows Ranch riding stable.
She’d left Kurt in the kitchen with Maria, who was teaching him how to make lasagna. After their last appointment of the day, April and Kurt had stopped by the ranch, where she had planned to confirm with Maria and Betty that her horse, Cookies, could stay here. She wanted to iron out the details of him being used in the children’s riding program in exchange for his upkeep. She’d intended to get that sorted out, and then tomorrow, while Heath was still away, retrieve her horse.
She’d been chatting in the kitchen about her day, working her way up to the topic of her horse, when she’d felt tingles up her spine. Then, through the patio window, she’d caught a glimpse of Brant’s clinic truck pulling a horse trailer, heading for the stables.
Instantly, she’d known.
She’d excused herself and slipped out the back door. By the time she got to him, Brant was already opening the trailer doors, revealing her black-and-white horse, wearing the new bridle she’d left behind the reception desk at work.
Cookies huffed happily and trotted over to her. She stroked his long nose, feeling guilty for not spending enough time with him over the past several years, and particularly the last few months. They used to spend hours together every day, and she suspected he missed her as much as she missed him. She nuzzled him back, knowing that the Sweet Meadows Ranch riders would give him the attention he deserved.
But she’d planned to bring him here herself.
She turned to Brant.
“I saw your note, and had some free time this afternoon,” Brant said casually. He was watching her from under the brim of his hat, waiting for her reaction.
“Do you think maybe you should have asked first?”
“I sent you a text.”
“My charging cord stopped working. And besides, this isn’t a text-and-go kind of thing. This is a conversation kind of thing.”
“Betty said you’d discussed it.” His eyes shifted away.
“And did she also mention that we didn’t have any details sorted out? Or that I hadn’t yet run it by the owners of the ranch?”
“You’re married to me. This is your ranch, too. Your home.”
She sighed, knowing that wasn’t totally true. She couldn’t make assumptions when it came to making any kind of change. And boarding a horse here was a change, even if Cookies earned his keep.
Plus she’d been avoiding Heath and discussing her marital status with him. And now her horse was gone from his property while he was away, as if she was afraid to see him. She’d planned to talk to him first, be up-front. And yes, she’d put it off for a long time, but was working toward dealing with it at her own pace.
Brant rubbed the back of his neck, then eased the trailer doors closed.
“Brant.” She waited for him to turn to her. “Cookies is why I’m here. I’m taking care of this. I was just working out an agreement with your mom, Levi and Betty, since they’re running the riding program and Cookies is going to participate. Then tonight I was going to call Heath, and on the weekend get Cookies.”
“Thought I was helping,” he muttered, giving the doors a shake to ensure they were properly closed.
“No, you were trying to save me.”
He slowly lowered his hands and turned to her. “You believe I think you aren’t capable of taking care of your own business?” His eyes sought hers. “April, I’m your husband. I’m going to help. I’m going to take care of things for you. We’re partners.”
The honest sincerity in his expression had her anger crumbling along with her sense of righteous indignation.
He was doing this because he loved her. This was normal behavior. He wasn’t trying to take away her sense of independence. So why did she feel that way?
Because it seemed all she was doing was taking and not giving back, and she’d been raised to be independent and helpful.
She steepled her hands in front of her mouth and calmed herself. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m still sensitive about the idea that your help is a form of rescue, and that none of this is real.” Her voice shook, and she couldn’t make eye contact. When her hands started fluttering she jammed them into her jeans pockets, then pulled them out and hugged herself. Why was she acting like she was vulnerable over something so minor and sweet? This man knew she was capable and competent. He’d grown up with her. He was acting out of love.
Brant eased his way to her side and slipped his hands around her waist. Cookies nudged his hat with his nose, as though saying all was forgiven.
Brant smiled and readjusted his hat. “I forgot what a rotter this one is.” He gave Cookies an affectionate pat on the neck.
“It’s why the two of us get along so well,” April said.
Brant chuckled and pulled her in for a long, soulful kiss that made everything in her world feel perfectly right once again.
10
April looked at the steaming cup of coffee waiting for her on the bathroom vanity as she toweled her hair dry on Monday morning, and smiled at Brant’s thoughtfulness. She took a sip, thinking of all the things he’d done for her over the past week since their honeymoon. It was a lot, and she wondered if he was going to hit a wall from trying to do it all.
They’d been sticking to their two-date-nights a week, and each morning Brant would roll out of bed and do his chores on the family ranch, then come home again for breakfast before heading to the clinic. Never mind the extra work he had with his animal control job and the college’s study. The man was doing too much, and April feared he was going to burn out. Last night he’d fallen into bed exhausted, and was asleep before he’d even taken his socks off.
She smiled, thinking of a few reasons he’d been wiped out. They weren’t all bad. But he was doing a lot of things for her he didn’t need to. She’d grown up elbow to elbow with the Wylder boys on the ranch, chipping in like part of the family.
And when she hadn’t been with them, she’d been in that quiet little house on the next quarter section over, figuring out how to do laundry for herself and her father, cooking, cleaning, and holding herself accountable for getting her homework done.
It was time to dig in and stand beside Brant, shouldering the weight alongside him. She just needed a plan to help speed things along.
Wrapped in her bath towel, she strolled into the bedroom, the smell of Brant’s aftershave making her smile. She rifled through her bedstand drawer, found a pen and notepad, and began making a list, clutching the towel when it started to slip off.
Take over Brant’s share of cooking nights.
The man was already doing so much, the least she could do would be take care of more things around the house, even though he’d insisted on going halfsies with housework. They could always readdress that later in their relationship.
She tapped her pen on the pad, thinking.
Tell Heath I remarried.
She shuddered. She hadn’t called him like she’d planned. He’d likely already heard, but she wanted to be up front and honest with him in hopes he’d be the same, and she felt he deserved to hear the truth straight from her.
Look into how remarrying changes our divorce agreements, then talk to him.
Heath wasn’t going to be less financially responsible for Kurt now, but he might feel he should be. He might have to pay her less alimony, though. Either way, if things continued to remain topsy-turvy with her ex, it meant she was going to have to rely on Brant even more for her and Kurt’s care.
She hadn’t married Brant so he could solve her problems, and right now, if anything happened to him, she’d be in a devastating financial position, just like she had when she’d left Heath. She needed to ensure she took care of herself—even though she was confident she and Brant were in it for the long haul—because that would mean taking care of Kurt and Brant, too.
Get a job outside of the clinic.
She frowned at the words she�
�d written. She enjoyed working with Brant. She savored their morning coffee in the back of the office, the stolen kisses throughout the day, the flexible schedule and the work, as well.
But she knew the position was one Brant had stretched the clinic budget to create, so that she’d have a job. And she’d seen the tightness of his mouth when he’d told her Robyn was moving out of the apartment and wanted to work for him part-time, as a paid employee. Giving the teen a place to stay hadn’t cost him anything, but a part-time job would.
Call Jenny Oliver about a job.
April paused for a second, tapping the pen against her lips. It wasn’t just the big things that would help her and Brant, though. The small things wore on a person, too.
Brant liked taking care of people, but couldn’t she have found the five minutes needed to buy glue for her rearview mirror? Then another five to adhere it to her windshield? He’d ordered her the new bridle, bought Kurt new shoes a few days after he’d complained about his old ones being tight, while she’d been busy texting Heath, asking where the child support payment was. Yes, Brant was good at beating her to the punch when it came to fixing problems, but she could improve her speed.
Take care of more details—faster.
The problem was money. She couldn’t always immediately afford to take care of details like glue, shoes and lawyers. Brant had made it clear that what was his was hers, and she had said the same, but then realized she had nothing. Everything she had came from Brant, whether it was her paycheck or the roof over her head. If she was going to contribute, she needed to take action.
Determined to start, she picked up her phone and dialed Jenny Oliver to see if a job at Blue Tumbleweed had come open.
Brant stopped just before he reached the doorway of the diner, frowning. He backtracked a few paces and glanced through the large picture window of Jenny Oliver’s store, Blue Tumbleweed. Beyond the display of dazzling cowboy boots, suede jackets and new Western blouses was a woman who caught his attention no matter where he went or what he was doing.