by Leslie North
She rolled her eyes as she slipped quietly out the front door, more directed at herself than at the idea of Randy. She had no idea why he kept showing up in her thoughts, but she was getting awfully sick of it. She didn’t want to see his sparkling eyes every time she closed hers, or to wonder what it would be like to have his muscular, tanned arms wrapped around her. He was a distraction, something she absolutely could not afford. Even without that cowboy rattling around in her head, she felt like she was being torn in a million different directions without being able to devote proper attention to any one thing.
Taking care of Honey was a perfect example. She had intended to bring her horse in from the pasture right after supper, but one thing had led to another, and here it was, already after eight o'clock. Early that morning, she had fed, watered, and loosed the mare to graze and then mucked out the stall, but she needed to shut Honey safely in the barn before darkness fell. She closed her eyes briefly as she descended the porch stairs, thinking about all the fires she'd had to put out in the past few hours. Unfortunately, that was a silly mistake.
“Oh!” she cried as she tumbled down the last step, hooking the toe of one stupid boot on the bottom post and twisting her ankle as she toppled to the ground. "Ugh, seriously?" she groaned, angry tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.
She lay flat on her back, looking up at a wide Montana sky that would have taken her breath away if hitting the hard-packed dirt hadn't done it already. She had half a mind to lie there a while longer and watch the sky until some of her frustration passed. She might have done so, too, if she hadn’t seen a truck heading up her drive, kicking up dust and forcing her to blink back the tears that so badly wanted to come.
"Whoa," a rich male voice called as a vehicle door slammed and rapid footsteps approached. "Everything okay down there?"
“Sure,” Heather said with a bitter laugh. “Everything is peachy. Just how I like to pass my time.”
A few more steps brought Randy McCall close enough that she could look up and see him towering over her. As she’d noticed since their first encounter, he was annoyingly handsome. She found herself so aggravated that when he extended a hand to help her up, she brushed it off and struggled to a sitting position on her own.
“What happened, Heather?” he asked, crouching beside her, watching her closely, concern shining in his eyes. “Are you all right?”
"I'm fine, Randy, really," she said, hoping he couldn't see the gleam of pain in her own eyes. "I just tripped. I was going to bring Honey in for the night, and I caught the toe of my boot coming down the steps, so here we are."
“Geez, Heather, that’s not something to joke about. You could really hurt yourself with a fall like that.” As he spoke, Randy took hold of her cowboy boot and pulled it off, wincing in sympathy at her yelp, then cradled her ankle gingerly in his hands. “You’re going to have to let me check on you, and then I’ll go see to Honey. You’re in no state for that.”
Heather gasped and flinched away, but not from the pain of his gentle manipulation. She hadn't anticipated the sensation of his touch, and she had expected even less the shock of electricity the feel of his skin against hers sent up the length of her spine.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her tone painfully shrill in her own ears. “I’m not one of your ailing animals.”
"No," he said, his eyes on the work his hands were doing. "You're not one of my usual patients, but you still need to be looked at. I want to make sure there aren't any obvious breaks. If there are, we'll have to get you to urgent care right away."
“Honestly, nothing’s broken,” she protested, her face growing hot as she rolled her foot back and forth. “See? I can move it and everything.”
"That doesn't actually mean anything," Randy said with frustrating authority. "It's entirely possible that you've got a tiny fracture. Just let me get a look at it, and we'll see what we can see."
Heather clamped her mouth shut tight, holding her entire body rigid as she endured the rest of his examination. She couldn’t stop herself from watching his face as he worked, though. With his brow furrowed in concentration and his cornflower blue eyes shining, he looked as if he should be a model instead of a vet. He must have had a field day with the ladies when he was younger, and yet he acted as though he didn’t know how good-looking he was.
"What?" he asked, glancing up in time to catch her staring at him. "What's that look for? Honestly, Heather, I'm only trying to help. I found you lying here on the ground, and I happen to know a thing or two about this kind of thing."
"I'm not a barnyard animal," Heather grumbled, averting her eyes quickly. In truth, she was grudgingly grateful for his help. She couldn't imagine what he was doing on her land at such a late hour, but she could definitely conjure up some images of what would have happened if he hadn't been there. If something was wrong enough for her not to be able to walk, considering she’d left her cell phone on the kitchen counter, her only option would have been to call out for her kids. Waking them up with her screams was the last thing she wanted. It was a non-option. She hadn't gritted her teeth through the dark days of her marriage only to turn around and scar her babies now. They had already been through enough.
Still, despite her tentative gratitude, she was being rude, and she knew it. Of course he didn't think of her as an animal. He’d done nothing but show her the utmost respect. She considered saying something to that effect, but then how would she explain staring at him the way she had? Was she really going to tell him she'd been thinking about how he looked more like an actor playing a vet on TV than someone a woman might run into in real life? Was she going to tell him that while he was examining her, she was thinking about how good his hands felt on her skin?
Not likely. She was happier letting him think she was rude than thinking she was interested. Of the two, it was the far safer choice.
"No," Randy said quietly, settling back onto his heels and obviously oblivious of the nature of her frenzied thoughts. "You're right; you're not like my usual patients.” He paused and waited for her to meet his gaze before continuing. “Unfortunately for you, that's not going to make it any more possible for you to walk, from what I can make out. Not up these stairs, anyway, which are a whole ‘nother issue."
“I know,” she shot back, more than a little embarrassed. “The stairs, the paint, just about everything else here. All of it needs to be redone. I’m doing my best.”
"I wasn't criticizing," he said with a calm patience that Heather found beyond irritating. "Believe me, I understand. My brothers and I are in the process of sprucing my folks' place up, and it's always more work than you think it's going to be. Now here, give me your arm."
“What?” she stammered, thrown by the abrupt change in the conversation.
She had been so busy feeling like a kid being lectured by a kindly teacher that she had almost stopped paying attention. Now, with Randy leaning close enough for her to get a good whiff of his spicy cologne, she was acutely aware of happenings, and she shrank back, wincing at the bolt of pain the movement sent through her afflicted ankle.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” he said, apparently unfazed by her alarm, as he slipped a hand under her arm and took hold of her wrist with his other hand. “Which would you like first?”
“Um—good, I guess?” she said, entirely unsure that she was interested in having either. It certainly didn’t help that Randy was leaning in, close enough now that she was sure she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. Having him so close was distracting, which bothered her to no end. When she started wondering what his lips might taste like, she ducked away and scrambled backward as well as her injured ankle would allow.
"Right," he said matter-of-factly as if he hadn’t noticed her avoidance. "Good it is. You were right about your ankle. I don’t think it’s broken, just a bad sprain from the looks of it."
"See?" she said with a strained laugh. "I'm as good as a doctor any day. Somebody just nee
ds to give me a certificate or something, so I can start raking in the big bucks."
"We'll see what we can do about that," he said, his face deadpan as he moved to take her arm again. "But in the meantime, there's the bad news, which is that you aren't going to be able to get up those stairs on your own."
“No, really, I’m fine,” she protested, horrified by the idea of being dependent on this man in any way, let alone feeling his body pressed up against hers. “I’m sure I can do it.”
“And I’m sure you can’t,” he countered. He looked at her with steady, unflinching eyes, and Heather thought she detected a hint of impatience now. He’d been calm and pleasant since this ridiculous encounter had begun, and she supposed she had to give him credit. She wasn’t exactly doing anything to endear herself to him.
"Fine," she said, finally defeated. "You can help me up the stairs and get me through the front door. Once I'm inside, I can manage."
“Sure,” he said with a laugh, pulling her arm around his shoulders to support her while she shakily regained her feet. “I’ll just drop you off on the doorstep and be on my way.”
Heather cut him a sideways glance as they made their way up the stairs, wondering why that sounded so unrealistic. During her married days, she wouldn't have expected anything more than what she'd just suggested, and she was having a hard time believing this vet’s good-guy routine was the real deal. To her, it fell under the heading of "too good to be true," and she'd learned long ago not to put any stock in that fairytale.
“Here is fine,” she said as soon as they reached the front door.
She swung the door open, letting go of Randy and grabbing at the doorframe for support. She did her best to keep her face neutral, uninterested, hoping that he couldn’t see how much pain she was actually feeling. All she wanted was to get inside and away from his prying eyes. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the throbbing in her ankle was growing intense.
“Really?” he asked with genuine surprise, easing an arm around her waist and guiding her inside, holding her a little tighter when she tried to pull away, though for some reason it didn’t feel threatening to her. “I was only joking about that. Do you seriously think I would leave you here and peace out?”
“It would be fine if you did,” she answered, feeling oddly sheepish, although she couldn’t put her finger on why. “You’ve already done more than enough. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things to do that don’t involve looking after me.”
“Actually,” he said slowly, flashing her a smile that almost looked nervous. “Now that you mention it, helping you out is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Wait, what?” she blanched and stopped their little procession halfway to the couch. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He cleared his throat. “That’s actually why I came by. Did anyone happen to tell you about the Fourth of July fundraiser in town?” he asked—and did she really see color rising in his cheeks?
"Are you talking about that auction? Like, selling the men of the town kind of thing?" Heather asked, searching for some connection between her situation and his showing up unannounced. "Because, if so, I heard some of the women from town mention it. Several of them, actually. They seemed to have a keen interest in my attending, although I can't imagine why."
“Right, well, I was actually in the auction, and long story short, it would seem that some of those women from town purchased me for your benefit.”
For a second, Heather could only stare. It had to be a joke. This kind of thing didn’t happen in real life, and she was most definitely not living in a romantic comedy. Her recently escaped relationship had made that abundantly clear.
As she searched his face, though, she could see that he was too embarrassed to be joking. The situation wasn't really his fault, it seemed. That didn't stop a twinge of anger from rippling through her. The next time she saw any of those meddlesome women from town, she was going to have a word or two to say to them.
“Seriously, Randy, that’s just silly,” she said with a strained laugh. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I do,” he said simply, starting them moving again, guiding her to the couch and easing her down. “Now, hold tight for a second. I need to get my bag out of my truck.”
“No, you don’t need—!” Heather started to say.
Not that it made any difference. She found herself talking to empty air; Randy was already gone. And, to be perfectly honest, he wasn't wrong. Her ankle was throbbing, growing more painful with each passing moment. The more she thought about it, the less certain she was that she would be able to keep working on the improvements the farm needed in the state she was in. Stopping work until she was up to the task didn't feel like an option, either. She had to have things up and running as soon as possible to realize even the smallest chance of making this second chance successful—and it had to be. There was no Plan C for her and her kiddos. This was it: the end of the line.
“Got it,” Randy said triumphantly, hurrying back through her open screen door with a battered black bag in one hand. “We’ll get that bandaged up, maybe give you something for the pain.”
“Thanks,” she said hesitantly as he knelt in front of her, getting right to work. “Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Go for it,” he said with a grin. “Is it about the auction?”
“You guessed it,” she said with a thin smile. “I’m wondering why you were involved with it in the first place.”
“It’s a fair question,” he said, rocking back on his heels with a sigh. “I agreed because of where they’re sending the money they raised.”
“Which is?” Heather pressed. She could feel herself becoming interested despite herself.
"The proceeds this year are going to one of Montana's horse rescue societies. Horses are expensive animals to care for, and it's not the most popular charity around. Anything I can do to help, I'm all for."
He pulled out a shrink-wrapped roll of elastic bandage, pulled the plastic off, and began to wind it in figure-eights around her ankle, and it seemed they’d run out of things to talk about. “Okay,” Heather sighed after a few more moments of agitated thought. “I don’t love the idea of having a guy bought for me in an auction.”
“No, really?” he asked with a smirk. “I couldn’t tell.”
“That being said,” she continued, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the smile she knew he was going for. “It doesn’t look like I’m in any position to be turning down help at the moment, and I would feel bad if you had to give back the money people paid to win you at auction.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I would feel bad about that, too.”
“So here’s the deal,” she said, raising one eyebrow at him in the same look she shot the twins when she wanted them to stop mouthing off. “I’ll accept the offer of help, but only on one condition.”
“All right, I’m listening,” he said, with a look so steady that it made her want to squirm. “What’s your condition?”
She kept her voice firm. “You have to teach me everything you’re doing to fix this place up. I want to know everything I can. Show me as much as you can cram into your time here so that I don’t ever have to ask for help again.”
5
“Oh, man,” Randy groaned as he guided his truck into one of the parking spots lining Winding Creek’s Main Street. “I hate to break it to you, but the welcoming committee is here.”
“Welcoming committee?” Heather asked him sharply, putting away her phone, which he’d noticed already had her rattled with whatever text message she’d been contemplating. She looked at Randy and then turned to scan the front of the hardware store. “What do you mean? Who's here?”
Randy nodded in the direction of a cluster of women standing in front of the neighboring antique store, all focused on his truck. This would have been bothersome under any circumstances, as far as Randy was concerned, but the youngest of these women had to be in her late forties.
It was another reminder of the way people liked to meddle when you lived in a place as small as Winding Creek. Another reason why he'd never intended to return to live there before his parents' will had made the move non-negotiable. Trevor had called it luck that the town's vet had retired at the same time Randy graduated. Randy still wasn't so sure.
"Who are they?" Heather asked, sounding suspicious. From where he sat, he saw her stiffen as she surveyed the group. "Why would they want to welcome us anywhere?"
“Those are some of the town’s most notorious busybodies,” Randy muttered, swiping a hand across his forehead. He wished it would rain. They’d had a much drier summer than was usual in Winding Creek, and it was messing with the temperature, not to mention the likelihood of Heather’s strawberry crop surviving. As an added bonus, a good drenching rain would have kept those women indoors. “If I had to guess, I’d say that at least a couple of them had a hand in the way the auction went down. They aren’t bad, really, at least not on their own, but when they get together, they’re a force to reckon with.”
“Oh, really?” Heather asked with a tight little smile. “Maybe I should go give them a big ol’ thank you.”
“No way.” Randy said and suddenly burst out laughing at the thought of how he imagined they’d react to her idea of a thank-you—a big, raucous sound that had the twins laughing along with him, although they couldn’t have understood why. “I definitely don’t think that’s a good idea. Remember, if we can get your plants growing the way they should be, you’re going to want some of these women for your customers.”
“If I can get my plants growing,” she said pointedly as if to emphasize how little she actually wanted his help. “And I guess you’re right. I don’t like it when people get involved in my business.”
“You don’t say?” Randy asked in his best innocent tone, then winced away theatrically as Heather made to swat him on the arm. “Come on, let’s get this over with. The sooner we can get those covers, the sooner we can escape from enemy territory.”