Prairie Fever

by Tessa Layne

  “I don’t feel comfortable with more than twenty. But there are more than twenty women pregnant around here. I’ve referred some to a midwife I know in Manhattan.”

  “I’m happy to take on patients as well,” Suzannah offered. After a pause, she asked Amy a question that had been eating at her for days. “So, is it my imagination or are there lots of young, really young women who are pregnant?”

  Amy made a face. “More than I like. I mean, every baby is a gift, but yes, there are three girls at the high school who are currently pregnant.”

  “Has anyone thought of offering a community health class?”

  Amy perked up. “Dottie Grace has been bugging me to do one for months, but I just don’t have time.”

  The wheels in Suzannah’s brain began spinning. “You know, I gave several community health talks during my residency. It’s part of what drove me to consider rural family practice.”

  “There’s so much misinformation out there, and not just about sex.”

  “I agree,” said Suzannah. “I’ll talk to Dottie. Maybe I could give a talk one evening.”

  “The diner would be the perfect venue.”

  This time, the women exchanged a genuine smile. Something hooked in Suzannah’s chest. Maybe she’d just made her first friend in Prairie.

  CHAPTER 6

  Staying away from Suzannah lasted all of two weeks. Two agonizing, sleep-deprived weeks, where Suzannah’s face had dogged him at every turn, sleeping or waking. Taunted him when he caught a flash of blonde hair at Millie’s organic grocery. Ten days in, he’d finally caved, and Google searched her. He’d looked four-and-a-half years ago, trying to piece together what had gone wrong, but at the time, she’d had no social media presence. It was like she didn’t exist. Of course, he’d been searching for Suzannah Harper, not Suzannah Winslow, daughter of the multi-gazillionaire and media personality, Orrin Winslow. Everyone knew the wild success story of Orrin Winslow. His grandfather had made millions running hooch during prohibition, and then invested in oil. Orrin, in turn, had invested in real estate and a few tech companies that had exploded in value. The Winslow name was on buildings from Chicago to Dallas. As soon as he typed in her name, an engagement announcement from the spring after Vegas popped up. “She didn’t waste any time,” he’d muttered, acid rising up his throat. But he had to look. The announcement was only a paragraph – detailing that a fall wedding was planned, and that the bride-to-be was just about to begin her medical residency. The lucky asshole? Dalton Cavenaugh, CEO of a local biotech company about to go public.

  He’d kept to the horses, after that, working himself to exhaustion every night so that he could collapse into dreamless sleep. But even that didn’t keep his mind from dwelling on the little girl in the Batman mask and homemade cape, with the white-blonde hair like her mother’s. And then to the pain in his chest at the thought of what he could have had. Which made no sense, because he didn’t want it. Rephrase that. He hadn’t wanted it with anyone except Suzannah.

  Yeah. Fucking mess.

  Days later, he led his new mare, Sugar, out of the barn to where Parker sat atop Ricky, one of Gunnar’s favorite horses. “You have the post-digger?” he grunted.

  Parker motioned to the equipment covered in canvas and strapped to the back of the saddle. “Yep. And wire cutters.”

  “The spool’s out where we need to make repairs.” Gunnar mounted up and urged Sugar out of the barnyard, taking a northeasterly track away from the creek that separated the Hansen property from the Sinclaires.

  “I also have a bottle of chill-the-fuck-out,” Parker called from behind, laughter lacing his voice.

  “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  “And I wear curlers to bed at night.”

  Even Parker’s attempt at sarcasm wasn’t enough to force a laugh. “Let’s just get the work done.”

  Parker pulled abreast and shot him a speculative glance. “Dude. I think you need to get laid in the worst way.”

  Sure he did. But the best he could hope for was to rub one off in an attempt to chase sleep late at night. “Not happening.”

  “Is that because the object of your desire is off-limits?”

  “There is no object of desire.”

  Parker chuckled. “Denial ain’t just a river, man. Everyone knows why you’ve holed up on the ranch like a hermit.”

  Gunnar’s gaze jerked up. “What did you tell Dottie?” he demanded.

  “Calm down, calm down. I didn’t tell Dottie anything. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out things ended badly between the two of you. So why not man up and go talk to her? I didn’t take you for a coward, Gunn.”

  “For starters, I said I’d stay away. For seconds, there’s nothing to say. She dumped me and moved on. Had a kid with some asshat named Dalton Cavenaugh.”

  “So that’s what’s eating at you, isn’t it? It’s the fact she’s got a kid.”

  Parker always had a knack for saying what others were thinking. And this time, Parker had come dangerously close to the truth. But broken hearts had a way of teaching one how to deflect, and Gunnar was now a master. “You know as well as I do that the hopeful grannies in town, including Dottie, would love nothing more than to see me settled down and adding to the gene pool.”

  Parker gave him a look of understanding. “I swear, every time Cassie complains about being a little tired, Dottie’s eyes turn hopeful.”

  What was it with these older women? “Do you even want kids?” he asked as they reined the horses to a stop a few yards away from the barbed wire spool. In front of them, stretching over the hill, were three rotted fence posts that had fallen during the last thunderstorm.

  Parker shrugged as he dismounted. “I don’t know, man. Cassie’s seen a whole lotta ugly. And I think she’s worried about having to give up piloting. To be honest, I’m happy not sharing her. Our time is precious enough as it is, between Guard duty and fighting fires.” Parker hesitated. “I’ve been talking to the Forest Service about certifying our hand crew as a hotshot team.”

  “No foolin’?” Gunnar looped Sugar’s reins over a low hanging oak branch.

  “For starters, it would mean a pay raise for all of us.”

  “But it’s also more dangerous,” Gunnar filled in as he headed to inspect the rotten posts. “And you’d hate to leave Cassie alone to raise a child.”

  Parker nodded. “Especially after my near miss.”

  Parker’d narrowly escaped with his life the summer before thanks to an explosive wildfire. It had taken months to fully recover from his injuries. “I get that. But you know, lately…” He hesitated to say more. But Parker just looked at him expectantly and waited for him to continue. “I’m worried about dad. He’s slowed down since his heart attack this spring. It’s taken so much more of my time to run the stables. I was thinking of stepping down from the board. Maybe taking a back seat.” That would at least spare him from further interaction with Suzannah.

  Guilt flashed across Parker’s face.

  “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you or anything,” Gunnar rushed. “You’ve been invaluable, but if you’re moving onto bigger things… maybe I need to hire a foreman, and a hand or two to help with the ranch.”

  Parker shot him a sardonic grin. “Might free you up to pursue a certain doctor.”

  “Oh hell, no. Fool me once, shame on me.”

  “Fool you twice,” Parker supplied.

  “Right? Never again.”

  “People seem pretty taken with her,” Parker offered.

  Gunnar took the wire cutters and snapped the barbed wire, disengaging it from the fence, and taking care to loop it carefully then set it aside. They’d need to run new wire from the spool once the new posts were planted. “But I’m not,” he said firmly. “And don’t go getting any ideas.” Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone, even Parker. But deep down? Part of him wondered if this wasn’t his great second chance, and that he was blowing it by staying away. Especially during Sunday dinners
, when he heard his parents and Hope gush about how lovely she was, how smart, how compassionate. That was more like the Suzannah he’d fallen for, and not the woman who’d crushed him at the altar. “Let’s get this job done.”

  The afternoon sun beat down on them, sweat burning their eyes and soaking their shirts. They worked quietly, efficiently, slipping into a familiar rhythm born of years of working side by side. Parker had always been like another brother to him, even more so now, with Axel living in Oklahoma. And if Parker didn’t think hiring some help was a bad idea, maybe it was time to approach his father. Hansen Stables had been run solely by the Hansen family for generations. On the one hand, it didn’t seem right to bring in outside help. On the other, the work of keeping the property in the black was simply becoming too much. By hiring a foreman and some local hands, Gunnar could focus his energy on further diversification. Take a page from the Sinclaire playbook and look into eco-tourism, or hospitality. They’d managed both successfully, as well as the paintball course both families worked together. “So I’ve been thinking…” Gunnar started, pulling tight on the wire and wrapping it around the new post.

  “About the doctor?”

  Gunnar ignored the jibe. “City folk are pretty curious about a working ranch. Why not upgrade several of the bunkhouses, and offer excursions? Visitors could help with ranch work.”

  Parker grunted, wrestling with the new fence post. “Could work – Look OUT!”

  Before either of them could react, a weak spot in the barbed wire snapped and the strand came whipping toward Gunnar’s face. Without thinking, he used his arms to shield his face, and the razor-sharp barbs dug into his skin with a fiery bite. Pain streaked up his arms, stealing his breath. “Fuck,” he muttered as the warm metal scent of blood hit his nostrils.

  Parker was next to him in an instant, whipping off his shirt and pressing it to his arm. One look at his face told Gunnar all he needed to know. “It ain’t pretty, is it?”

  Parker’s face pinched with concern as he shook his head. “We’ve gotta get you into town asap. Here.” Parker took his other hand and pressed it to the shirt that was rapidly turning red. “You need to press as hard as you can.”

  A tendril of fear snaked through Gunnar. “Did you get a look?”

  Parker shook his head. “No. I wanna stop the bleeding first. Raise your arm over your head. I think we should walk back. And press as hard as you can.”

  Gunnar nodded as the first wave of searing pain hit him. Better he was with Parker than anyone else. By the time they reached the barnyard and Parker’s truck, Gunnar’s arm burned from holding it over his head. “Not exactly how I’d imagined seeing Suzannah again,” he remarked wryly.

  “Be damned glad she’s in town.” Parker kept his eyes on the road, pushing his speed.

  “Don’t let Weston catch you going that fast.”

  Parker didn’t answer. Shit. Gunnar glanced up at his arm. The shirt was soaked with his blood. He exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes as a wave of nausea churned his belly. He didn’t do blood. “Stay put,” Parker ordered when he skidded to a stop in the parking lot of the clinic. In a flash, he was out of the truck and around the front to open the side door. “Keep squeezing that arm.”

  Gunnar swung a leg out of the truck, and stumbled as he landed.

  “I’ve got you,” Parker said, grabbing his shoulder.

  Parker ushered him through the doors. “Where’s the receptionist? I thought you guys hired a receptionist?”

  “We ran out of funds.” he gritted out.

  Parker slammed his hand on the bell at the counter. “Hello?” he shouted. “Doc?” He banged on the bell repeatedly.

  Seconds later, Suzannah flew out, face a picture of calm. Until they locked eyes. Once again, she blanched.

  Through the haze of pain, Gunnar gave her a weak smile. “So we meet again.”

  “Second door on the left,” she barked, a small tremor in her voice. “What happened?”

  “Barbed wire,” Parker supplied. “We were repairing fence posts. Profuse bleeding, possible radial artery cut.”

  “Did you take a look?”

  Parker shook his head. “I was about ten feet away when the wire came flying. Blood started pouring pretty fast. I thought it best to apply direct pressure and get him in as fast as possible.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Maybe half-hour? We were on horseback, and there was no way to get him mounted without taking off the pressure. And he couldn’t have ridden.”

  Suzannah made a face, but nodded. “Okay, let’s take a look then. Let me wash up. Parker, you too? I may need some help. There are surgical gloves in the box next to the sink.”

  Seeing her in action jolted Gunnar from his haze of pain. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and even the scrubs couldn’t hide her luscious curves. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. Gunnar?”

  Her touch sent an electric shock through him, causing him to suck in a breath.

  “You okay?” Concern flicked across her face. “What’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

  For a broken heart? Definitely a ten. “Five,” he managed.

  “Hmm. Your face says otherwise. Can we remove the cloth?” Her voice was like a goddamned Siren. Soothing, hypnotic. He was lost to her spell, and no amount of lashing himself to a mast would save him.

  He winced as the cloth lifted.

  “Parker, there’s a container of chlorhexidine in the upper cabinet, along with some chux.” She peered at him, eyes soft. Gunnar’s chest squeezed into a painful knot as a memory of her sated and soft in his bed shimmered before him. So much nicer than the cold, angry, suspicious expression from a few weeks ago. “I need you to lay your arm on the exam table. We need to clean it out.”

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he focused on the pain radiating up his arm, letting its sharpness fill his mind, blocking out all other thoughts.

  “Parker, can you brace his wrist?” She glanced at him again, eyes filled with concern. “This is going to hurt. Try and stay as still as possible?”

  He nodded. Whatever was coming, it couldn’t possibly hurt as much as his shattered heart in the aftermath of Las Vegas. He grunted as the liquid hit his arm. Okay, maybe this hurt close to that. He shut his eyes and braced for more. Cleaning the wound probably took less than thirty seconds, but the agony seemed to go on forever. Bringing him right back to the day he kissed her goodbye. He glared at her.

  “I know,” she answered sympathetically. “It’s almost over.” Suzannah took a gauze cloth and dabbed at his arm, inspecting the four-inch-long jagged, open wound. She made a noise in the back of her throat, and probed the wound.

  “Ouch,” he snapped.

  “I know, it hurts. I’m sorry. I just need to make sure you didn’t nick the artery.” After an excruciating moment, where Gunnar listed every curse word he knew, forward and back, she placed clean gauze over the wound, then took his free hand and placed it firmly on the pad. “You’ll need stitches, but it looks like it could have been much worse.”

  He smiled grimly, holding her gaze. An emotion he couldn’t name flickered in her eyes, a little spark of something that set his heart pounding and his arm throbbing.

  The alarm on Parker’s phone started sounding. “Shit,” he said after checking it. “Someone’s spotted a brush fire west of town. I’ve got to get to the fire station. Will you be okay getting home?”

  Gunnar nodded. “Just do me a favor and let my folks know I’m okay. Tell dad it’s just a scratch.”

  Suzannah snorted. “You’re not going to be able to do any heavy lifting for a couple weeks – you don’t want to risk popping the stitches.”

  Now it was his turn to snort. “Two weeks?” He shook his head. “No way. I’ve got a ranch to run.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “Is he always this stubborn, Parker?”

  Parker snickered. “Depends. The Hansens have been known to engage in acts of hard-headed idio
cy from time to time.”

  Again, her mouth quirked, and this time he recognized what was in her eyes. Heat. Just a flash, but it was there. Pure, unadulterated heat. His pulse kicked up a notch as awareness shot through him.

  “I’m outta here, Doc,” Parker said as he pulled open the door. “Let me know if he gets out of hand.”

  Suzannah gave him a wry smile. “I’m sure I can take him if he does.”

  Parker shut the door, his laughter echoing as he walked down the short hallway to the exit. The air between them charged, silence looming between them. Gunnar’s good hand twitched with the urge to reach for her. “Suzannah.” He didn’t recognize his voice. It came out strangled, pained.

  Her face contorted. “Don’t do this, Gunnar.”

  “Do what?” he pressed. “Acknowledge there’s still something between us?” Pain had a way of stripping away all pretense. “Tell me you don’t feel it, too. I dare you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Suzannah retreated to the far corner, opening and closing cabinets and drawers with an intensity that belied her calm. “Let’s focus on getting your arm sutured.”

  So that’s how she was going to play it? Gunnar fought a wave of disappointment. Hell, it was his own damn fault. He was the one who’d promised to stay away, act like there was nothing between them.

  “I’m going to have to give you a couple of shots of lidocaine. You’ll want to be numb when I sew you back together.”

  “Just stitch me up. It can’t hurt more than it already does,” he grumbled.

  Her eyes jerked to his, the barest hint of a smile making the corner of her mouth twitch, before looking right away again. “Posturing doesn’t impress me.” All her attention seemed focused on arranging several instruments on a small tray. “You should know that,” she murmured.

  “What impresses you, Suzannah Harper?”