Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish (Harlequin American Romance)

by Mcdavid, Cathy

  “Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”

  Not exactly an admission, but close.

  “Answer me this,” Gavin said. “What would you have done if I told you she was back in town?”

  “Apologize, for one.” Which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t something he’d done last night. “And make amends…if possible.” He owed her that much.

  “You going to ask her out?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Why not?”

  “Even if I did, she’d turn me down flat. Besides, she’s probably married by now.”

  “She isn’t.”

  Ethan stopped pacing. “How do you know?”

  “The subject came up.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t have much time to talk to her.”

  “Doesn’t take long to say, ‘Hey, you ever get married?’”

  Ethan groaned.

  “What are you so mad about, anyway?”

  Before he could reply, another knock sounded at the door.

  “What now?” He stormed over and yanked the door open.

  Clay stood on the other side. “You’re in a fine mood.” Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside. “I just came from Prince’s paddock. He hasn’t touched his food.”

  “We’re heading there now,” Ethan grumbled, snatching his jacket off the back of the couch where he’d left it.

  “Any more of that coffee left?”

  “It’s instant,” Gavin complained from his seat at the table.

  Clay drew back in surprise. “Don’t you have a coffeemaker?”

  Ethan glared at him. “Don’t you?”

  Clay glared back. “What’s bugging you?”

  “He’s mad that I didn’t tell him Caitlin was working at the school.” Gavin rose from the table.

  “Can we not discuss this?” Ethan headed for the door.

  “You going to invite her out?”

  He ignored Clay’s question.

  “I already asked him that.” Gavin went to the sink and deposited his mug. “He says no.”

  Annoyed, Ethan shoved an arm into the sleeve of his jacket, then swore loudly when his entire left side seized with fresh pain.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Clay asked.

  “Fine.” Ethan opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

  Clay came up behind him. “You don’t act like it’s fine.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “What did Caitlin say last night?”

  “Ice the shoulder and take ibuprofen. I’ve done both.”

  “Did she tell you to see a doctor?”

  “I don’t need to see a doctor.”

  “Don’t believe him.” Gavin joined them on the porch, shutting the door behind him. “He’s hurting.”

  Ethan anchored his hat to his head as a strong gust of wind swept past them on its way down the mountain to the valley.

  “See a doctor,” Clay ordered. “Until you do, and until you’re cleared, no bronc riding.”

  Ethan swung around. “Dammit, Clay!”

  “Sorry. That’s the rule. Same for you as everyone else.”

  “The jackpot is a week and a half away. I need to practice.”

  “Then I guess you’d better haul your butt to the doctor today.”

  AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LONG driveway leading from Powell Ranch to the main road, Ethan turned left. Three minutes later he reached the entrance to Mustang Village, with its large monument sign flanked by a life-size bronze statue of a rearing horse.

  As he drove at a reduced speed through the equine-friendly community, he tried to remember what it had been like when there were no houses or buildings or people, only wide-open spaces and Powell cattle roaming them. He’d missed out on the construction of the community, having been in the service at the time. How hard it must have been for his father and brother to watch their family’s hundred-year-old history disappear acre by acre, replaced with roads, houses, condos and commercial buildings.

  He generally avoided Mustang Village. The reminder of all they had lost was too hard on his heart.

  If not for his mother’s failing health, they wouldn’t have borrowed the money from Clay’s father and used their land as collateral. If Clay’s dad had honored the agreement and not sold the land out from under them, Mustang Village would never have been built. If not for the residents of Mustang Village, Ethan’s family would be raising cattle rather than operating a riding stable.

  A lot of ifs, and that wasn’t even counting the most recent one—if he hadn’t been standing where he was at the exact moment the car bomb exploded, he wouldn’t have lost his leg.

  Ethan turned his thoughts away from the past when Mustang Village’s one and only retail strip center came into view.

  It always struck him as odd to see hitching rails and bridle paths in a residential community. On any given weekend, there were almost as many equestrians riding about as there were pedestrians walking. Not so much during the week. Mustang Village resembled most other communities then, with school buses making runs, mothers pushing strollers, cyclists zipping along and dog lovers walking their pets.

  Today, a work crew was busy stringing Christmas lights along the storefronts and hanging wreaths on lampposts. Already? Thanksgiving was still more than a week away.

  A buzzer announced Ethan’s arrival at the urgent-care clinic. This was his first visit. He always drove to the VA hospital in Phoenix for his few medical needs.

  Inside the crowded clinic, a receptionist greeted him with a friendly “May I help you?” and handed him a clipboard. When he was done filling out the forms, she processed his co-pay and said, “Have a seat.”

  Ethan considered inquiring if Caitlin was working. But then the phone rang, followed immediately by a second line ringing. He left the receptionist to answer her calls, and sat in a chair next to a mother and her sniffling child.

  He couldn’t help thinking that if the bronc hadn’t thrown him last night, he wouldn’t be here now, anxiously waiting to see his former girlfriend again. Yet another if in a long, long list of them.

  Except Ethan really wouldn’t describe Caitlin as a girlfriend. She’d been much more than that to him, and he to her. Had his mother not died and he not enlisted, chances were good they’d have gotten married.

  He really had to stop thinking about what might have been, or else he’d drive himself crazy.

  “Ethan?”

  His head snapped up when Caitlin called his name. “Yeah.”

  “Right this way.”

  He followed her down the corridor. Once he was weighed and his height taken, she escorted him to an examination room, where he sat on the table and she at the computer terminal.

  “Why are you here today?”

  Seriously? She knew darn well why. “I fell from a horse last night and hurt my shoulder,” he answered, playing along.

  “What part of your shoulder?”

  “You examined me.”

  She gave him a very professional smile. “It’s procedure.”

  He cupped his shoulder with his palm.

  More questions followed, and she typed the answers into the computer. During the entire process, Caitlin treated him like any other patient, concerned, interested and like they hardly knew each other.

  What did he expect? She was at work.

  What did he want?

  The answer was easy. To see that light in her eyes.

  “The doctor will be right in to see you.” Before closing the door, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you came in today.”

  He was tempted to jump to the wrong conclusion and reminded himself that her remark was medically motivated. Hadn’t she urged him last night to have his shoulder looked at?

  After a brief consultation with the doctor, Ethan waited again, this time for the X-ray technician. Returning from the imaging room, he waited a third time.

  The doctor’s news was good. Nothing was torn, only soft-tissue damage.

/>   “Can I start riding again right away?” he asked.

  “I recommend you take a few days off.” The man studied him over a pair of reading glasses. “A week would be better.”

  “But there’s no reason I can’t ride.”

  “You could sustain further injury.”

  “Okay.” Ethan nodded. He had every intention of getting on a bronc tonight, and he was pretty sure the doctor knew it.

  “I’m going to prescribe an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. If you aren’t better in two weeks, call for a follow-up exam or see your regular doctor.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know—” the man removed his reading glasses “—if you’re really that determined to ride, you might consider physical therapy to speed your recovery.”

  “Appreciate the advice, Doc.”

  “The nurse will be in shortly with your prescriptions.”

  Another wait, this one not long. Caitlin returned with three slips of paper in her hand. Ethan had to admit the sight of her in pale green scrubs was as surreal as seeing her in sweats. In college, she’d majored in journalism, with ambitions of being a TV reporter, and always dressed fashionably.

  Admittedly, the scrubs looked cute on her, the loose material not quite hiding her very nice curves.

  “Here you go.” She handed him the prescriptions. “The doctor wrote one for physical therapy as well, in case you need something for the VA.”

  “I’ll probably skip PT.”

  “Why? It will help.”

  He stood, folded the prescriptions and placed them in his wallet. “The nearby facilities don’t take VA insurance. And I can’t afford the time off work to drive into Phoenix.”

  “What if…what if I provided your physical therapy?”

  “You?”

  “I have some basic training. I’m not licensed, but I’ve taken several classes. For Justin. During his rehab, he’d strain his upper body muscles. And now that he’s involved in wheelchair athletics, he’s always overdoing it.”

  “I can relate.”

  “You two are alike when it comes to that.” Her expression softened, and suddenly she was the seventeen-year-old transfer student who’d been assigned to sit next to him in calculus class.

  Ethan was caught off guard and needed a moment to collect himself. “I don’t think the VA will pay for a private physical therapist.”

  “I won’t charge you.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do it for free.”

  “Who said anything about free?” She smiled then, really smiled, and he caught another glimpse of the confident, carefree girl he’d fallen in love with. “I was hoping we could negotiate a trade.”

  She had his attention now. “I’m listening.”

  She motioned him into the hall.

  “I’m on the Holly Days Festival committee,” she said.

  The residents of Mustang Village had put on a big community-wide event the previous Christmas. None of the Powells had attended, but they’d heard about it. From everyone.

  “The committee, huh?”

  “You know me.”

  He did. She’d been an involved student in both high school and college. Cocaptain of the cheerleading squad, student council, National Honor Society.

  “I thought the festival was strictly for residents.”

  “I’m a resident,” she said brightly as they entered the reception area.

  “Really?”

  “I’m renting a condo. In the complex right across the street.” She nodded toward the window. “I get to walk to work every day. Well, not to the middle school. But here.”

  Working and living in Mustang Village. Was that another bit of interesting information Gavin had conveniently forgotten to tell Ethan?

  “The committee is hoping to try something different this year,” Caitlin went on. “The parade was fun, but more people participated than watched.”

  “You saw it?”

  “I did. I almost drove to the ranch, too.”

  Just how often had they narrowly missed crossing paths since his return home?

  “Anyway, I remembered that old farm wagon of yours and was wondering if we could decorate it and have you drive people around the park.”

  “No one’s used that wagon in years.”

  Her hopeful smile fell. “Well, it was just an idea.”

  Ethan had no desire to participate in the Holly Days Festival. Nothing involving Mustang Village appealed to him—with the exception of Caitlin. And she appealed to him far too much for his own good.

  But hadn’t he just told Gavin this morning that he wished he could make amends with Caitlin? Wagon rides at the festival wouldn’t exactly clean the slate. But it was a start, and obviously important to her.

  “We could pull the wagon out of storage,” he said. “See what kind of shape it’s in.”

  “Great!” Her green eyes lit up.

  This was the moment Ethan had been waiting for, only her excitement was over an old wagon. Not him.

  “Why don’t you come out to the ranch?”

  “When?”

  Ethan massaged his left shoulder. “As soon as possible. I still haven’t qualified for the jackpot next weekend.”

  “What about tomorrow, say around noon? I have a two-hour break between the school and the clinic. If the wagon is usable, we’ll set up a schedule for your PT sessions.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Hey, Caitlin.” The receptionist held up a manila folder.

  “I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “Thank you, Ethan.”

  She collected the folder and called the next person’s name.

  Once again, Ethan was just another patient—and it didn’t set well with him.

  Chapter Three

  In days gone by, Caitlin would have driven directly to the main house at Powell Ranch and parked there. Instead, she followed the signs and went around behind the cattle barn to the designated parking area.

  “It’s weird,” her brother said from beside her in the passenger seat. “The place is totally different, but not different.”

  “Yeah, weird.” She opened her door and stepped out.

  Memories that had hovered the last few days promptly assailed her. Most were good, gently stroking emotional chords. One wasn’t so good, and it quickly overpowered the rest.

  “When was the last time you were here?” Justin asked, already maneuvering his legs into position.

  “Oh, about nine years ago.”

  Nine years, four months and…she mentally calculated…eighteen days. Not that she was keeping track.

  She’d arrived that last evening intending to join the Powells for dinner, something she often did in the past. Even before the meal was served, Ethan took her out to the front courtyard and sprang the news on her. He’d enlisted. Signed up a week after his mother’s funeral. A rather important decision he hadn’t even bothered discussing with Caitlin.

  A fresh wave of hurt and anger unbalanced her now, and she paused, holding on to the van door for support.

  Guess she hadn’t moved past her and Ethan’s bitter breakup, after all.

  It must be seeing the ranch again. Or seeing him again—for the third day in a row.

  Enough is enough, she told herself. She could manage working with Ethan, seeing him at the clinic, administering his physical therapy. He was nothing more than her patient.

  With actions honed from much practice, she removed her brother’s wheelchair from the rear of the minivan and carried it to the passenger side, where he waited.

  She’d have set the wheelchair up for him, except he insisted on performing the task himself. Rather than argue, she gave in. Being independent was important to Justin, and she respected his wishes even though her instinct was to do everything for him.

  After hoisting himself into the wheelchair, he and Caitlin made their way to the stables. She figured the office was as good a place as any to start looking for Ethan.

  “Sure are
a lot of people here,” Justin commented, rolling his wheelchair along beside her.

  A half-dozen riders were gathered in the open area near the stables. Several more were in the arena, riding alone or in pairs. One enthusiastic mother clapped while her preschooler trotted a shaggy pony in circles.

  “I hear it’s even busier when school lets out for the day.” Caitlin remembered when the only people on the ranch were the Powells and the cowboys who worked for them.

  “I’ll wait here,” Justin said when they reached the small porch outside the office.

  He could easily maneuver the three steps leading onto it, but he probably wanted to give Caitlin and Ethan some privacy.

  Easing open the door, she stepped tentatively inside the office. The sight of Ethan sitting with his back to her at an old metal desk gave her a start.

  Not again, she chided herself. No more going weak in the knees every time she saw him.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “Hello,” then “Oh!” when the ancient chair swiveled around with a squeak.

  The man wasn’t Ethan.

  “Hey.” Gavin greeted her with a wide grin. “What brings you here?”

  Caitlin vacillated between enormous relief and equally enormous disappointment. “I’m meeting Ethan.”

  “You are?”

  Obviously he hadn’t informed his family of her visit.

  She didn’t know what to make of that.

  “If he’s not around—”

  “He’s here. Shoeing one of the horses.”

  “Is it all right if I interrupt him?”

  “I’m thinking he won’t mind.”

  Caitlin wavered, then blurted, “Can I ask a favor of you?”

  “Sure.”

  “My brother’s outside. Would you check on him for me? Without making it look like you’re checking on him?”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Good. And he’s perfectly capable of handling himself in new situations.”

  “But you worry.”

  “Constantly.”

  “Not a problem.” Gavin’s cell phone rang. “Let me take this call first.”

  “Thanks.” Caitlin hurried across the office and out the door leading to the stables.