“Don’t mind Clover,” Tru said, grinning. “She thinks she’s Doc’s nurse.”
The doc turned toward her, pushed his glasses up his nose, and took hold of Maggie’s hand. He didn’t even acknowledge the presence of a pig that had Maggie leaned back against the wall to avoid contact.
The doc unwrapped her hand. “So what happened? How’d you get this?”
She looked to Tru and he answered for her. “Solomon bit her when she crawled under the bed to try and get him unstuck.”
“What’d you do to Solomon?” Doc asked, looking incredulously at her.
Clover stuck her snout into Maggie’s armpit. “I didn’t do anything to him.” She pushed the pig away, thankful she didn’t get her other hand bitten by a pig this time. She couldn’t believe he wanted to know what she’d done to the dog.
“I tried to help it. Pops”—she didn’t know Tru’s grandfather’s name, so she used what she knew—“h-he asked me to.” She decided that was easier than telling them that the poor man had been near hysterics.
“That dog is about as gentle as a lamb,” Doobie said—or Doonie—she’d forgotten which one was wearing the blue shirt.
“He was upset.”
The doc pressed an antiseptic-soaked pad to the punctures and she winced.
“What was he so riled up for?” Doobie asked. She decided she’d had it wrong and Doobie had on the green shirt, not the blue shirt.
“Because he was stuck.” Again she didn’t know what to say. She glanced at Tru looking for direction on how much to say about his Pops.
“He’s claustrophobic, maybe. Who knows,” Tru offered with a shrug for the men.
She almost smiled at his explanation and added, “You’d have been upset, too, if you were stuck” Doobie? Oh, fiddle, she gave up on which one was speaking.
“I wouldn’t have bitten a pretty lady’s hand for helping me. I can tell you that much,” twin-number-two said, then shot her a wide grin.
Having decided she didn’t need stitches, the doc had her hand cleaned and wrapped in no time. A good thing, too, because Maggie’s head was spinning from the questions. The twins switched from asking her about her bite to asking her about the interview and the bet.
Tru leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching silently. She was left hanging out on a limb all by herself except for Clover who had decided that Maggie’s lap was the perfect headrest.
She found out that the twins were friends of the doc and often hung out in his office drinking coffee in the afternoon.
“They’re a sneaky couple,” Doc told her as he finished wrapping her hand. “They pretend to be each other sometimes—we all know they do—but no one can tell them apart, so it’s hard to prove.” He looked at her over the rim of his bifocals. “I think they’re both the mayor of Wishing Springs and no one knows it.”
She laughed. The twins just grinned, not denying or confirming.
Tru gave a short snort of a laugh from across the room.
Though he was helping her out because he obviously felt guilty that his dog had bitten her, their heated discussion had made it clear that he thought she’d set him up. That put another spin on this fiasco.
Set him up?
It was crazy ridiculous.
But what was new? This entire day had been crazy.
When they finally made it out of the vet’s office, she had an arm that was feeling much better than it had when she went in—the doc had fixed her up even with the nosy pig snorting around. Thankfully, since she’d already had a tetanus shot, she didn’t have to have Doc Hallaway stick a horse needle in her—she figured she’d be grateful for anything at this point.
Honestly, nothing about her arrival in Wishing Springs was as she’d expected. Once they were back in the truck and Tru had turned it in the direction of home, she was also grateful they hadn’t been forced to participate in a reality TV show. The dog bite, the vet, the pig, and the twins would have been too farfetched. No one would believe it wasn’t scripted.
Tru just wanted to get back home. He slammed his truck door and glanced at Maggie.
“Well, that was a first,” she said, buckling up. “I’m not sure if anyone would believe anything that just happened to me. I was mauled by a pig while a vet cleaned my wound. A wound that I received after I got stuck beneath a bed with a Basset Hound. Or that I was the afternoon entertainment for a pair of twins with names that sounded like a a line of purses.”
Despite his suspicions about being manipulated by her, Tru chuckled. He had to admit she’d been a good sport about the whole incident. “Well, when you put it that way, you might have a problem. We do try to keep things interesting here in Wishing Springs.”
“Try?” She cleared her throat and shot him a look of disbelief.
He found it hard to pull his gaze away and focus on the road. He’d been having trouble ever since he’d found her stuck under his old bed.
The fact that his truck cab now had the faint scent of spring flowers calling to him only added to his dilemma.
He found himself wanting to pull her close, wanting to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. And that was not good, more now than ever. This attraction complicated everything. He might be attracted, but he reminded himself that she very well could have manipulated this dog-and-pony show.
It was too convenient.
How good were the show’s ratings? He’d been wondering that since the moment he’d been given the ultimatum that he had to join in on this circus. He suspected she needed PR for her column and this was proposed to benefit her and benefit Amanda’s morning show.
Still, he had no proof. He could just be wary and not let her manipulate him further. And, despite the attraction, he refused to do anything that would even begin to appear as if he were having a romance with Maggie. He wanted no part of that kind of circus again. He’d made a bad dating decision by going out with Felicity. Starlets made their living by being in the public eye so he should have thought about the old saying: Bad publicity is better than no publicity. His mistakes had been glaringly showcased by the tabloids when Felicity acted up—especially that last time. Tru didn’t like to think about the catfight.
The positive of the whole miserable ordeal was that he’d also realized that in the near future he wanted a family: wife, kids, and a quiet life here on the ranch. One that didn’t include a spotlight or a starlet who craved a spotlight any way she could get it—even if it meant creating scenes in public in hopes of attracting tabloids and becoming fodder for their readers.
“I need to explain about Pops.” It was time to set the boundaries.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“No, I need to clarify a couple of things.” He glanced sternly at her. On this he wouldn’t budge. “I’ve agreed to do this, but my Pops is off limits. Whatever you write in that article you’re supposed to write, don’t put anything about my Pops in there.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said, sounding genuinely insulted. Maybe hurt. “I didn’t mention it in the clinic. Just the dog.”
“Thank you for not mentioning it. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just hard to deal with when someone you love is . . . going through it.”
“I can’t even imagine how it must feel.” She was looking at him and he found himself drinking her in for a moment. She just seemed so real. Angry at himself, he cranked his truck and backed out of the parking lot.
“His forgetfulness and confusion is taking over, and as bad as I don’t want to accept it, it really is Alzheimer’s,” he said after they got back on the road. “Me and my brothers can’t stop it. He does some strange things now and again. But”—he looked at Maggie, his heart aching—“he used to be the strongest man I knew. His mind was quick—sharp as they came—and to see him on a cutting horse was to watch genius in action.”
Just thinking about it wedged a lump in Tru’s throat. “Pops is—was the best of the best in his day.” Sometimes, the man Tru saw now was nothing like t
he man he’d always known. Always idolized. Always emulated.
But that didn’t change the fact that he loved him fiercely. He slowed at the entrance and after he’d turned onto the drive, he stopped before going through the gate.
He held her sympathetic gaze. “I don’t want him in the funny papers. I want him remembered for being the man he worked all of his life to be. I don’t want your paper or the show getting laughs at his expense. If that insults you, I’m sorry, but I needed to make sure there is absolutely no misunderstanding.”
She studied him. He had never been more serious about anything in his life. “Promise me,” he added when she said nothing.
“I promise. I would never do something like that. I think it’s admirable of you to protect your grandfather.”
They stared at each other, the seconds ticking by.
He swallowed hard and the lump lodged in his throat eased, but the knot in his chest remained. “Good.” Pressing the gas, he took them past the main house. “I’ll take you to your cabin.”
He drove past the barn, the round pens, and his house. The well-maintained road wound through the pasture and down into the river area where the cabin sat in a tiny clearing surrounded by woods. Maggie silently fidgeted in the seat beside him as they neared the cabin. The woman did tend to have a nervous streak. But who could blame her in their situation?
“This is where you’ll be staying. It’s not too far away, and yet you’ll have your privacy when you want it.”
“It’s, um, fine.” There was a slight hesitation in her voice. “Does it have electricity?”
He laughed. “I’m not putting you in a cabin that rustic. Not only does it have electricity but water too. You won’t even have to use the river to bathe in.”
“Oh, a wise guy. Funny.”
He chuckled, feeling a little lighter than he had for days. “The only thing it doesn’t have is a washer and dryer. You’re welcome to use the one at my house or the one at Pops’s place.”
“I can do that.” She stared at the cabin, making no move to get out of the truck. Absently, she rubbed her arm and looked from the cabin to the woods. “I’m glad you had a place to put me.”
“So this is going to work for you?”
She glanced back at the woods and he could have sworn she looked worried about them.
“Yes. It’s great. I’ll have plenty of quiet time to work.”
“Yup.” He wouldn’t be bothering her, that was for sure.
Within a few minutes they’d gone back for her car and she’d followed him back to the cabin. Then he’d helped her unload her things and carry the stuff inside.
“Like I said, it’s rustic. But we like it. Pops built this a long time ago. It hasn’t been used in a while. So the cleaning lady came out and got it in shape for you.”
Standing near him in the doorway, she stopped to look at the paneled walls, the small stone fireplace, and the furniture made from tree limbs.
“I like the furniture.”
“Thanks, I made it.” He enjoyed working with his hands. Woodwork intrigued him.
She stared at him. “You made it? Wow. I have to admit that I’ve always been a little obsessed with twig furniture. And this is gorgeous. I love the way you sanded the limbs to show the grain, rather than leave the bark on like most that I’ve seen.”
Her eyes had turned the color of seafoam and could pull him in in a minute if he wasn’t wary.
He was.
He yanked himself upright, realizing he’d leaned toward her, letting her sweet scent of spring lure him in closer.
“I need to go to work,” he said, backing toward the door. “After you get settled in, you can find me at the arena and we can go over the logistics of this thing. We’re going to set up certain times for lessons. I have other responsibilities—priorities that have to be fulfilled. There will only be so many hours in a day that I can give up.”
“That is just fine with me. I’ll have plenty to do,” she bristled. “I’ll be up soon. It’ll be better to get this thing going as soon as possible. The sooner we start, the faster the time will go until we’re finished.”
“Yup.” He turned and strode to his truck as fast as his boots would go.
What was it about Maggie that had him wanting to go against every instinct he had? She was like a magnet—or an undertow.
Climbing into the truck, he slammed the door. It was time to put distance between him and trouble.
This could get complicated. The thought rang through him as he drove away . . . as fast as wheels would carry him.
7
They’d put Maggie in the woods.
She was a city girl. She didn’t do woods. After unpacking she went to meet with Tru about their schedule. She needed to get that settled and then she had to go grab some groceries in town before the small town closed up tight for the night. She’d also hoped to stop by Over the Rainbow and check on Jenna but there wasn’t enough time today. Soon though. She’d thought of the teen and her baby often and wondered how they were doing.
The trip to the barn ended up being fairly short. She parked then walked toward the barn, she scanned the area—looking out for a yard dog that might be waiting around to bite the newcomer. There were a handful of buildings and fenced pens.
A metal building with double doors sat several yards away and drew her attention. The doors were open and she could see what looked like packing boxes. On the wall beside the door was a large sign with the Four of Hearts brand and the word Stirrups beside it. She realized that in that instance the brand was there as the logo for the ranch’s handmade stirrup line and that must be where they were made. Her curiosity was stirred.
A cowboy came barreling around the corner of the stable as she approached. Maggie gasped and her hand went to her heart.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He had dark hair and a five o’clock shadow that emphasized a square jaw. His eyes were green like emeralds on high octane. “You’re Maggie, right?”
“Yes, and you must be one of Tru’s brothers.” The resemblance was too close, despite the difference in eye color.
He crossed his arms and gave a wolfish grin that caused a dimple to appear playfully. “Depends on who’s asking. These days around here, a guy can’t be too careful.”
She couldn’t help smiling at him, his grin was contagious. “I’m Maggie Hope and I’m looking for Tru.”
“I was afraid of that. All the pretty ones always are,” he said with a wink. “I’m Bo, by the way. Tru’s baby brother. How’s the hand? Really sorry about that—Solomon’s never bitten anyone before.”
“It’s fine. My hand will make it. He was scared.”
“He’s a stinker, and thank you for going above and beyond by climbing under the bed to pull him out. I hear you got stuck.”
She laughed. “Your brother rescued me.”
“Just call him the Lone Ranger. I’m just glad he was able to hoist that hulking bed he built off of you.”
He’d built that beautiful monster. “He didn’t seem to have a problem.” She was suddenly very uncomfortable. She didn’t want people thinking she needed rescuing and that Tru was her knight. Bo was teasing, but what if others started thinking the same thing. That is what got her into this trouble in the first place.
“Well, that’s good to hear. But then, he took you to see Doc Hallaway and Clover. I’d hold that against him in a heartbeat.” Bo flashed his dimples and tipped his hat. “He’s in there. Good luck with the riding lesson.”
“Thanks,” she called as he headed toward one of the trucks, and she went to find Tru.
The afternoon sun was streaming in through the wide rolling doors at each end of the barn. A long wide alley cut down the middle of the building. She’d actually never been in a barn before.
It smelled. Not bad, but musty like grass and probably feed. She was a little startled that it didn’t stink. She could see the outline of Tru and a horse in the light. His silhouette was p
ure cowboy, bent with his back to the horse and the horse’s front leg propped on his thigh as he studied the horse’s hoof. A flock of pigeons erupted in the pit of her stomach—forget butterflies. She shooed them away.
“No attraction allowed. None,” she declared under her breath, daring herself to say otherwise even as her pulse ignored her and kicked into race mode.
He looked up as she neared him.
Oh, man. His rugged good looks made a mockery of her declaration, but that only made her more wary. Tru Monahan could have his pick of adoring women.
“Is it hurt?” she asked, directing her thoughts to the horse. She halted several steps away from Tru, keeping him between her and the horse. The caramel-colored beauty reminded her of Tru’s eyes.
“He had a rock in his shoe. It’s out now.” He placed the horse’s hoof on the ground and straightened. “So, how much experience do you have with horses?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “None. That’s what I was trying to tell you in the interview. I have never been around a horse. This is my first time even inside a barn. I’ve always lived within the city limits of Houston, and we don’t generally have too many horses roaming around there.”
“Ahh, you have a point.”
“And I have made no secret that I’m just not the most coordinated person on the planet. God ran out of that long before he got to me,” she added.
His lip twitched. “That bad, huh?”
She put her hand on her hip. “You’ve seen me in action.”
“True. But again, the shoe choice makes a difference. You’ll learn to ride. I was serious when I said that.”
“Excuse my skepticism. It has more to do with me than you.”
“Are you always this hard on yourself? Look, it might not be pretty, but you’ll be able to ride a cutting horse before two months is up. Even if you are clumsy—your words, not mine.”
His words stung, even if he was repeating her.
She carefully stilled her expression, not wanting to show what she was feeling.
Betting on Hope Page 7