by Stasia Black
Nicholas’ silverware banged on the table as he slammed them down but Isobel just shook her head with a wry smile on her face. No one could accuse this group of not having personality.
She held up her hands. “No up close and personal encounters with bovines today. But there’s always tomorrow to look forward to.”
She shared a little about what she’d been up to instead, helping with the vaccines and updating the clinic computer records. Everyone seemed interested in what she was saying and as long as she was talking, she didn’t have to worry about what was on her plate, so she told them a little about her road trip too when Reece asked about it. Honestly, she was surprised at how at ease she felt with all of them.
“Feck, you can’t take a night off studying even when you have this vision of female perfection before you?” Liam suddenly asked, reaching across Isobel’s plate to grab Jeremiah’s textbook.
“Hey,” Jeremiah said, reaching for the book. “I have a test next Monday. I need to study.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “That’s what Sunday night is for. It’s Friday, for Jesus’ sake. Take a load off.”
Jeremiah got out of his seat and lurched for the textbook but Liam jerked it out of his grasp right before he could close his fingers around it.
“Christ, can you not take one day off from being an entitled son of a bitch?” Mack asked from across the table. “We don’t all have a daddy who can bail us out if we bomb our classes.”
Liam ignored Mack. He grinned magnanimously at Jeremiah. “But lucky you, you have me and I’m happy to throw away money on your education any time. Just say the word.”
Jeremiah glared at Liam, his jaw locking. Yikes, Isobel could tell that was the wrong thing to say.
“We don’t take charity.” Jeremiah yanked his book back from Liam.
“Fucking rich people,” Mack muttered under his breath, mopping up some gravy on his plate with his biscuit and shoving the rest of it in his mouth.
Liam narrowed his eyes at Mack. “You’ve got a little something.” Liam motioned to his eyebrow. “Just there.”
When Mack lifted his hand to his own eyebrow, Liam launched the rest of the biscuit he was eating straight at Mack’s forehead, smacking him right between the eyes.
Mack shot to his feet, pushing his chair back. “You better watch it, pretty boy. I’d hate to have to rearrange your face.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Reece said, getting up and putting a hand on Mack’s chest. “He was just joking around. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
Mack smacked Reece’s hand away from his chest but Reece just lifted it back, though without touching Mack’s chest this time.
Mack glared at Liam—who was smirking back like he couldn’t be more amused by Mack’s display.
“Hey guys, come on,” Reece looked back and forth between Liam and Mack. “Is this any way to welcome a newcomer to the ranch? Poor Isobel is going to think we’re a bunch of barbarians here. Look, you’re putting her off her dinner.” He pointed down at her plate, where she’d barely touched her food.
Damn it, why did he have to be so observant? She shoved a bite of squash and zucchini in her mouth. She even managed not to cringe when she realized the vegetables weren’t steamed, but had been cooked in what tasted like butter.
Mack left his own mostly empty plate behind and stormed off in the direction of the stairs.
“What crawled up his arse?” Liam asked.
Jeremiah leaned behind Isobel to smack Liam on the back of the head.
Reece sat back down at the table, looking at Isobel apologetically. “I’m sorry about all that. I swear we’re not all that bad. We usually get along great.”
“Reece here is what we call an optimist,” Liam said, shaking his head and stabbing his fork in the direction Mack went. “I’ll get along with that arsehole the day hell freezes over.”
“So, Isobel,” Reece said brightly, obviously trying to cover the bad manners of the rest of his tablemates. “You said you drove here from New York?”
Isobel nodded, dabbing a big chunk of cauliflower against the side of her plate to try to drain off the butter that had collected on it.
“Which part?” Reece asked.
She put her fork down, giving up on the cauliflower. It was like a little sponge. There was probably a half a tablespoon of butter in that single bite. “I live in the city. But I go to college upstate in Ithica.”
“So what brings you to our neck of the woods?” Jeremiah asked. He’d closed his books, apparently giving up on studying after all.
Crap. She should have anticipated this question. Why hadn’t she thought up a good answer for it? She swallowed as she tried to think of something to say. God, her throat was dry. She smiled and held up a finger as she reached for the water pitcher in the center of the table and poured herself a glass. After taking a long sip, she still didn’t have any better idea what to say.
“Um, I was just… in the mood for a change of pace.”
“What about you two?” She gestured at Jeremiah and Reece. When in doubt, deflect. “Where are you from? You grew up in Texas, is that right? How’d you end up here?”
“Oh we were just in Texas for a year. We’ve been all over.” Reece leaned back in his chair. “The question is—do you want the long story or the short?”
“Oh no, here we go,” Liam muttered. “Don’t get him going, love,” Liam leaned in, bumping his shoulder against Isobel’s. “Nobody loves telling yarns more than this one.”
Isobel smiled. “Okay, how about something in between the long and short version?”
“Well, you’d have to start at the beginning, back when Jeremiah and I were just eight years old and our mother decided she wanted to join the circus.”
Jeremiah shook his head but Reece ignored him. Isobel nibbled on a piece of celery while she listened.
“Mom decides she wants to join the circus. She was really good at gymnastics when she was younger, she says, and she’s sure she’ll be able to get a job. It’s something she’s always dreamed about doing and carpe diem! Seize the day!” Reece jabbed a fist in the air, his face enthusiastic and full of amusement.
“So she packs me and Jeremiah up in the car and we drive through the night and then all the next day. We get to this carnival right at dusk. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s a giant ferris wheel they set up, all covered in lights.” Reece gestures with his hands, his face animated. “A man on stilts juggling. People selling candied apples and cotton candy and popcorn and hot dogs. I mean, to a little boy, this was heaven on earth.”
“Mom gave us twenty bucks and Jeremiah and I spent the whole night riding every ride and getting so stuffed on funnel cake I threw up after riding the tilt-a-whirl.” He grins nostalgically. “God, it was the best night of my life up to that point.”
Reece’s enthusiasm was infectious and Isobel couldn’t help smiling along. “So what happened then? Did your mom get a job at the circus?”
“What? Oh, God no,” Reece barked out a short laugh. “Mom was batshit. Totally nuts. She was lucky someone caught her before she took a flying leap from the trapeze. They called the cops. We didn’t know until the carnival was being shut down for the night and went looking for her.” He shook his head, still chuckling.
Isobel just stared at him, her mouth dropped open. “I’m so sorry,” she finally managed to say. “That’s horrible.”
Reece waved a hand like it was nothing. “It was fine. We went to live with our Grandma Ruth then.”
“So she raised you?”
“Oh, no,” Reece laughed again, like the very idea was ludicrous. “Granny Ruth was a raging alcoholic. No, we only lived with her for about six months before we went into foster care.”
“Oh.” Isobel took another long sip of water.
“Now this is where the story really gets interesting. Jeremiah and I got to see all different ways of life over the next few years. I’ve never met anyone who had a more colorful childhood than we did.”
Jeremiah let out a loud huff. “That’s one word for it,” he muttered.
Reece ignored him. “I mean, just the number of religions we got to personally witness was amazing. You can’t really get to know a religion by just visiting a church or a temple on Sunday, you know. But to get to see a family living out their faith,” he let out a low whistle, “You can really see where the rubber meets the road.”
“Okaaaay,” Isobel said, drawing out the word.
“Like, we lived with this really strict Baptist family first. Strict being the operative word.” Reece shook his head with a little shudder. Considering how he described his crazy mom and alcoholic grandma with such fondness, Isobel hated to think what would actually make this guy shudder.
He brightened the next second. “But then came the Unitarians, and after them there was a family who wasn’t very religious at all. But then we got to stay with the Hausers, who were Buddhists. They were these old hippies who showed us how to meditate and everything. They were very open souls.”
“Too bad about the pot dealing that landed Mr. Hauser in jail our Junior year,” Jeremiah cut in. He sounded less than amused but Reece just nodded sagely.
“It really was.”
“So what’d you do then?” Isobel ate more of the vegetables and even a little bit of meatloaf, so interested in Reece’s bizarre story that for once she’d stopped obsessing over the calories going in her mouth.
Reece shrugged. “Jeremiah and I figured we’d go it on our own at that point. We worked odd jobs. We were in San Francisco at that point and it’s pretty chill there if you want to do the outdoor alternative living situation thing.”
Alternative outdoor—? Did he mean… homeless?
He moved on before Isobel could ask, though. “That got old after a while so we headed east doing different jobs that included room and board. That was when we hit Texas. We worked a ranch there for about a year but then we,” his eyes flicked toward his brother and for the first time in his disastrous tale the slightest shadow entered his eyes, “we wanted a new scene.” It sounded like the vague non-answer Isobel had given about why she’d come here. Hmm.
But then Reece smiled again. “Jeremiah saw the notice online for this place and we hopped on the first bus headed north. And here we are.” He held his arms out.
“And here we are,” Isobel echoed. She looked down at her plate, startled to find she’d eaten almost half of her food. She was full but not stuffed and she didn’t feel guilty or like she’d binged. She felt… well, normal.
She looked around the table. “I’m really happy to be here. It’s great to meet you all.” She hoped they could hear the sincerity in her voice.
She’d come here looking for an escape and if she read between the lines, it sounded like she might not be alone in doing so. She didn’t know anyone else’s story other than the twins, but Liam was obviously rich and not from around here, so what could have tempted him to come live out in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming? Then there was Mack, tattooed from head to toe. He didn’t exactly look like a rural farm setting was his natural habitat. Even Nicholas—why had he abandoned his home down south that he seemed to have so much love for to come here?
Maybe she’d never know why they were all here. But in this one evening she’d felt more at home with them than she had in the last year living with supposed family. This place was supposed to just be a rescue for horses, but it seemed like they just might take in lost strays of the human variety too.
Chapter 9
HUNTER
Hunter scraped the mud off his feet on the side of the concrete step by the back door of the clinic.
Right as he was about to open the door, it was yanked open from the inside and he was face to face with an irate Isobel.
“Where have you been? People have been waiting since I opened the doors at 8:30!”
He paused, taken aback. The whole drive here he’d been trying to tell himself she couldn’t possibly be as lovely or mesmerizing as his memory kept painting her. But here, standing in front of him looking pissed, with two spots of color high on her rosy cheeks, her black hair flying around her like a silky cloud that he just wanted to bury his hands in and—
He grimaced and pushed past her into the clinic’s small break room.
“Clinic doesn’t open ‘til 9:00.” He needed coffee. Now.
“And it’s 9:03.” She emphasized the oh-three like he’d committed an unforgiveable crime.
He was a grown man. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Still, he found himself growling, “Had a call out at the Johnson farm that took longer than expected. Had to extract a dead calf.” Second one in two days. Happened like that sometimes. People didn’t call for the vet when everything was going peachy.
“What?” she spat, then paused as if only just then processing what he’d said. “Oh.” She blinked. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”
He shrugged as he reached for a mug from beside the sink. “Happens.” He pressed the coffee dispenser pump but only a tiny amount of liquid came out before it sputtered. Damn it. It was office policy to run another pot whenever it ran out. He glared at Isobel as he jerked open the cabinet underneath the coffee maker to pull out a packet of grounds.
So he saw when Isobel’s back went stiff. “If you had a case this morning, why didn’t you call me? This is supposed to be an internship. How am I supposed to learn how to do the job if you don’t let me know about calls?”
He scoffed as he set the new pot of coffee brewing. “Because experience working on heifers at a quarter to six in the morning is going to be so helpful when you end up back in New York City.”
If he thought she’d gone stiff before, it was nothing to how ramrod straight she went at that comment. She took a step forward and pointed a finger into his chest. “You don’t know anything about me.” Her voice was arctic.
He held up his hands. “Fine.”
“Fine,” she snapped back.
Then he realized just how close they were standing. Her face was about six inches away from his.
He had the absurd impulse to shove her back against the door and kiss the living daylights out of her.
Her eyes widened suddenly and she yanked back. “Your first client is waiting in exam room one.” She picked up a file from the counter beside the sink and slapped it in his hand.
He glanced down at the folder. Mr. Buttersworth. He was Mrs. Jones’ overweight, pampered cat. The cat bore a striking resemblance to his owner with his shock of orange hair and overlong whiskers. The woman had a mustache the bearded lady would be jealous of.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine.” She glared at him for another second and then as if realizing she didn’t have any other reason to still be standing there, she spun on her heel and stomped toward the exam room.
***
The morning passed with the regular bevy of cats and dogs cycling through. Hunter did his best to ignore Isobel and focus on his job. A bit difficult when he had her holding his four-legged patients down while he examined them.
Did she wear her hair down today on purpose? To distract him? He’d swear she kept flicking it over her shoulder just so that whatever fruity shampoo she used would waft his direction.
Mr. Buttersworth was only in for shots, a quick and simple enough procedure. Their second patient, a huge St. Bernard named Bernie, however, was a bit more challenging. It took both the dog’s owner and Isobel to hold the big dog down so Hunter could pry his mouth open to see what was causing him so much pain. And in spite of the giant, slobbering, whining dog who tried to yank back each time Hunter touched his mouth, half of Hunter’s brain was distracted by the warmth of Isobel’s thigh against his as they wrestled the dog on the floor together.
He finally got the dog to sit still long enough to see that it was an abscess tooth causing all the trouble. That meant surgery since he needed to get down to the root of the tooth. Hunter gave Bernie a shot of antibiotics and Isobel went out
with Bernie’s owner, promising her they’d find a way to fit the surgery in the schedule for the next afternoon.
It was just what Hunter would have done, but he was annoyed at her presumption. She should have at least asked him when was the best time to schedule the surgery.
A difficult to diagnose case with a molting parrot distracted him from thinking about her too much for the next hour.
They were down to their last appointment for the morning, a case of mange in an indoor/outdoor family cat when there was a knock on the exam room door.
Hunter set the cat back down in the box her owners had brought her in and called out, “Come in,” but Isobel was already halfway to the door. She opened it to Sandra, his receptionist.
Sandra seemed taken aback to find Isobel on the other side of the door. Hunter almost smiled. She had to stop startling people like that.
“What is it, Sandra?” he asked.
Sandra looked past Isobel and smiled at him. He and Sandra had both grown up in Hawthorne, she was just a year behind him in school. She’d been working at the clinic for about six months after Dr. Roberts long-time receptionist had retired. “Doctor, there’s a family out here with a dog they say has a hurt leg. They don’t have an appointment.”
“I’ll put them in exam two,” Isobel said, striding confidently past Sandra. Sandra’s mouth dropped open and she swung her head back to Hunter.
Hunter nodded. “We’ll see them. Give me five.”
He turned back to Mrs. Voorhees, explained the treatment regimen, and gave her the medication she’d need.
He washed his hands and went into the next exam room. He was about to order Isobel out to go clean and sterilize exam one when he saw her crouched on the floor cuddling a young Labrador retriever to her chest, stroking his head one moment and gently rotating his back leg to check for injury the next.
The dog whimpered and burrowed into her stomach when she’d only barely moved the leg. Not a good sign. Isobel’s eyes leapt to Hunter’s as soon as he came in and he could tell she was thinking the same thing.