Oh.
"I don't think they are," he said quietly, seriously. "I think they're trying to look out for you the best way they know how to right now."
Her hands fisted on the wheel again, and her teeth were gritted when she spoke. "I wish they didn't have to do that."
"So do I."
She couldn't know how much he meant it. He hated seeing her afraid, hated that she might be scared to leave her house in the dark of morning.
He wanted to help her.
All she had to do was let him in.
The next afternoon, Sarah slid behind the wheel, cranking the key to start the truck as Chase got in on the passenger side.
She yanked the gear shaft, and the transmission protested.
"Easy, Tiger," he said. He fumbled with his seatbelt buckle as her tires hit a rut on the dirt drive.
"No time for taking it easy," she said. "There’s a horse with breathing distress. The farmer was calling it heaves, which could mean anything from an asthma attack to something worse."
He groaned.
"What?"
He'd been surprisingly easy to work with. His easy-going nature was pleasant, and his occasional quips made her laugh at surprising times. He was great with her clients, a steady presence that they appreciated. All in all, he was just overall likable. He hadn't complained once.
He laid one hand over his heart, drawing her eyes momentarily to his broad chest. "While my heart appreciates your dedication to your work," his hand moved to his stomach. "My belly is grumbling for some sustenance."
She laughed. "Well, you're out of luck for now. I might have a stick of gum in the glove box."
He pulled a face, but that didn't stop him from rooting around in the compartment until he pulled out a pack of gum. He offered her a piece, but she shook her head. He unwrapped and popped a piece in his mouth.
"You skip lunch often?" he asked.
She shrugged, letting one hand fall into her lap as she steered with the other. She clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to work some warmth back into her extremity. Her heater was slow to warm up. She couldn't wait for spring, when higher temps would make working outdoors slightly more palatable.
"So that's a yes," he said.
"When the day calls for it."
He settled back into his seat, one arm resting along the passenger window.
"Missing your ranch job yet?" she asked.
"No. Being your assistant is interesting. Seeing you work with the patients from this side of the table is... enlightening."
Heat flared in her face. "I'm sure you're bored out of your mind."
"Not even close. You've always treated us at the Triple H with professionalism, but I never realized how much you cared about the animals."
She rolled her shoulders. Tight already, from sleeping on her office couch.
"Like just now," he went on. "You spent a few extra minutes calming that llama before you examined it. I think it was the way you touched its face..."
She hadn't realized he'd been watching so closely. She wasn't embarrassed. "I guess... It's always been easier for me to relate to animals than to humans. They don't lie, they'll always show you what's wrong if you have the patience to find out."
She could always understand animals, but sometimes the human dynamic went over her head.
His head tilted toward the window, his Stetson casting shadows over his eyes. "Humans don't always tell the truth, do they?"
"No." No, they didn't. "Kayla and I once had a foster family that claimed they were going to adopt the both of us, but then they got pregnant, and we were thrown right back into the system. And...I don't know why I just told you that."
Maybe having him ride along with her wasn't a good idea. He was too easy to talk to, if she let her guard down.
"I'm sorry. To have the hope of a forever home ripped away..."
She lifted one shoulder. "It is what it is. God got Kayla and me through those rough years"—by the skin of their teeth—"and we're both better for it now." Maybe scarred, but scars proved character, right?
Her phone buzzed in the console, and a glance showed her sister's name lighting up the screen.
"You want to pull over and answer it?" the cowboy asked.
"No. It's Kayla, and she just wants to talk about—" James. Sarah cleared her throat. "I'll call her back later."
The cowboy was silent for a beat. Then another.
"I'm okay with the breakup," she said in a rush. "I mean, I'm still upset, but I'm getting over it."
There was a slight hesitation before he said, "Good for you." And that was it.
She'd tried to call James a few days ago, to get some closure. She'd known things weren't as they should've been. He’d been the one to insist she take the job at the Taylor Hills clinic. He’d agreed that a separation of two or three years while he worked his way up the ladder at the law firm wouldn’t be anything. But the distance between them had grown and grown…
As evidenced by the fact that he hadn’t realized how the attack had affected her. Maybe he had noticed, but been too busy to care.
She'd thought—hoped—everything would be fine once the wedding happened and she was back in Austin.
Was there someone else? Or had he just grown tired of the disconnect between them?
Would she really have been happy in Austin? Working with small animals instead of the horses, cows, sheep, and even alpacas that she loved?
She didn't know anymore.
The next day, Sarah worked the both of them through lunch again.
This time Chase was prepared.
He'd just watched her wrestle a breech calf into the world, and, as far as he was concerned, she was a miracle worker. And she had to be hungry.
He buckled up and reached beneath his seat to the miniature cooler he'd stored there this morning.
He unloaded two hoagies that he'd made, wrapped in white butcher paper that crunched beneath his fingers. Two tubs of pasta salad came next. He put Sarah's in the cupholder. Two bottles of water rested at the bottom of the cooler, and he pulled those out, too. They were still cold.
"What's all this?" she asked with a curious glance as she pulled onto the county road.
"Decided to pack lunch, since you're such a slave driver, you won't let us stop."
She laughed at his petulant complaint. "You didn't have to make me one."
"Someone has to take care of you." The words popped out before he'd really thought them through. He'd been hiding his true feelings from her for weeks—he couldn't afford to slip up now. "Or you'll get so skinny you'll blow away in this Texas wind."
A gust blew against her truck as if to punctuate his statement, and she laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, right."
Thank goodness she let his statement go.
He focused on unwrapping the paper from the top of her sandwich before handing it to her.
"I am starved," she admitted, taking it. "Thank you."
She took a bite as he unwrapped his own sandwich.
"This is really good," she said before taking another bite. She swallowed. "Where'd you learn to craft a sandwich like this?"
"A man's gotta learn important life skills when he's batching it." He took a swig of his water. "Sandwiches are my specialty when it's my turn to cook for the ranch hands. The trick with these is the correct meat to cheese ratio, and the tomatoes. Roma is the best, but you can do regular ones if they're fresh." He held up the sandwich to illustrate the meat and cheese ratio. "I also make a mean meatball sandwich. Oh, and there's a turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce hoagie that the hands love around Thanksgiving."
She hummed. Then tilted her head. "How come you're still a bachelor? Some woman never snatched you up?"
That was a story he didn't really want to tell, but she had shared a little about her background yesterday, so he felt obliged to return the favor.
"I was on the cusp of getting engaged, back in college. But when I decided to drop out, she broke up with me.
I guess she wanted someone who could finish what he started." It was a joke, and one corner of Sarah's mouth turned up.
Really, Penelope had wanted someone who was going to provide a comfortable, stable life for her. Someone who was going to work himself to an early grave working long hours in an office, trapped in a metal and glass urban landscape.
"I haven't dated much since then." He'd been too afraid of getting close to someone, perhaps another someone who had bigger plans for his life than he did.
Sarah took a few more bites. Then, "Once before, you mentioned that you'd dropped out of college. I'm curious as to why."
"My dad had a heart attack."
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry."
He shrugged, looking out the window at the passing landscape. Someone else's ranch, grassy fields stretching to the horizon, broken only by a line of trees that must surround a creek, snaking across the plain. Two horses, a mare and colt, raced through the field, their manes and tails flying behind them like flags. You couldn't see something like that in the city.
"He's okay. He made some changes to his diet, gets more exercise now." But the biggest stressor in his dad's life was still there—his job. "I had this...moment, I guess. He was still in the hospital, I was visiting him, and he kept talking about wanting to get back to the office. His department was in the middle of this big project. I just looked at him, a guy working seventy-hour weeks, and for what? I realized that if I stayed in school, got a business degree, I was going to end up in a job I hated somewhere with a life I hated. I didn't want that."
He tilted his head toward the fields surrounding them. "Do you ever just stop and take a look around when you're out on these calls?"
She nodded slowly. "When I can."
"I do. I'll be working the herd or mending fences, and I’ll just look up and... I love it out here, you know? The sky as big as you can imagine. The animals working the land right along with you. It's in my blood, I guess."
He flushed. He'd said too much. Now she’d think he was some sort of cuckoo tree hugger or something.
But when he dared glance at her, she gave him a soft, contemplative look.
And he wondered if maybe she understood, when no one else in his life ever had.
Chapter 4
Three weeks later
Sarah woke to the buzz of her phone, its screen glaring light against the early-morning darkness. Much like it had that morning.
She sat up from the couch in her office, swiped her hair out of her face, and attempted to come fully awake.
Heart pounding her out of her groggy state, she answered, taking down the information about a cow having a difficult breech birth.
After she hung up, she took several moments to steady her breathing.
She swung her legs over the side of the cool leather couch in her office, reaching for her work boots.
She dialed Chase, tucking her phone between her ear and shoulder. The line connected, and she didn't wait for his hello.
"I've got an emergency call south of town. Can you meet me?" She rattled off an intersection, the best way she'd found to give directions for out-of-town visits.
There was a pause, one long enough that she took her phone away from her ear to see whether it was still connected.
"I'll do you one better," he said finally. "I'm already outside the clinic."
Adrenaline surged, throwing her heart up into her throat.
She hung up on him.
She sat with her hands on her knees, staring at the floor. She hadn't told anyone she was living out of her office.
Who did he think he was? It wasn't any of his business if she slept in her office or at home.
He wasn't her keeper, even if their friendship had bloomed these past few weeks.
She was a grown woman who could do what she wanted. She straightened her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair before she tied it off with a band from her wrist.
She splashed her face with water in the employees' restroom. The dark circles beneath her eyes could be attributed to the early morning calls. Maybe.
It would have to do. She shrugged on her coat and threw a woolen scarf around her neck as she walked down the hall.
She disarmed the alarm and slipped out to the parking lot, re-arming the system once she was outside.
The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon.
And a cowboy leaned against her car, his ankles and arms crossed. It was a deceptively casual pose.
"We've got a mama cow in distress," she said dismissively. "Are you coming or not?"
She reached past his broad body for the door handle, but he didn't move. She stared at the sleeve of his coat. She tried to give herself the same pep talk she'd given inside. It's none of his business.
"We don't have time for this." Her breath puffed out in front of her face. She didn’t owe him any explanation for why she was staying in her office when her little bungalow was less than ten minutes away.
He moved slightly, and she exhaled a small sigh of relief.
Too quickly, because he didn't move away. His hand came up to cup her elbow.
"We're not done," he said. "Not by a long shot."
She swallowed.
His voice was intense, his breath stirring the fine hairs at her temple and sending a shiver down her spine.
He moved away, rounding the front of the truck as she climbing into the driver's side. His truck was parked on the other side of hers and he paused momentarily to retrieve something. When he got in, the strong scent of coffee preceded him and he held two Styrofoam cups, juggling them as she backed out of the parking spot.
"What're you doing in town so early, anyway?" she asked.
The wheel froze her fingertips as she turned out of the lot. He played with the controls for the heater, and she wished again for a vehicle with heated seats.
"Couple of Triple H cows decided to calve in the night. I figured I'd stop by the coffee shop early. Then I passed the clinic on the way and saw your truck there."
Ah. "So…coffee?"
He pressed a warm mug into her palm. "I was very early. Had time to stop and see if your truck had moved."
"Oh, Chase. You're the best."
He snorted, and she shot a glance that way to see him staring into his own mug, clasped in one big hand.
She was grateful for the reprieve. She didn't want to face off about why she couldn't sleep in her own bed. She didn't even want to think about it.
Thirty minutes later, she was shoulder-deep in a cow's hind end, reaching with the tips of her fingers to try and grasp the breech calf's hoof. The barn was poorly insulated—there was a two-foot hole knocked in the wall behind her—and freezing air swirled around her, chilling her to the bone.
If she couldn't turn the calf, things were about to go from bad to worse. She was worried, and when she worried, she babbled.
Chase stood nearby, holding the pair of forceps the farmer didn't want her to use.
"This is probably why James lost interest," she muttered.
She stretched her fingers forward until a contraction in the cow's uterus froze her motion and squeezed all the feeling out of her arm.
"All his good stories are about courtroom drama," she went on through gritted teeth. "And mine are about helping cows give birth. I'm all about blood and gore. I’m all the rage at Austin office parties."
He didn't laugh or chide that she should quit complaining. He watched her with those intense eyes.
The contraction eased, and she was able to push her hand forward just an inch more and... there!
She grasped they calf's hoof and held on through another contraction. Then she was able to tug with just the right amount of pressure.
A few moments later, the baby bovine slid to the hay-strewn floor.
Sarah moved back, Chase helping her up with a hand beneath her elbow. Her leg had been bent at an awkward angle, and when she stood, feeling rushed to her extremity. She stumbled and landed against his chest.
&nbs
p; For the first time, she realized the breadth of him, the strength he harnessed in all those muscles.
He looked down at her. "Your stories are about miracles," he said quietly.
Looking up at him, her heart did a funny little lurch, and she quickly pushed away with her clean hand. "Watch out, I'm likely to slime you."
"I've been slimed before. Doesn't scare me."
He let her go, and she busied herself washing up at the pump outside, shivering in the icy wind. He'd already packed up her bag by the time she'd ducked back into the barn. The new bull was suckling noisily, already dried with whorls in his fur from the cleaning the mama cow must've given him.
The farmer watched with his chest puffed out in pride, as if he'd been the one to birth the calf.
And she had to smile. Farmers and cows, she could relate to.
When she glanced at Chase again, he was watching too, wearing a soft smile that matched hers. His eyes shifted to her. Something almost tangible hovered in the air between them before she bent down in a pretense of checking her bag.
When they got in the truck, she was still shivering. Before she could buckle up, Chase shouldered out of his heavy coat and threw it over her shoulders.
"Oh. That's—"
"Necessary," he said unapologetically. "Your lips are blue."
The coat smelled like him, even over the scents of blood and fluid that still filled her senses.
They went straight to a scheduled stop. They were vaccinating a small herd of goats when Sarah began to get uncomfortable. It was as if a switch had flipped inside her.
She couldn't not notice the strength in Chase's hands as he held a nanny steady. The way the afternoon sunlight glinted off his blond eyebrows and the way his eyes flashed with determination when a hard head butted him in the thigh.
She'd known Chase was male all the way back to high school, when everyone had been overly-aware of the opposite sex. Back then, Sarah had never seen him as more than a friend.
Until now. Where was this insane attraction coming from?
And what did it mean about her former relationship with James? If she’d really been in love with him, wouldn’t she still be hung up on him?
Was it possible she’d been in love with the idea of James, not the reality? She’d lived through a childhood of neglect and loneliness. She’d done her best to be strong and provide love for Kayla, but there’d been no one to love her. And then James had come along and swept her off her feet, promising security and family. She’d been so eager to be a part of a pair that she hadn’t noticed that they didn’t fit…
Stealing Sarah: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 3) Page 4