“Okay, Satch,” Matt said. “You’ve had your rest. You have to get up now.”
“One,” Hannah said.
“I need you to get better, Satch,” Matt said, a pleading note in his voice. “So we can be friends.”
“Two.”
“We need time together, Satch.” Matt’s voice was wavering. “If you don’t get better we won’t have that.”
“Three!” Hannah threw her weight against the lead line as Matt tugged at the halter. She could hear Adam muttering, “C’mon, Satchmo. Get the heck up!”
The lead line bit into the skin on Hannah’s hands as she strained against the pony’s dead weight. Matt’s feet were braced and his arms were straight out as he put his whole body into the task.
“Satchmo,” the boy yelled, his voice a cry of anguish. “Please don’t die!”
Hannah felt the pressure on her hands lessen slightly and she took up the slack. “He’s moving,” she said. “Keep it up!”
A muffled groan of effort came from Adam, still crouched behind the pony. Satchmo scrambled to his feet.
“He’s up!” Matt said, his face lit with joy. “We got him up!”
“I think your father did most of the work,” Hannah said, as Adam put his hands on his thighs and bent over, sucking in a long breath. He shook his head and gulped in more air.
She handed the lead line to Matt. “Now we have to keep him up.”
“How?” Matt asked, looking at the rope in his hand as though it were a snake.
“By taking him for a walk in the barn. You’re going to keep talking to him and let him see the other horses. He’s used to having a companion, so he should find that comforting.”
“But he tried to bite the one who came up to him in the paddock,” Matt said.
“That was before he met you. You’ve been a good influence on him.”
“That’s cool,” the boy said, looking pleased.
Hannah unlatched the door. “Go ahead. When you get tired, bring him back and I’ll take over.”
As Matt led Satchmo past, she gave the pony’s rump a pat before she put her back against the wall and slid down to the straw to put her head in her hands. Now that the crisis was temporarily past, the weight of her near-failure crashed down on her like a ton of bricks.
Adam was sitting on the straw beside her in an instant. “Are you all right?” he asked. She felt the comfort of his hand on her shoulder.
“I nearly lost him,” she said into her hands.
Adam wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his side. She felt his breath stir her hair as he said, “You’ve worked a miracle. Sharon told me how difficult it is to diagnose and treat EPM.”
“I still don’t know if it’s EPM. If it is, I really shouldn’t have Satchmo up and walking around.” She thought of all the research she’d done on the sickness. None of her sources recommended forcing the horse to stay on its feet. She dropped her hands onto her lap and allowed herself to lean into the warmth and solidity of the man beside her.
“When I prepare a cut of beef, I adjust the temperature, the cooking time, and the seasoning based on what my instinct says about the specific piece of meat. That’s what makes me good at my job,” Adam said. “You’re just as good at yours. You read your patient and decide what will work best for him.”
“Except I don’t plan to eat Satchmo.”
She felt the tension leave Adam’s body as he shifted and snugged her closer against him. She couldn’t stop herself from slipping her arms under his leather jacket and wrapping them around his waist.
“Hannah,” he murmured, his voice resonant with the same awareness stirring in her.
She felt the press of his lips on top of her head. Flashes of their previous night together sparked in her mind, and she lifted her head to him. All the fear and anxiety of the night needed an outlet and she found it in kissing him, tilting her head so she could lose herself in the textures of his mouth.
She welcomed the bloom of mindless sexual arousal down low in her belly; it blotted out her questions about the man who had brought it to life. For now, there was just the enveloping, molasses-laden scent of Adam, the feel of his warm, strong hands touching her through the cotton of her shirt, the hot slide of his lips down the sensitive line of her jaw, the shelter of his hard, muscular body. She fell into it, letting him wipe everything else from her mind.
The sound of Matt’s voice made them jerk apart at the same time. As they scrambled to untangle themselves, he continued to talk to the pony. “Let’s go to the other end of the barn, Satch. See what’s going on down there. The horses up here are deadheads.”
Hannah sprawled back onto the straw with her hand over her mouth to stifle the hysterical laugh trying to work itself free. Adam prowled over to her on his hands and knees. “Close call,” he said, hovering above her, his face half in shadow.
She moved her hand. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to get so intense.”
“No complaints here.” He bent his arms so he could touch his lips to hers for a lingering kiss that made her want to arch up into him. Rocking back on his heels, he seized both her hands to pull her upright.
“Time to make some more horse treats,” he said.
Hannah took hold of the lapels of his jacket. “Satchmo could still die.”
He covered her hands with his. “With you and Matt on his side, Satchmo will live to be a hundred.”
Chapter 15
AS THE PALE morning sunlight filtered through the window, Adam knelt in the straw by his sleeping son and gave him a light shake. “Matt, time to wake up.”
The barn had come to life around 6:00 a.m., with the racket of clanging buckets, banging stall doors, and stable hands talking to their charges. Both Adam and Hannah had roused from the doze they’d fallen into once it was clear Satchmo was going to make it to morning. Sharon had come by to find out how the night had gone. It took the combined persuasions of both of them to convince Hannah to go home and grab an hour’s sleep before she had to get to the office. And Matt had slept through it all.
Now the boy’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked confused and then frightened. “Is Satchmo okay?” he asked, turning his head to look past his father.
Adam shifted so Matt could see the pony standing in the corner, one back hoof cocked up on its tip. “Dr. Linden checked him over just before she left and said he’s making progress.”
“Dr. Linden left?” His son’s dismay was obvious.
“She had to go to work,” Adam said. “Satchmo’s not her only patient. She wouldn’t have left if she thought he was in danger.”
“I guess,” Matt said, wiggling out of the sleeping bag to stand up. He walked to Satchmo and ran his hand down the pony’s neck, murmuring something Adam couldn’t hear. Satchmo’s ears swiveled forward and he opened his deep, brown eyes. Matt looked at his father. “He seems better.”
Adam joined his son. “I think we can leave him in Ms. Sydenstricker’s care while we go home to clean up and get some sleep.”
Matt shook his head. “I’m not leaving him until Dr. Linden says he’s okay.”
“If you rest up now, you can come back tonight,” Adam said. “That’s when he needs you the most.”
His son looked torn. Adam reached out and plucked a piece of straw from Matt’s disheveled hair. “There are a lot of people here who know more about horses than either of us. We can trust Satchmo to them for a few hours.”
Matt continued to stroke the pony’s neck. When he spoke, his voice was choked with unshed tears. “Something might happen while we’re gone.”
The stall door slid open and Sharon walked in. “Nothing’s going to happen.” She came over to scratch Satchmo behind the ears. The pony heaved a sigh of pleasure. When Sharon dropped her hand, Satchmo butted his face against Matt’s chest. “See? He’s back to his old, de
manding self,” Sharon said.
That got a shaky smile from Matt. The boy put his forehead against the pony’s and said, “Okay, buddy, I gotta go for a while, but I’ll be back. And you’d better be here.”
Adam placed his hand on Matt’s shoulder and turned him toward the door. “Let’s get out of Ms. Sydenstricker’s way.” Stopping at the door, he looked back at Sharon. “I left a batch of Satch treats in a plastic container in the feed room. The recipe is taped to them.”
“I’ll keep it confidential in case you decide to go into the horse-treat business.”
Adam smiled. It felt good after the high drama of their night. “I’ll leave that to you and Matt. It’s not my demographic.”
His son gave a little snort that Adam chose to interpret as amusement. While they walked down the barn’s central corridor, he racked his brain for a way to keep the conversation going. “Maybe you could call it ‘Satchmo’s Horse Treats’ since he taste-tested them,” he ventured.
“Yeah, maybe,” Matt said. He thrust his hands into his jeans pockets as he slouched along beside his father. “We could put a picture of him on the label.”
Adam felt a flash of satisfaction that his son had volunteered a suggestion. “Good idea. Marketers say people respond to faces.”
Matt grunted and lapsed into silence as they walked toward the Maserati. Adam tried to conjure up the pleasure he usually got from the windswept lines of the sports car but today it didn’t work. All he could think about was how close his son had come to losing someone important to him. And the danger wasn’t over.
He brought the big engine to life and put it into gear as Matt buckled his seatbelt. The truth was Adam had thought Satchmo was a goner when his breathing started to rasp in that painful way. He now knew why they called it a death rattle. He’d prayed the horrible sound wouldn’t rouse Matt from his sleep. The dread of his son waking up only to watch the pony die had gripped Adam’s throat so tightly he could barely breathe.
He had seen the same helpless anguish in Hannah’s face as she stared down at the boy and the pony, their backs pressed together. And then she’d yanked Satchmo back from the edge of death.
“Dr. Linden is awesome.” Matt’s voice pulled Adam out of his grim thoughts.
“I was thinking how awesome you were too. Not many people would sleep in a stall with a sick horse.”
He glanced over to see Matt fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “You did too,” Matt muttered.
“I slept in a stall with my son.”
“You made Satch the food that got him to eat. And juiced up his water to make it taste good.” Matt’s voice was still low.
“All I did was help you and Dr. Linden.”
“You left The Aerie on a Friday night.”
Adam threw a quick look sideways to find Matt’s gaze on him.
“Thanks for staying,” Matt said.
Adam wanted to assure Matt he would always stay, but he remembered the email from the private investigator and all the reasons he’d hired him. “You’re welcome.”
Matt went quiet again, but this time the atmosphere held no charge of anger. By the time they arrived at the house, Matt’s head was tilted against the car window at such an awkward angle Adam figured he had to be dead asleep. When Adam turned the engine off, Matt jerked awake, looking sheepish as he wiped a trickle of drool from his chin.
“I don’t know about you but I’m headed for the shower,” Adam said.
“Oh man, yeah.” Matt pushed the door open and staggered slightly as he got out. Adam caught up with him as his housekeeper, Sarah Duckworth, opened the door to let Trace out.
The dog raced up to Adam and dropped to a sit, his body quivering with the suppressed urge to leap on his master. Adam gave him the release signal, and Trace let loose all his enthusiasm, barking and dancing around both man and boy. When Adam knelt, Trace barreled into him, licking his face and hands as he tried to pet the frantic dog. “I’m glad to see you too, boy,” he said, sinking his hands into the Shepherd’s ruff and massaging it beneath the bandage.
Matt stood watching, his hands dangling empty by his sides. Catching a glimpse of his son’s face, Adam thought he read yearning on it. Maybe Matt needed a puppy as well as a whisper pony.
Trace’s enthusiasm quieted enough so Adam could stand. Waiting until Matt had turned back toward the house, Adam gave the dog a signal to go to the boy. Trace pushed his head under one of Matt’s hands, and the boy’s reaction mingled surprise and delight. He mimicked his father in dropping to his knees so he could give the dog an energetic ear scratch. “Does this feel good, Trace?” Matt asked.
The housekeeper joined them in the driveway, shaking her head. “That dog sensed you were here at least five minutes before you pulled up. I guess that fancy car engine sounds different because he paid no mind to all the other cars and trucks going to the restaurant.”
“Those huge ears are like radio antennae,” Adam said, enjoying his son’s newfound pleasure in the dog. Satchmo seemed to have brought out the latent animal lover in Matt.
The boy rose and headed for the house with Trace by his side.
“Why don’t you take a few hours off?” Adam said to Sarah. “He’ll sack out, and I’m going to head to The Aerie after I clean up. You can come back about nine or so.”
The housekeeper nodded. “That’s mighty generous of you, but tell me how the pony is.”
Adam blew out a breath. “Well, it was touch and go for a while there, but between Dr. Linden and Matt, they got Satchmo on his feet and on the mend.”
“I don’t care what that gossip Bertha Shanks says, Dr. Linden is a darned good vet,” Sarah said. “She saved the life of my neighbor’s parakeet. I figure anyone who can fix a little bitty bird like that can get a pony well.”
“Dr. Linden did the right thing in Chicago,” Adam said. “She just got tangled up in politics that had nothing to do with her medical expertise.”
“I knew it!” the housekeeper said, putting her hands on her hips. “That old Shanks biddy can’t tell whether she’s punched or bored.” She tsked and bade Adam good-bye.
Lured by the prospect of a shower, he jogged into the house. Trace joined him as he walked down the hallway toward his bedroom. He could hear the water running in Matt’s bathroom as he passed. Once in his own bathroom, he kicked off his shoes and left his clothes in a heap of straw-laden, sleep-wrinkled black. Turning the shower jets on full, he stepped into the steamy glass enclosure with a groan of pleasure.
The hot water pounding on his tired muscles sent his mind in the direction of Hannah, not as a veterinarian but as a woman he’d made love to. Amidst all the night’s drama, he had sensed a subtle withdrawal in Hannah. Yes, she had wound herself into his arms in the aftermath of pulling Satchmo from the verge of death, but she had been holding him at arm’s length before that.
He frowned as the water sluiced over his bare skin, washing away the scent of horse feed that clung to him. Maybe Hannah had simply realized he was a bad bet. He couldn’t say she was wrong about that.
Yet he kept thinking of the Beluga caviar he’d stocked in the refrigerator. He wanted to feed it to her, naked in bed, and watch her reaction to the explosion of flavor on her tongue. Then he would taste her and feel her writhe in the cage of his hands. His body tightened at the thought and he let it, giving into the surge of pure sensuality washing through him.
What he thought and did in the privacy of his shower was no one’s business but his own.
Adam fastened the last button on his black shirt and shoved it into the waistband of his black jeans. Trace had vanished while Adam was showering, so he went in search of the dog. As he passed Matt’s bedroom, he took a quick look through the half-open door. To his surprise Trace lay beside the bed on which Matt was flopped belly down in sweatpants and a T-shirt, his fingers buried in the dog’s thick, glossy fur.
It was unusual for Trace to leave Adam, but maybe he sensed the loneliness in the boy.
Matt’s face was lax with sleep, making him look more vulnerable. Adam’s fingers twitched with the desire to smooth back a strand of wet hair that was stuck to his son’s cheek.
He raised his hand to grip the doorframe, and tried to remember what he had wanted from a parent in his childhood. Maybe that would guide him toward how to handle his relationship with his son. The overwhelming answer Adam came up with was a father who didn’t hit his mother.
Instead, Matt had no mother. And no father really. Maggie had not given him the chance, but he wondered what kind of father he would have been to Matt. Ambition had burned in him with scorching intensity. If the demands of parenthood had thwarted that, would Adam have become the bitter, angry alcoholic his father was?
He rested his forehead against the back of his hand. Even at his most drunken, he couldn’t imagine himself lifting his hand to a woman or a child. But he knew there were other ways to abuse a loved one. Words could inflict equally painful and lasting damage.
He must have made a sound because Trace lifted his head, making Matt stir in his sleep. Not wanting to disturb his exhausted son, Adam shoved away from the wall and headed for the front door.
Locking it behind him, Adam strode along the tree-shrouded path that led to The Aerie. As he walked into the kitchen, the slam of a heavy freezer door, the scent of freshly chopped basil, and the clatter of a pan against a cast-iron burner made him close his eyes in appreciation.
“Chef! The butternut squash is unusable,” Bobby said. “And Delores called in sick again so we’re short a line cook.”
As he pulled out his cell phone to find a substitute for both vegetables and personnel, a sense of ease sank deep into Adam’s bones.
Here was a world where he was in control.
Chapter 16
THE LOUD BUZZING of Hannah’s alarm yanked her out of a sleep so deep she felt drugged. She hit the “dismiss” button and flipped on the light beside her bed. The digital numerals read 12:20 a.m., which meant Adam was picking her up in forty minutes. It was like having a relationship with a vampire.
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