by Jody Holford
The horse nuzzled Stella’s palm. “You knew my father, as in, he was your vet?”
Zach smiled. “He was a hell of a lot more than that to me, if I’m being honest. But that’s a story for another day.”
“This has been a family run clinic for fifty years, and it’s going to stay that way.”
He stared at her, taking his turn to assess. “Brockton is my home. I grew up here. I think I’m a few years older than you, so we never went to school together. You don’t look familiar and I damn sure wouldn’t have forgotten if we’d met. But your dad…he used to let me spend time with him when I was a kid. He was a great doctor. I’m really sorry to hear he passed away.”
With the close proximity, he saw the way her lip quivered and easily heard the shuddery breath she took. Before he could reach out, say something, or offer comfort, she took another step back.
“Thanks for asking, but I’m not interested. I have to get going.”
In case he didn’t catch on to the verbal dismissal, she turned her body, focusing only on the horse.
There was nothing more he could do today. She’d withdrawn, and he didn’t know her enough, yet, to push past that. They had more in common than she thought. More than he’d thought. Stella wanted to carry on her father’s legacy, and clearly she was still hurting. For now, he’d let her think about the idea, maybe come to the realization that she could use him—that they could build something bigger and better together.
“I’ll see you around, Stella.”
She glanced back at him. “Welcome home, Zach.”
He nodded, turned, and went to his truck. He didn’t dwell on the disappointment swirling in his gut. This was not defeat. He’d bring her around to his way of thinking, because she might not know it yet, but she needed him every bit as much as he needed her. He had plans, and he’d waited a hell of a long time to come home and put them into play. If he needed to adjust his strategy, he could do that. Leaving on the heels of Travis’s death hadn’t helped numb the pain, but being away had given him perspective. Since then, he’d gained a hell of a lot more.
With patience, Zach knew he could convince one sexier-than-sin vet that they could do great things together. Professionally. Right. Best keep that in mind. Zach backed his vehicle up and turned around in the gravel parking lot in front of her clinic, heading out of the driveway. In the rearview mirror, he saw her watching him leave. Her dogs flanked her on either side—her own little unit.
Zach vowed, right then, he’d work his way in, and they’d both be glad he did.
Chapter Three
Stella pulled out of the bank parking lot, forcing herself not to slam her foot on the gas as a visceral way to express the anger coursing through her. Who did Lydia-Rae Simpson think she was?
“Stand-in bank manager, a.k.a. former prom queen who doesn’t realize she’s no longer wearing a crown,” Stella mumbled into the cab of her aging Cherokee. At sixteen, Lydia had told everyone Stella liked women—not that there was anything wrong with that, except Stella’s boyfriend at the time figured that was why she wasn’t putting out and dropped Stella for Lydia. Even though she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted, Lydia had enjoyed being a thorn in a variety of sides. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Stella turned left at the light and headed toward the freeway.
She’d cleared her morning for the meeting at the bank, only to be turned down. And looked down on. If Mr. Henry, who’d worked at the bank since the beginning of time and had been great friends with her father, had been there, she might still have been turned down. But he would have done it without the little hint of glee dancing in the corner of his eyes.
She smacked her steering wheel. The tension in her body was enough to fuel her damn vehicle. Between the late vet student, the case of mistaken identity, and her physical reaction to Zach Mason, Stella’s mood couldn’t get much worse.
“Partners,” she scoffed under her breath, grateful no one knew how much she talked to herself. At least she wasn’t talking to her dad without realizing it anymore. For the first couple of months after he’d died, she had talked to him like he was still there. God, it hurt so much sometimes, she felt like her chest might cave in. Sometimes she wished it would, just to stop the ache. Even being riled up and mad felt better than the emptiness that all but echoed inside of her.
Zach had known him. There’d been a gentleness in the way he spoke of her dad, in the way he looked when he mentioned him. That, more than his offer of partnering or the way his smoky gaze bore into her like he could see her soul, had made her want to get closer to him. She wanted to know him, listen to him talk.
“To ask him about Dad,” she reminded herself, hitting the freeway and feeling the tension seep from her shoulders. She was glad she’d set her farm visits for today, to coincide with the bank. It gave her an excuse to drive off her irritation without wasting time. Of having what she’d considered her plan B stripped away from her. There was no plan C for keeping the clinic—and her home—afloat.
Time was something else she was losing these days. There just wasn’t enough of it. How her dad had done this and not drowned under the weight of responsibility, she had no clue. We were supposed to do it together. We didn’t even get that. She’d come home, dragging the pieces of her broken heart behind her, looking forward to being his partner and starting fresh. Now she’d never know that.
Switching the radio on, she watched the houses grow farther apart, the ocean far off to her left. She lived on the outskirts of town and sometimes felt like she isolated herself in her own little world. It was easier that way. She didn’t have to pretend everything didn’t hurt. Pulling off the freeway about ten minutes after she got on, she wound her way up to the Mainer Farm. They were a dairy farm and just one of the local families she did herd health checkups for once a month. She’d booked her bank visit around today so she wouldn’t have to cancel any clinic appointments. She needed all the money new clients could bring in, but these monthly visits were a big part of her income. Currently she only had three families, though, since two had looked elsewhere after her dad had died and Stella closed up shop for a couple of months. She’d had no choice. But the impact of doing so had been a hit to the bottom line.
Lydia’s suggestion to get a co-signer curled her stomach like sour milk. She shouldn’t need one. Dad didn’t exactly leave the clinic in the best shape financially. But who could she ask? Her best friend was getting married and Stella knew Megan and her fiancé, Adam, would help her if she asked, but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Pulling up to the sprawling farm house that looked like something out of Architectural Digest, she cut the engine. Taking a second, she breathed in and out slowly. She’d figure something out financially. What choice did she have? Her father had been good at what he did, but in recent years, his debt had piled up and though he’d left behind a small insurance policy, he’d also wrapped his home finances up in his clinic. Stop. It’ll work out. No sense dwelling. Her heart clenched. How many times had her father said those words to her? Right before he’d put her to work to pull Stella out of whatever mood she might have been in.
A knock on her window startled her and she jumped, then laughed. It was Colin Mainer, the farmer’s oldest boy. Stella got out of the jeep.
“Hey, Colin. Sorry, I zoned out there.”
“No worries. How are you doing, Ms. Stella?”
She smiled at the formal tone. The Mainer kids were a sweet bunch. Their family had been a part of Brockton as long as Stella’s own. Everywhere she went, it was a reminder that it was just her now. For as long as she could remember, she’d known if she ever needed to, she could return home and her dad would be there. And now he wasn’t. Instead, every nook and cranny—or farm—reminded her of that.
“I’m good. Heard there’s a new filly in your family,” Stella said, grabbing her medical bag out of the back. The Mainers had a few family horses, and it was Colin’s dad who’d helped her find Chocolate Chip.
Colin wal
ked in step beside her, toward the barn. “Yeah, rough birth on Esther. We almost called you, but it was the middle of the night and Dad said he didn’t want you dragging yourself out of bed and heading out here all alone.”
Stella stopped in her tracks. She forced herself to count to five in her head. “You guys should have called. You can always call. And you absolutely should. I’m the town vet now,” she said. People counted on her father. They always had. Doc Lane had been a good man and an even better doctor. The people of Brockton Point accepted her as one of their own even though she’d been away, but they hadn’t fully adjusted to the fact that she was now filling her father’s shoes. Whether it was because she was a woman, or they saw her as his daughter, or just weren’t used to her in that professional capacity yet, she didn’t know.
They approached the barn as Mr. Mainer, strands of his thick gray hair fluttering in the gentle breeze, came out.
“Stella. Good to see you, dear. How are you?”
They shook hands, standing in front of the gorgeous red outbuilding that had been rebuilt from the ground up after a fire several years ago. “I’m good. Colin says Esther had some trouble with the birth. You know you can call me.”
Mr. Mainer sent his son a glance but gave Stella a smile. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Plus, knew you’d be here to check the herd. Don’t worry about the filly. You can see her for yourself. Your dad would have given me that look you’re giving me right now, but we did okay.”
She nodded, needing to push the issue for personal and professional reasons. “Yes, he would have. And if you would have called him the other night, you should have called me.”
Their gazes locked, and he nodded slowly, understanding. These people who’d relied on her father still saw her as Doc Lane’s little girl. That needed to stop. She was very capable and couldn’t be paid in suckers. These people had to understand that.
“Next time I will,” he said, respect shining in his eyes. That’s right—I’m Doc Lane now. Tell your friends. And for God’s sake, encourage them to pay me in something other than casseroles. She was going to gain fifty pounds just from those.
“Let’s take a look.”
Going into the barn, inhaling the scent of fresh hay and mud, Stella realized this was her element now. She’d trailed after her father as a young girl, wanting to be just like him, but never truly understanding what that meant. He had loved animals to his very core. He’d never told Stella she should follow in his footsteps, but it hadn’t ever occurred to her to do anything else. With it being just the two of them after her mother’s death, he’d buried himself in the clinic and made Stella his little helper. She’d loved everything about it. When she’d gotten older, he started sending her to her aunt’s horse farm out of state. She’d loved that, but even as a teen, she knew she wanted to work side by side with her dad.
Walking up to Esther, she let the mare sniff her hand. “Hey girl.” The filly nuzzled her mom. “She’s a beauty. You did good, girl. Yes, you did.”
Colin handed her an apple, then went to muck out some of the stalls farther down. Esther practically inhaled the fruit, not even letting Stella offer a bit to the filly.
“No problem with your appetite, hmm?”
“Eleanor will have my hide if I don’t give you a casserole before you go. Make sure you remind me. Colin, you got the list?”
Colin nodded and held it up. With a smile, he gestured to the exit. “We’ll meet you over there. Looks like you want a minute. You always did love horses. How’s yours doing?”
She beamed. What little girl—heck, what kid—didn’t want their own horse growing up? Now she had hers, and it was every bit as awesome as she’d imagined. She just wished she had more time to give C.C.
“She’s great. Settling in well. She’s not eating too much, but I think she’s still getting used to the place and to me.” She didn’t share her concerns because she didn’t particularly want to tell clients that she couldn’t figure out her own horse.
Nodding, he and Colin started off, but he hesitated, looking back at her. “If I’d really been worried, I would have called you, Stella. Trusted you, just like I did your dad. He’d be real proud of you,” Mr. Mainer said.
Stella nodded, her throat tight. When he walked out of the barn, Stella let herself into the stall and got to work checking the vitals for both animals. It was easy to imagine getting lost in this. Animals didn’t judge. The world could learn a lot from them, she figured. Laughing when the filly nuzzled her stomach, she pressed her forehead to the horse’s.
“You’re a happy one, aren’t you?”
She stroked Esther’s flank. “You did good, girl.”
Feeling more settled, Stella grabbed her bag and headed to the cattle barns. While she checked the animals, Colin and Mr. Mainer would walk along the front of the cattle, giving her information and details she needed to know. It wasn’t overly pleasant, but it was routine and one of the first memories she had with her father. She’d always come with him to the checkups, and the first time she’d seen him put his hand elbow deep inside a cow, she’d nearly lost her Scooby snacks. She smiled at the memory and got to work.
When she’d finished cleaning up, she went to the main house to say goodbye. Mr. Mainer was coming down his porch steps, casserole in hand. It wasn’t until he held it out to her that she noticed the envelope on top.
“Eleanor says heat it up at three-fifty,” he said.
Stella accepted it with a smile. Apparently, everything was heated at 350 degrees. “I’ll do that. Thank you. What’s this?”
Mr. Mainer stood straighter, looking down at her—which wasn’t hard at her height—and gave her a look similar to the one he’d given Colin earlier. “That there is for your worry over the filly and checking her when you didn’t have to, and the rest is what I owe on my account. Should have had it to you sooner. Your dad and I, we’d get to talking and shooting the shi—bull and I’d plain forget to square up. I need to remember not to do that with you. I’ll make sure I settle up with you monthly.”
For some ridiculous reason, she wanted to give the money back. Because you feel like dad would have, but that’s exactly why he was in debt. Debt he never mentioned. And now she had to run things, and she couldn’t do it with hope and a smile. She closed her hand around the envelope. “I appreciate that. I really do. I’ll see you next month. Make sure you call me if you need anything before then.”
“All right then. Good to see you, Stella.”
“You too, sir.”
Maybe things will be okay after all. She drove back down the winding road that had taken her to the Mainer’s farm holding on to that thought. If everyone settled up their long running accounts, it would certainly be a step in the right direction. She needed to put her big girl pants on and stop accepting food for animal care. Not that everyone was like that, but at one time, way back in her dad’s day, favors had been the currency of Brockton Point. But life didn’t run on favors, and Stella Lane was not a fan of asking them.
She felt the tug in her wheel before the jeep made any noise. One minute she was driving, and the next it felt like the vehicle was slipping over a rocky river bed. The truck thudded and jolted as she tightened her grasp on the wheel and eased it to the side. Pressing the brake, she stopped the jeep but not the Mach speed of her pulse.
“Because what I really need right now is a flat,” she muttered, her voice sounding tired even to her own ears.
She got out, slamming the driver’s door. The gentle breeze wasn’t as soft this close to the ocean. Taking a moment to breathe in the salty air so she could solve yet another problem without losing her freaking mind, Stella closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the truck. The rear tire on the passenger’s side was flat. A piece of thick, jagged glass sparkled from the tread. She had a spare. She could change a tire. But part of her wanted to just walk over the rocky terrain and head for the ocean to just sit a while and figure out how her life had become this busy, unpredictable m
ess of complications.
“Think while you work,” she muttered. She opened the back, grabbed the spare and the jack, and set it down beside the wheel. A little over a year ago, she’d been thinking about how to get Steven, her fiancé, to agree to move to Brockton Point so she could work with her dad. Now, she was broken down on the side of the road, stranded and alone. It felt like her life had done a one-eighty and she’d landed flat on her face.
Tears burned her eyes. She’d been so busy getting through every moment, she hadn’t given herself time to grieve any of the losses she’d suffered in the last year. “And on the side of the damn freeway is not the time to start.”
She reached up to close the back of the Cherokee just as a truck whipped by and pulled onto the shoulder, right in front of her vehicle.
See? Not alone. In Brockton Point, even on the outskirts, people were never truly alone. Stella just needed to get her bearings back. Get her feet under her.
The truck looked familiar, but it wasn’t until Zach unfolded all six foot something of himself from the driver’s side that she realized why. Aviators covered those eyes that could drown her in an entirely different way if she was open to such things. What the hell? He just happened to be out this way? Great. Now he’ll think he can be your knight in shining armor.
Well, news flash, mister, I got this.
He strolled toward her, his jeans a perfect fit on his long, muscled legs. His T-shirt hugged his biceps, and her eyes were drawn to the swirl of tattoos that went from his elbow up under the short sleeve.
“You got everything you need, Doc?”
She had to give him credit for not asking the ridiculously obvious question: car trouble? “I do. What are you doing way out here?” she asked as she closed up the back of her truck.
He came close enough she could smell his cologne mingling with the scent of the ocean. Heady combination, and one that made her want to take a dive. Nope. Not going there. Not with anyone ever again. The best way to protect her heart was not to give it. Though, the way Zach looked at her when he pushed those glasses to the top of his Army-buzzed hair, he wasn’t after her heart.