by Anya Summers
She fanned herself as she left the bathroom. It was something to consider later—much later.
Trying to take her mind and loins off the man in question, Grace spent the afternoon fielding calls, scheduling appointments for checkups, performing a routine pap smear, and more. The office closed at four on Fridays. It was something her grandpa had set up years ago, and she figured she would keep the hours the same.
It was odd for Grace to have time off and away from work. As an attending physician in the emergency room, she’d worked twelve hours without fail, often without lunch or even a bathroom break. The emergency room was nonstop action. It was when it wasn’t busy that she had always worried, because then there would inevitably be a massive pileup on Interstate 70, or a mass shooting with so many wounded, the floors became covered with blood.
A private practice in a small town with only a smidge over a thousand inhabitants was vastly different. Still, that wasn’t to say she hadn’t been busy this past week, because it had had its moments, and made her realize she needed to find an assistant at the very least.
With the office locked up tight, she headed to the house she had inherited from her grandfather.
The mountain chalet style home was located on the outskirts of the prestigious Elks subdivision. The half-acre lot was in a prime location which put her close to Silver Springs Ranch and Emmett. There was a trailhead entrance within walking distance of the house, for the days on which she wanted to get in a good hike—weather permitting, of course. And from the front of the house, the bay of living and dining room windows offered a clear view of the surrounding mountains. Grace could remember hating the sight of them as a teen, because they were a constant reminder that her whole life had been upended and changed. That her parents were no longer alive.
Yet Grandpa Joe had taken her in, just the same, a fifteen-year-old orphan reeling from loss, and done his best by her. He’d given her every opportunity by sending her to boarding school in Troy, New York. That school had given her direction, helped her get into Carnegie Mellon for her bachelors, and then into the University of Colorado School of Medicine.
Grace parked her car in the garage next to her granddad’s Ford truck. The thing was twenty years old but still ran as well as her two-year-old beamer. She figured she would need the truck when the weather turned south, and she had to drive into the office. Besides, she didn’t have the heart to get rid of it—not yet, at least.
The interior of the house was decorated with amber honey wood trim and doors, continuing the color scheme with the tiles in the bathroom and vanity. The three-bedroom home wasn’t overly large, but it did have a den which was where her grandpa had had his home office set up, and a basement which she figured she could use partially as a home gym and for storage. There was loads of her grandfather’s paperwork to wade through. Another task that she didn’t have the heart to touch; not yet, anyway, not today. It was hard enough boxing up his clothes to donate.
For the time being, she was using the second largest bedroom, the same one that had been hers all those years ago. The paint was new, in a nice, sedate taupe. Better than the mint green she had chosen. It held the same queen bed as when she had first arrived here at fifteen. The mattress had seen better days. That was one thing she wanted to get rid of. She wanted her king bed and mattress set from her apartment—the apartment she still had to box up and get moved here. The time left on her lease was ticking down. As much as she wanted to play ostrich, she had decisions to make with regards to her belongings, and her grandpa’s: what to keep, what to sell, and what to donate.
A part of her just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head at the thought of all the decisions she had to make when her heart was sore and battered by loss. Grace still kept expecting her grandpa to come strolling into the house with his big, booming laugh, and wide smile. And the fact that he wouldn’t do that ever again, just didn’t seem real. Her heart hurt in ways it hadn’t for years, not since her parents died.
But she didn’t have time tonight to wallow in sorrow.
She sighed and stripped out of her work clothing. The dinner with Colt at Silver Springs Ranch was something she wished she could get out of and avoid. But if she didn’t set this event up—the memorial celebration—she would be fielding condolences from here unto eternity. A surefire way to make her lose her mind.
Not to mention, Grace felt guilty. Colt was obviously interested in her, he’d said as much the other day in her office. Except, she didn’t think she was interested in him, not in that way. Not with Emmett clouding her judgement and sending her into orgasmic bliss anytime she was near the man.
Colt Anderson was the type of guy Grace should want. He had the air of a refined gentleman, the kind she’d bet could hold his own against slick city businessmen any day of the week. In fact, she would place money on it that the cowboy would navigate the streets of New York City with the same aplomb he did in the small town. He was wildly attractive: tall, fit, and owned a ranch, which most likely meant he was financially stable. He was well spoken and charming. Emmett had also indicated that Colt was a Dom as well. That in fact, all the cowboys who worked the ranch skewed in the direction of the lifestyle.
And yet, Colt’s presence didn’t cause her pulse to race or her nipples to stand at attention, or her sex to go buttery like they did with Emmett. She doubted there was anyone quite like Emmett, with his direct gaze.
Maybe she was doomed to pick men who were bad for her in the long run.
What did one wear to dinner on a ranch? None of the cocktail dresses she had for schmoozing rich donors at the hospital would be appropriate. She thumbed through her closet, discarding the suits she wore at the office, and settled on a soft, salmon-colored camisole top with an ivory cardigan sweater. She paired those with jeans and black ballet flats. The casual look worked, not too over or under dressed.
The sun was on its western descent in the cloudless sky as she drove through the stone-pillared entrance gate to Silver Springs Ranch. The land was gorgeous with such sharp contrasts. Rolling green meadows full of blooming, vibrant wildflowers in an array of colors, surrounded by pine forests of deep evergreen that led up to gray peaks spearing the blue sky. The mountain tops were dotted with snow white glaciers. From the entrance, the drive took her past pastures full of hearty cattle. White decorative fencing lined the paved drive. The ranch charmed Grace. After living in a bustling metropolitan city for years, it was refreshing. The birds and animals, the wildlife that ventured forth, warmed her in ways living in the city never had.
She spotted a few men on horseback out in the pastures who were rounding up steers, getting them settled for the night. When she reached the main ranch parking lot with the main building front and center, her mouth dropped open. The huge house turned dude ranch hotel could compete with the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park in size, although it looked more like a log cabin instead of the ivory Victorian of the Stanley. There was a small road entrance with a slate of cabins off to the right. On the left, a short distance from the main house, was a horse barn and pasture. She spotted a few black beauties and thoroughbreds in the paddock.
The parking lot was full, with license plates from as far away as Maine and Ontario. She’d not expected this much activity, or people. Granted, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. Her ideas of a ranch likely were a bit antiquated. The place felt rustic, but that was part of its charm. It stood a good three stories tall, a blend of hickory-colored wood logs and shimmering, clear glass that gleamed in the sunlight. There was a wide veranda with plenty of pewter Adirondack chairs for guests to relax in and watch all the activity on the ranch.
There was a couple sitting at the far end, both with beers in their hands.
Grace parked and decided the best bet would be to head through the front entrance. Let’s get this over with, she thought. Then she could go home and do what she really wanted: curl up in her pajamas, and not think about her problems.
“Doc O’Neal.”
She heard her name as she strode toward the red front door.
Grace glanced around until she spied who was calling her. It was one of the cowboys who had helped with Emmett the other day.
“Ah, hi,” she said with a smile as he strode over. Grace tried to recall his name: he of the tawny eyes and gregarious smile.
“Didn’t know you were coming tonight. What brings you here?” he asked her, his eyes giving her an appreciative once over.
“Colt invited me to try Mrs. Gregory’s cooking and take a look at the ranch for the celebration for my grandpa,” she replied, still fishing in her brain for a name.
“Mav, what do you want me to do with Sunflower and Glory?” Another cowboy approached. He was almost as tall as his compatriot, his golden hair poked out from beneath a black Stetson, and he tipped his hat her way with a kind smile. “Ma’am.”
The first cowboy’s name was Mav. Yes. But this other man was new to her.
“Tanner, this is the new doc,” Mav explained, gesturing her way.
Tanner’s grin spread slowly, and his green gaze changed to one of interest. “Is that right? Well, doc, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you go by Doc, or sweetness?”
“Um,” she laughed a little at his flirting, “Grace. My name is Grace.”
“Grace,” he sized her up, “are you joining us for a trail ride in the morning?”
“Uh, no, sorry.”
“Mrs. Gregory is making her dinner,” Mav told his buddy.
Tanner glanced at Mav with a raised brow. “Really? Think we could get in on that? I could sure do with one of Mrs. Gregory’s amazing meals—much more so than my own cooking.”
Colt swaggered into the mix, oozing understated confidence in blue jeans and a sky-blue dress shirt with the arms rolled up to his elbows to display powerful forearms. He might be a businessman, but he obviously didn’t let physical labor pass him by. “Gentlemen, why don’t you give Doc O’Neal some breathing space? She’s here to look at the ranch.”
“And apparently she gets to experience Mrs. Gregory’s cooking. It’s damn near a religious experience,” Mav said with a flirtatious wink in Grace’s direction.
“Well, if that’s the case, they should join us, don’t you think?” Grace said to Colt. It would give her breathing room to avoid being alone with him. She knew he wanted to try for more with her, but she had a feeling that if there was a man for her in this town, it was the stubborn Emmett, not the sophisticated Colt.
Tanner clutched his hands to his chest. “I think I’m in love. That you would take pity on us, doc, and invite us to dinner.”
“That’s what you say to all the gorgeous women,” Mav teased.
Colt stroked his clean-shaven chin, studied her, and then his friends. “I think we could accommodate more for dinner. Give me a minute to let Mrs. Gregory know what to expect.” He stepped away, withdrawing a cell phone from his back pocket.
Tanner picked up Grace’s hand and clutched it to his chest. “You are the best. I will swear fealty to you for that alone.”
“Ah, can I have my hand back?” She was charmed by the lot of them.
Tanner flashed her a grin. “For now.”
“Well, Mrs. Gregory assures me that there’s more than enough if y’all want to join us. I was just about to give the doc a tour of the grounds before we head in. Dinner’s going to be about an hour. I hope that’s all right,” Colt explained, the soul of propriety.
“We could show you the horse stables first,” Mav offered, gesturing toward the big, red building with enormous sliding doors which were wide and tall enough that a car could easily drive through them.
Grace enjoyed horses. It had been years since she’d been around them, not since boarding school at Emma Willard in Troy. “That would be nice.”
“Do you ride?” Tanner asked as the group escorted her to the stables.
“I haven’t in many years, and learned on an English saddle. I don’t know if I’ve ever ridden a western saddle, though. It might have been one of the lessons,” she explained, thinking back.
Inside, her eyes adjusted to the lighting. The place was massive. The scents of hay, horse sweat, and manure saturated the air. The stables stretched much farther back than she had originally realized. They were outfitted modernly with a stone walkway, and lined with state of the art horse stalls. Horses that weren’t out in the paddock or in the meadow grazing, stood in their stalls. Some poked their heads out over the stall doors to say hello as the group passed. There were a few sweet mares she met along the way.
Maybe horseback riding was something she would take up again. Grace could see herself flying over one of the meadows, free, as horse and rider moved over earth.
The all black stallion, Wildfire, snorted and stomped his hooves as they passed. He was stunning, a good sixteen hands tall, and a glossy mane with fire in his eyes. “He’s beautiful.”
Wildfire acknowledged her compliment by tossing his head up.
“That’s the horse that knocked Emmett around,” Colt explained.
“He’s a finnicky bastard, that’s for sure,” Tanner added.
“It just takes the right person to ride him,” another voice said, and they all turned. It was Emmett.
Every molecule in Grace’s body electrified. And then she took in what he was wearing. The man stood out worse than a sore thumb. Unlike his compatriots, who were in jeans, cowboy boots, and button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, he was dressed in black sweats that rode indecently low on his lean hips, an iron man gray tank top with the sides cut out to display his ripped chest muscles, and sneakers.
And while the other cowboys were all hunks, Grace had only to take one look at Emmett and a sizzle of energy zapped through her. He eclipsed them all.
“Emmett, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Colt asked in frustration.
“I decided I needed some fresh air and a walk. I’m injured, not dead. Doc.” He nodded her way. Those frosted ice-blue eyes caressed her, making her skin feel three sizes too small, and need pump in her veins. Damn the man. She’d wanted a night off from thinking about him.
“Emmett. Yes, exercise is good for you—however, overextending yourself while injured can actually delay your healing. You walked all the way here from your cabin?” she asked, calculating the distance in her head. It was at least a good three mile jaunt if he stuck to the road.
“I did. I’m not used to inactivity, and needed to burn off some steam. Don’t worry about me, doc, I have more stamina than most realize.”
I just bet you do. Her belly flip-flopped at his double entendre. “Be that as it may, if you wait until after dinner, I’ll drop you off at your cabin on my way home.” She had things to say to him that were better said without an audience.
“Appreciate it, and the dinner invite.” Emmett nodded.
Both Mav and Tanner were attempting to hide their amusement. Colt stared at the two of them, consternation stamped over his face.
“What’s one more?” Colt sighed with a shrug.
They took Grace through the rest of the stables, and explained the rotation on the horses, how they worked one day on, the next day off. That they offered riding lessons for those who were interested, with each of them offering to teach her how to ride western saddle.
As they moved through the ranch, they collected cowboys as they progressed through the grounds. There was Duncan, who had been the fourth man on the fateful day they had brought Emmett in to the practice that first time. Then a cowboy named Lincoln, with a dark shadow beard covering a strong, firm jawline, joined the melee. Colt showed Grace the picnic area space between the main building and a spate of rental cabins. They held cookouts and barbecues there. If she said yes to the memorial celebration, this was where it would all be held.
By the time they made it inside the main house and dining room, Grace had wrangled a total of six big, hunky cowboys, all wanting to get to know the new doctor in town. She hated tha
t it made her uncomfortable. In all her life, she had never had this much male interest before. It made sense: in a small town like this, she doubted there were many new datable prospects.
But just because she understood it, didn’t mean she felt comfortable being the center of attention.
Nor was she expecting beef wellington with roasted new potatoes and steamed asparagus to be on the menu. Mrs. Gregory looked right at home with the cowboys in her denim jeans and button-down shirt in a soft blue. Her silver-peppered hair was drawn to her nape in a bun. She treated the cowboys like they were her boys. But she had a huge smile for everyone, her pleasure at seeing the men enjoy her cooking evident.
Colt explained his ideas for the celebration while they ate. “I think we should make it an afternoon cookout with ribs, burgers, and brats. Make it easy for people to come and eat throughout a window of time instead of at a formal time. And then a tribute to take place about midway through, so the people who come early and late can all be part of it.”
Grace glanced around the room. They were all so earnest in wanting to help. It was clear that they had all liked and respected her grandpa. In all her life, she had never been surrounded by this many men who made no apologies for being male. They were alphas in their prime, and obviously enjoyed the fact that they were men. And, for whatever reason, she was being given entry into their world. Colt seemed to have already worked everything out in his mind about the party.
“That sounds like a plan,” she said. “When?”
Mrs. Gregory beamed as she set down two baskets of fresh rolls that the guys didn’t hesitate to reach for. “I will be in touch with you directly, and work out the full menu with you.”
“I figure we can pull it together in three weeks. Schedule it for the first Saturday in June. Don’t you think, Mrs. Gregory?”