Page 44 of The Cowboy's Miracle Baby

“Hold up,” Alden said. “Just hold your horses. I know what I said. But I’m just curious. How’ve you liked Marietta? I can tell you my clients have liked you very much. I’ve not gotten a single complaint—well, a few nervous nellies…” He hooked a thumb toward Deaver’s barn. “And that’s not an easy feat with this bunch around here. They get used to somethin’ and want to keep it. So, you, fitting right in here, well… that’s something not many would be able to accomplish.”

“Thank you, Dr. Alden.”

“It’s Joe. And I’m not being gratuitous. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have step in for me.”

“I’ve been happy to do it. Happy for the work. And we’ve enjoyed our time here. All of us.”

Alden laughed as they reached his truck. “That little girl of yours is some little spitfire. Heard she put that Deitmore boy in his place at the pageant rehearsal last week. He deserved it, from what I hear. Rascal that he is.”

Gus grinned. “Ella is a spitfire. She takes after her mama, that’s for sure.”

“So, let me get to the point,” Alden said. “Sometimes things happen that you don’t expect, which was the case with this knee of mine. It came on slow, but you know what it takes to work around these animals at all hours. Getting up and down became hard and surgery was the only option. But even now, knowing the job, what it takes, I’m not sure I’ve got it in me anymore. And on the way, I met a certain therapist while in the rehab place.”

“Oh?”

“You see, Gus, bein’ a widower myself for the last twenty years or so, my future has always looked pretty much the same. Me, birthin’ cows, mares. De-worming and vaccinating all of ’em. Keepin’ ranchers’ herds alive and kicking. Me, by myself. That’s what I thought. But…” He turned to gesture at the middle-aged woman in the front passenger seat of his pickup. “Then in walks Miranda. The physical therapist I mentioned.”

Gus nodded to the woman through the window. She was sort of pretty and looked younger than Alden by a couple of years. But she had an infectious smile as she waved at him through the window.

“What I’m saying is, this and my current situation has caused me to reevaluate that future I spoke of and shifted it rather entirely. You see, Miranda and I, well, we’ve decided we’re going to get married. And we would both like to do some traveling before our time on this earth is up, if you know what I mean. And at a certain point, cows just don’t fill the gap anymore.”

“I—that’s—Congratulations.” Something tightened in Gus’s chest. Was Alden saying what he thought he was saying? “That’s amazing news. Traveling is… good for the soul.”

“But as you know, this job… it rides you like an anvil sometimes. Someone will aways have a sick animal. Or an emergency. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve loved doing it all these years and can’t imagine myself doing anything else. But… to everything there is a season, as they say. So, I’m giving you first crack. If you want the practice and we can work out a fair deal, it’s yours.”

For a moment, he forgot to breathe. A whole practice? Ready-made? His to keep? With a place for his daughter, for Luke, and for himself permanently? His next immediate thought was of Cami. And a cold sweat worked its way up his chest.

“I—uh—” he began, but Alder closed a hand over his arm.

“Take your time. Think about it hard, Gus. It’s a big decision. I wouldn’t make the offer to just anyone. But it’s up to you to decide if you think this place is what you really want.”

Was this place what he really wanted? And just like that, all his excuses, his reasons for going could be gone. “I will. Thanks Dr. Alden. I’m grateful for your offer.”

Alden reached for his hand. “And good work with that calf.”

*

The memory ofGus stripping off his jacket and shirt in that barn kept rustling through her thoughts as he drove her home. She’d had a good long time to peruse him, unapologetically, because he was working. His taut muscles were carved by hard work with animals that outweighed him by hundreds of pounds. And yet, his hands had a doctor’s finesse.

And she had to admit, she felt silly and clichéd that the sight of him—all muscled and fit and… well, kind ofperfect—would remind her of how long it had been since she had felt her stomach coil with want at the sight of such maleness and that she was quite distracted by the memory as he drove her down the road toward home. She did her best not to blatantly admire him as he joked about their messed-up dinner date and apologized for leaving her alone to parry with Mr. Deaver.

He’d totally avoided sharing whatever he and Dr. Alden had been talking about so privately after the calf’s birth, which was, of course, none of her business anyway. Maybe it was just her imagination that Gus had seemed a little thrown after that conversation until he seemed to shake it off. Then they’d talked—she’d babbled—about nothing and everything from his high school football years to her brother Will’s NFL career, to the pageant, and Ella. And maybe she’d done a lot of the talking just to avoid the inevitable goodbye that was coming.

But at the same time, all those feelings were steaming through her, some small ancient part of her brain dedicated to self-preservation began to wave its little a red flag. Yes, this night had been good. Better than good. Excellent. Yes, she could feel herself starting to fall for him. Yes, if she were to have a magic wand to find a man who embodied her entire wish list for a potential partner, it would be Gus Claymore.

But.

He was leaving. He’d told her that much. And soon. And how was she supposed to protect herself from that? This was destined for heartbreak. Failure. Disaster even. She knew enough about long-distance relationships to understand that wouldn’t work. No, tonight had been fun, but she needed to nip all this angst in the bud before something actually happened.

Gus pulled into the driveway of the Hard Eight and stopped at the big log front porch. Before Cami could get her door open, he was there, opening it for her.

And, dammit, she liked it.

Oh, man. Her feminist constructs were having a crumbling moment, because a warm rush of something good poured through her as he helped her down from his truck, his hand strong under hers.

She found herself dreading the night being over. It had been—despite the freezing cold time in the barn—a night she wouldn’t soon forget. And not just because watching him do his thing with skill and patience had been amazing, but because they felt like they fit together somehow, in a totally impossible way. Like two planets whose orbits accidentally crossed each other, then spun off in their separate directions.

“Sorry again about the chocolate cake,” he said, walking her to the door. “Should we try that again?”

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