Montana Mistletoe Baby. Patricia JohnsЧитать онлайн книгу.
“But let’s keep things professional. I’m here as your vet, not as your ex-wife. If you notice any more cattle with hanging heads, lethargy or nasal discharge, call me and we’ll treat them right away. We can get this under control if we’re careful.”
Curtis blinked, then nodded. Had he expected her not to be professional? He’d been gone a long time, and life hadn’t just stopped in his absence. He might have wasted his time on the circuit, but she’d made good use of hers. Ironically, he could still pulverize her plans—that had been Curtis’s greatest talent.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out and give you a call. Unless you’d rather we call Palmer so you don’t have to deal with me.”
And give Palmer the job? No, she didn’t want that in the least. She still had a practice to run, and she’d need all the money she could squirrel away.
“Curtis, I’m a professional,” she replied. “And I’m good at what I do. Call me.”
He nodded. “Will do.”
Curtis—or at least, her feelings for him—had been at the center of all of Barrie’s biggest mistakes in life, starting with marrying him and ending with a very unplanned pregnancy. This baby wasn’t his, obviously, but he’d been unwittingly connected.
As she headed back to her truck, Barrie let out a wavering sigh.
Professional. In and out. She’d managed it, hadn’t she?
One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to let Curtis close enough to mess with her heart again. He’d already done enough damage for a lifetime.
That evening, Curtis sank into a kitchen chair while Aunt Betty dished up a big plate of shepherd’s pie and placed it in front of him. She wore a walking cast—cumbersome and awkward, but she still got from place to place. Heaven help her if she tried to get onto a horse, though.
It was only dinnertime, but outside the kitchen window the sky was black. Curtis had more work to finish up before he was done for the day; this was just a food break. He’d forgotten how much work a ranch was. Bull riding came with training and practice, but running a ranch was the kind of work that never ended—there was no night off.
“Barrie says the virus is containable,” Betty said, flipping her gray braid back over her shoulder. “That’s a relief. I should have kept a closer eye on those calves myself.”
“Now we know,” Curtis replied. “I’ve got the other ranch hands keeping an eye out, too, so we should be able to keep it from spreading.”
Betty dished herself up a plate of shepherd’s pie, as well, then deposited it on the table with a clunk. His aunt’s shepherd’s pie was amazing—spicy meat, creamy potatoes and a perfectly cooked layer of green peas.
“You didn’t tell me Barrie was pregnant,” Curtis added. He’d been thinking about Barrie all day after seeing her in the barn. He’d known he’d run into her eventually, but he’d halfway hoped he’d have some control over that. Might have made it easier, too, if his aunt had given him more than a minute’s warning.
Betty pulled her chair out with a scrape and sat down. “Any chance the baby is yours?”
Curtis shot her an incredulous look. “Of course not.”
“Then it was hardly your concern,” Betty retorted.
That sounded real familiar, and he shot his aunt a wry smile. “Fine. Point made.”
They both started to eat, and for a few moments, Curtis thought the conversation might be over, but then his aunt said, “This town has been gossiping something fierce, and I wasn’t about to be part of that. Everyone has a theory on who the father is, and Barrie isn’t saying.”
“I noticed that. I asked her about it, and she pretty much told me to mind my own business.” He reached for the pitcher of milk and poured them each a glass.
Betty’s expression softened. “She’s not yours to worry over anymore, Curtis.”
“I know that.” He took another bite and glanced out the window again. Snow swirled against the glass.
“Do you?” Betty asked.
He sighed. “I’m not here for Barrie, Aunty. I’m here to take care of my business, help you out and be on my way.”
Betty didn’t answer, but she got that look on her face that said she thought she knew better.
“I told her that I’m selling the building,” he added.
“And how did that go down?” Betty asked.
“Not well, I have to admit.” Curtis sighed. “She says that Palmer will push her out of business.”
“And he will.”
Curtis put down his fork. What made everyone so certain? “Palmer isn’t the devil. Maybe he just wants a real estate investment. That isn’t unheard of.”
Betty shrugged. “She’s a better vet.”
“Is she?” Curtis had never seen Barrie in her professional capacity until today, and while he’d been impressed by her competence, he couldn’t judge much. Back when they’d been married, she’d wanted to go to school, but that hadn’t happened yet. Her life—everything she’d built for herself—had come together after he’d left town. It was slightly intimidating. She’d become a talented vet, and he’d become...too old to bull ride.
“Palmer has more experience, obviously,” Betty said, “but she’s got better instincts. Working together, they were a great team. On her own, Barrie has more potential. Palmer has already peaked in his career. She’s still climbing.”
“So you think he’s threatened,” Curtis concluded.
“If he’s smart, he is.”
An unbidden wave of pride rose up inside him. Barrie had always wanted to be a vet, and she’d not only achieved her dream, she was better than the established vet here in town, too. He’d always felt proud of Barrie when they were together. She was smarter than he was, in the book sense, at least. That had been frustrating when they’d argued, though. When she got mad, she got articulate. When he got mad, it all just balled up and he went out to ride until it untangled. Even their fighting hadn’t been compatible.
“So she’s doing well, then,” he said.
“Besides her mother passing away last winter,” his aunt said. “I told you about the funeral, right?”
“Yeah.” He sobered. Gwyneth Jones had never been his biggest fan, but she’d been a good woman, and he’d been sad to hear about her passing. This was a hard year for Barrie, and he hated to contribute to her difficulties, but he didn’t have a whole lot of choice.
“She’s done really well in her practice,” Betty went on. “She’s still single, though.”
“So are you,” he quipped. “We aren’t still judging people’s worth by their marital status, are we?”
“Of course not,” Betty said. “It’s not like I’m one to talk. But I’m more of the saintly single type,” she replied with a small smile. “It suits me.”
Curtis chuckled. “And Barrie isn’t?”
“She’s more like you,” Betty said, reaching past Curtis for a dinner roll. “Damaged.”
“Ouch.” Was that really how Betty saw him?
“You don’t count on me for flattery,” she replied, taking a bite. “You count on me for honesty.”
“Fine.” That was true. Betty had always been a rock in that sense. “So,