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With a glance in the direction Brooks had taken, Dean offered, “Maybe he’ll get some ideas he shouldn’t.”
Jazzy vehemently shook her head. “He’s not like that.”
Dean sighed. “I guess you’d know after a couple of days?”
“My radar’s good, Dean. I know if I’m ‘safe’ around a man.”
“Woman’s intuition?” he asked with a cynical arched brow.
“Scoff if you want, but I believe in mine.”
It was probably woman’s intuition that had made her break off the relationship with Griff. Her instincts had told her he simply wasn’t the one. There hadn’t been enough passion, enough of those I-can’t-live-without-you feelings. Something important had been missing.
“Okay,” Dean conceded. “But be careful. I heard he’s a confirmed bachelor with good reason. If you fall for him, you’ll only get hurt.”
She couldn’t let this opportunity to find out information about Brooks pass her by. “Why is he a confirmed bachelor?”
After an assessing look that said he was telling her this for her own good, he kept his voice low. “He has a broken engagement in his history that cut him pretty deep. A wounded man is the worst kind to fall for. Watch your step, Jazzy, or you will get hurt. I don’t want to see that happen. Not on my watch.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” she said, frustrated, and stalked out.
Ten minutes later with rain pouring down faster now, she and Brooks sat in his truck again, headed toward Kalispell. Dean’s words still rang in her head. A wounded man is the worst kind to fall for. She wouldn’t fall for Brooks. She couldn’t. Besides, she didn’t fall easily. Her relationship with Griff was proof of that.
Still, as she surreptitiously eyed his strong profile, her stomach did a little somersault. To counteract the unsettling sensation, she remarked casually, “Progress is being made on the school, but it’s going so slow.”
“A ton of funds and a larger crew could fix that. But the way it is now, the elementary school teachers are going to be holding classes in their homes for a long while.”
“The town has come a long way since I first arrived, though.”
He nodded. “Yes, it has. The mayoral election next month should be interesting.”
“Collin Traub against Nate Crawford.”
“Yep. They butted heads trying to get the town back on its feet. Their families have a history of butting heads.”
“A feud?”
“Some people say so. I don’t know how it started. I don’t know if anybody remembers. But because of it, the election is even more heated.”
She wouldn’t ask him who he was voting for. That was really none of her business. But other things were. “How did your clinic in Kalispell take the news you’d be leaving?”
He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he looked troubled. “I don’t want to leave them in the lurch, and I won’t. The other two vets in the practice understand why I have to do this. Family has to come first.”
Her parents had always instilled that belief in their children, too.
Two hours later, Jazzy was still thinking about Brooks’s broken engagement as well as everything she’d learned from the clinic’s office manager about the computer programs they used, advertising and a multitude of other elements she’d have to coordinate to set up his practice. The rain had continued to pour as Brooks and the office manager had filled Jazzy in on what her job would entail.
Jazzy had worn a windbreaker this morning in deference to the weather and now flipped up the red hood as she and Brooks ran to his truck. He’d gone to her side with her to give her a hand up to climb in, but that meant he’d gotten even damper from the rain.
Inside his truck, he took off his Stetson and brushed the raindrops outside before he closed the door. Then he tossed it into the backseat.
“Where’s your jacket today?” she asked.
“The same place yours was yesterday.”
His crooked half smile and the curve of his lips had her thinking of other things than setting up his office. An unbidden thought popped into her head. What would it feel like to be kissed by Brooks Smith?
No! She was not going there.
Brooks looked away and she was glad because she was afraid he might read her thoughts. As he started up the truck, she said, “You need a name for the practice.” It was the first thing that she could think of to say.
“I guess I can’t call it Smith’s Veterinary Practice, can I? That’s what my father uses. Any suggestions?”
“Not off the top of my head. Once you pick a location, we might choose something geared to that.”
“I like your ideas,” he said simply, and she felt a blush coming on because there was admiration in his voice. When was the last time someone told her they liked her ideas? At work, she just did what was pushed in front of her. Sure, she offered suggestions now and then, but nothing that really mattered. Brooks seemed to make everything matter.
The rain poured down in front of them like sheets that they could hardly see through. Brooks didn’t seem to be anxious about it, though. He drove as if he drove in this weather all the time, keeping a safe distance from whatever taillights blinked in front of them, making sure he didn’t drive through puddles that were growing deep.
They were well out of Kalispell when he asked, “So you think you can handle setting up the office? The printing for flyers and business cards and that type of thing will have to be done in Kalispell, but we can accomplish a lot of it through email. I know this is a big job—”
Was he having second thoughts about her abilities? “I can handle it,” she said with more assurance than she felt.
She must have sounded a little vehement because he cut her another glance. “I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. There’s a lot to think about. We can farm out the website design.”
“I can do it. I know I can, Brooks. I’ve taken night courses that I thought might be useful at the resort, and I’ve never gotten a chance to use a lot of what I learned, including web design and graphics. I even took a course in setting up a small business in case I ever get the chance to start up my rescue ranch. I’ve put my life on hold for too long. By helping you, I finally feel as if I’m moving forward.”
He was silent for a few moments, then asked, “Did you have other things on hold, other than your job?”
Was he fishing about her personal life? She could tell him about Griff—
And maybe she would have. But the water was moving fast along both shoulders of the road. As she thought about Brooks’s broken engagement, how she’d told Griff she couldn’t see a future for them, the truck suddenly dipped into a hole hidden under a puddle. The jarring jolt would have been bad enough, but a loud pop like a gun going off accompanied it.
Brooks swore and muttered, “I know that sound.”
Their blow-out caused the truck to spin on the back tire until they faced the wrong direction. The vehicle hydroplaned on another puddle and they ended up near the guard rail on the opposite side of the road.
It had all happened so fast, Jazzy almost felt stunned, like she’d been on some amusement-park ride that had gone amuck. Her brain was scrambled for a few seconds until she got her bearings and realized they were half on and half off the highway.
Brooks unsnapped his seat belt and moved closer to her. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Without conscious thought, she rubbed her shoulder. “We blew a tire?”
He nodded. “I’m going to have to change it.”
“Oh, Brooks. In this rain? I can call Cecelia or Dean.”
“There’s no need for that. I’ve changed tires before. I’ve gotten wet before. It won’t take long, Jazzy, once I get us set up right. Trust me.”
Trust him. Could she? She didn’t know if she could or not...yet. She’d be foolish if she trusted him on this short acquaintance. Yet she had seen enough to trust in his abilities, to trust that he’d do what he said he was going to do.
His gaze ran over her again. “Let me get us over to the shoulder on the right side of the road so I can take care of the tire.”
“I can help.”
“Jazzy—”
“We can argue about it or we can change the tire,” she said adamantly, not accepting a macho attitude from him any more than she would from Dean, her brother or her dad.
“Are you going to tell me stubbornness is one of your virtues?” he asked warily.
“Possibly. Apparently we both have the same virtue.”
He shook his head. “Let’s get this done.”
Jazzy was more shaken than she was letting on, and her shoulder did hurt. But she wouldn’t be telling Brooks about it. Testing it, she realized she could move it, and she wasn’t in excruciating pain. Those were both good signs. She could help Brooks and worry about her shoulder later.
Brooks managed to steer the truck around and with the thump-thump-thump of the blown tire, they made it to the right side of the highway over to the paved shoulder. Thank goodness the shoulder was wide enough that they wouldn’t be in any danger as other vehicles passed.
Brooks touched her arm. “Stay here. I’ve got this.”
But she, of course, wouldn’t listen. She hopped out of the truck and met him at the rear of the vehicle.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re going to get soaked.”
“So we’ll be soaked together. I’ve helped my brother and dad change tires. I’m not inept at this.”
He lowered the rear truck panel. “I didn’t think you were. Let me grab the spare and we’ll get this done quick.”
“Quick” was a relative term, too, when changing a tire in the rain. Jazzy had tied her hood tightly around her face and she felt bad for Brooks when his shirt became plastered to his skin. But he didn’t complain and she didn’t, either, though she was cold and shivery. That was so much the better for her shoulder because it was aching some. The cuffs of her jeans were protected by her boots, but from thighs to below her knees, she was getting soaked.
Twenty minutes later they were back in the truck with rain still sluicing down the front windshield.
Brooks reached in the back and took a duffel from the seat. “I carry a spare set of duds in case a calf or a horse drags me into a muddy field. It has happened. How are you under that jacket?”
Actually, the waterproof fabric had kept her fairly dry. “I’m good. Just my jeans are wet.”
He switched on the ignition and the heater. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Numb right now from the cold and damp.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt.
At first she just stared at the tan skin and brown curly hair he revealed as he unfastened one button and then the next. For some insane reason, she suddenly had the urge to move closer...and touch him.
When his gaze met hers, her breath almost stopped. She quickly looked away.
She could hear the rustle of fabric...hear him reach into the duffel bag.
“Jazzy, take this.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was offering her a hand towel.
“You need it more than I do,” she managed to say, her eyes skittering over his bare chest.
“Wipe your face,” he suggested. “Then I’ll use it.”
She took the towel and dabbed at her rain-splattered cheeks, the ends of her hair that had slipped out from under the hood. After she handed it back to him, her gaze went again to his completely bare chest, broad shoulders, muscled arms. Wow!
“Do you work out?” she asked inanely, knowing he’d noticed she’d noticed, and there was nothing she could do about that.
“No need to work out when I wrestle with calves, chop wood for my stove and repair fencing on my dad’s property when he lets me.”
“Do you have a house in Kalispell?”
“No. Because I fully intended to move back to Rust Creek Falls someday. I’m in one of those double condos on one floor. It’s got everything I need.”
She handed him the towel and watched as he dried his hair with it. It was sticking up all over. She wanted to run her fingers through it and brush it down, but he quickly did that and swiped the towel over his torso.
“Getting warmer?” he asked, with the heater running full blast.
“Yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe you’re not shivering.”
“Hot-blooded,” he said with a grin that urged her once again to touch him, test the texture of his skin, and see if there really was heat there.
Before she had the chance to act foolishly, he pulled a T-shirt from the duffel, slipped it over his head, maneuvered his arms inside and pulled it down over his chest. She could see denim protruding from the duffel.
“Is that another pair of jeans?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You should change.”
“I’m fine. Let’s get you back to Strickland’s and look at that shoulder.”
“You’re a veterinarian,” she protested.
“I had some EMT training, too. Out here, you never know what you’re going to run into. If you’d rather I take you back into Kalispell to the hospital—”
“No! I don’t need a hospital or a doctor.”
“Great. Then I’m perfect for the job.”
After that, every time Jazzy glanced at Brooks, she envisioned his bare chest, his triceps and biceps and deltoids and whatever else she’d seen. He had tan lines from shirtsleeves on his upper arms. He had dark brown hair arrowing down to his belt buckle. He had a flat stomach and a slim waist and—
Okay, heating up her body wasn’t helping her shoulder. In fact, it was starting to hurt a little more.
They didn’t talk as he concentrated on driving and she tried not to concentrate on him. She thought about her sisters and brother and parents, and considered phoning them. She hadn’t checked in for a while and they’d want to know what she was doing. However, should she tell them about her job with Brooks? She almost had to, because Dean probably would. Besides that, the news would soon get around to the other volunteers and some of them would be going back to Thunder Canyon. It was difficult to hide anything in a small town.
When Brooks pulled up in front of Strickland’s, Jazzy said, “You don’t have to see me in.”
“I don’t have to, but I’m going to. I told you, I want to check your shoulder.”
“You’re still wet. You’ll catch cold.”
He laughed. “Everyone knows you don’t catch cold from the cold. I promise, this will be almost painless, Jazzy. I just want to make sure you’re not really hurt.”
Okay, so they were going to have to get this over with because he was persistent and stubborn. In a family as large as hers, she’d learned there was no point in arguing.
Once inside Strickland’s, they climbed the stairs. Jazzy took out her key and opened her door. She’d already told Dean that Brooks was “safe,” so why was she hesitating in letting him into her room?
Simple. He was half dry, half wet, and all imposing male.
Her room was small and the nice thing about it was it had a bathroom of its own. Standing by the single bed, Jazzy was very aware of it as Brooks came into the room and stood before her.
“I left the door open,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I have an ulterior motive.”
He had left it open about six inches, and she realized how thoughtful it was of him to do that. She simply had to think about him as a doctor right now.
“Take your jacket off,” he said gently.
At first her fingers fumbled with the zipper. Her nervousness was stupid. She had nothing to be nervous about. But unzipping her jacket, she felt as if she were letting him into her life in a different way. She shrugged out of it and hung it over the bed post. He took a step closer to her, and she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Her gaze locked to his for a few seconds, but then he directed his focus to her shoulder and reached out to touch it.
She thought she’d prepared herself. She thought this would be clinical.
The exam was clinical on his part as he kneaded around the joint and asked, “Does that hurt?”
“Some,” she managed to say.
“Don’t soft pedal it if it does.”
“It’s not that bad. Really.”
As he felt along the back of her shoulder, she winced. His fingertips massaged the spot and she found that didn’t hurt but felt good.
“You got bumped around and might have black-and-blue marks tomorrow. Put some ice on it for the first twenty-four hours, ten minutes on, half hour off.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she said with a slight smile.
His fingers stopped moving. His eyes found hers. The room seemed to spin.
No, not really. Couldn’t be. But gazing into Brooks’s eyes was like getting lost in forever. His hand was on her back now as he leaned a little closer. She felt herself swaying toward him.
But then he straightened. “Take it easy for the rest of the day.”
Feeling reality hitting her straight in the face, she asked, “When do I officially start work for you?”
“Let’s consider tomorrow the starting date. I’ve been talking to a real-estate agent and she’ll have a list of places for me to look at. Would you like to go along to do that?”
“You bet.”
“Unless you don’t feel well.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Famous last words.” He went to the door. “Ice the shoulder.”
As he opened the door and went into the hall, she called after him, “Get out of those wet jeans.”
She thought she heard a chuckle as he strode away from her room. She remembered his shirtless upper body. She remembered the feel of his fingers on her shoulder. She remembered the way his smile made her feel.
Working for Brooks Smith could be the biggest mistake she’d made...lately.
Chapter Four
The sun shone brightly in the brilliant turquoise sky as Brooks let himself into Strickland’s Saturday morning, coffee and donuts in his hands. He’d found a property he wanted to show to Jazzy. She’d said yesterday she’d be ready anytime he was, but he hadn’t wanted to waste her time, so he’d taken a look at three properties early this morning. He was confident one of them would work, but he wanted to see what she thought.
At the front desk, he greeted Melba who was shuffling papers into a file folder. She eyed the bag from Daisy’s Donuts. “Jazzy didn’t come down to breakfast,” she told him. “Maybe she’ll eat some of what you brought her.”
He supposed Melba had seen him with Jazzy the past two days. The older woman watched over her guests with an eagle eye.
He climbed the stairs, glad he’d put lids on the coffee cups or he’d have sloshed it all over the box and donuts. He was just eager to show Jazzy the property, that was all.
But deep down, he knew the reason for his eagerness was more than that. When he brought Jazzy back here yesterday and examined her shoulder, he’d had to remind himself over and over again that it was a clinical examination. But he could vividly remember how she’d felt under his fingertips, the look in her eyes. They were attracted to each other and fighting it. Just how difficult was it going to be to work together?
Not too difficult, he hoped. They wouldn’t have time for attraction, not if they were going to get a clinic up and running. So the sooner they looked at the property and got started, the better. It was silly, really, but he couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Jazzy was so positive and upbeat, so excited about new things. She understood the dedication it took to take care of animals, and she even admired it. Unlike Lynnette. She was so different from Lynnette. Jazzy wouldn’t do anything half-measure. Dating Jazzy could be an unrivaled experience. More than dating her could be...
He thought about his dad’s ultimatum. Marriage would be a solution. Yet after his experience with Lynnette, he couldn’t even think about it.
It was a shame he couldn’t erase the shadows of the past from his memory bank.
When he reached Jazzy’s door, he shuffled the box into one arm and rapped. She didn’t answer. Could she have gone out? Was that why she hadn’t appeared at breakfast?
He rapped again. “Jazzy?” he called. “Are you in there?”
To his relief, he heard movement inside. Then Jazzy was opening the door, looking as if she’d just awakened from a deep sleep. Her blond hair was mussed around her face and she’d pushed her bangs to one side. She was wearing a raspberry-colored nightgown and robe over it, but she hadn’t belted the robe and the lapels lay provocatively over her breasts.
He quickly raised his gaze to hers. “Are you okay?”
She seemed to come fully awake. Now she belted her robe, cinching it at her very slim waist. That wasn’t a whole lot better, but she didn’t know that. He’d just have to package his lusty thoughts away in mothballs. He was concerned about her and that concern must have shown.
“Tell me the truth, Jazzy.” He didn’t want some varnished description of how she was feeling.
“Can I tell you over donuts and coffee?” she asked. “That really smells good.”
If she wanted coffee and was hungry, she had to be okay, right?
Without a second thought, he stepped inside the room. She moved over to the nightstand, clearing it of books and lotion. She set them on the small dresser.
After he settled the box on the nightstand, he pulled over the ladder-back chair while she curled up cross-legged on the bed. She was so natural...so unaffected...so pretty.
He opened the box of donuts, pulled out a chocolate-glazed one and handed it to her. “Tell me.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “As the day went on yesterday, I got more sore. Last night I couldn’t get to sleep. It must have been about 4 a.m. when I finally did, and I guess I was in a deep sleep until you knocked. You should have called to warn me you were coming.”
“You need a warning?”
She shrugged. “A girl doesn’t like to be caught with her hair all messed up.” She flipped a hank of it over her shoulder.
He laughed. “You look—”
She held her hand up to stop him. “Do not say fine. No woman wants to hear she looks fine.”
“Then how about you look morning-fresh and pretty.”
She’d been about to take a bite of the donut but she stopped and her eyes widened.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“I have sisters who look beautiful in the morning. They don’t even get sheet wrinkles on their faces.”
“You don’t have any sheet wrinkles. Or any wrinkles at all.”
Her skin was so creamy, he wanted to reach out and touch it. That was the problem. “You do have a few freckles, though. But I like those, too.”
She blinked.
He could see he’d definitely surprised her, maybe even embarrassed her a little. He popped the lid off the coffee. “Sugar and cream, just like you like it.” As he handed it to her, he asked, “So how sore are you this morning?”
“Just a little, really. I think some of it’s from the seat belt.”
That made sense.
“Do you feel like looking at a property I found? If you don’t, we can do it another time.”
“No, I want to go.” She was about to lay down her donut, when he said, “Take your time. I told the real-estate agent I’d buzz her when we were on our way.”
Jazzy suddenly got a determined look on her face, and Brooks knew he was probably in for trouble. She pointed her donut at him. “Just because you’re tall and strong and seem to know what you want in life, doesn’t mean you can look at me as...fragile.”
Now where had that come from? Honest to goodness, he just didn’t understand women. “I don’t.”
She pointed her donut at him again. “You do. Maybe it’s because you take care of animals, but you have some kind of protective streak. It’s the same streak that argued with me about help with changing your tire, and being out in the rain and thinking I had to rest today. You were in the accident, too. You’re not resting.”
“I didn’t bump my shoulder.”
She lifted a finger and stroked the air. “Okay, point taken. Still, I’m not some damsel in distress. Got it?”
She was sitting there cross-legged on the bed—with mussed hair and a just-awakened look. Baser urges nudged him to move closer, to climb into bed with her...