Dear Reader

I’d love to open this letter with something deep and philosophical that inspired me to write RETURN OF DR IRRESISTIBLE. Or I could go on at length about my fascination with the circus microculture, and about how it doesn’t matter because at heart people are people …

But really …? I just wanted to write about the circus! Who doesn’t like the circus?

My motivation was really that deep at the start. So, naturally, as I had no vested interest in the subject at the outset, writing the book provided me with insights into my own psyche. I should expect that to happen by now, but it’s always a surprise when it does.

It doesn’t matter if you grew up in the suburbs, in a circus, or in the hills of Appalachia: everyone feels like the weirdo or an outsider at some point. And you always have to step outside your safe zone to grow past that.

Take risks. Be brave. And, for the love of chocolate and fat, and roly-poly puppies, go to the circus whenever you can! :)

Amalie xo

www.amalieberlin.com

Twitter: @AmalieBerlin

Facebook: www.facebook.com/amalie.berlin

Return of Dr Irresistible

Amalie Berlin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dedication

To my little brother Seth, a great writer whose name will be on the front of a book before long. He who read my first book (even though it’s a romance) and promotes my new releases to the point that my secret identity is no longer secret with my family (doh!).

If I end up on the prayer chain for acts of text-based naughtiness it’s all his fault.

To my editor, Laurie Johnson. She’s either very brave or she’s got a heck of a poker face. This was our first book together and she didn’t even hesitate when I emailed to let her know: ‘I WANT TO WRITE A MEDICAL ROMANCE SET AT THE CIRCUS!

YAY!’ Nerves. Of. Steel.

Praise for Amalie Berlin:

‘A sexy, sensual, romantic, heart-warming and pure emotional, romantic, bliss-filled read. I very much look forward to this author’s next read, and being transported to a world of pure romance brilliance!’

—goodreads.com on CRAVING HER ROUGH DIAMOND DOC

Contents

Cover

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

Praise

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

FOR TEN YEARS Dr. Reece Keightly had been dreading this night.

He’d known it would come to this. Of course he’d known. It was all on his shoulders—the dynasty, the future of the company and the weight of the past. Two centuries of history all ending with him.

The tenth-generation owner of Keightly Circus was the one who would tear it all down. Nice round number, ten. Like Fate had decreed it. Like he was just filling the role assigned to him. Like it wasn’t his fault.

Except it was. That’s how they’d see it.

Reece took a step forward, shuffling with the crowded line to the ticket booth. The traditional last annual stop of the circus was always Atlanta due to its proximity to where they summered, but it was also the best crowd. The local, hometown circus returning triumphant from a season on the road, played out the last week near home. Traditional, like so many other things with his family’s circus. Keightly’s prided themselves on tradition.

Due to the coverage given to the impending closing—local television and radio stations had blared the news for weeks—they were enjoying record crowds for the last performances. For Atlantans, parents had been coming with their children for generations. Another tradition that would be violated after this year.

As excited as he was to see the show—and he never lost that excitement—the prospect of seeing people he cared for putting their lives in danger built in him a kind of extreme awareness of the world around him. It slowed things down, pulled him out of himself, and amplified every ounce of fear until it became a physical sensation, the taste of cold metal on the back of his tongue and he couldn’t swallow past it.

Excited terror. He almost longed for ignorance, to be just one of the crowd, another random person in line who only knew the fantasy. But Reece knew the horror too.

All around him children giggled and chattered happily. Ahead, inside the massive blue tent, the band tuned up, readying to start the show, and every note amplified the dread eating at him. The sawdust awaited him. A tradition he could do without.

Dwelling on the unpleasant details wouldn’t help him deal with them better. Shut it down. He just needed to see this show. One last time, make certain he was making the right decision. Not that he had any real doubts, but two hundred years deserved one last think. One last chance for them to change his mind.

Two people away from the ticket counter, he heard the first slow whistles of the calliope wheezing through the lot. Soon the ancient steam-powered contraption blanketed the area in sound—cheerful music silenced his chaotic thoughts.

He’d always loved the old calliope, but in the wake of those first warbling notes a surge of homesickness slammed into him. Nostalgia so strong it was like overlapping two realities—belonging and alienation, comfort and terror, peace and anger.

He latched on to the last emotion. Anger was better. He could do this—be angry enough to drown out the rest. But he should at least be honest with himself—he wanted to be there if for no other reason than to see her perform. He wanted to see them all, but the promise of Jolie Bohannon in the spotlight would see him through.

He just needed to see the show one more time. Everything would be fine.

Say goodbye.

Purge the sawdust from his blood, and all the rest of it.

One last time.

Then he’d take care of everyone. See them settled. And go back to his safe and orderly life. Find a place to build his practice. Buy a home with a foundation beneath it. He could have people relying on him for their health—it’s what he’d been raised to do—but not while he had to stand by and watch them put their lives in jeopardy to make people cheer.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught his first glimpse of the steam-powered calliope rolling across the lot. His mother sat at the back, playing the piano-like keyboard that operated the old steam whistles, while Mack Bohannon drove the carriage.

Jolie’s family had traveled with Keightly Circus since before the Civil War. They might as well be family for real, and soon there would be a link when his mother married Mack and left Reece as the last Keightly standing.

Not yet ready to be seen, Reece pulled down the brim of his fedora, hunching his shoulders like that would make him stand out less. Keightly men grew tall. Every one well over six feet. But nobody expected him to be here tonight, and he didn’t know how they’d react to his presence. He wanted to just be an observer.

He had a right to be angry. Reece harbored no illusions, though—if this were a movie, he’d be wearing black and twirling a weird mustache in the corner. Only villains closed circuses... Even if he was making the right call for the right reasons, something beloved was dying. Making the death of the circus quick rather than letting it limp along on life support was a kindness.

If he wasn’t going to take the reins, if he wasn’t going to step up as the last Keightly and lead, he had to take care of laying the show to rest. And he would do that. With the respect and honor it deserved.

But first he’d see one last show and say goodbye on his own.

And maybe somewhere along the way he’d find a way of convincing himself he wasn’t a monster.

* * *

Jolie Bohannon stood at the back of the tent, holding Gordy’s leash. The miniature white stallion always had to be held back until it was absolutely time for him to enter the ring. He lived to perform, a feeling she could once have identified with. It was still there—in theory—but she had other important responsibilities to handle now. Like making sure the full-sized mounts and the Bohannon Trick-riders didn’t accidentally trample Gordy because someone let him off his leash too soon. Calm and orderly, that’s how everything and everyone stayed safe.

She listened for the change in the music—everyone in the circus learned to gauge where the performance was by the music—and adjusted Gordy’s flashy silver bridle and the wee matching and no less flashy saddle. His costume.

At the first trumpet, she unclipped his harness and reached for the tent flap, barely getting her hand in before he barreled through the flap and down the causeway. She stepped through in time to see him enter the ring. Darting between the other horses ridden by the Bohannon Trick-riders, he stopped dead center, reared on his back legs to stretch to his tallest—four feet and some change—and whinnied.

One by one, the other horses in the ring bowed to him, the little king. The little clown to end the act, the segment of the horse act that reached out to the children and in the audience, drew them in, and got their minds away from the scary excitement of moments before. Jolie smiled. Gordy could still make her smile.

The show was almost over. One more act and then the finale.

She stepped back outside, listening and watching the bustle of the crew getting ready to change the ring for the next act.

Watching the show was a little too much for her right now. She never let her emotions get out of control. Never. But with the circus closing down for good, emotions she’d long ago buried seemed closer to the surface. The last thing she needed was for something to set her off. Watching the show, getting sentimental and weepy over the last performances? Would interfere with her job. Everyone had a job to do and they’d do it with or without her, but she had to hold up her end. That meant right now she had to stand here and wait while Gordy played the fool and the crew changed the set, but she didn’t have to watch the well-oiled machine.

The music stopped suddenly, snapping Jolie’s attention back to the present. In a well-oiled machine, the music never stopped for no reason.

A cold feeling crept up over the back of her head. That emotion could never be buried or ignored. But fear could be used.

Cries had barely begun rising from the crowd before Jolie was inside the tent, running toward the ring. There she found her family off their mounts, surrounding something.

Where was Gordy?

She burrowed through and found him lying on his side, all playfulness gone. He thrashed about, repeatedly trying and failing to rise. She didn’t have to look hard to see that his front left leg was injured. Not again.

Three of her cousins stepped in to try and get him to his feet, but he bit at them.

‘Get out of the way. Call a vet. We need a vet.’ Her order was loud enough to be heard above the din. Gordy was her responsibility. Her job... But more than that, she loved him. He depended on her to take care of him.

Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she thrust it at her uncle as she moved past, holding on to her calm. Gordy needed orderliness and calm from her. ‘Whoa, Gordy. It’s okay. Whoa...’

He was just scared and in pain. She squatted at his side and, despite his thrashing, got the straps circling his belly unbuckled and the spangled saddle off. Freeing him from the extra weight didn’t help him rise on his own, and she needed to see him on his feet.

He wouldn’t bite her. He’d never bitten her.

Taking a breath, she leaned in, arms surging for his chest and belly to try and help the small stallion to his feet.

‘Jolie, his leg is broken.’ She heard a deep man’s voice, winded but loud. Someone who’d been running too, familiar and unfamiliar even if he said her name. Too busy to question it further, she tried again to lift Gordy. So heavy. Jolie adjusted her arms and tried harder, straining to get the tiny stallion off the ground without putting any pressure on that leg.

He got on his knees, but she wasn’t strong enough to get him all the way up. The position put pressure put on his leg and her favorite friend peeled his lips back and bit into her forearm. The shock of the bite hit her almost as sharply as the pain radiating up her arm.

She must have hurt him because it wasn’t a quick bite. His jaw clenched and ground slightly, like he was holding back something intent on hurting him. He held on, and so did Jolie.

Someone stepped to the other side of the horse and put his arms around Gordy’s middle. ‘On three.’ She gritted her teeth, counted, and the excessively large man lifted with her.

This time Gordy’s back legs came under him and they got him to his feet, or least to the three good ones. She needed to see him standing, assess how bad the break was. It occurred to her that she should be more freaked out about this.

Veterinary medicine had come a long way since the days when a broken leg had been a death sentence for a horse, but Gordy may as well be living in the Wild West. He had a history of leg problems. Jolie remembered what they’d gone through the last time and what Gordy had gone through. Someone would make that terrible suggestion. Someone would say they should put him down... She needed to keep that from happening.

She also really needed him to stop biting. A few deep breaths and she’d be able to control the pain, but it’d be easier if he’d let go. Having her screaming at him would freak the tiny horse out and he was already afraid.

‘Let go now,’ the man said, pulling her attention back to him over Gordy’s pristine white back. She expected to see a vet, or maybe someone who had traveled with the circus in the past...

Ten years had changed his face. Broadened it. Made it more angular. But she knew those eyes—the boy she’d known ten years ago. The boy she’d loved.

Reece wasn’t supposed to be there yet. And he probably wasn’t supposed to be looking like he was about to throw up.

‘I can’t let go.’ Jolie grunted. Speaking took effort. Suddenly everything took effort. Controlling the pain. Controlling her voice. Breathing... ‘He’s got me.’ And letting go might just mean that he fell again, hurt himself worse, and maybe his teeth would take her flesh with him.

As much as Jolie might normally appreciate the value of distraction to help her control wayward emotions, Reece was the wrong kind of distraction. He just added a new dimension of badness to the waves racing up her arm. She didn’t want him there. He wasn’t supposed to come until they were all on the farm, where she’d have room to avoid him. He’d stayed gone for ten years so why in the world would he come to see the show now?

Because she didn’t want it. But here he was, helping with Gordy and being gigantic. Good lord, he was big.

She could use that to help Gordy.

Get the horse and the show back on their feet.

The throng of people gathered around, children in the audience pressed against the raised outside of the ring, getting as close as they could... The weight of all their emotions pressed into her.

It had to be their emotions she was feeling. She’d mastered her own emotions several years ago, and maintained proper distance from anything hairy, she reminded herself. And she’d regain control of them as soon as she got Gordy out of there and Reece the hell away from her.

First things first. ‘We have to get him out of here.’ She needed out of there too.

A single nod and Reece reached for the horse’s mouth while she kept him standing. Large, strong hands curled around the snout and lower jaw and he firmly pried the miniature horse’s jaws apart, all the while speaking to him gently, making comforting sounds that did nothing to comfort her—but which seemed to do the trick with Gordy.

Or the combination of comfort and brute strength did the trick. Gordy released her bleeding arm and immediately Reece slid his arms under the horse’s neck and through his legs to support his chest and hind quarters. Then he did what she’d never seen anyone do before: He picked the horse up.

‘Which way?’ Strained voice to go with strained muscles, and the look of nausea was still on his face. How had Reece gotten so strong? She thought doctors studied all the time and played golf... Even as small as Gordy was, he was still a horse and weighed a good one hundred and eighty pounds. But Reece carried the miniature horse out of the ring. By himself.

Right. Not the time to think about that. Gordy was hurt. She was hurt. The show had stopped. Children were probably very scared and upset. ‘This way.’ She cleared a path and led Reece and his load out the back of the tent, the way she’d come, off toward the stables.

He could carry Gordy to the stable and then go away, let her have her mind back. The stable was Bohannon property, she would just order him out and take care of her horse.

Someone else would step in, get the show moving again, and she didn’t care who that task fell to. As long as the vet came soon.

The stable wasn’t far, but by the time they reached it, Reece was breathing hard. Maybe harder than she was while desperately trying not to feel nothing—not the pain in her arm, and really not the anger and betrayal bubbling up from that dark place she stuffed all her Reece emotions.

Once in Gordy’s stall with the fresh hay she’d put down earlier, Jolie directed, ‘Lay him in the straw.’ That was something she could think to say. One step at a time, that’s as far ahead as she could make her mind work. It took more effort than it might have otherwise done if she hadn’t been bitten and her arm didn’t ache to the point she was considering that maybe the bone had fractured...

The rest of her mental capacity was filled to the brim with the echoes of voices reminding her of Gordy’s history, the way Mack would undoubtedly react, and all the animals she’d lost over the years. Of everything she’d lost...

Ignoring those voices took effort.

Nothing was going to happen to Gordy. He was practically a sibling. Her first mount when she’d been little more than a toddler herself.

Jolie forced herself to still. Reece gently laid the injured but considerably calmer animal in the bedding. ‘I think he remembers you,’ she murmured. Gordy remembered Reece, even if he looked loads different—even if he’d bitten her. He remembered Reece enough to go docilely into the straw.

Still not a good enough reason to keep Reece in the stable. She couldn’t focus with him there. ‘Thank you. Go watch the rest of the show.’ She got in between him and the horse, focusing with all her might on first-aid training for horses.

Reece stood behind her, looking down over her shoulder. ‘Let me look at your arm.’

‘It will wait.’ Gordy might have thrashed himself into a bad intestinal situation...so the next step should be...

Reece’s hands closed around her waist, dragging her attention away from what she should be doing. He lifted her to her feet and secured her left arm with his horse-lifting grip locked around her wrist. Fire and ice, his touch was like peppermint, an utterly inexplicable combination of heat and chill that momentarily cut through the fear of losing Gordy and made her think...so many different things. Primarily it reminded her of one thing: He needed to leave. But Gordy needed to stand up more, and she’d failed at lifting him to his feet twice already.

‘My arm can wait,’ she repeated. And it could wait outside his grasp. She twisted her wrist free, ignored the deep ache the motion caused, and pointed to Gordy. ‘He needs to be on his feet.’

‘He can rest a moment. You’re hurt.’

He sounded so sincere, genuinely concerned... Which was crap, of course. ‘He needs to be on his feet,’ she repeated, ‘resting a moment is the last thing he needs.’ Don’t look him in the eyes. Don’t look him in the eyes.

‘Jolie...’

‘Reece...’ she replied, and looked him in the eyes. Right. No time to waste. She started moving again, toward the stall door so she could get to the supplies and away from him. Something in his touch, in the fact that he had helped them, and the concern in his eyes made her feel weak, muddied her thinking. Roused emotions she couldn’t afford right now.

She knew what needed to happen for Gordy, not him. ‘You can stay here until I get him in a sling. He needs to be in a sling. And don’t think you get to tell me what to do just because you went all strongman and carried my horse to the stable. You don’t get to dictate anything in here. The circus might be yours to destroy, but Gordy is a Bohannon, so I’ll take your help with him, and then you can get the hell out of my stable.’

Not calm. Not calm at all. What had happened to her calm? Her arm. Pain and fear did this to her. That and the weirdness of seeing Reece. But it would all go away again soon enough. Losing Gordy on top of everything else would be a pain she couldn’t ignore. Sling. She needed one of the horse slings.

Flipping open the lid of the trunk where various first-aid implements were kept, Jolie dug through, using her injured arm even if every second the ache grew worse. The only sling she knew they had was for the big horses...

‘Tell me what you’re doing.’ Reece said, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth fighting with her.

Good. She didn’t have time to fight.

Reece moved to the side of the trunk. ‘I’ll help you if you tell me what you need.’

More Good. Be helpful. The sooner Gordy was on his feet, the sooner Reece could go away. ‘I didn’t see him fall,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how much he could have jarred his insides when he went down, but I saw him thrashing to get up and that could have twisted his bowel. I don’t want him fighting colic while his body needs to be focused on healing his leg. We need a sling. And some way to hang it. I’ll work on the sling, you see if you can find a couple of pieces of lumber that will stretch across the top of the stall.’

He left immediately. Of course he knew the way. The circus might be somewhere new every week, but it was always set up in the same layout. And that layout hadn’t changed in the last ten years. She’d changed. He’d changed—God, had he ever—but the circus was the same.

A few minutes later Reece came back with two especially thick posts thrown over one shoulder and found her crouched in Gordy’s stall, stringing together belts and harnesses.

‘Lay them across the top. This isn’t a proper sling, but it should work until the vet gets here.’ She stretched the leather across Gordy’s chest, noting the labored breathing, and fought down another wave of panic. Once she had it in place over the shoulder she could access, she looked at Reece. ‘Think you can pick him up again? I need to get this around the other side and I need him on his feet, so I need you just supporting that place where his leg is compromised. Then I’ll climb the stall and get it all hitched to the lumber.’

He scowled at her. What did that mean? A longer look at her arm told her why he looked so sour, but to his credit he squatted beside Gordy and got him up again, just as she’d asked. Which didn’t make up for anything. He would probably pitch some kind of fit when this was over. He was a showman after all. Doctor. Showman. Jerkface.

She’d been upset with him for years, but had thought she’d finally let go of it a few years ago. The strength of her anger at seeing him now surprised her.

Not that she could spare time for reflection. To hell with Reece. She’d help Gordy—they’d help him. He’d survive. Get him up. Get the vet to cast his leg. Take care of him. Not a detailed plan, but it was as good as she had right now. And when Gordy’s leg was in a cast, she’d figure out what the next step was. And then the next. She had a job, and right now Gordy was it.

‘Hurry...’ Reece said through clamped lips, doing his best to keep his head away from Gordy’s mouth, should he get bitey again, but he managed to get the little stallion on his hooves and support his chest.

Jolie ducked around the other side and in a few seconds had threaded the makeshift harness through, clipped the ends together and thrown the long tail up and over the wood.

Good thing they were all pretty much acrobats...and that she was good at jumping. Her small stature made her the perfect size for tossing and flying, but made reaching objects in tall cabinets or shelves difficult. Made hauling herself to the stall top require a hop first.

She grabbed the top of the stall with both hands. Pain shot up her left arm and she let go again. It took a few seconds for the buzzing to subside so she could try again.

‘Jolie?’

‘I’m okay. It’s...probably not broken.’

He swore under his breath. Like he cared that much. Like someone who’d cut those he’d supposedly loved out of his life for a decade could care at all, let alone enough to swear.

A burst of anger at the bitter memory gave her the strength she needed to pull herself up on the second attempt. She maneuvered herself between the lumber Reece had slatted across the top of the stall, balanced and reached for the leather dangling over the lumber.

As she worked, she looked down and saw Reece scowling up at her again. ‘What?’

‘Hurry,’ he said.

‘You carried him all the way in there, is supporting one end such a chore now?’ She looked down, noticed red on Gordy’s white fur and howled, ‘Is he bleeding?’

‘Dammit, Jolie, that’s your blood.’

‘Oh.’ She swallowed back down another wave of hysteria and fastened the belts until the little horse was lifted ever so slightly from the floor.

‘Too high,’ he called. ‘His front hooves aren’t on the ground.’

‘I think the next notch will put too much weight on his leg, though... This is the best we can do. Maybe we can find a tile or bit of wood, something to slide under his good foot so he can stand but keep the weight off the other.’

‘After we clean your arm.’

Back to the arm. ‘Later. What happened out there? You saw it, right?’ Should she give him a sedative? Could she even do the math right now to figure out the right dose, or find a vein to inject it?

‘He hurdled a little leap and just landed badly.’ He let go of Gordy slowly, letting him test the sling, and she waited to climb down until she was certain she wouldn’t have to adjust the buckles.

Reece got to that decision before she did then stood and plucked her off the top of the stall. Picking her up again.

She’d forgotten he did that, just picked her up whenever he wanted to. And now that he was twelve gazillion feet tall, he might be even worse about it.

‘Good grief, put me down.’ Being this close to him made her feel more breathless than she wanted to sound. She wanted to sound angry. Angry was better than fragile and girly.

‘I’m helping you down.’

She couldn’t kick him because he might drop her and she already hurt. Though in a way she was grateful for the pain as having something else to focus on had to help keep her from thinking too hard about the past and just what Reece was there to do. ‘I climbed up on my own, I could’ve climbed down without your help too.’

‘You’re hurt, and you’re too stubborn to let me take care of you...your wound.’ He set her in the straw, and when Gordy whinnied and tugged at the sling, he lowered his voice. ‘It needs to be cleaned at the very least. Animal mouths...’

‘I know. But it’s waited this long. If I’m going to catch some dreaded horse-bite disease, then I’m pretty sure there is no difference in waiting fifteen minutes to clean it or fifty.’

Gordy thrashed about, trying to escape the makeshift sling, causing the lumber above to skid on the stall. Jolie watched the wood move enough to be convinced: Gordy definitely needed a tranquilizer. And she needed a shot of something too. Like whiskey.

‘Who’s going to take care of him if you’re sick?’

‘I won’t get sick. You’re the one who’s been looking like you were going to throw up.’

He ignored her vomit talk. ‘This is ridiculous. He is in the sling. There is absolutely nothing else you can do for him until the vet arrives. Come with me to Mom’s RV and let me treat it.’

‘No.’ She redirected his attention. ‘I have some sedative but I need some help with the math. You do medicine dosage calculations all the time, right?’

‘I don’t know the dosage for horses,’ Reece muttered, but reached up to hold the lumber steady.

‘I know the dosage for a big horse and the weight differences, so you should be able to figure out what to give Gordy if I tell you that, right?’

‘Fine, then we’ll deal with your arm.’ He looked at her, but direct eye contact did something to her insides and she had enough to worry about.

She looked away, told him the dosage for a full-sized horse and the weight differences, and then left him thinking and holding the lumber to run to her trailer where she had the medication in her fridge. When she came back, he stood there still and immediately told her the number.

Flipping the cap back on the needle, she plunged it into the vial and extracted a slightly smaller amount than Reece had told her. Just to be safe. ‘You can treat my arm when the vet gets here. Gordy needs me. He needs reassurance. The last thing he needs is to be alone and scared.’

‘Jolivetta Chriselle Ra—’

‘You just stop right there, Dr. Reece I’m-Going-To-Act-Like-The-Boss Keightly.’ She’d poke him in the chest if her arm didn’t hurt so much and she didn’t have a needle in the other. ‘I’m not going anywhere. The vet or someone might come in and get the idea of putting him down if I’m not here to stop them. Now, let go of the wood and hold him still. This medicine isn’t great in the muscle—it eats it up. Has to go into the vein.’

‘Do you want me to do it?’ Reece asked. Like she hadn’t done this a hundred times before.

‘No. I want you to hold Gordy.’ And stop being bossy. And stop being around. And stop being...everything else.

Reece let go of the wood, rubbed a hand over his face like he could wipe off frustration, and slung his arms around Gordy’s chest again, his voice gentling a little too. ‘Why are you so convinced they’re going to put him down?’

‘He’s got leg problems.’

‘Explain.’

‘Really bad circulation.’ Jolie maneuvered to the other side of the horse before adding, ‘And he’s broken that leg before. It was very hard to heal the first time...’

‘So it might be kinder if they come to that decision now rather than after—’

‘No!’ She shouted, causing the horse to flinch. She took a breath and calmed her voice. ‘It’s not going to come to that. Horses can survive broken legs. And the circus is closing anyway! He has time to recuperate.’

She went for a vein she had found before, back of the neck, easier to get to and somewhere where she could talk softly and provide comfort. Not that she felt calm and comforting right now. She felt way too much of everything. Worry. Fear. Betrayal. Anger. A disconcerting awareness at Reece’s foreign manly scent in the stable... But she channeled worry away for Gordy’s benefit and gentled her tone. ‘We’re leaving here and going back to the farm in a few days, and he’ll have space to relax and get better. He doesn’t need to get better fast so that he can perform.’

‘It’s nothing to do with performing.’

‘No, it’s about taking the easy way out. Gordy’s part of the family, and you don’t just shoot your family if they get a hangnail.’ She threaded the needle into the vein, pulled back to make sure blood came into the cartridge, and then injected slowly. ‘You take care of your family. At least, that’s how it’s done in my family. You might not be willing to fight for yours, but I am.’

The sedation worked almost instantly. She hadn’t given Gordy enough to knock him out, but he did stop thrashing and mellowed significantly. With the safety cap back in place, she waved Reece off Gordy’s back. ‘You can go now.’

‘You know no one is going to put him down if he has a chance to recover.’ He moved to the door of the stall but didn’t leave. ‘I’m not leaving until you stop acting like a crazy woman and let me get a look at your arm.’

If he didn’t stop going on about her arm and about Gordy’s leg, she might hit him. From the angle she’d have to swing up to hit his chin, and might even be able to knock him out. Providing his jaw was more glass than the granite it looked like. ‘He has a chance.’

‘Just wait for the vet.’ Reece leaned against the jamb.

She slid past him to grab a stool and moved it back into the stall. ‘I have been taking care of horses forever.’ Okay, she might be acting crazy—she’d never felt moved to violence before—but Gordy was important. ‘And I take care of people too. I know what I’m talking about. He can be casted. Sometimes a kind of exoskeleton can be built to support a broken leg. I’ve read about it, and we have the slings for the big horses. We have one who has a metabolic condition that causes him to get laminitis, and we had to sling him once. This little makeshift sling is taking weight off that leg, and we can get a better one for him set up. It’s temporary. So stop preparing me for the worst.’

Her throbbing arm needed a break, and so did she. She scooted the stool toward Gordy’s head with her feet. He might be sedated but he’d feel her there. She’d comfort him. And maybe she’d absorb a little comfort from keeping near him too. A little comfort would be good right now. ‘I hope you’re not so fast on the plug-pulling for your people patients.’

CHAPTER TWO

REECE RUBBED HIS HEAD, a headache starting between his brows. This was not how he’d pictured their reunion going. That had gone entirely differently. She’d been wearing something sparkly for starters.

‘Hey...’ His brain caught up with the situation now that the immediate emergency had passed. ‘You’re not dressed.’

‘I’m dressed just fine,’ she bit at him, and then her voice turned honey-sweet as she began to pet Gordy’s face and talk to him. ‘It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.’

‘For the show,’ he cut in. He’d been waiting at the show the whole time to see her perform, and only now did it register with him that she wasn’t dressed for the ring at all. Jeans and a pink T-shirt with a white unicorn and a rainbow coming from its butt, while funny, wasn’t performance attire. ‘You haven’t performed yet. I figured you’d come at the end, the aerial act maybe, but you’re not dressed.’

‘I don’t perform any more.’

‘Why not?’

‘None of your business.’ Her words were angry, but she kept her tone sweet. Not for him, he realized. She looked back at Gordy and ruffled his ears. The sedative had taken the fight out of the little horse, but her touch and proximity soothed him. Despite the drug, he tilted his head against hers and accepted the comfort.

She had the touch. Reece forgot his irritation for a few seconds, remembering the way she’d sat with his head in her lap after the accident, petting his temples in much the same way she that she petted the horse’s face now too.

Two people in one body. In the ring she came alive—so full of energy that even when a trick failed she still held the audience in her hands. And the rest of the time she had that gentle touch that soothed any kind of animal. Even teenage boys. She’d been the only one he’d wanted around him after Dad had died.

The pink T-shirt had a growing spot of red on it where she’d clamped her arm to her side, cradling it protectively against her and using her other arm for Gordy.

‘Hurts?’

‘Adrenalin is wearing off,’ she murmured, ‘but I can wait.’

‘No doubt.’ He made a note to ask Mom all the things about Jolie that he’d never let her tell him before, when he had been trying so hard to stay in school and keep Jolie off his mind. Something was up with her, and it wasn’t just upset about Gordy’s accident. It might even be about more than his reason for being there, and the myriad other reasons she had to be angry with him. Not performing any more wasn’t something she’d have decided for the last week of the circus. It was older than his decision to close the show down. How much older, he had no idea.

He was saved from thinking further about what kind of knots Jolie might have worked herself into while he’d been away when Mack Bohannon escorted the vet into the stable and ushered Reece and Jolie out—two too many people for the small stall.

‘I know that’s not a proper sling.’ Jolie said, gesturing to the small injured horse from the gate, ‘but I couldn’t think of anything else we could do for him that might keep his digestion working properly and keep weight off that leg. We don’t have a sling small enough for him.’

‘I have one.’ The vet pulled a backpack off his shoulder and handed it to Mack, Jolie’s uncle and head of the Bohannon clan. Ultimately, Gordy’s future rested with Mack, who dug into the pack and retrieved the sling then proceeded to help the vet swap it with the makeshift one.

‘He’s going to be okay. He can heal this,’ Jolie said to Mack, who looked grim. Not the right look. Not one Reece wanted to see any more than Jolie did. Whatever her protestations, she didn’t need to watch the play-by-play.

He reached for her shoulder and tried to pivot her toward the door. ‘Let’s get your arm tended to.’

‘I’m not leaving yet.’ Mack looked back at her and she shook her head, her chin lifting, ‘I’m not leaving. You might need me.’

As easy as he’d like to be with Jolie of all people, he’d mistakenly thought perhaps time would have made her somewhat less stubborn. She’d always been this way when it came to Gordy, and Reece had started throwing his weight around to get her to mind him all those years ago when her mother had gotten her back when she’d been taken. That had been the first time his father had ever put him in charge of anyone in the company.

She thought him bossy? Well, she made him bossy.

The vet needed room to work and, knowing very well how hard it was to treat a patient when being hovered over, Reece made his decision. He scooped her legs from under her as his other arm caught across her back, and he carried her out of the stable.

* * *

Too stunned to say anything for a few seconds, it took them actually leaving the stables for Jolie’s indignation and terror to kick back in. ‘Reece! Reece, put me down. I need to stay with Gordy.’

‘You need your arm cleaned and inspected.’ Reece tightened his arms lest she take a mind to thrash free of his grip. ‘I’m done talking about it. Mom will have first-aid supplies in her RV.’

‘No. What if they decide to put him down while I’m gone? He needs an advocate. He needs me there to promise to take care of him. See him through this again. I know he can heal.’ She twisted, testing his hold, and then locked onto him with a baleful glare. ‘Please.’ The word didn’t go well with the glare or the tone.

‘It won’t take long.’

‘It will take five minutes to walk to your mom’s RV. If you must have your way, my trailer is closer!’ As the words tumbled out, she realized what would convince him. ‘I have all the medical supplies anyway, I’m the EMT on staff. And I won’t fight you if you go there and we do this fast. Or just let me go do it myself and—’

‘You’re an EMT?’ He stopped walking and looked down at her, his eyes going from hers to her mouth long enough to distract her. Kissing...would be bad.

Don’t look at his mouth. ‘Can’t you walk and talk at the same time?’ Jolie barked at him, startling his gaze back to hers. ‘I am an EMT, yes.’ With the stable now officially out of sight, the firm heat of his big body and the prospect of being alone with Reece began to scare her more than Gordy’s plight. One crisis at a time, that’s all she could deal with. Not knowing what she might say or how she might react when she got her emotions sorted out? Well, that could cause another crisis. ‘Put me down and let me clean it myself, or start walking. Don’t just stand here while they might be making decisions without me!’

‘Didn’t you have to leave the circus to attend classes to become and EMT?’ What the hell? Why did he care so much about this?

‘Do you see my face? This is the face of someone who is freaking out. Put me down or I swear I will belt you with my broken arm...which isn’t broken...’

Reece scowled, but he started walking again and she almost relaxed. At least she stopped gritting her teeth.

‘I took a course over the summer when we were between seasons.’

It figured that he’d focus on her dislike of the outside world, like that was important right now. She could do things outside the circus, she just didn’t care to. When the circus off-seasoned at Bohannon Farm, as it did every year, it was like living at the circus. The only difference with the summer she’d gone to school had been that she’d had to spend time with a bunch of possibly dangerous weirdos who’d thought mowing the lawn every Saturday, frequenting the mall, and driving an SUV was something to brag about. ‘My trailer is that way.’ She pointed with her good arm, and he veered off, following the directions she supplied.

Within two minutes she was inside her cozy little home. ‘There’s supplies in the skinny cabinet above the sink.’

Reece put her down in front of the sink and the first thing he did was wash his hands. ‘Paper towels?’

She gestured to the other side of the counter and then opened the cabinet to start getting out supplies with her good arm, then thought better of it and stuck the bad one under the faucet. It would hurt, but if she was going to have pain she’d either control it or be the one in control of inflicting it.

Number-one rule or dealing with Reece? Don’t let him hurt her again. Even if it was that for-her-own-good kind of hurt.

No, especially the for-her-own-good kind of hurt. She’d had enough of that, thank you very much.

‘This doesn’t look good,’ he muttered, as he wrapped his hand around her wrist to take control of the flow of water over the wound. In that second she forgot all about her fear for Gordy and about the pain. She even forgot about how angry she was at him for what he was about to do to them all. Skin-to-skin contact was more potent than being carried, especially when it reminded her of how big he’d gotten. Hadn’t he supposed to have been full grown when he’d gone off to school? When did men stop getting bigger? Was he still growing? This was ridiculous.

Her chest ached when she looked up at him. ‘You’re too tall. Makes my neck hurt.’ She pretended that was where the pain was. It was better than give in to the urge to press against him and lean into the strength she’d seen in action. Give in to the urge to keep forgetting the bad things. Soak in the comfort she knew waited in his arms.

Stupid.

That should be rule number two—don’t let Reece comfort her ever again.

She pulled her arm from under the water and ripped a fresh paper towel from the roll to blot at it, then applied pressure to staunch the blood that started flowing again. The ache deep in her arm had subsided but it surged back to life when she put pressure on it. If she mentioned that, he’d have her at the emergency room faster than she could say, ‘Don’t put me to sleep, it’s just a broken arm.’ It’d be her front left leg if she were a quadruped, mirroring Gordy’s injury. Fate’s twisted sense of humor...

He caught her arm again and directed it under the counter light where he could examine the bite. It was well on its way to bruising and there were several ugly punctures and a shallow gash.

‘It doesn’t need stitches. There are a couple of punctures that I might put a stitch or two into, but if you have butterflies, that can hold for now.’ He watched her, his voice having lost that edge of irritation as soon as he’d gotten his way. His mouth hadn’t got the news that he was less irritated, though. His lips pressed together, hard and cranky. ‘Probably better anyway, in case an infection does start up—which happens way more often in punctures than cuts, you realize. And the reason we should have gotten this treated faster.’

He unfurled his fingers from her arm and her thinking cleared a little. She needed more of that. ‘You know, I can do the medicine and bandaging. You visit your mom. I need...I need you to go and I can take care of this myself.’ Him going would help. It had to help.

‘I’m almost done.’ The way he no longer met her eyes said that he felt something at least. It might be a ghost of the connection that they’d once had, but he still felt something.

‘I don’t care if you’re almost done. I want you to be somewhere else. Somewhere I’m not. I will finish up and then go back to the stables. You’re messing everything up.’ Her voice rose as she spoke, reaching to near shrillness at the end. ‘Because...you’re still...’

‘You can be calm if you want to be calm.’ He sure sounded calm. But then she remembered—he didn’t really care about them. This was just Doctor Man, who lived to treat patients. Or something.

‘I’m trying to be calm. You could hurry up some. You know I need to get back.’ Gordy needed her. Focus on that. ‘Except I forgot that you’re good at leaving people waiting.’ No, don’t focus on that. Gordy. Get it together.

He gave her a look and snagged her wrist again—no doubt to keep her from getting away. She’d have to climb out the window in her bedroom or squeeze through the one over the sink if she wanted to get out. His big body blocked the tiny kitchenette. And he continued to work at his own pace.

She tried deep breaths to calm down. She really was trying, that was the problem. She’d thought she could always be calm, but right now she couldn’t. Her heart hammered against her sternum like the beat of so many hooves in the ring. She could hear it, see it pulsing in her vision, and she knew that wasn’t good. Her deep breaths got shallow and fast, outside her control.

Everything was out of control.

‘They won’t euthanize him while I’m gone, right?’ she blurted out. ‘That’s the kind of thing that takes time and preparation, right?’ More words tumbled from her lips.

Like he knew anything. Or maybe he did. Maybe he was keeping her there forever for a reason. ‘They’d wait long enough to let people say goodbye if it came to that, right?’

Right? Right? God, she really did sound crazy. And she’d had a plan for speaking to him on the farm, when the dust had settled after they’d all settled in. Later. In the future.

‘Take a deep breath. In through your nose,’ Reece said, his voice firm and demanding. He wanted to control everything. Even how she breathed!

‘Jolie,’ he said her name again. ‘I think you’re having a panic attack. Slow down your breathing.’

‘I’m not panic attacking.’ Was that even a term? She’d said it wrong. Everything was wrong. That’s exactly the kind of inarticulate nonsense that would make him think twice about even considering her request when she got round to making it. And probably everything she’d said and done since she’d seen him again would add to that thinking twice and thrice, and whatever fourth, fifth and sixth were... Sure, no problem, he’d hand over the reins of his birthright to someone who might be a babbling idiot.

Jolie had no proof she could even lead picnic ants in a straight line to the potato salad. She knew she could do it. Or she thought she could. She’d been so sure before he’d got here. Before she’d fallen headlong into that deep place where she stuffed all the emotions that were too hard to put words to.

It would be better if she knew it in some logical manner that came with charts and graphs. Doctors probably loved charts and graphs!

‘I can’t breathe.’ She probably had caught some awful horse-bite disease. Everything was wrong. Everything.

He let go of her wrist suddenly and grabbed her hips. Half an accelerated heartbeat later she was sitting on the counter in front of him, gasping for air and shaking all over, helpless against the onslaught of tears that swamped her vision and poured down her cheeks.

Reece cupped her cheeks, tilting her head until he had her gaze. So blue. So steady.

He said something. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, wiping away the tears as they poured down. She had no idea what he was saying, calming sounds. Comforting sounds. And they reached her. The tears slowed along with her breathing, and behind them she felt a stampede of embarrassment. And confusion. What the heck had just happened...?

‘That was a panic attack?’ her voice rasped, the raw sound causing a few aftershock hiccups.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest. Warm. Firm. Right where she’d wanted to be.

‘I’ve had some experience with them.’

It was hard to imagine anything rattling Reece like this. ‘They’re awful,’ she mumbled, drained, ashamed, and wantonly breaking rule number two.

‘Yes, they are.’

She’d stop breaking rule number two in a second, but right now she needed the hug. And with her face hidden by his chest she didn’t have to look him in the eye...

When she didn’t say anything else, he added, ‘They’re your family, and they love Gordy too. They’re not going to make any decisions while you’re getting your injury tended to.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why... I don’t know what happened. I don’t usually act like a crazy person.’ She swiped her eyes again and pulled away, before she did something even crazier.

It had just been the shock of seeing him again for the first time. But that shock was gone, it couldn’t last forever. So it was done. She willed it to be done and she was the one in control of her emotions...not the other way around. Never again. Focus on one big emotion at a time, that was the key to remaining tethered to her sanity. And right now that one big emotion had to be concern for Gordy. He needed her. She could fall apart later.

Forget that the last time she’d been this scared she’d been sixteen and watching Reece drive away into the world alone, and remember how all the faith she’d put in him—all the worry she’d had for him—had meant nothing. In the end he had been just like her father, who, incidentally, had been good at hugging too.

She should remember all that. If Reece was going to consider her request, it wouldn’t be because he cared so much about them. She had to find another angle. ‘You should finish.’ Because she’d freaked out before they’d got to bandaging.

He nodded, looked at her longer than she was comfortable with him looking, then resumed treatment—dabbing on ointment, placing a couple of rectangles of gauze onto the wound, which he had her hold in place so he could deal with the tape.

‘Don’t worry about this. You’re just wound tight right now. We all are. I’m worried about him too.’ A couple of rips of tape later and he replaced her fingers with white cloth tape, guaranteed to hold even if she should bleed again and get the whole mess wet. ‘If it starts feeling hot or hurting more, tell me.’

‘I know. Antibiotics.’ She pretended he hadn’t said anything about worrying about Gordy. He could turn his worry on and off like a light switch or he didn’t really feel anything. Or Doctor Worry was different from the worry of mortal men who couldn’t worry and fret over loved ones while ignoring them utterly.

‘If I had my kit, I’d start you on them right now,’ he muttered, and smoothed down the last strip of tape. ‘You haven’t got any bigger, have you?’ He squinted at her in a way she could only deem as judgmental.

‘I’m big enough. Not everyone aspires to be a giant’s stunt double.’ Sarcasm: Her Refuge. Her voice-activated ten-foot pole for keeping things away, keeping things from getting to her.

‘I’m not judging. I was considering your weight for prescription purposes.’

‘Oh.’ Okay, so maybe she wasn’t totally done being crazy. But it was easier to jump to a negative conclusion than to think that he cared. He was still here to destroy her everything. Time to go. She slid off the counter on the other side of him and hurried to the door. ‘Lock it when you leave.’ Not waiting for an answer, she took the stairs at a near run.

‘Do you want some pain relievers?’ he called from behind her. She heard the question as the door swung shut but didn’t go back inside to answer him. Pain relievers? Hell, yes, she’d like some. She’d also like some amnesia pills. And she’d like him to take them too and forget the last ten minutes.

Even if the small part of her mind that was currently sane said that no one would put Gordy down without giving her time to say goodbye, she was still more than half-terrified she’d get back to the stables and find him already gone.

* * *

Reece stared at the screen door for several seconds, expecting it to open again and for Jolie to come back for some ibuprofen or something. But she didn’t.

He shook a couple of pills out, laid them on yet another paper towel and folded it around the pills so he could stick them in his pocket. Before the night was over, someone would need them. Possibly him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that panic attacks were contagious. That he’d somehow given her the one he’d been fighting all evening.

A mess of paper towels and tape littered the counter, so he spent time tidying it up before he left. That was one thing always ground into the circus kids: keep your living area tidy. When it’s small, and on wheels, you had to be as tidy and deferential to everyone else as you could be. And you had to be okay with making things work, even if that meant taking a shower with the garden hose behind the RV because you were on a schedule and all the other showers were occupied. You learned to make the best of things. He could control the physical mess he left behind, and the only speculation he could offer to the emotional devastation he knew he’d leave in his wake? He could only hope that they could make the best of it.

It was their nature. It was her nature.

Three years age difference between them, but circus kids grew up fast. Especially Jolie. When they’d gotten her back, she’d never really been a normal little kid. Always looking over her shoulder. Always afraid something would go wrong. Children learned behavior, like worrying, and she’d learned it then and learned it well.

He’d spent the last ten years trying not to think about what she’d learned by him leaving.

He still didn’t want to think about that, even with it staring him in the face.

His worry for Jolie could cripple him. It certainly would’ve had him running back home to her that first week away at school if he’d so much as let his mother mention her name. It had been his only survival tactic. The only way for him to stay in school had been to quit Jolie cold turkey.

She might be the same size, but she’d changed in other discouraging ways. He’d probably played a part in that. Thirty minutes in her presence had dredged up more questions than just how she was going to handle him closing down the circus.

The show music had stopped a while ago, so Mom was either at her RV or the mess tent. She always liked to eat with everyone. Keightly Circus really did band together as a family, which was the hardest part of shutting it down. They ate together. Off-seasoned together. Raised their children together. The elderly performers even tended to retire to the same places...

He flipped the lock on the doorknob and stepped out, giving it a good pull. Locked up. As requested. Now to find Mom and get more information.

* * *

An hour later, having received the lecture from his mother that Reece had been dodging for a decade, he walked into the stables with two plates and bottles of water.

He found Jolie alone with Gordy, who was now utterly unconscious. A simple cot had been slid into the remaining space in Gordy’s stall and Jolie sat on it, her back to the wall and her legs dangling, eyes fixed on the small white stallion. Though by her glazed look, she wasn’t really looking at Gordy.

Reece knew only too well that you could stare right into your past if left to your own thoughts long enough. Usually at the memories you least needed to focus on. The ones you’d probably be better off forgetting entirely.

Since he’d stepped foot onto the lot, when he’d had any time alone with his thoughts, he got images of his father’s blood, muddying the sawdust and sand in the ring...

‘What are you doing? You look sick. Is the food really that bad?’ Jolie’s voice cut through his haze. Thinking too hard was contagious too...

‘It’s fine. I’m fine. Brought dinner. Thought you might be hungry and I’d like to know what the vet said.’ He nodded toward the cot—it was big enough for both of them to sit on without touching each other, provided it stood the weight. ‘You mind?’

A suspicious squint answered him, but that was better than the panic earlier. Her green eyes still had that glassy look, like emotion wasn’t too far beneath the surface. She was the first to look away, but she held up her good hand for the plate, freeing one of his so he could fish the water bottles from his pockets before he sat. ‘So?’

‘He said front-leg breaks are worse than back, which aside from his circulation issues... I don’t really understand.’ She rested the plate on her thigh, freeing her hands to shuffle the water bottle off to the other side. It must still be hurting. ‘Not sure if he means that they happen more frequently or if they are harder to splint, harder to heal, harder on the horse, or if it’s Gordy-specific...’ She gestured to the new harness on Gordy with the toe of her boot. ‘But that sling is more comfy and it’s not bound by notches. They got it perfectly seated. Mack said it’s possible he twisted something inside when he fell, so it was good that we got him on his feet so fast. They couldn’t feel anything when palpating his belly, but he was out of it by then and couldn’t have told them it hurt even if the pain was blistering.’

‘Prognosis?’ He looked at the food, not able to bring himself to take a bite yet. She hadn’t either, even if she was using her feet to gesture so her hands could keep hold of her dinner. Well, hand. She wasn’t using the injured arm for anything but keeping her water tucked against her thigh.

‘Oh...’ She breathed the word, her tone confirming the worst, and that she wouldn’t agree with it until forced to. ‘He said it’s rough... We would try...’

But.

She didn’t actually say it but he still heard it.

He put his bottle down, fished the pills from his pocket and placed them beside her leg. ‘Anti-inflammatories,’ he murmured, leaving her to take them or not, and went back to the conversation about Gordy. ‘So what’s the next step?’

‘Sit with him. Keep him comfortable. Watch for signs of colic.’ She took the pills. ‘And I have both pain medicine and tranquilizers to inject if he gets worse.’

‘You did really well with the tranquilizer earlier. Hit the vein the first time. Did you take courses on animal care too?’

‘No, I learned to care for people, but I’ve given injections and done blood draws on the horses before. And I read. A lot.’

He remembered that. She read anything zoological in nature, didn’t matter if it dealt with the horses and dogs that were in the show or wild animals, which had not been in the show since her twice great-grandfather had been mauled by a lion during an act. The circus was always dangerous, but it had got a little less dangerous when they’d got back to their roots and away from the exotic-animal fad popular from the Victorian era.

‘Thank you for dinner.’

He kept his eyes on the food, but not looking at her didn’t keep memories at bay. He made himself eat. It would be a long night, as he had every intention of spending it here at her side. ‘You’re welcome.’ He looked at her again. Dammit.

The wild auburn curls had been worked into some kind of fancy braid so he could see her clearly even in the dim light of the stable. Still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in the flesh. Even prettier than when he’d left. She might have cried again since she’d left her trailer—her wide-set green eyes looked bigger, glassy, and heartbroken. There was a little crease between her brows that said she frowned more than she should, and even now, with her expression mostly blank, the shadow of that unhappy crease remained.

‘I know it’s not the right time for this, but I wanted to apologize,’ Reece said, feeling his way through the words as he went.

‘For leaving us?’

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