Groomed For Love

Three years ago, his parents were involved in a head-on collision with another vehicle, one whose driver passed out due to side effects of her prescription drugs. The crash had killed his father and the other driver instantly. It was a miracle that his mother hadn’t died, too. She had, however, lost most of the use of the lower half of her body. Nevertheless, there was enough nerve connectivity to trigger chronic pain and insomnia, which in turn added to bouts of depression. If it wasn’t for their dedicated people on the estate, he would need prescriptions, or at least a therapist himself.

For example, Ramon wasn’t just dealing with a flat tire; there was a recall notice on his mother’s Cadillac that he hadn’t let her know about, due to her fragile perspective when it came to all things motorized these days. It had come only two days ago, so the tire issue had been fortuitous in a way. Ramon knew to keep the more serious issue between the two of them. He just hoped the repair wouldn’t take all day.

“Hell,” he muttered, “if you can’t trust America’s classy tank, what can you trust?”

It was a relief to reach Rusk and the courthouse. He’d become the assistant D.A. for Cherokee County soon after his return to East Texas to supervise things at home. Until then, he’d been the hottest “gunslinger” at one of Houston’s top law firms. Had he been able to stay there, he had no doubt there would already be talk about him becoming a partner by now, even though he was only thirty.

Coming home, it had never occurred to him to just manage the family estate and enjoy a gentleman’s lifestyle, which had been an option. True, he could also have opened his own private practice; however, that didn’t appeal to him, either. Divorces, will probates and small lawsuits needed good counsel to be sure, but not from him. He needed something with more intellectual challenge, and so when Vance Ellis Underwood, the current D.A., discreetly asked him if being the assistant D.A.—with the understanding that he would be seen as Underwood’s heir apparent when Underwood retired—would be something he would be interested in, Noah saw that as his best option.

If only he was handling his return to a more rural lifestyle as well. While there was no denying the countryside’s beauty, he missed Houston and the nightlife, the buzz and being in the inner circle of what was happening in the city and state. But someone had to oversee the family’s estate—the mansion, the near-thousand-acre ranch and tree farm, along with oil and gas leases. His mother had left all of that to his father, although she had a good basic knowledge of what was what. Unfortunately, she was no longer mobile enough to keep on top of things.

At the town square, Noah parked in back of the courthouse building, where their offices were on the first floor. Grabbing his briefcase, he hurried inside. While driving, he’d already answered two calls from the D.A.’s secretary, the last time assuring her that he was as good as in the building. Court commenced in minutes, and today they were choosing a jury for a case related to the largest drug bust in the county’s history. The fact that the accused was the son of a prominent family in the area was garnering a lot of media attention, and it would be the worst day to be late.

Noah rushed into the office just as Judy Millsap exited the D.A.’s office, a bulging file and her steno pad in her arms.

“Oh, thank goodness.” The silver-haired, usually calm woman exhaled with relief as she set her load on her desk. “This is all for you. He’s coming down with a full-fledged case of some bug or other. He thought he could get things started and then let you do the most of the jury interviewing, but he just admitted that even sitting in court might be more than he can manage.”

At sixty-six, Vance Underwood had suffered a few health problems in the past year and had confided that he wanted to retire as soon as his term was over in two years. Catching something as common as a virus could turn things serious quickly.

“Do you think you should get him an ambulance?” Noah asked in concern.

“I asked. He vetoed the idea, but I insisted he let a deputy drive him home. I’ll take his car and hitch a ride back with the officer.”

“It sounds as though his heart doctor should be notified, as well.”

The plump woman with the wedge hairdo nodded her agreement. “So do I, but it’s not up to me. I will call his wife and warn her we’re coming while I wait for the deputy. Perhaps I can convince her that she needs to make that call.”

“Good luck with that.” As much as Noah didn’t want to seem too eager to take control, he was also discreet about making any comments about Mrs. Underwood. It was well-known in the office and elsewhere around town that Elise had never been given a prescription drug she didn’t develop a loving relationship with. Chances were that she wasn’t even out of bed yet, let alone coherent enough to be of any assistance to her husband.

Reaching for the stack, Noah said, “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Pick an excellent jury.”

Three hours later, Noah was back at his desk. As luck would have it, the judge had come down with the same virus that the D.A. seemed to be suffering from and the entire day’s docket was rescheduled. Minutes ago, Noah had encouraged Judy to take an early lunch, assuring her that he would stay and watch things at the office. She was grateful, having missed breakfast due to the morning’s hectic situation.

Alone in the office—since their clerk, Ann, was finishing a task and directly heading off to lunch, too—Noah called home to check on his mother. “Has Ramon made it back from the dealership?” he asked.

“I’m glad you called. No, he hasn’t. They just started on my car and told him it would be about two hours. How can a simple matter like a flat take so long?”

Noah wasn’t about to tell her, and replied instead, “They could be shorthanded. We have a lot of illness going around here, too. Or else they saw that the car’s mileage was close to the next scheduled oil change and servicing and convinced Ramon to go ahead and do that.”

“Oh. Well, then, will you be a dear and pick up Bubbles during your lunch hour? Rylie called and Bubbles is not liking being locked in a kennel at all.”

Noah closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why can’t she bring her to you?” She must take a lunch break herself, and since she was eager to build up a clientele base, this would be a great way to make points with a valued customer.

“Shame on you!” his mother replied. “That’s not her responsibility.” After a slight pause, she said more calmly, “If you have other commitments, darling, just say so. I only feel badly for everyone having to listen to my baby acting up. I’m sure she’s upsetting the other animals, too.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to claim that he was due back in court too soon to do that for her, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. The whole purpose of returning here was to make his mother’s life as stress-free as possible.

“Judy’s taking her lunch at the moment,” he said. “But she’ll be back in about thirty minutes. I can go then.”

“Bless you, darling. You’re the best child a mother could hope for.”

“Give me a compliment that bears repeating,” he replied drolly. “Everyone here knows I’m an only child and that you have nothing to compare me with.”

At least when he hung up, she was laughing.

When Noah pulled up to the clinic, it wasn’t yet one o’clock and the closed-for-lunch sign was still on the door, although Noah could see the old-timers sitting around their table. He wondered if they ever went home. Or was there anyone at home to go to? He had noticed pockets of seniors around Rusk, too, who collected wherever they weren’t in the way yet could get out of the heat or cold, depending on the season. Loneliness and old age weren’t necessarily synonymous—he knew plenty of senior citizens living full, active lives—but apparently something was going on. It was good of Gage Sullivan to allow the guys to hang out here.

One of the seniors spotted him and pointed around the building toward the back.

Hoping he understood correctly, Noah drove that way, only to utter a soft, “Whoa.”

He’d heard that Rylie Quinn was living in a camper in the back of the clinic, but what was parked ahead of him wasn’t just an RV. It was one of those monster coach things that well-to-do traveling retirees and touring rock stars used. Didn’t those things come with a hefty price tag? It seemed a lot of vehicle for a woman only in her mid-twenties. Grooming dogs was apparently more lucrative than he’d first thought.

As he exited his BMW, he gave the two-tone bronze machine a once-over from behind his sunglasses. This was a model where both sides could extend out from the main structure for extra sleeping and dining space, converting it into a virtual house on wheels. The size of the thing also had him wondering who else might be in there. A boyfriend? Husband? Rylie didn’t wear a ring. Come to think of it, she didn’t seem to wear any jewelry at all. Interesting bit of trivia for such a lively, even flamboyant, person.

Before he could knock, the door opened, and he looked up into Rylie’s smiling face. A determined smile, he noted.

“Hey there. Twice in one day—my cup runneth over. I guess your mom managed to twist your arm? When I called her and learned that Ramon was being held hostage at the dealership, I offered to bring Bubbles to her, but she said you would be happy to do it.” Upon seeing Noah narrow his eyes, she threw back her head and laughed with delight. “Oh, how funny! She conned you.”

“So it would seem,” he muttered. The why bothered him, too. His mother hadn’t met Rylie, so she had better not be getting any ideas about matchmaking.

“Come on in, you poor oppressed soul. I was having lunch here to let Bubbles have more space, and so the old-timers could hear each other talk. For a little thing, she does have powerful lungs.”

After a slight hesitation, Noah did step up into the vehicle. He couldn’t deny that he was curious as to what things looked like inside. “That’s what Mother claims to have been worried about. At home Bubbles has about ten thousand square feet to roam around, all in a safe environment.” As soon as he said that, Noah inwardly kicked himself. Not only did it sound as though he was bragging, but he knew better than to offer details to strangers, particularly about the family’s wealth. Granted, one had only to drive by the property to know they were well-off, but to him this was just another sign of how easily Rylie Quinn could undermine his discipline.

“Lucky girl. At least we don’t have to worry about her getting enough exercise, regardless of the weather.” Rylie stepped back to make room for him. “I wondered how Mrs. Prescott could be feeding her all of those treats she admits to, yet this munchkin stays at a healthy weight.” She leaned over to pick up the little dog that—upon Noah’s entry—had gone straight to her and planted one tiny foot on Rylie’s sneaker.

Noah didn’t miss the move, which struck him as possessive. That left Noah with the uncomfortable feeling that the dog could sense his conflicted feelings about Rylie. Or was the animal sticking close to her because she hated the idea of having to ride home with him? At this rate the spoiled fur ball was going to have Rylie thinking he was abusive.

“She also likes to chase around the pool,” he continued, “while my mother has her therapy.”

With a sympathetic sound, Rylie said, “I heard about what happened to Mrs. Prescott—and the terrible loss you both suffered. I’m so sorry.”

Although he nodded his thanks, he had to look away after feeling an unexpected pulling in his midsection, as though someone was tethering them together via invisible strings connected to each of their ribs. In self-defense, he changed the subject. “This is quite a setup you have here. When I heard you had been working out of an RV, I pictured something less...comfortable.”

Rylie glanced around, her expression reflecting her own sense of good fortune. “A business contact of my parents helped me get a great price and terms. It’s a repo,” she told him. “I didn’t really need anything so big, let alone lavish, but the extra space would have come in handy if Doc hadn’t been so generous in letting me use the clinic’s facilities. But you never know. The clinic business keeps growing, and if things get too crowded for him—especially if he adds staff—then I’ll have to work in here again.”

Taking that in to mull over later, Noah’s gaze zeroed in on the master bedroom at the far end of the RV. He saw the king-size bed with the blue-and-purple bedspread and small berg of matching pillows piled against the sapphire-blue, cushioned headboard. It was too easy to imagine Rylie lying there, and when his wayward thoughts started to edit what she might—or might not—wear to bed, his body stirred with hunger.

“Do you have our bill ready?” he asked, abruptly.

“Oh...of course,” Rylie said, immediately contrite. “Sorry for wandering on. I know you have to get back. Actually, I have another appointment in a few minutes myself.” She went to the dinette table and picked up the invoice lying there beside a half-eaten salad. “I gave your mother a discount because this is Bubbles’s third visit in just over a month, meaning there’s less matting than I usually have to deal with. Also please let her know that Bubbles’s nails didn’t need trimming this time. You’re such a good girl,” Rylie cooed to the dog.

After eyeing the fresh coat of purple nail polish on the dog’s toes, Noah saw Bubbles lick Rylie’s chin, then give him a look as though telepathically saying, See? This is how I like to be treated.

Accepting the bill, Noah reached for his billfold. As he handed Rylie the correct amount, he asked, “Would you mind bringing her to my car? I can really do without the ladies in the courthouse snickering at me when I return smelling like I’ve been hanging around a perfume counter.”

Choking, Rylie insisted, “You’re exaggerating. I can’t handle excessive scents myself, nor can Bubbles. I use a very light touch on my animals.”

Some inexplicable something egged him on, and Noah intentionally rubbed the tip of his nose. “If that’s restrained to you, we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“Don’t listen, cutie.” Rylie cuddled Bubbles again. “He’s determined to try to make us think the problem is with us. I think you smell as delicious as your name, and your mommy will, too.” As the dog reached up and touched a paw to her cheek, Rylie laughed in pleasure. “You are a heart stealer, yes, you are. Let me just stamp your bill as paid,” she told Noah, “and—”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But I always make sure your mother has a detailed—”

“I’m handling this for her.”

Rylie’s face lit with pleasure. “How nice of you.” Leading the way, she opened the door and took care going down the steps. “Gotta be careful with our precious cargo, huh, sweetie?” she crooned to the little dog. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” she added to Noah.

“It’s hot for autumn.”

“But the evenings are so nice. Doc has a couple of kenneled dogs this week and he’s letting me walk them. Then they get to spend the night with us. As you saw, there’s plenty of room, and they enjoy it so much more than being locked up in pens.”

Noah lost the battle with his curiosity. “Us?”

“MG and me. My dog.”

“And MG stands for...?”

“Mommy’s Girl. They told me when I got her from the shelter that they’d named her Marnie, but it was soon apparent that we were going to be very close, and she’s seriously maternal. She instinctively steps in to help whenever she decides I need her assistance with an animal.”

Noah was sorry he’d asked. Sure, he believed there were special relationships between some pets and their owners, but Mommy’s Girl? That was laying it on a bit thick.

Unlocking the BMW with his remote, he opened the passenger door for Rylie. Looking over the hood of the car, he considered the grassy area and the woods beyond it where she said she walked. It was more a wild pasture than a park. “Aren’t you concerned about snakes, or getting eaten up by chiggers and mosquitoes?” Texas also had more than its share of wild hogs, coyotes and an increasing number of abandoned dogs, too, he thought.

“We haven’t been bothered yet,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe there’s safety in numbers. In any case, I tend to take a live-and-let-live approach. It’s more important that the dogs get some attention and exercise. They’re missing their homes, and some are overweight, so being constricted in pens for days is just unhealthy.” She began to put the dog on the BMW’s black leather seat only to rear back. “Oh! Please put on the air conditioner and give us a moment for things to cool down. She’ll get burned.”

“Try putting her on the floorboard.” When he saw her stubbornly resist, Noah did get into the car and start the engine. Sure, it had gotten warmer in the short time that he’d been in her RV, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been in July or August. As the vents quickly blew cold air through the inside of the vehicle, he reiterated, “The floorboard, please. I don’t want claw runs in the leather.”

“But she won’t be able to see, and it’s a rougher ride down there.”

The Mother Teresa of furry creatures really was beginning to push his buttons. “For crying out loud, this car’s shock absorbers are the embodiment of foreign skill in cushion and spring. She has no idea what rough is.”

With a sigh of exasperation, Rylie said to the dog, “Your big brother is determined to be disagreeable, isn’t he, precious?”

Big brother? “Okay, that’s enough,” Noah said, having had his fill of this nonsense. “Put the damned dog in now. Please.” He had to get out of there before she fried what brain cells he had left.

With a mournful glance, Rylie did as ordered. Carefully shutting the door, she backed away.

As Noah cut a sharp U-turn, he decided he was going to tell his mother that her pet’s groomer—cute as she was—was a nut job who needed a reality check. There were kids, even in this area, who needed help with essentials—food, clothing—not to mention finding a safe family environment. Spending any more time on inanity like this was ridiculous. How could a woman be so adorable, yet irritating at the same time?

As he circled around the clinic and cut a sharp turn onto the service road, Bubbles barked at him as the force of the turn tipped her over.

“Oh, put a lid on it,” he muttered.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.